Z’s words are like a knife, cutting into me with the brutal sharpness of truth. An awkward silence stretches between us for a moment, and I’m too busy processing everything he’s shouted at me to think of any retort.
He must have said what he came to say because he spins around and stalks out of my bedroom as quickly as he arrived.
Just in the nick of time, I call out to him. “Simon!”
He freezes just outside my door, not bothering to turn and look at me.
“Please… I…” The words choke off. I’m too afraid to ask the question I need the answer to more than my next breath.
He finally turns, a small smile on his face reminds me that inside the tattooed and muscled cleaner of the underworld, he’s still the same kid I used to play with as a child.
“You know you’re literally the only person on the planet I allow to call me that name, right?”
“It is your name, is it not?”
He doesn’t answer, but instead waits for me to speak again.
“I have to know… the truth, please… Can I trust him?”
He pauses a second before walking slowly toward me, only stopping when he’s a few inches away. He’s close enough that I can see the flecks of caramel in his brown eyes.
“Dex Cohen is not a perfect man. He’s made mistakes, but I promise you… he would lay down his life for you, Katja.”
Answering him is impossible over the lump in my throat. I choke back a pent-up sob of relief just as Z spins back around and leaves me standing alone, still wrapped in my towel.
The second the door closes behind him, I let my knees crumble beneath me, falling to the carpet as I finally allow the grief I’ve pent up all day pour out of me.
I cry for all I’ve lost, and all my mistakes, but mostly, I cry because I know without a shadow of a doubt that Dex Cohen is the only man I’ll ever love.
I just don’t know if our love is enough to erase the pain we’ve caused each other.
Chapter Twenty-Three
KATJA
The sun is coming up as I take a fortifying breath and step out of the elevator on the thirteenth floor. I haven’t slept a wink all night, too busy replaying the last few weeks over and over, trying to decide if I’m brave enough to trust Dex again or not.
I have no idea where to find him, but I’ve decided to start at the disastrous scene of our big blow-up the day before. As I stand outside of his office, I put my ear to the closed door once more, listening for signs of life inside. Hearing none, I pull my master key from the pocket of my yoga pants and unlock the door.
The room is dark, but I can see that it’s completely trashed. I remember losing my temper and throwing some papers and folders the day before, but I know I didn’t do this. Glass items are broken, lamps are on the floor, books have been trampled and ripped, and chairs tipped over on their sides.
It isn’t until my eyes reach the couch that I see him, curled up on his side, his arm hanging over the edge above an empty bottle of bourbon on the floor.
My heart lurches in my chest, recognizing the pain he took out on the items in the room. Still, a small part of me feels relief because his pain is a sign that he and Z just might have told me the truth.
Moving closer, I take this unguarded moment to study him. He’s always been incredibly handsome, with a wicked wit, but seeing him asleep reminds me of the boy I used to know. The one who took the blame, and the belt, for so many of my antics. The same man who apparently has been watching over me even though I kicked him out. I can still feel the ache in my chest that first appeared when I found the truth in his desk, but it’s changed. It’s not just about the secrets he kept, or the fact that he didn’t tell me himself… it’s the idea of being without him.
It’s heartache.
We’ve done so much damage to each other over the years. We’re still messy and imperfect and carrying more than a little baggage—but he’s my other half. My partner. The dark to my light, and the only person who could ever make the pain in my chest go away.
I lean down, softly swishing a lock of his hair out of his face. Dex stirs in his sleep, and I gently palm his cheek. As he starts to wake, I watch for his reaction to my presence. Disorientation gives way to clenched eyes and a wince of pain.
“What time is it?” he mumbles.
“Early.”
It only takes him a few seconds before he bolts up into a sitting position, his eyes wide with surprise.