Page 103 of Scarlet Vows
Without the barrier I made his ghost be around me, I can look forward and not back. I can see a future that isn’t dark, sad, and lonely. I can see something that shines with possibilities. Dread and sorrow aren’t there, built in, like I thought they were.
“I love you, Max,” I whisper. “I always will. But I have to let you go now.”
I cry harder.
But this time, the tears are clean and new. They’re a last gift from Max, because with them comes a fresh slate.
Max would approve of Ilya. He always liked him. I think that’s a gift, too. My Ilya.
And maybe, just maybe, I can let myself love again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
ILYA
When I wake earlythe next morning, the sheets next to me are cold.
My heart plummets as my stomach turns to stone.
For a moment, part of me thinks it was a dream, but there’s the indent in the pillow, the mess of the sheets on the other side. Her scent if I press my nose against that pillow and breathe in.
Alina was here.
We made love.
Had sex.
I suck in a breath and get up, heading to the bathroom and turning on the shower.
Maybe she took off to go back to her room. Maybe she decided to get up early and greet the dawn.
Maybe she regrets every single thing that happened.
Fuck.
“Don’t be a fool, Ilya. What is, is.” Tying myself into knots won’t change that.
Besides, I have shit to do.
I shower quickly and pull on my workout gear. Then, when I’ve got my basic shit together, I look for her.
Even though there’s an odd emptiness to the place, I still look. There are people here, the guards outside, drivers, guards at the gate. Not to mention the household staff.
And Svetlana is always here before the light of dawn, apparently up earlier than even me most days.
I climb the stairs and check Alina’s room. Her door’s open, bed made, just a couple of dresses discarded on it, like she tried on an outfit or two before finding something to wear.
I step in, an invader, and glance at her bathroom. A tube of mascara and all her other things are there. A towel’s crumpled on the floor, and the shower’s still wet.
She hasn’t packed up and left—not that I thought she would—but I don’t think either she or Albert are here.
He’d at least come to greet me if he was. I think he likes me almost as much as he loves Alina.
But even so, I keep searching this floor. Not here. I go down and check out the ground floor, the dining room, the kitchen, and the garden. No one.
Just the sound of the washing machine starting in the large laundry room.
Alina’s gone. So is Albert.
