Chapter 3

Dawn was late in arriving. Clouds obscured the sun. The threat of snow hung in the air. Rosalyn cleaned up the broken glass guided by the light filtering in from behind the curtains. The Glock remained by her side, never out of reach.

Eighteen more hours. If I can make it eighteen more hours, it will be over.

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten in hours. She grabbed the sour dough bread and cut off a hunk, then spread butter on it. Hoping it would stay down, she poured milk into a cup to go with it. The bread was almost to her mouth when the telephone rang.

Rosalyn lifted the receiver but didn't speak.

"Did you have an enjoyable night, Rosalyn? I managed to nap a couple of hours, myself." He paused for a moment then continued, "I'm going to eat some breakfast, but I'll be back. Anything I can bring you? Coffee? Croissants? Remember how much Demetrius loved coffee and croissants in bed with you on Valentine's Day? Perhaps you and I could share them before... Well, you know before what. You're a smart girl. No need to spell it out is there?" He laughed loudly, being sure she heard him.

This time she jerked the phone line from the wall jack and threw the telephone to the floor. She refused to listen to him taunt her anymore.

But he had succeeded. Her thoughts turned to Demetrius and their last Valentine's breakfast, seven years ago today. They had been deeply in love, or so she thought.

* * * * *

February 14, 2008

Gourmet coffee and cream-filled croissants were served on a tray on the balcony overlooking the Mediterranean. They wore only robes after having made love with the rising of the sun.

Then Demetrius ruined the day for her. "I must go to the office, but I will return later and we will celebrate Lover's Day however you wish."

Rosalyn corrected him for what seemed the thousandth time, "Valentine's Day, Demie, Valentine's Day. And you promised." She didn't attempt to hide the hurt in her voice. This was to have been their day together. They didn't get that many.

"Is it not the same? I will leave my card and you will go buy something outrageously expensive and sexy to wear for me, yes?" Demie held his cup out for her to pour him more coffee. He smiled charmingly.

But she saw the truth in his eyes. She stood and moved to the railing, refusing to serve him. After a few moments of gazing out over the azure water, Rosalyn turned to face him, demanding, "You're going to see her, aren't you?"

Demetrius got up from the lounger and walked over to join her. His hands possessively cupped her shoulders as he stroked them. "I must see her on business. That is all. You will be my wife as soon as the necessary papers are signed." He smiled down at her, confident she would fall in with his plans as she always did.

But she'd had enough. Rosalyn knocked his hands from her and stepped away. "Not this time, Demetrius. You can see her tomorrow or next week, or never for all I care. But this is my day. You promised me we would be together without interruption, without her intruding. You said if I would fly over to be with you there would be no business, no other women, just us!"

Frowning at her tone, he stepped toward her. "You will not speak to me in this manner. I love you, but there are limits."

Rage flooded through her, filling every cell of her body. "You love me?" She screamed then laughed ironically. She hurled a coffee cup at him. "You love only yourself."

Then her voice changed, became quiet, controlled, "Love? You don't know the first thing about love. Don't you know love kills?" Carefully and very intently, Rosalyn picked up a knife from the tray and plunged the blade into his chest. She watched the blood spurt.

He staggered, a look of shock and pain crossing his handsome face.

Steering him toward the railing was easy. Jerking the knife out, still filled with rage, she shoved him over. He was tall and easily over-balanced as he fell against the balcony railing.

Rosalyn watched his body tumble on the rocks below. Her rich lover sprawled below her, broken and bleeding.

Then the rage subsided and what she'd done finally began to register. Shaking, she gulped in deep breaths then saw the bloody knife clenched in her hand. With her eyes, she followed the trail of blood near the railing.

"What do I do? Oh, no. What do I do now? How do I explain this?" Suddenly inspired, she used the same knife to cut her left upper arm. Fighting the pain, Rosalyn let the blood drip all around to mingle with that of Demetrius. She also bent over one of the patio chairs, turned her head sideways, then banged her cheek solidly against the metal rimmed arm.

A domestic dispute... She had protected herself, he lost his balance, and went over. Easy to explain, if she played it right.

Dazed from the blow to her face and weakened from blood loss, Rosalyn retained enough presence of mind to drop the knife near the railing where Demetrius fell over. Then she curled up on the balcony floor and began screaming hysterically.

A maid and then hotel security soon rushed to her aid. She was whisked away to the hospital for treatment.

At the inquest, it was decided Demetrius died in an accidental fall from the balcony. For the sake of his wife and three children, Rosalyn's part as his mistress and the domestic dispute were kept quiet. She was put on a plane and returned home, quickly and without publicity.

Demetrius deserved what he got and more, according to Rosalyn's way of thinking. He would never have married her. He used her to amuse himself. She put the ordeal totally out of her mind – until the following Valentine's Day.

Then a man followed her and tried to run her down as she crossed the street. Later in the evening, she was attacked in her home. Small, but a definite scrapper, Rosalyn rendered him unconscious with a blow from a large ceramic swan and called the police.

She never made the connection to Valentine's Day and Demetrius' death until she received the phone call from overseas early the next morning. A mocking female voice told her, "Demetrius sends his love. There's always next bloody Valentine's Day, my dear." Then the line went dead.

Every year since, Valentine's Day brought these attempts on her life and every year on the day after she received the same call. Somehow, Rosalyn managed to survive, though it proved extremely close on more than one occasion. She took self-defense lessons. After buying the gun, she learned to shoot proficiently. Her senses grew sharper; she was more alert and cautious than other women. But then, she had good reason to be. Who was to say when or if her tormentor would decide to change the game and not wait for Valentine's Day?

Rosalyn decided she'd spent enough time reflecting on the past. Varian's the here and now. A different beast than I've faced before, more dangerous, tougher, smarter. How will I survive this time?

The hours passed slowly as she agonized over what he would do next.