"Hm. Is he a friend of yours?"
"Yes."
Costa nodded, reaching his hand up to move a stray piece of hair from my face. "If you ever let another man touch you again, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"
He spoke so softly yet so ominously...
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Did that really just happen?
My sworn arch-nemesis just delivered my breakfast and asked me to accompany him to New York.
I knew something was wrong with his mental state when he held me in his arms to comfort me after my nightmare, but I thought that would be the end of his insanity.
I kind of hoped I'd never have to see him again after that, even though that's kind of stupid. I was just completely mortified by my behaviour last night. I never like to cry in front of other people - if I can help it. But this time I just lost all control of myself.
The nightmare of Viktor Kozlov was so, so vivid. The moment he took me after killing everyone I loved. The way I felt when I realised no one would come for me. The sensations of him...attacking me and using me.
It was all real and it was something I'd never wish upon my worst enemy.
When I woke up I wasn't capable of controlling my emotions. Unfortunately, my melt down had to be in front of Costantino of all people.
He was gone when I woke up in the morning which saved me from having to face him a second time in bed. I even avoided making eye contact with him in the kitchen.
In the end, I still came face to face with him when he weirdly brought my breakfast to the dining room.
Perhaps he felt sorry for me?
That thought was just insulting. I'm not some weak bitch who needs pity. One moment of weakness after a nightmare shouldn't change his view of me being a stubborn brat.
Or maybe he wanted to get another look at his down-fallen wife?
What a bitch.
I wouldn't put it past him to want to revel in my misery and drag out the embarrassment even more. I'm surprised he didn't stick around for the moment I had to go and deliver my used dishes back to the kitchen and apologise to Greta.
<<<<<<< >>>>>>> <<<<<<<<
"November in New York." I murmured, eyeing the three empty suitcases in my room.
"This is why Mrs K always packs my shit. I have no idea what I'm doing, Lula." I sighed, dropping down on the bed next to the grey cat. She was perched comfortably on a pile of my laundry that needed to be put away.
I might have never packed my own things for a long trip away before, but I'm smart.
Boss bitches figure this shit out. I just need to use logic.
