Heartless (Merciless 2)

The pain that claws at my heart only grows at the thought, but with a deep breath I let it all go. I don’t know what I am to him anymore. But I care for him regardless, especially after last night.

And until I know what haunts him for sure, there’s not a damn thing I can do to change anything. And so, wine it is.

I crouch down at the first row, gripping onto the steel bar of the rack and glancing at each of the labels. Pinot noir. Burgundy. Each of them. I love a good glass of red with spaghetti and Bolognese, and right now, I prefer Cabernet. The next row makes my lips curl up, for the first time in God knows how long.

I can pretend that there’s nothing wrong. I can pretend for a short moment. I’m good at doing that. At continuing to go through the motions even though deep inside, I know nothing is okay and there’s no way to right the wrongs.

The heavy bottle of dark red wine means I can have a moment. A small, seemingly insignificant moment, to simply breathe.

Well, only while I stay in the kitchen. The thought steals the happiness from my lips and as I stand, I feel my muscles tense once again. At least, until Carter comes back.

When Carter leaves, I’m scared to go anywhere other than the four rooms I’m familiar with. The den, his office, the kitchen, or his bedroom. This place is huge and I’m curious to see more of it. But his brothers are here. Somewhere. And they’re the enemy.

It’s easy to forget when I’m with Carter. He has a compelling power over me. Just being in his presence sets my body on fire and I move with him. Every step, every breath.

But the moment he’s gone, I’m so very aware of everything.

“I just need to eat, to drink…” I whisper as I flick off the light and head back with the bottle in my hand to retrieve my dinner from the kitchen island, the aroma wafting to greet me as I shut the door.

But the second I hear the door close, my heart drops at the sound of another person in the kitchen.

“Damn, this smells good,” Jase says as he walks closer to the large pot sitting next to the stove. I’ve already mixed the pasta and meat sauce. He towers over it, picking up the serving spoon and smiling down at my dinner.

My grip nearly slips on the bottle; my palms are so sweaty.

“You make enough for all of us?” he asks me with a charismatic smile.

A truly charming expression graces his face. With his stubble growing out longer than I’ve seen before, he looks different, but the similarities between him and Carter are still striking.

I can feel myself swallow before I attempt to answer him, but just the sight of him reminds me of last night. I can see him sitting in the chair to my left, smiling while my gaze drifts back to Stephan.

My heart pounds in my chest like it did last night in the shower. I can feel the anxiety and adrenaline mix and it takes everything in me to stand up straight.

“Whoa,” Jase says as the spoon hits the steel pot and he practically jogs around the island to come closer to me. As soon as I register that’s what he’s doing, I instinctively take a step back, my shoulder hitting the closed cellar door. Every time I blink, I see Stephan. Sitting at the table, glancing between Carter and me. Waiting for me to kill. Waiting for me to become a murderer.

He knew. They all knew. And they let Romano walk away.

With both hands raised, Jase widens his eyes and slows his steps, even dropping his stance a few inches and crouching down. “You look a little dizzy,” he says softly. “You already have a bottle?” he asks me and to my disbelief, a short huff of a genuine laugh leaves me.

Of course, he would think that I’m drunk and that’s why seeing him would cause me to react with significant panic.

It’s not that I saw him only last night, a few rooms away as I murdered a man who’d haunted me for years and continues to do so. It’s not that I’m still forced to stay here even though I so badly wish I could run home and hide in my room from all the terrors that plague me. My body heats with anxiety, but the knowledge that I have a grasp on the present gives me much needed strength.

He takes another step closer and I shake my head, pushing off of the door and going around Jase. One of my hands grips the neck of the bottle, the other runs through my hair. “I’m just having a moment,” I finally answer him weakly although my back is to him as I walk back to the counter where my wine glass is.