Page 114 of Twisted Addiction
I froze. Then carefully, I eased out of Dmitri’s arms.
His muscles tensed instinctively, but he didn’t wake. His breathing stayed even.
It startled me—he never slept this soundly.
Since our wedding, I could count on one hand the times I’d seen him rest. He’d slip into bed after I’d fallen asleep and be gone before dawn, as if the mattress burned him. But now, he lay sprawled across the sheets like a man who’d finally surrendered.
A monster shouldn’t look so human in sleep.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes, Giovanni,” I called softly.
I crossed to the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. Cold water stung my skin as I splashed it over my face, washing away the remnants of last night—the tears, the sweat, the confusion.
My reflection stared back. Pale. Shadowed. Alive.
For weeks, I’d been existing, not living. But something in me stirred now—a sliver of steel buried beneath the exhaustion.Dmitri might have dictated my departure, but I’d decide what came next.
I slipped into a simple navy-blue gown. The fabric hugged me softly, its modest elegance deliberate—a quiet armor. Jeans and shirts belonged to the girl who’d thought love could fix broken men. This dress was for the woman walking away from him.
Forty minutes later, I was ready. My hair was tied loosely at my nape, my face bare except for the hint of defiance in my eyes.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, Dmitri hadn’t moved much. One arm lay across the space I’d vacated, his fingers curled into the sheets, as if his body remembered even in dreams that I was supposed to be there.
Something twisted inside me. Guilt? Pity? Love? I wasn’t sure anymore.
I turned away before I could find out.
The hallway was hushed, the air heavy with the scent of polished oak and expensive silence.
My heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing through the villa’s vastness.
Giovanni stood waiting near the entrance, immaculate as ever in his black suit. He straightened when he saw me, broad shoulders squared, his scar catching the morning light.
“Bags are already in the car,” he said. “Dmitri asked that I ensure you arrive safely.”
Of course he did. Even when he sent me away, he needed to control how it happened.
“Did he give any other instructions?” I asked, my voice steady, betraying none of the ache clawing inside me.
Giovanni hesitated.
His gray eyes flickered with something like sympathy before he shook his head. “Just that you’re to rest. He said you’ve had enough storms for now.”
Storms.
If only he knew how many of them had his name.
I nodded. “Let’s go.”
As Giovanni opened the door, the crisp morning air of Lake Como swept in, cool and bittersweet. Behind me, the house loomed quiet and still, every corner holding memories I wanted to forget.
I didn’t look back—but I felt his presence anyway. Even asleep, Dmitri’s hold on me lingered.
And as the car pulled away from the villa, I couldn’t help wondering—was I really leaving him?
Or was this just another way he’d found to keep me tethered?
The drive was silent.
