“I shouldn’t be seeing you, Alex.”
Elena’s voice was soft, but the weight of the words pressed against her ribs. The dim motel room was silent except for the distant hum of the city outside, a faraway reminder of the world she had left behind—of the man she had left behind.
And yet, she was here.
In bed with Alexander.
It had started with that one meeting. One conversation over hushed voices and an untouched glass of wine. Then another. And another. Maybe it was the way he’d warned her, maybe it was they way she’d seen he truly cares. Suddenly, he had become the only place she could breathe. The only place she wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder.
Alex sat up beside her, the sheets pooling around his waist. The soft motel light carved shadows along his sharp features, but his eyes—his eyes held something else entirely. A quiet storm. Something unreadable.
“And yet here we are,” he murmured.
Elena swallowed hard. She had dreamed of this moment, imagined running into his arms, telling him yes, that she had never stopped loving him. But reality was messier. More dangerous.
She looked away, staring at the dimly lit café they had chosen for their secret meeting. It was tucked into the backstreets of the city, away from the places Rafael’s men usually watched. Still, her nerves buzzed with anxiety. If she had learned anything, it was that Rafael’s paranoia had no limits.
“Elena, you need to leave Rafael. The longer you wait, the more danger you’re putting yourself into,” Alexander said, his fingers brushing hers on the table.
She flinched, then quickly covered it by tucking her hands into her lap. She forced a smile, but her voice came out shaky. “You know it’s not that simple.”
His jaw tightened. “It is to me.”
Elena sighed. She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe in the world he was offering—a world where she wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder, where she wasn’t afraid of the man she was supposed to marry.
She took a deep breath. “I love you, Alex,” she whispered. “I always have.”
Alexander exhaled, relief flashing across his face. He reached for her hand again, and this time, she let him take it. His fingers were warm, familiar, nothing like Rafael’s unrelenting grip.
“Then come with me, run away with me,” he said. “Before it’s too late.”
She glanced toward the window, half-expecting to see Rafael’s car outside, his men waiting in the shadows. “It has to be the right time. If I run now, he’ll find me.”
“Then when?” Alexander pressed. “You can’t keep living like this.”
She wanted to believe that too. She wanted to believe in the promise behind his words.
“Elena,” Alexander said softly. “I won’t be like him. I won’t control you. I just want you to be free.”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She quickly wiped it away, nodding. “I know.”