The Billionaire's Christmas Revenge (Book 4)

Chapter 24

You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought- Arthur Conan Doyle

Dillon's POV.

Rereading the shakily scrawled lines of the note had become part of my daily routine for the past two weeks. The wet indents of her tears had left a blotched mark against the ink my stomach twisted together every time I looked at it. Ignoring the pulsing headache, I emptied the remainder of the bottle watching the last drop fall into the tumbler as I took a long sip unable to taste the strong scotch as my tongue held nothing but guilt, loss and pain. Looking around the living room, my chest ached as memories of us together flashed through my mind. The Christmas tree we had set up, the stockings with our names engraved, the teddy bear nutcracker  I had won for her at the fair sat on the sofa as I felt the tug of a smile on my mouth after so long it physically hurt as I remembered her laughing face as she clutched it tightly . She was everywhere. Her taste was everywhere. The words that I now know by heart looked on at me together with the document that I wanted most at one point in time. Yet it all meant nothing.

Frustration overtook as I emptied the glass, selecting an unopened bottle from the wet bar.

"Are you planning on drinking yourself to death?"

Annoyed that I hadn't heard the front door of the suite opening, I turned around on the barstool sipping my drink as Nico stared back leveling me with a look that hinted at sympathy. Choosing not to answer, I swiveled around, emptying the glass as I went to pour another.

I heard his loud sigh as he came forward taking a seat beside me. Wordlessly I poured the golden liquid into a matching glass and slid it in front of him.

"She left?" He questioned as he took a heavy sip.

"While I was asleep." I replied on a raw voice which only made me realize how long I haven't spoken to anyone.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he placed apologetic icy blue eyes onto me, "I'm sorry." He quickly amended, "But Athena did the same thing to me...and I ended up marrying her in the end."

"You survived it?" I found myself asking.

"Barely." He immediately responded.

"I love her." I admitted for the first time aloud as I felt the drunken haze immediately clearing.

"I don't think you ever stopped filos mou." He said gazing intently at me over the rim of his glass, "But what are you going to do about it?"

Pushing the letter and the document towards him, he read it a few times as understanding eyes met mine.

"Finish this second bottle and..." I began saying as he cut me off.

"And what?" He asked abruptly getting up rounding the counter into the kitchen, "You look like you've died twelve times in the last two weeks." He said to me as he turned the coffee maker on, "Are you so intent on making the same mistakes Ethan, Luke and I had done? I always knew you were a pussy." He said coaxing a smile out of me as he continued on, "But are you a pussy that's going to do something about this?" He questioned quirking a brow before continuing

 "Believe me when I tell you that the pain that you are feeling now is incomparable to the one that you'll be having in the foreseeable future if you allow any more time to intervene. If you love her so much, you look as though you are struggling to breathe without her then end the agony...for you both." He said placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, "I once had Luke sober me up on a lunch time in my office before racing on foot across the tarmac into my jet for Athena. Love makes you do the wildest things." He mussed placing a comforting arm on my shoulder, "If you and Geneviève don't make it...I don't think there's much hope for anyone else out there." He said seriously, "You started before anyone of us had our happily ever after...now finish the story. I love my wife very very much as you would know. Give us that hope. Ethan and Luke would share my exact thoughts. Sober up mate...the husband's club needs a secretary; you know what you have to do."