I call for a cab, constantly glancing over my shoulder.
God, I wish Viktor was here.
The thought hits me square in the chest, and I grab hold of the rose pendant, needing to touch the last thing he gave me as I realize I felt safe with Viktor.
Holy shit. I trust Viktor.
I glance over my shoulder again, then check how long before the cab arrives.
I’ll pack my clothes and take the first flight back to LA. I’ll tell him how much I missed him and beg him to take me back.
Hopefully, the Cosa Nostra won’t come after me.
Are you hearing yourself? A week ago, you insisted on leaving Viktor, and now that you’re in trouble, you want to run back? You can’t use him when it suits you.
Shit.
My breath hitches, and I shove my hand into my hair. If I go back to Viktor, it has to be because I’ve forgiven him, and I want to spend my life with him.
The cab pulls up to the curb, and I quickly climb into the back seat. After I’ve given my address, I slump back against the seat and take my phone out so I can search for a place to run to.
When I unlock the screen, I see a message from Viktor and quickly open it.
My lips part and a sob forces its way out of me when I look at the photo of Viktor and Luna.
We miss you.
PS. Never wear that dress again.
I cover my mouth with my hand and stare at the photo all the way back to my apartment, wishing I was with them and not here.
Chapter 22
Viktor
Luca and Mariya dragged me to Vancouver for the party Tessa is throwing for Nikolas.
I’m not happy. I’d rather stalk Rosalie via any camera I can get my hands on and spend time with Luna.
But here I am, getting off the private jet with my little sister giving me a look of warning. “If I catch you checking your phone, I will take it.”
“I’d like to see you try,” I mutter, knowing very well Mariya is more than capable of fighting me. She won’t win, but she’ll do enough damage to make me hurt.
When we were younger, I tried to subdue her so I could tickle her. I walked around with a busted lip and aching balls for a week. Needless to say, I never tried to tickle her again.
They all mean well. They’re trying to keep me occupied so that I won’t wallow in my heartache.
It’s also so I won’t kill the first person who pisses me off.
My hand itches to pull my phone out of my pocket so I can check the tracking device I had embedded in the rose pendant of the necklace I gave Rosalie.
When Luca takes hold of Mariya’s hand and she gives him a loving smile, I feel a jab of heartache.
I’d give everything I own to have that kind of relationship with Rosalie – to call her my wife.
My phone beeps, and I quickly yank it out.
“No!” Mariya snaps.