Page 182 of Hate to Love You
I never thought for a second that I would be back here, I hadn’t even considered how it would make me feel.
After my husband died, I never returned, and had no desire to ever do so. I hired men to empty it.
Oleg walks past and gets whacked in the back of the head by Roman.
“That’s for slamming the door, you shit.”
“Ouch, shit, fuck, sorry. Won’t happen again. I didn’t mean to wake her,” he says, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish look on his face.
“It better not.”
A giggle escapes me, causing both men to look at me.
“So, what are we here for?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the towering prison before me.
“Pasha.”
This is all he says as he pulls me toward the entrance.
As we step inside the glass doors, I take in the interior once again, hating how even now it’s still familiar, and that once upon a time I called it home.
But, home has never been a place for me.
It’s a person, or in my case, a cat.
My heels echo across the expensive marble floor as we cross the foyer toward the elevator.
Oleg follows behind, stopping short before clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’ll, uh, take the stairs, Mr. Antonov.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, grateful that Roman doesn’t want to take the stairs too. Even though I’ve healed from everything that I’ve experienced here, this building is imprinted with nightmarish memories for me, and I wish the whole thing would burn down into the ground.
I swore I’d never return. Yet here I am…because of the man holding my hand: Roman Antonov.
The elevator dings, revealing the polished mirrored walls, and the lights shining out of it like a beacon. Roman doesn’t respond to Oleg, he just walks into the elevator, his eyes fixated on me.
Straightening my spine, I follow, the elevator moving slightly as I step inside and finally release the breath, I didn’t realize I was holding.
Without a word the doors close, and we begin to ascend.
He steps up behind me, his chest flush against my back, warming the chill that has crept into my bones.
“What’s wrong?” He whispers into my hair, causing goosebumps to rise along my arms.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, Abigail… What’s wrong?”
I shake my head slightly, as I lean against him, borrowing some of his strength.
He sighs, reaching past me and hitting the emergency stop.
Gripping my shoulders he spins me round, pressing my back into the mirrors behind us.
“What. Is. Wrong.” He repeats, each word firmer than the last.
“I killed someone,” I spit out, the lie rolling off my tongue like butter to try and cover my truth.
Roman stares at me for a second, his eyes scanning mine, as if trying to gauge whether or not I’m being honest with him. Just before I’m about to cave, he sighs, lowering his head with a slight nod.