Lily awoke shortly before six o’clock the next morning. The room was faintly lit by the warm lights coming from the city and the reflection of the moon off the white-capped Andes. It gave everything a soft, ethereal glow, and under the fluffy comforter, she felt like she was living in the Hollywood version of Heaven.
Next to her, Komarov was lying on his stomach, one arm under the pillow and the other slung over her rib cage. His soft, even breathing was the only sound in the room as she studied his face, drinking in the sight of him so relaxed.
He was a gorgeous man. And good and kind and patient and a ferocious, intense lover. If she were still being selfish, she’d say that he was exactly the kind of man that she wanted for her own.
But that was crazy, wasn’t it? She barely knew him. She had done something wild, had sex with him—three times—after an acquaintance of mere hours, but that didn’t mean that they were in a relationship. At least, not one that was going to last longer than the time it took her to get up, pack, and walk out the door.
Which she would have to do. Soon, in fact. Her spirits sank. The next flight to New York left in just under three hours. Yesterday, the desk agent had told her that her reservation had been transferred to the 8:40 a.m. flight, but she hadn’t received a confirmation e-mail. And she still had to pack and take a taxi to the airport, get through security…
She sighed.
Part of her wished Komarov was awake so that he could work his magic and relax her. Somewhere between making love for the second and third time, Lily had realized just how easily he had made her forget her troubles, had made her feel wanted and normal and good and whole, and she missed that already.
Even when they had first met, he had pushed things in her that she hadn’t known she had needed until later; exhilarated by their exchange in the hotel lobby, she’d already been in a better mood than she had all week. She just hadn’t realized it until it was too late. When she woke in a hotel room with this man by her side and could feel herself at the edge, ready to fall into something more serious than just one night.
She had to leave now.
She had to go, had to get back to New York and be there for her baby sister, to hug her mother and apologize for the hurtful things she’d said.
She would probably never see Komarov again.
Before the thought made her cry, she mustered her willpower and slid from the bed, taking care not to wake him. Last night, after they had used his last condom and brushed their teeth, side by side in the bathroom in companionable silence, he had set his alarm for an hour from now. His flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until close to noon.
Lily had set hers, too. It would probably go off any minute now. No doubt he had been expecting it to wake them both so that he could say good-bye, then go back to sleep after she had left for the airport.
Instead, she tiptoed to her phone and shut it off.
She told herself it was because she felt bad about interrupting his sleep, but the truth was that she didn’t think she could bear to say good-bye.
It was better this way.
Merely fifteen minutes later, she stepped quietly into the hallway. She shut the heavy door softly behind her and leaned her forehead against it for a moment.
She would not feel sorry for herself. She had learned a lot about herself this week, and was grateful, at least, for the clarity she had gained by coming here. She’d made a choice and taken a risk, and she would deal with whatever came out of it.
Even if it was nothing.
“Good-bye, Komarov,” she sighed, then turned and wheeled her suitcase down the hall.
…
Bruno woke with a start, the feeling that something was wrong propelling him out of bed before he was even fully alert.
She was gone.
Even if her things weren’t missing from the bedroom, he didn’t have to check the rest of the suite to know. There was something vital now lacking in the air, like there weren’t enough oxygen in it anymore to keep him from suffocating. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table, staring in frustration at the screen as though he could somehow will her cell number to appear there, angry at himself for missing his chance to tell her how he felt. He hadn’t wanted to scare her away.
But instead, he’d said nothing, and then he’d lost her, anyway. Why hadn’t he taken the risk? Had he really been afraid that she’d reject him? He’d never hesitated on making a move when a business deal looked promising. Komarov Enterprises had grown by leaps and bounds since he had taken the helm precisely because he took bold actions on behalf of the company. Why hadn’t he realized before now that, all along, he’d been failing to take the same initiative in his personal life?
Because you hadn’t had a reason to before now.