“It’s just that…” She takes a deep breath. “The laptop itself is the last thing I have of him and my mom gave it to him.”
Damn.
“I’ll give Simon the external then,” I say, quickly giving her a tight hug.
Running back up to my office, I try to shake off Sophia’s question about what’s wrong. Nothing is wrong that I can tell physically. But something is nagging in the back of my head, and I can’t figure out quite what it is.
Simon knocks on the front door exactly forty-three minutes from when we disconnected the call.
Opening the front door, I see that even in the middle of the fucking night he’s impeccably dressed. His suit neat and pressed, his hair perfectly combed.
Holding the external drive out to him, I say, “Laptop stays with me, the wife has an attachment to it.”
Simon sighs loudly. “Sentimentality is not something we can afford to deal with right now, James.”
“Yeah well,” I shrug and force the drive into his hands. “She gets what she wants.”
“Fine,” he mutters and turns away from me.
“Simon,” I say to his back.
Looking back at me, he asks, “Yes?”
“Watch your back out there, somethings off,” I say.
He stares at me for a moment, considering what I said, then nods. “I will.”
17
Sophia
Sleep doesn’t come easy. And when it does come, it doesn’t last for very long.
I keep waking up, clinging to James. Chased from my dreams by demons wearing black fatigues, determined to flash their gold badges in my face.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” James urges me when I wake up pressed against his body, my cheeks wet and sticky with tears.
I try. For him, I try. Circling the well of oblivion as he soothes me.
But too much has happened, and too much is still unfinished for me to be at ease.
The Russian ordeal… my father’s death… and the betrayal.
Behind my eyes, I relive it all on a loop. Stuck in a purgatory of memories.
I’m exhausted, sick to my stomach, and angry. So very fucking angry.
I want to light everything on fire and burn the world down. I want to scream and roar my rage and grief.
And the only thing that seems to make me feel better… the only thing that keeps me from losing my mind completely, is being close to James.
His arms around me. His naked chest pressed against mine.
His soft breath fluttering my hair as he finally drifts back to sleep.
If I didn’t have him, I’d probably go completely insane.
I don’t know when it happened… Yesterday? Today? Seven months ago?
But he’s no longer the enemy or a sick man who’s doing everything in his power to trap me.
Somehow, he has become a need.
I need him near me to feel safe.
I need his strength to give me the strength to make it through the day.
I need his arms around me to keep me from floating away.
Especially when it feels like giving up and floating away would be easier than putting up with the pain.
Squirming closer to him, I tighten my arms around his chest, holding on for dear life. I hold him as tightly as he held me that first night in this bed.
His bed.
I’ve got my arms around him so tight, it’s impossible not to notice when his breathing changes.
Stirring awake, his voice is husky with sleep. “Sophia?”
He tries to move, shifting against me, to get more comfortable.
Afraid he might pull away, I lace my fingers together and lock my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I don’t want to hurt him or make him uncomfortable, but I can’t let go of him yet. Not when, even like this, it feels like he’s too far away.
Relaxing against me, his palm touches my back, then rubs up and down, trying to soothe me.
He’s always trying to soothe me and take care of me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “What do you need, baby?”
Struggling to explain something I don’t even understand, I start to say, “I don’t—”
When it suddenly hits me.
Relaxing my hold on him, I pull back just enough to find his face. When I feel his burning gaze on me, I ask, “Will you lay on top of me?”
A pause hangs in the dark between us.
And my heart stops beating, afraid he’s going to deny me.
Then he asks, as if he didn’t hear me right, “You want me to lay on top of you?”
Wanting nothing more in the world, I sound desperate and needy even to my own ears when I say, “Please.”
Another pause. Another heartbeat skipped.
Sliding his palm back up my spine, he says, “Okay. How do you want to do this?”
Relaxing with relief, I unlace my fingers and unlock my arms.
“Like this.”
Rolling onto my back, I tug him with me.
As if he’s unsure or afraid to hurt me, James puts most of his weight down on his hands and knees and holds himself a little above me.