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And that, as it turned out, was more than I could handle.
Still, I persevered. There were, after all, other bedrooms in this cavernous penthouse. And if none of them did the trick, there were always hotels or other houses and apartments.
Never—not even for a moment—did I entertain the idea of simply getting rid of the damn piece of furniture.
Shamefully, if the housekeepers hadn’t replaced the covers before I could stop them, I’d have probably ordered that the sheets be left undisturbed. After all, Kat’s scent would soon fade away forever.
Unthinkably, soon, it would be as if Kat had never been in my life.
To my great embarrassment, I eventually succumbed to the urge to cling to the remaining traces of Kat’s presence in my world. It didn’t take long for me to sink back under the covers that had once caressed her skin. After that, there was no point in stopping myself from doing what I craved, so I gorged myself on the breathtaking, luxurious fragrance her presence had left in my bed.
I didn’t even dare move anything that Kat had left behind. Her makeup, her clothes, even her fucking toothbrush… Painstakingly, I ensured it all remained just as she had left it. God forbid I inconvenience her by misplacing her belongings—as if she might return at any moment.
It—I—was pathetic, and I knew it. Others knew it, too. Dmitri, in particular, seemed remarkably worried. It didn’t matter. I didn’t even care enough to pretend it did. Kat was gone, likely forever, and I couldn’t give less of a fuck about anything except thoroughly enjoying the remnants of our time together—no matter how fleeting.
Soon after that, I stopped even bothering to leave my room. On my worst days, I barely got out of bed.
Because that’s what they are now—my bed and my room. Not ours. Not anymore.
Now, instead of wasting my time and energy doing things I don’t care about with people who don’t matter, I spend the long days and nights with my memories of Kat. Over and over again, I fondly recall the first night we met and how impossibly mesmerizing she was in that velvet dress.
Repeatedly, I remember the night she desperately clung to me as I did my best to comfort her through her nightmare. I never even learned what it was about.
I can never forget that day on Yuri’s plane, when he took us on that aerobatic flight. The way Kat giggled as we became weightless is forever branded on my brain… Just like the earthshaking way she kissed me after.
Of course, there’s one thing I wish I could forget in its entirety: the stupidly reckless, heartbreakingly brave woman who retrieved my diamond from Giuseppe Salvatore himself.
Try as I might, I struggle to accept that the incredible person starring in these precious memories is one and the same with the one who deliberately misled me and lied to me. But I know it’s the truth.
I guess I should feel thankful for the opportunity to escape this messy situation relatively unharmed. Instead, I can only think about how I’ll never again feel Kat’s soft skin under my fingertips or breathe in the scent of her freshly washed hair. I won’t ever get to sink deep into the deep blue ocean of her eyes again, or hear the breathy, throaty way she gasps my name right before she climaxes.
Hurricane Kat and the devastating emotional turmoil she evokes in me might be a thing of the past. She might never be in my life again. Without a doubt, it would mean that happiness would always and forever remain out of reach for me.
Forget about living a happy life—I’m not sure I’d have it in me to go on at all if that’s how the rest of my life will be. I fail to see a reason to if Kat won’t be in it. The bratva, Dmitri… None of it could be enough. The prospect of living out the rest of my days without the slightest possibility of Kat being in them is bleak and unthinkable.
There must be another way. Somehow.
The alternative is just inconceivable.
I have more money and power than I could ever have dreamed of, and yet, what I truly need is just out of reach. I can’t go back in time and stop myself from breaking Kat’s trust. She relied on me to keep her safe and care for her, as I promised her I would. And I failed her so thoroughly.
In the end, I was the one who didn’t keep his word, the one who didn’t deserve to be trusted. The irony of that isn’t lost on me.
All along, Kat was true. Through it all, she only cared about was protecting others, including me. She constantly put me and those she loves above her interests, and I repaid her selflessness with betrayal and selfishness.
At the slightest hint of uncertainty, I transformed into Kat’s worst nightmare: a possessive, controlling, and unreasonable tyrant. I let my past and my fears block my ability to trust. Despite everything Kat did for me and all I learned about her heart, I couldn’t stop myself.
Even if I’m unlucky enough to live to a hundred years old, I will never forgive myself for what I did to her. It would be a miserable, unbearable existence, and it would still be less than what I deserve.
Unfortunately, even though I know with absolute certainty that I will never, ever be worthy of Kat’s forgiveness, I’m too much of a selfish bastard to stop trying to get it. The only other thing I know for sure is that I can’t waste more time than I already have. I’ve lost so much already. I can’t lose her, too.
So I call her. Repeatedly. All along, I worry that my damned epiphany may have come a little too late. The incredible feat of winning her back might be impossible at this point. But I will try anyway, for as long as it takes. Even if Kat never takes me back, I’ll still keep trying. I will never give up on us—not as long as there is anything left in me.
Around the time I reach over fifty unanswered calls, it becomes obvious to me that Kat’ll never pick up the phone or call me back.
Naturally, that was when I decided to track her phone’s location, thinking it might be time for us to speak in person. Admittedly, it feels a bit stalker-ish, but I don’t let this bother me for too long. Compared to all the horrible things I’ve done, this one barely registers. It doesn’t even break the top one hundred. Very mild, indeed.
For the first time in days, I’m eager to get out of bed. After quickly showering and dressing, I race downstairs to my car. Then I race to her, frustrated beyond measure by the daytime traffic. I knew I should’ve taken the chopper, but I didn’t want to wait for it to be readied.
