Page 139 of Cold Mercy

“So you’re admitting it,” I say, my voice low and rough. “We’re flying there together.”

She bites her lip again, fighting a smile that she can’t suppress.

“Why not?” she teases. “I might just sell you to some French woman while we’re there, you wouldn't even know what hit you.”

I grin, leaning down until our noses brush.

“I’d like to see you try.”

CHAPTER 35

SOPHIA

My hips still ache with the dull, unmistakable pressure of his hands, like his grip never fully let go, and the bruises blooming there are reminders of exactly how firmly he held me in place. My lips feel swollen and oversensitive, but my head feels lighter than it ever does, like he fucked every last worry out of my system and didn’t bother asking permission.

The room is already empty, and that realization lands heavy in my chest as I push myself upright and look around, half-expecting him to materialize out of nowhere with that infuriating calm, like nothing happened. But he’s gone, and the only proof I didn’t imagine everything is scattered around like evidence he didn’t bother cleaning up.

His torn white shirt is on the floor, and my dress is beside it. Both of them ruined in the same way, and my panties he pulled off with his teeth hanging off the lamp where he left them, like a deliberate choice instead of an accident. I stare at it, press my lips together, and feel something between irritation and disbelief twist in my stomach.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, voice dry. “Impressive even for you, Reed. Fuck me into forgetting my own name and vanish before sunrise.”

I swing my legs off the bed and scan the room again, and I see only the leftover chaos of two people who completely forgot to pretend they should desire each other.

I sigh, rubbing my face.

Before I can decide whether to be furious or humiliated, a single folded piece of paper on the nightstand catches my eye.

Of course, a note. Because why should Thomas Reed be bothering with a real conversation like an adult?

I grab it, intending to tear it in half purely on instinct, but the handwriting stops me cold. My chest tightens as I slowly unfold the note.

My dear Sophia,

Forgive me for leaving like this. If I’d woken you, I wouldn’t have walked out the door. One look at you and I would’ve stayed, and staying now means failing you later. Last night was more than I deserve. More than I ever thought I’d have. You won’t be leaving alone. You’ve spent too much of your life abandoned by people who should’ve protected you. I won’t be one of them.

I’m choosing you. Fully, without hesitation.

I only need a short time to sever the parts of my life that have held me back for years. I want to arrive at your door free of all of it.

Please wait for me. One month, no more.

On that day, I will come for you. I’ll take your bags, hold your hand, and we’ll board your flight together. Wherever you go, I go.

Last night was a beginning, let me prove it.

Yours, always, beloved

Thomas

The words blur before I realize I’ve stopped breathing. This man. This infuriating, impossible, breathtakingly reckless man.

He really wrote this and walked out before I could argue.

A laugh slips out of me. “God, you arrogant bastard…”

But my hands tremble around the paper because I can still feel his breath on my neck. Because my body aches from everything he did to me.

A stupid, dangerous part of me wants to believe every word. I fold the letter once, then again, slow and deliberate, like if I make it smaller, it’ll hurt less. Hope is a traitor, it has always been.