He stood there watching her from a discreet location one early morning.

He kept a far distance from her but never too far. He watched her himself at times when she ventured out of the hotel to run errands. Other times, his men watched the hotel or acted like guests in the lobby reporting back directly to him. He had to protect her, keep her safe because he knew he couldn't exist in a world where Yasmina didn't.

The thought scared him. He worried about her. Keeping her safe from the hazards of the outside world would have to do even if it was in discretion. He may have lost her love but he was determined to keep her safe. At least he had a mission, something to do, something to accomplish.

She was so beautiful, Cristiano thought as Jasmine took the steps to the St. James hotel. Tall and proud, and delicately boned. Skin as soft as a soft ripening peach. Hair the color of rich honey. Glossy lips dripping with innocence. A figure of an angel. A Michael Angelo masterpiece.

Simply exquisite.

He could have sworn the scent of her preferred perfume—vanilla-lavender, drifted in the air. Light, exotic, and innocent. He inhales sharply and closes his eyes briefly opening them in fear she may disappear, feeling completely helpless.

It always felt like the first time when he watched over her. But when he did catch a glimpse, the mere sight of her instantly calmed him. It was the balm he'd been searching for. She always was. She was the warmth and joy he was missing. No matter how many times he warned himself she was better without him interrupting her life, he couldn't help himself. He always had to see her, even if it was from afar.

However, especially today, there was a lost air about her, appearing almost childlike and wounded. It broke his heart as he saw her stumble on a step.

Instinctively, Cristiano moved from the shadows having the urge to help her. But when she turned, he stopped in his tracks, stiffening. Had she sensed him? Her mouth parted as she took a startled step back as she regained her balance, darting her gaze right then left frantically. She rushed into the hotel and bumped into a man in uniform who catches her before she falls once more.

The young man holds her by the arms and assists her on her feet. Startled, Jasmine pushes him away from her appearing ready to fight. It was the spectacle of her distress that drove Cristiano into action, ready to intervene. However, she instantly recognizes the man, her shoulders sagging in relief. She looked flustered yet smiles, as they exchange words. He took note of the way the male's hands rested briefly, yet comfortably, with a ease, on her arms before he snatched them back, blushing profusely and muttering apologies.

Cristiano sighed in relief, comprehension flickering on his face–he was one of her employees. He inches back into the shadows, adjusts the winter hat on his head and jams his hands in his jacket pockets. With his head bowed, he discreetly blends into the crowds of people milling around the lobby.

The smile she sends her rest of her employees was as bright as the sun–blinding, scorching, beautiful. He wished that smile was for him. He'd captured it discreetly on countess occasions when he spied on her. Every smile, every expression she'd ever had, every hairstyle her silk hair was arranged in. . . He imaged if could be near her, smell her, bask in the peace she emitted.

Those eyes of hers were his weakness. Lucid and sweet. The color of a stormy thunderstorm. Eyes that haunted his dreams during the night and occupied his thoughts during a thunderous rumble rolling across the sky. No other female ever compared to her. Not even close. And no other will hold his attention or a place in his black heart for the rest of his miserable life.

His practiced eye appraised the smooth curves of her body. He noticed her figure had changed now that he was closer to her than he had ever been in months. Although her clothing was loose, she appeared slimmer. The stark cheekbones of her face more prominent. Her eyes were dull, with non of their customary inner fire. There was something about her he'd been trying to puzzle out for the past few weeks. A look about her which made her appear quite different–but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. Something had been nagging at him. He just didn't know who or what he could do in order to help him figure it out.

He watched her retreating back, waiting until she disappeared into the elevator.

It was later that very same day, as he sat late in the evening in his living room of his English manor in London when he learned from his uncover contacts she was leaving for the States.

"Sir, after she entered the hotel, and you left, your wife made arrangements to depart the country."

His stomach clenched into a hard knot.

"Where to?" He remembered growling the words.

"The United States, specifically California. Two first class tickets were purchased under the names Jasmine St. James and a Samuel Princeton." Giovanni answered.

"When?" He asked as a muscled ticked in his cheek.

"Three days, Sir. What would you like us to do? The men and I are awaiting you orders."

A spurt of anger shot through him. His heart beat heavily in his chest as he fought to remain calm.

She was leaving in three days. Why so sudden?

Something wasn't quite right and there was something about Jasmine they were all missing. When he observed her earlier today, she looked like she'd seen a ghost. Was she sick? She did not look well. It was more than sadness which he witnessed. He could pretend she was still upset by what he'd done but it was something more. If he was the cause she would have left long ago.

Until it dawned on him.

Did she suspect his undercover men disguised as guests of the hotel? Did she sense him out there watching her? Was it possible she discovered him?

His eyes clouded. Frustration welled up and Cristiano fought to keep his temper in check.

Damn.

What did he expect? However, no amount of questions would give him answers. She had every right to go and do as she pleased but the prospect of not being near her filled him with frustration and anger.

He had to stop her from leaving. But how?

"Tell the men to keep watch and stay on stand by. If anything changes, notify me immediately."

"Yes sir."

Giovanni leaves and quietly closes the door behind him.

Cristiano stood rigidly in his living room, unwilling to sit down, unwilling to move. He raked a hand through his longer hair which reached past his ears, resting his arm against the top of the window and leaned forward focused on the night.

For months he avoided visiting a barber. For months he avoided everything he was accustomed, even the fine luxury of sleep trying to track his scheming sister and her Judas lover, Mateo, as he kept close tabs on his estranged wife.

Months passed with no headway in finding them. It was as though they disappeared off the face of the earth. It was in their favor to stay hidden and far from him, of course. For if he ever saw Mateo, Cristiano vowed to kill him with his bare hands. That would be his sentence. He didn't care about the blood that would taint his hands. He barely cared for his sister after her deception. Beyond breaking his trust and their ever ending disloyalty, Mateo and Sofia were part of the reason leading him to believe a lie and extract revenge against innocent people.

Most importantly, the woman he loved and lost.

Nothing concerning that matter would ever calm the rage festering within him. Despite his search which was running in the background of his mind, his main focus was Yasmina. He hated himself for what he had done to her and her family. Cristiano may not have been the instigator but this was his fault. He couldn't bear staying in his castle. He couldn't stomach going back where his thoughts ate him alive.

He stared out at the darkening night as snow fell in spiraling flakes. It had just started, but it was already beginning to build on the lawns and trees. Although the fireplace was lit, it could not ward off the chill in his bones.

She was moving on and he was still trapped in a past he couldn't escape. He didn't deserve her, and the more he relived the past the more he hated himself. He desperately needed her forgiveness. The desire for it burned in his eyes. But this was no life. There was no satisfaction. Only emptiness, and fear that lingered inside him at his loses.

He dropped his arm from the sill, his back straight as a rod. The first thing in the morning he looked at was a large framed photo of her on his wall basking in her natural beauty and grace.

She was everything he ever needed. He sighed, shaking his head sadly. No amount of money, no amount of power his title yields, no amount of freedom he had was worth it. She was his everything and the only thing he needed wrapped in one person. He'd lost the only person that mattered to him, the only person he'd ever truly loved. Yet, he couldn't fully acknowledge the loss not matter how many times his subconscious argued he was a danger to her.

He still needed her. He still wanted to be part of her life. It may be selfish, but the truth. Was it possible for him to have a second chance at happiness?

She had been so accepting of him. So much life and love inside her. But broke her faith in him. He broke her heart. He hurt her deeply.

There was a knot in his chest, an aching loss he wasn't sure he could survive. Living and seeing a lot, life should have prepared him for anything that came his way but he didn't feel strong. He felt horrible, fragile, lost, scared. He hated feeling the way he did.

Life robbed him of his wife. The chance for a future filled with happiness. And children. They'd left him with nothing but anger, pain, despair, betrayal, and a heartache so deep he didn't know if he'd ever stop hurting.

He shrank away from the reminder of what he'd done. It lingered and became apart of him. It would forever be engraved in his mind like the weight of the worlds problems rested upon his shoulders. He was paying for introducing her to his cruel world.

Did she still love him after everything he said to her? Would she be able to still love him after these months? So far he'd done nothing to warrant her forgiveness. How would she ever be able forgive him, let alone listen to whatever he had to say if he tried to contact her? It was the fear of her rejection he would not survive. He felt a hole, waiting to rip itself wide again, born out of fear of her reaction.

Self-loathing ate him alive and guilt ruled his life.

She should be happy, no matter what it cost him, he assured himself. All he wanted for her to have a chance at a normal, happy life. But he was a dying man without her. He died a little each day living with his sins. Did she hate him, he wondered? Was he allowed to hope?

He thought back at his harsh words. He tried to filter through the excuses why he pushed her away. Why he'd left her while loving her, letting her go for her own good.

That decision wasn't thought through all the way. He believed he was doing what was right for her and thought he would be strong enough to accept it. But as the days passed into weeks and the weeks became months, the rights and wrongs ceased to mean much to him.

Cristiano raked a hand through his hair, wanting to break everything in his sight.

Hoping a drink would easy the tension knotting his shoulders, he crossed to the crystal decanters of liquor. After a hefty swallow of the bitter liquor burning down his throat a humorless laugh escaped him. He had been happy with her. For a very brief time. But it had been based on an illusion.

A bitter laugh rose in his throat like bile. He poured himself a double. He raised the glass to drain the contents down this throat.

No amount of liquor will help him. No amount of time will help him solve his issues. Only one person could ease his soul.

Yasmina.

He sat down heavily in an armchair, rested his elbows on his knees, and lowered his face into both hands, rubbing his temples. What would happen to him if she wanted nothing to do with him? However, that thought was too terrifying to entertain, shaking his head. There was no room for any more negative thoughts. He had to focus on the big picture and stand up for what he wanted. It's never stopped him before. There was always a choice, no matter the consequences.

And after all this time, learning she was leaving him finally broke the last string of his resolve.

He ached to hold her, to take it all back. Settling on making sure she was being watched and protected was no longer enough. He wasn't ready to lose her just yet. A very small, perverse part of his black soul held on to hope. Hope he would be able to reach her.

And as the sun rises from the dark sky, it grew as the seconds passed.

A strong rush of determination had him firmly in its grip. It grew like a vine, weaving itself through him, taking over his mind and taking root in his soul. He must find a way before it was far too late.

He was restless and waited long enough. There was far too much pent up energy inside of him he didn't know what to do with it all. The more he paced, the more he waited, the more restless he felt. Time was slipping through his fingers and he wasted enough precious moments where he could have held her, loved her, and grew old with her as the days went by.

With his decision made, Cristiano stood ready to beg his princess to take him back before they wasted more precious moments of time they had to share on this earth. She wouldn't have a chance. He would love her until she couldn't stand it anymore.

Waiting was a mistake. Life was too short. The promise of a future was at the tip of his fingertips. It was time to fight and this battle will be the hardest one to win.

"Giovanni!" Cristiano hollered.

As he expected, Giovanni was standing on-watch outside the door and opened it immediately at his summons.

"Your Highness?"

"Contact your men, I need a detailed schedule of her day tomorrow. Also, make sure her friend Samuel is nowhere in sight when I visit her. I need to see her. Alone. As soon as possible."

"Very good, Sir. I will make the necessary arrangements." Giovanni smiles and bows before closing the door behind him once more.

It was time he groveled at her feet. She had to take him back. She had to. All he needed is one more chance to prove to her he was worthy of her.

For she was the light to his darkness. The bright star in his night sky. And he would spend the rest of his life showing her she was the center of his universe if it was the last thing he did.

*******

He was a nervous wreck as the elevator coasted up towards the suite. Closing his eyes with his head tilted, facing the ceiling, he prayed for himself and prayed for his wife. He prayed she would accept him. He prayed he would be granted another chance at a life. He continued to silently pray until he reached the floor.

Before Cristiano stepped out of the elevator, he inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled from his mouth. Relaxing the tension in his shoulders, he grew the nerve to move when he froze mid-step, mouth parted in surprise to stop and listen.

A loud noise registers in his muddled brain. He stopped and listened.

He could have sworn he heard the loud thud of something heavily slamming the floor. The force of the fall softly vibrated beneath his shoes and was gone as quickly as it came. His gaze rapidly scanned right and left quickly trying to pinpoint the location of the noise. But there was nothing in sight but beige walls and hotel grade carpet.

He focused on any other noises, any sounds that would alert him. But nothing happened. It was as silent as a graveyard except for his heavy breathing and too much adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Dismissing the noise as part of his overactive nerves for imagining things that were not there, he barely moved out of the way as the elevator doors closed behind him. Taking another deep breath to steady his heart which he could hear pounding though his ears, he exhaled, closed his eyes briefly and with determination overtaking his mind, he opened them ready to face his fate.

But it came again.

This time someone screamed, a bloodcurdling, terrified scream, reverberating off the walls. It was a scream born of pure terror and agony.

His heart rate leapt rapidly in his chest once more. He'd never heard anyone make a sound like that before. His body thrummed with dread as his skin crawled.

He spun on his heel and sprinted forward down the hallway to the only door at the end of it. The adrenaline pounding through him allowing his long legs to rapidly carry him across the floor. He couldn't move any faster, yet it wasn't fast enough. Cristiano tried to think about what was happening but from the sound of the scream he heard, it didn't sound good.

Reaching the door, he pulled the gun strapped to his waist and shot at the door knob three times until it broke off. He lifted his leg and broke down the rest of the door. It shattered inward, wood splintered as the rest of the door forced to go in a direction it wasn't designed to.

He skidded to a halt as shock slammed into him, not believing what was before him. But shock instantly gave way to intense red-burning fury.

Cristiano raised his gun.

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