Security ushersme back to the dressing room where Luke greets me at the door.
“Out of the fucking park,” he says. “Baby, you were out of the fucking park.”
“Thank you, Luke.”
“So…”
He lingers in place, blocking my entry.
“So?”
“Let’s talk next show. World tour. Isabella, you have to give them more.”
He’s got dollar signs in his eyes, and I’m already shaking my head.
“I told you the deal, Luke. One show. One time. That’s it. I’m done. I’m out of the game for good.”
His shoulders fall, and he still doesn’t want to accept it.
“Baby doll, c’mon, did you not see that crowd out there? They were wild for you. You have to ride the wave.”
“There is no wave,” I tell him. “This was it, Luke.”
“So that’s it?” he repeats. “You’re just going to give all this up and go back to your hole and be a mom?”
I smile, despite the horrified expression on his face.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Unbelievable. You’re going to miss it, Isabella. You’re going to want this back. This feeling. But you won’t be able to have it. Not if you wait too long.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ll live with it if I do.”
He sighs. Shuffles from side to side.
“Will you call me if you change your mind?”
“You’ll be the first number I dial.”
He moves in for a creepy hug, and I hold my hand out instead. He shakes it, and then reluctantly moves along. I open the door to my room and sit down. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
That’s when it hits me.
The scent. The unmistakable scent of wild roses. I open my eyes to find the stems laid out on my dressing table.
Crimson red.
Tears fill my eyes. I don’t dare to hope. I don’t dare to fear. But there is knife right beside them. A knife that is all too familiar.
“My sweet Bella.”
The voice comes from behind me, so soft I can’t be sure I’m not going insane. I can’t move. I don’t dare. I am so afraid that if I blink, that if move even a fraction of an inch, the illusion in the reflection will disappear. His face will disappear, and I will be plunged right back into my waking nightmare again.
“You have two choices,” he tells me. “You can keep me, or you can kill me. For I cannot go on living without you. And I cannot go on living with you as my captive. So you must decide on your own. You must choose to be my willing captive. You must choose to remain by my side for the days of your life, or be merciful and have your vengeance by bleeding me dry.”
A tear falls down my cheek, followed by another. And then another. Soon, Javi is kneeling before me at my feet, cupping my face in his palms. And they feel so real. So warm.
I can smell him. I can feel him. It is either the cruelest fabrication of my mind or the best day of my life.