Page 78 of Goldflame
He doesn’t ask questions, just nods and leaves with quick, obedient steps. As soon as he’s gone, I lurch forward and empty my guts into the trashcan. Everything comes up in convulsions, acid burning my throat as I choke on bile and gasps of air. When it’s finally over, I slump back in my chair, breathing hard.
I need a drink.
After moving to the bar in the corner, I uncork a bottle and drink straight from the opening. The whiskey burns going down but it doesn’t stop me swallowing more and more until the fire inside starts to numb. The office around me blurs at the edges, but it’s not enough—not yet—and the betrayal of my own body makes me slam a fist on the desk.
I’m losing it. All of it—Aurelia, control—slipping through my fingers because I don’t know how to hold on anymore. I don’t want to become Lucian, but I tried Adrian’s way, didn’t I? I tried to be patient and investigate Lucas Carter, yet that turned into a nightmare.
It’s not who I am and never was.
So who am I?
Another swig of whiskey and memories dissolve into a haze.
I don’t want to think about anything anymore. Not her absence or her coming back or what will happen when she does. Blackout—that’s what I need—and this time nothing short of it will do.
I tilt the bottle against my lips and drink until the room spins. Somewhere in that spin, the dark urges take hold again.
I grab my phone and send a message to Lorenzo:
When you play with her, send pics. I need to know you’re satisfied with your merchandise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AURELIA
The gray-blue light of dawn filters through unfamiliar curtains. For one blissful moment, I exist in limbo—suspended between sleep and wakefulness, free from memory’s cruel grip.
Then reality crashes in. Adrian is alive.
My fingers find the emerald necklace still resting against my collarbone, cold metal warming to my touch. I trace the delicate chain, half-expecting it to dissolve beneath my fingertips like the remnants of a dream. But it remains solid and real—just like him.
Adrian.Alive. Breathing. Transformed into someone calling himself Dante.
Last night over dinner, surrounded by Adrian, Lorenzo, Roby, and several servants whose names I couldn’t keep straight, I’d finally asked the questions burning through me. How? Why? The fork in my hand had trembled as I’d tried to maintain composure, struggling to eat while my insides twisted with the need to understand.
“The bullet missed anything vital.” Adrian had explained, his voice lower, richer than I remembered. “Just blood loss. Severe, but I got a transfusion just in time before it became fatal.”
I’d gripped my fork tighter, watching him cut his steak—so familiar yet different.
“Lorenzo had men on standby,” he’d continued. “It was planned, in case things went wrong. We’d been working together for months by then.”
“So Valentine knew?” The question had scraped my throat raw. “He knew you were alive this entire time?”
Adrian had paused, those intense blue eyes meeting mine across the table. “Yes. He’s the one who found a doctor to operate on me there in the penthouse. He saved my life. Once I was stable and Valentine left me alone, Lorenzo’s men went in and pulled me out in secret. Seems Valentine hasn’t told anyone.”
My stomach lurches now at the implications twisting like snakes in my gut. Valentine is a traitor. He’s been working with Lady Harrow all this time, so why did he secretly save Adrian?
What game is he playing? Why let everyone think Adrian remains dead? At the funeral, was there a mannequin dressed in Adrian’s clothes inside that glass coffin?
None of it makes sense. Even Adrian couldn’t explain Valentine’s motivations fully. “He had his reasons,” was all Adrian said. “Complicated ones, but I don’t know what they are yet.”
I felt unsettled the rest of the night.
It’s now morning, so I sit up in bed and yawn.Lorenzo has given me a beautiful room in his sprawling estate—warm tones, a plush carpet that cushions my feet, a private bathroom with a tub deep enough to drown in.
I could get used to this.
A buzzing sound makes me gasp. My phone.
