Page 31 of Heritage of Fire

You know what, I’ll go get a towel.

I explain the spill to the kitchen and ask for something to help clean it up, but the older man behind the counter waves his hands and says he’ll handle it. He makes his way to the table, where Nik has stood and is wiping my chair. Sadie’s mouth is moving a mile a minute, hands flying in the air, and I take that as my cue to exit.

Down the hall, I find the restroom. It’s a single so I lock the door. After turning to face the small mirror above the sink, my heart drops. I look like I’ve peed myself. I sigh, rotating to inspect my backside, which is more of the same, the light wash of my pants now darkened with splotchy patches.

I use the facilities and wash up, but instead of leaving, I end up leaning on both hands against the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.

Come on, Luna, get it together.

A single tear falls, and I stare at it until I taste the salty drop on my lips. For a moment, I was enjoying myself, wanting to learn more about Nik. For example, why does he love pizza so much? Who taught him to cook? I wanted to thank him for not being angry I nearly torched his entire apartment, or for ruining his pan.

But I chickened out.

I chickened out, and now—now he’s probably having a much more enjoyable time with a woman who knows him far better than I do. He couldn’t even tell her who I was to him.

My stomach rumbles, not satisfied with the one breadstick I fed it, and I cringe at the thought of my mother making one of her comments about eating carbs.

Pounding on the door jolts me from my thoughts, and I startle, knocking the scented soap into the sink.

“Uh, just a minute.” My voice comes out shaky, and I cringe. I’m barely holding it together.

I gather several paper towels to clean the sink of soap. Then I turn on the water to rinse out the rest of the goopy mess.

Two additional whacks on the door. I clench my teeth together, mustering the will to be polite to the stranger on the other side.

“I’m so sorry, almost finished.”

I whirl around and unlock the bolt above the handle. But before I can tug on the door, it flies open and I jump back, out of the way. Nik stalks in, eyes narrowed on my face, and the door slams shut.

I gape at him.

“This is the women’s restroom,” I say, wondering if maybe he thought this was the men’s. He probably needs to use it after all the cheese he ate.

He looks me over. “Glad you found the right one.” He folds his arms across his chest.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Same thing you are.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Which would be what?”

“Hiding.”

He smirks, and that dimple appears. The woodsy scent of Nik wafts in the air, mingling with the lemon hand soap I dumped in the sink. I lean toward him. A pulse of …something… flutters low in my belly and I step back, needing space between us.

“I’m not hiding. I had to use the bathroom.”

“Uh-huh. Look, I’ve paid us out already. Let’s go out the back.”

I stare at him. What the hell? I gather he doesn’t want to be confronted by that woman anymore, but coming into the restroom with me to escape …

I want this awkward situation to end. The wandering ways of Nikolai Balakin are on full display at the moment, and it’s quickly becoming clear what type of man hetrulyis. No hint of any women at his place—he probably always goes to them, keeping the attachment at a minimum. And now he’s running away from someone he most likely hooked up with by sneaking out the back door. This man is …

Is this what Alessio did? After meeting me at my family’s estate, lying with me on a blanket and staring up at the night sky. Claiming me, making me feel loved and accepted. All to run out afterward to pick up other young women he could actually be seen in public with. I hate the naive seventeen-year-old I was.

Bitterness festers, having eroded the hurt and pain.

I move to the door, but Nik’s arm extends in front of me. His jaw is clenched, shifting back and forth.

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