It was a Friday night, and the bar was rowdier than usual. More drunkards, too, but she hoped to God none of them would be as violent as the truckers from the other town last week. They had almost demolished the entire bar, costing Mr. Rodrigo thousands in repair work. They were put behind bars, of course, but that hadn’t given the bar owner recompense for what he had spent.
“Order, Table 3,” Bell, the British waitress, told Velvet as she passed her by while balancing two trays filled with empty plates.
“Got it,” Velvet murmured and did a quick about turn to head to where the customers wanting to order were. She had to maneuver herself out of reach of groping customers as she did, but this was something she was well used to by now. It still felt demeaning and terrifying, but at least it no longer made her want to cry.
She wasn’t weak now.
She was getting stronger.
Or at least she thought she was until she saw who her customer in Table 3 was.
Mykolas.
Dressed in a black shirt and jeans, he was at his most casual, his clothes seemingly chosen to make him blend in with the crowd.
What a joke.
He was Mykolas Sallis.
Whatever he wore, he would always draw attention to himself. He was too used to possessing and wielding power not to stand out. Even now, all the women in the bar were staring at him, some of them open-mouthed, others near to drooling. And the men were not much better. She had a feeling they would have challenged him to a fight just for the sake of bloodying his pretty-boy face if not for the pair of intimidating-looking men behind him, their blazers partially pushed behind them to reveal the guns holstered at their sides.
God, she hated him.
She hated him for finding her, hated him for seeing her wearing tight clothes that exaggerated her curves and made her boobs look bigger. But most of all, she hated him for making her believe someone like him could love her.
Mykolas was shaken by the sight of Velvet. He had hoped she would be here, had hoped that the promising trail he had followed from the airport wasn’t a dead end and when he did find her, it took everything in him not to snatch her into his arms just to make sure she was f**king real.
She had become thinner, her curves less prominent, and her face gaunt with stress. It f**ked him a million times over to see her defeated, acting like she had no right to defend herself from the men who attempted to grope her. Seeing it had made him feel like killing every single one of them, and maybe he still would, after…after he asked for Velvet’s forgiveness.
When Mykolas stood up, panic cured the paralysis that had befallen her limbs. Spinning around, Velvet started to run away only to find herself spun right back and held captive in Mykolas’ arms. Velvet immediately struggled, his touch burning her, and she no longer cared who would see and what would happen. All she wanted was to get away from him.
His eyes fully focused on Velvet’s tear-stained face, he said to his guards, “Get them out.”
A few seconds later, and the club’s music was shut down and someone was announcing over the speakers that everyone who left the club within five minutes would receive a thousand euros.
And then they were alone.
“Let go of me, please,” she said stiffly.
“Only if you promise to hear me out,” he said tautly. “Just hear me out, Velvet. I won’t force you to do anything. Just hear me out.”
Slowly, she made herself nod. She would agree to practically anything just to get his hands off her.
Swallowing at the revulsion on Velvet’s face, Mykolas slowly released her, and his fists clenched as she immediately took a step back, as if wanting to put as much distance between them.
“I want to explain about the last time—”
The words made Velvet blanch. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t think there’s anything to explain—”
“It wasn’t what you—”
She covered her ears, screaming, “I don’t want to hear you say it!” Her voice cracked. “Please! I don’t want to remember that time—” Sobs choked her voice and she squeezed her eyes shut, but still the tears kept falling. “If you want me to beg then I’m begging you. Please, don’t make me remember—”
So much f**king pain, he thought in agony as he looked at Velvet’s tormented expression. So much f**king pain and he was the cause of it. Tearing her hands off her ears, Mykolas said roughly, “Listen to me, Velvet! It wasn’t what you thought! I did it because I thought you had betrayed me.”
Her head shot up at his words, her voice filled with anguish as she cried out, “Why would I betray you when I loved you?”
The fact that she had used the past tense when referring to her feelings for Mykolas terrified him, but he did his best to move past it because he still owed Velvet too much. He said in a hard voice filled with self-loathing, “Because I thought you were having an affair with Wayne Garfield.”
“What?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, couldn’t believe that Mykolas even knew her father existed. “Why?”
“Before we were to leave for Santorini, I came across your phone—”
Realization hit. “You read one of my lawyer’s emails,” she finished dully.
“I didn’t know he was your father then. When I read his email, I thought…I thought he was your lover and the two of you had been scheming behind my back to steal my money.” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me at all. But I also knew you were proud, and so I did that, knowing it was the only way I could hurt you…”
“I…see.” But she didn’t. And she didn’t want to. She was just over this.
“I know everything now. About your parents, about why you changed your name. About the non-profit you wanted to put up…about Chantal.”
His last words made her cringe in humiliation. He really did know everything, even her last bit of idiocy.
“Say something,” he begged rawly. “Please. Say anything. Shout at me. Curse me. Just please f**king let me know what you’re thinking…”
But she could only look at him. There were no words enough to express how much she had died when she saw him with another woman.
Something in her eyes made him desperate, made him realize that even when they were standing in front of each other, Velvet had never been so far from him as she was now. “I love you, Vel—” Mykolas’ voice trailed off when Velvet shot him a look of despair.