The phone rings in his hand again, and he silences it. “I will not have my wife spreading her legs for anyone but me. I suggest you handle this problem. Otherwise, I will handle it for you.”
I don’t need to ask to know his way of handling it, will end with someone—Alex—dying.
The phone rings once again, and this time he lets me take it. “I have work to do. I’ll be back at five thirty to get you. Be ready.”
I wait until he’s out of the room before I call Alex back.
“Talia, are you okay?” Alex asks, worry in his voice. “You told me you would call me with the gate number and you never did. You should have already been on your way, so I was worried.”
I close my eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. I can’t do this to him. I can’t have him worrying about me. Who knows when or if I’ll be able to get away. And if I do, going to Alex will mean putting a huge target on his chest. Kostas killed that guy earlier without a second thought, and I don’t doubt he will do the same to Alex if he views him as a problem.
“Alex, I’m not coming.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” His concern solidifies my decision. If I leave him hanging, he’s going to continue to worry, and I can’t have him involved in any of this.
“I can’t be with you anymore. I’m sorry, but I’m with someone else now.”
The line is silent for a long beat before Alex finally responds. “I don’t understand.” Of course he doesn’t. We were just making plans to spend the summer together and now I’m breaking up with him. I have to cut ties completely, though. I have to make it clear it’s over so he doesn’t try to contact me.
“I’m back together with my ex. I’m sorry, but you were nothing more than a rebound. I thought I was over him, but then I saw him again and realized I still loved him.” I swallow the large lump in my throat and then add, “We’re engaged to be married.”
“This doesn’t make any sense!” Alex shouts through the phone. “You were just coming here.”
“You don’t have to understand,” I tell him. “You just need to know it’s over and that I don’t want you to ever contact me again. Goodbye.” I hang up before he can argue and then block his number from being able to call or text me.
For a moment, I sit and stare at the wall, trying to figure out how my life has come to this. Not even twenty-four hours ago, I was on top of the world. I was excelling in school, had a loving boyfriend. I had my entire future planned out. Now, I’ve lost my father…no, I take that back. I didn’t lose him. He lost me. He handed me over. And by consequence, I’ve lost my entire life. Will Kostas even let me see my mother? In the blink of an eye, I’ve lost everything that means anything to me, and there’s a good chance I’m never going to get any of it back.
A sudden wave of anxiety hits me, and I reach up to my throat, struggling to breathe. It’s all just too much. This can’t be real. I keep hoping that I’m going to wake up and it will all be a horrible dream. But deep down, I know…this isn’t a dream at all. This is my reality.
I close my eyes and count to ten, trying to even out my breathing. When that doesn’t work, I get up and head into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. Checking myself out in the mirror, I see the pink is gone from the cheek where I was slapped. I also notice I’m all wrinkled. I’m going to need to change for dinner. Change…Kostas said all of my stuff was brought here.
Stepping back into the bedroom, I spot an armoire similar to the one in the room I was staying in. Opening it up, I find the outfits that were in my room are now in this one. I move to the dresser and open each of the drawers: bras, panties, silk pajamas. Oh my God, he really did have all my stuff moved. When the hell did he find the time?
It’s as though he planned this all along.
Predicted my moves before I made them.
He’s a genuine nut job.
Curious, I open the closet door to see if there’s anything of mine in there as well. It’s a huge walk-in closet. When I step inside, I notice the back wall first. It has floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with various styles of shoes. The top half are all men’s, but the bottom half are women’s. I pick one up and see it’s a size eight. My size. As if it’s burned me, I drop it back down where I got it from.