Page 133 of Wicked Savage

Thankfully, he didn’t mention Cillian. Nor did I. I’m sure he realizes just as I do that Cillian and I have no future.

Rushing upstairs, I’m already thinking of the relief a hot shower will bring. But when I push open my door, I freeze. My hand tightens around the doorframe, legs unsteady, breath catching in my throat.

“What thehellare you doing here?”

There, in my room, standing like he owns the place, is Cillian. His presence fills the space—tall, broad, imposing. It’s like he’s carved from stone, the same fire in his eyes. The fire that’s never gone out.

“You live at Konstantin’s again?” His voice holds that cocky edge, like he’s suddenly entitled to know everything.

The shock of seeing him here hits harder than I expected, but I force myself not to show it.

“For now. Not that I owe you an explanation. Now get out.”

“Not until we talk.”

I roll my eyes, the frustration bubbling up. “I’ve got nothing to say to you. Go back to your girlfriend, or whatever she is.”

“Lucia?” He laughs like I’ve just told a joke. “We’re not together. I just met her that night. We only walked in together.”

My eyes widen for a quick second, and the smirk he’s wearing is cocky as hell.

He takes a step forward. “But I told her there was only ever one woman for me.”

Before I can even process what he said, he’s marching closer, forcing me back against the door. His body presses against mine, and I can’t escape the intensity of it. Of him. The air between us crackles with that same tension—the kind that’s always been there, threatening to break everything apart again.

“Adriano told me you’re not with him either,” he murmurs, his heat seeping into my skin. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I hike up my chin. “I don’t care if you’re with her or not.”

His laugh—that damn husky laugh—shakes me to the core.

“Yes you do, baby.” His mouth grazes my ear, and I shiver from the warmth of it. “It drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” he whispers. “To know you still want me?” His hand slides over my hip, then lower until his fingers caress up my inner thigh. “Because it drove me insane with jealousy thinking that you were with Adriano in Italy all those years.”

My body betrays me. I try to laugh, to distance myself, but it’s impossible when he’s this near. His hand is on my throat, his grip tightening as he stares at me, eyes dark with something deeper than anger.

“None of this changes anything,” I force out with enough edge to sound like I mean it. “We’re done. You mean nothing to me anymore.”

The words feel hollow.

His grip tightens. “I called you.” His tone comes out strained and raw, desperation cutting through each sound. “When you disappeared. I called, searched for you everywhere…but I couldn’t find you. Fuck, Dinara, I wanted to find you.”

Why?

His confession makes my pulse flutter.

“I had a new number.” My mouth tips up.

His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as if he’s piecing together something that will never fit anymore.

“Why did you look for me?”

“Because I wanted…” His gaze locks on to mine, fierce and vulnerable all at once. “I wanted to try.”

His words hit me like a slap, cold and disorienting. I laugh—a sharp, empty sound—and shake my head.

“You wanted to try?” My hands push him back, forcing him to step away, every ounce of hurt flooding back. “You broke my heart—not once, but twice—and now you think you can waltz back in and tell me you want to try?” The anger surges, sharp and unforgiving. “It’s too late for that, Cillian.”

I swallow, fighting the lump in my throat that threatens to choke me. I can never trust him. He could turn around at any moment, change his mind, and let what my family did crush him all over again. And when that happens, I'll be left picking up the pieces of a heart that's already been shattered beyond repair.

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