Does her name matter? Does it change anything?
No, and fucking no.
I was never interested in Reina prior to her disappearance. The one I got entangled within all the wrong ways was the girl who returned with Gareth that day.
The girl who watched her surroundings every time she moved as if suspecting someone was chasing her. Turns out, she really had people chasing her all along.
I didn’t know how to feel as I listened to her conversation with Alexander a few days ago. She suffered in her childhood and was a kid on the run with no one but her mother—and even that support was taken away.
It’s sort of like Ari and me after Mom died.
No. I won’t think about Ari.
That’s the thought I’ve been pushing away since I found Reina unconscious in that cottage and after she nearly jumped off the balcony.
She almost fucking jumped.
My muscles tighten at the memory as if I can see her in front of me, shaking, eyes welling with tears and her leg threatening to give up on her.
Just like Ari.
I briefly close my eyes as I push the building’s door open. The concierge nods in my direction. He knows better than to question me. After all, Alexander owns the whole damn thing.
True to his word, the man who calls himself my father got her security. They’re stationed outside the building, and one of them is at the far end in the corner, near the concierge’s desk. Even the latter has some security training and would react fast in case of danger.
I press the button for the penthouse’s floor and enter the code. As the doors close, I lean back, placing both hands in my pockets and letting my mind roam around the endless fucking possibilities that arose out of nowhere.
Reina will never be safe unless her sister is. Even if her sister is dead, there’s no telling if Ivan will come after her. He’d want to eliminate the last descendent of Nikolai Sokolov’s bloodline.
So far, only Reina remains.
And Rai.
She lived amongst them for years, so I’m hoping she has a trick or two up her sleeve like her mother did.
True, there’s always that tiny possibility the twins switched back when they reunited that night. With the memory loss, Rai could’ve thought she was back to being Reina.
That possibility barely exists for me.
I recognize Reina no matter who or what she is. Her personality deviated a little—a lot—after the memory loss, but there are those few tells.
The way she shuts out the world by crossing her arms over her chest. The way she leads the cheerleading squad like she was born for it. How she dances, how she jumps, and how the corner of her mouth twitches when she smiles.
All those little details are enough evidence she’s still the same. It’s only that she’s more spontaneous now, more maddening.
Sometimes, I have no fucking clue how to deal with her.
The door hisses open straight into her living room, and I push off the wall to step inside.
The lights are on, but there’s no sign of her. I ignore the kitchen and go to her room. Reina would never cook even if you paid her for it. She says she doesn’t know how to cook, but I’m starting to think maybe it’s because she only knew Russian dishes before and didn’t want to expose that detail about herself.
Soon, I’ll get her to open up to me like she did on that balcony.
Like she always wanted to when we were pre-teens.
The sound of running water in the shower greets me as soon as I step into her room. Her clothes and purse lie on the chair in complete disorder.
I shake my head. Another thing about Reina? She can’t get organized to save her life.