I give her a little smile and nod. “I promise.”
“Good. Now, tell me more about what’s been going on with you. Did the nightmares stop? We never got a chance to talk about that.”
I go with the subject change because it feels appropriate. In any event, this discussion is better for me because Mira helped me get rid of the nightmares the first time around.
“I still have them maybe four to five times a week, and sometimes several times during the night.”
Her brows furrow. “Oh Anastasia, why didn’t you contact me?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Don’t be silly. Are you still getting the same dream sequence?”
“The same.”
Worry fills her eyes. She knows about the crest because she knows the dream. But I will be keeping my promise to Desmier about the deeper meaning of the crest.
“Mira, did you ever, at any point, think something else besides the accident must have happened to me?”
She dips her head slightly and the solemn look on her face is my answer. “I did. I just never knew what it could be. Recurring dreams are the mind’s way of trying to reconnect and clarify an event. There’s a block somewhere and sometimes people have triggers that can help. You said you saw monsters, and if we were watching anything with monsters in it, you’d start crying. I often wondered if that was your childhood mind’s way of creating something to cover something else.”
“Like people?”
“Yes. Like people. You never dreamt about the car hitting you. Not once.” She presses her lips together. “Of course, these are all just assumptions.Myassumptions. Your father is a very secretive man, but your mother was secretive too. When you first started having nightmares, I asked your father if something traumatic had happened to you apart from getting hit by the car. He told me no. But your mother always had that look about her, like she was covering something up. I’m sorry. I hate to say it like that.”
“It’s okay. I know what you mean. She was like that all the time.”
Mira reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “This thing has been bothering you for years. If we can’t figure it out and no one will tell us, maybe it’s best to let it go.”
That’s the hard truth I don’t want to face, but something I might have to do. “What if it’s important, Mira? I don’t know if I can just let it go.”
“How about we set something up for next week?” she suggests, seeing my hesitation. “You could come to my house next Sunday and we can spend the day together. Then we can start the process of doing what we did last time. It would be good if I can rid you of these nightmares forever and maybe dig a little deeper to see why you have them in the first place.”
“I’d truly love that.” But who knows what I might dig up?
It’s even worse now that I know Dad lied to me.
* * *
Soft jazz music envelopes me as Desmier and I walk into the foyer at Volkova Inc.
The fundraiser is being held in the grand hall but quite a few people have spilled out here, drinking from elegant long-stemmed glasses and talking in groups.
Everyone is dressed in their finest as usual for this year’s event. Last year was the first time Dad allowed me to attend. This year I’m here with my husband, who owns the company.
It’s interesting how times change, but some things remain the same. Last year, when I walked in with Viktor, there were women casting glances at him.
Women are looking at Desmier too, and because he has that obvious dangerous sexy edge, they look like they can’t help themselves.
He’s dressed like he’s going to the Emmys in his Boss suit and cropped cut hair. I’m in a strapless fitted gown, but I’m tired from the migraine that kept me up all night.
It’s still bothering me now, but I’m putting my best face forward. This is our first event as husband and wife and I know people are talking.
“We’ll stay for an hour, then we’re leaving,” Desmier whispers in my ear.
“You? Stay at work foronlyan hour? I don’t believe you.”
He smirks, dipping his hand lower down my back so he can squeeze my ass. “You in this fuck-me dress had better believe me.”