Sebastian Volkov's POV
The sound of the bedroom door latch clicking shut continued to echo in my head long after silence had once again enveloped the suite. I stood motionless in the middle of the living room, staring at the lacquered wood that separated me from Gianna. My fists were so tightly clenched that my nails dug into my bare palms, but I felt no pain. The only pain my body registered was that dull fire consuming my chest, a mixture of humiliation, guilt, and a primal rage I had never experienced before.
I turned slowly toward the large window.
Outside, the dark waters of the Bosphorus were beginning to turn a leaden blue as the Istanbul sun lazily pushed its way through the storm clouds.
I walked heavily toward the bar, feeling like a stranger in my own body. I grabbed the fir
