Page 75 of Her Cruel Empire
“I’ve had worse.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “You did the right thing. Sending her away.”
I say nothing, but my hands clench. He’s right. I know he’s right. But knowing doesn’t make the hollow ache in my chest any less devastating.
“She asked me to take care of you,” Leon says suddenly. “Before she left.”
“She what?”
“Asked me to watch out for you.” Leon’s smile is sad. “Smart girl. Stupid, but smart.”
Even after everything I said to her, even after I called her a whore, she was still trying to care for me. For the monster who tried to destroy her.
I close my eyes, and suddenly I can hear her voice as clear as if she were standing beside me, begging me not to shut her out.
But she’s not here. She’s gone. And it’s my fault.
I retreat to my private study and pour myself a glass of the Novak family’s aniseed liqueur. Sweet and rough, it slides down my throat, warming my chest but doing nothing to fill the hollow ache inside.
I pour another.
Then another.
I send for Mrs. Kovacs. “That guest room,” I tell her. “Clear it out.”
“She…left a great deal,” Mrs. Kovacs says.
“Then get rid of it!”
For the first time I’ve known her, Mrs. Kovacs hesitates slightly. “Some of the clothes are very expensive?—”
“Burn them.” The words come out harder than I intended. “Or pass them out in the damn village. I don’t care what you do with them. Just get them out of the castle.”
She nods quickly and hurries away. I pour another drink.
This won’t do. I can’t get drunk; I’ll make stupid decisions. Stupider than I already have…
I set down the glass and go for a walk around my domain. The Great Room draws me like a wound I can’t stop picking at. I stand in the doorway, staring at the rug in front of the massive stone fireplace, and I swear I can still smell her in the air. Still hear the echo of her laughter bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.
She was mine. Every breath she took, every tremor of pleasure, every soft moan in the darkness—they weremine.
But I threw her away like she was nothing. Like she meant nothing.
The thought sends a fresh wave of rage through me, but I can’t tell if I’m angry at her or at myself. She was just another acquisition, I tell myself. A foolish little girl with big blue eyes, led by her silly heart, a beauty who thought she could save the beast.
But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie.
I’m still standing there when I hear footsteps in the hall. Uncle Stefan appears in the doorway, his silver-threaded hair gleaming, his face creased with concern.
“You look like Zoltan did after your mother died,” he says gently, and the observation cuts deep.
I straighten my spine, snapping out of my haze. This is not who I am. I am not some lovesick fool mourning a girl who meant nothing.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, but my voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
Stefan studies me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. “The shooting in Paris—how is Leon?”
Another stab of guilt. “Recovering. He’ll be fine. And I will find the shooter and make them suffer.”
“Good. And…the girl?”
