Page 183 of Hate to Love You

“He deserved it,” he replies, before pressing the emergency stop button again, the elevator jerking as it resumes its climb.

I just lied to Roman Antonov. Again.

I could’ve told him. I could’ve told him how this building reminds me of everything I lost, but I didn’t.

My fear is that it would leave him with so many questions. Questions that I don’t particularly want to answer.

It’s not that I think Roman couldn’t handle the truth, but more because I know that it could potentially raise suspicions about how his men keep dying. Which could lead to me having to explain how and why I killed them…and that I’m going to kill another.

Perhaps one day I will tell him.

And perhaps one day this building will burn.

I’d love to watch it crumble, until there is nothing left. And then, maybe, it’ll be rebuilt, just like I was, and will become something better.

Just as I did.

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal a softly lit foyer of a penthouse, the layout completely different from the one I used to live in.

The colors are dark, exactly like Roman.

Usually, dark color schemes like this make the room feel smaller. But this? This somehow makes the room feel bigger.

Or maybe it is bigger.

My eyes glance around, drawn to the windows. The penthouse I had didn’t have windows like this. The entire outer wall is made of floor to ceiling glass planes, providing a breathtaking view of New York City at night.

Allowing its King to watch over his kingdom.

“Do you—” Roman starts to say, but is suddenly interrupted by a loud bang, coming from the other side of the penthouse.

He looks up, listening intently.

There is another bang, followed by a muffled shout.

Roman quickly pulls his gun, before looking at me.

“Stay here,” he whispers forcefully before he turns toward the noise.

But just as he is about to round the corner, Caesar suddenly appears at his side.

“Who’s here, boy?” Roman asks, looking at the dog in confusion.

As strange as this interaction is becoming, it occurs to me that the first thing any intelligent intruder would do would be to restrain the dog…or take him out completely.

And as Caesar doesn’t appear injured or even on high alert, something about his behavior makes me feel slightly less anxious about this whole situation.

But apparently Roman disagrees, as he continues to stalk the hallway. I lose sight of him as he silently steps around another corner, his gun still drawn, and Caesar loyally by his side.

As more bangs echo down the hall, I can’t help but take in the credenza in front of me. A family picture in a gold frame draws my attention.

Gently I pick it up.

In the center is a well-dressed man and woman. She is tall, thin, and blonde, with soft, almost sad features. In her arms she holds a blond-haired, blue-eyed toddler, who smiles broadly.

At their feet sit three brunette boys, and a girl. A fifth child stands slightly off to her mother’s side.

This is Roman’s family.