My vision blurs with unshed tears. I throw the phone on the bed and rush into the bathroom so I don’t wake Yulia. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, I press my hand over my mouth to keep the whimpers from escaping. God! I thought all that damn jewelry he’s been showering me with was nothing more than his way of flashing his wealth. A tactic to show off how much “better” he is than everyone else. It never occurred to me that he actually viewed himself as somehow lacking. As if he wasn’t good enough. How could I have been so blind and didn’t realize that?

I swallow the bile that’s threatening to choke me, and give in to the ugly tears. They burn like acid down my cheeks while my heart feels like it’s being squeezed inside my chest.

He loves me.

He wants me.

Why did I not see his pain?

I never saw him as anything other than drop-dead gorgeous. That’s my only justification for being so oblivious to his insecurities. And he hung up on me before I got the chance to tell him that. To tell him that I’m in love with him, too.

And that I am coming back.

“Vasya?” My mom’s voice drifts in from inside my bedroom. “Where are you? I thought you—” Her words get cut off as soon as she opens the bathroom door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I wipe my nose on my sleeve, then smile. “I’m returning to Sicily.”

My mother goes eerily still. “What?”

“I’m in love with him, Mom. I’m in love with Rafael.”

Mom rushes to me and crouches by the toilet, wrapping her arms around me. “Hush. You’re just confused, baby. It’ll pass.”

“I’m not confused, Mom. This is the first time in months I’m thinking clearly.” I squeeze her arm. “I’m going back to him.”

She rears back and grabs my shoulders. “What? No. I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t need your permission, Mom.” I wipe the tears off my cheeks, then meet my mother’s frantic gaze. “You of all people should understand that when your heart chooses someone, there’s no coming back from that.”

“You can’t fall in love with someone in two months, Vasilisa!”

“Oh? How long did it take you to fall in love with Dad?”

“That was different.”

“Yeah. He blackmailed you into marrying him! Twice, I might add.” I snort. “He says you fell for him within a day.”

“Absolutely not! It took me at least a month.”

A laugh rumbles out of me. “There you go.”

My mother’s face falls, concern written all over it. “Are you sure you have feelings for that man?”

“Yes.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty-nine. What does that have to do with how I feel?”

“I’m just saying. He’s much older. Experienced. I understand how someone like him can make a young woman fall for him. It’s just an infatuation, and it will pass.”

I take her hand and press her palm to the middle of my chest. “There is a hole inside me, right here. It formed the moment I woke up on that plane and realized Rafael wasn’t there with me. Just thinking about the possibility of never being with him again makes that hole spread. I feel empty without him. I came back. But my heart remained in Sicily. With him. And no one can live without their heart, Mom.”

“But . . . You can’t just take off. Your dad is going to lose it, Vasya. He would never allow you to leave.”

“I know. So I’d like you to explain to him that I’m no longer a little girl he needs to shield from monsters. That’s not what I need from him anymore. I want him to understand that even though I love him and always will, it’s time for me to start living my own life.”

“You know how maniacally protective your father is about you and Yulia.”

“Yes. But I don’t need his protection, Mom. I need his support.”

“Okay,” she chokes out. “You know, there are times when your father still wakes up covered in sweat because of a dream about that explosion at the mall. I have nightmares about that, too. God, I’m so grateful you were so little then that you don’t remember it.”

“It was ages ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. Things like that lodge in your mind, and, no matter how much time passes, you can’t forget them. You can’t even imagine how terrifying it was, Vasilisa.” She squeezes my hand and shudders. “So much blood. Roman got to you first and had to basically extricate you from that man who saved you. He was clutching you to his chest—so hard—practically enveloping you with his whole body. Shards of glass were embedded in his hands and arms. And his face . . . Jesus Christ. I will remember his shredded face for as long as I live.”

His hands . . . His face . . . The floor falls out from beneath my feet. My mother continues speaking, something about the ambulances arriving, but the words don’t penetrate. Hands and face. Shredded. No, it can’t be him.

My mind zooms to the afternoon we spent together in the bath. Rafael, asking me about the scar on my back. He said something . . . Something about kismet.

Destiny.

“What did he look like?” I whisper. “The man who saved me?”

“I . . . I don’t know. He was covered in blood. I think . . . He had dark hair. And he was tall. Broad. I remember thinking—his being so big was likely the reason he was able to shield you from all that glass. Roman tried to locate him. After. He went to Endri Dushku, the leader of the Albanian cartel, because of the tattoo your dad saw on the young man’s arm. But Dushku told him that none of their members got hurt that day.”

“And . . .” I swallow. “What does the Albanian gang mark look like?”

“Um . . . I’m not sure. I think, it’s two daggers with a green snake—”

“Coiled around them,” I interrupt, as tears once again threaten to spill from my eyes.

“Yes. How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen it.”

He knew. He knew and didn’t say a word. He must have figured it out when we were talking about my scar. But he didn’t let on to gain an advantage. No bargains. No deals. No calling in the debt to make me stay.

You’re not indebted to him, he said.

I wrap my arm around my mother’s back and press a kiss on her cheek. “Yulia will be mad because you guys didn’t bring her along to the airport with you.”

“She hasn’t been feeling well the past few days, so we let her sleep. And we weren’t sure what to expect, Vasilisa. We didn’t know what state you’d be in. That man kept you for months and . . .”

A sad smile pulls at my lips. “Let me assure you of one thing, Mom. That man’s arms are the safest place I could ever be.”

“What do you mean?”