“Tell me you didn’t do this,” my beloved man begs. “Tell me you’re not the author of all that filth the newspapers and the internet are full of."
I can’t say a word in response.
It was me.
I’m the one who swore to ruin Alexander Gromov’s political career. I’m the one who entered his life and his heart—and then let him into mine. I’m the one who went to bed with an enemy and then fell in love, completely.
And now all I can do is hope he forgives me. Because I can’t live without him anymore.