Wladimir's point of view:

"Okay, so this flat is the smallest out of the three I have shown you today. Despite the size, it has a really lovely view I'm sure you'll like." Michael says, the real estate I hired to find me a new flat.

It's been five months and I still see her in my sleep, hear her voice in my kitchen and smell her smell in my living room. I can't breathe in there. I can't continue living like this. Something has to change.

And I'll start with a new place to live.

Michael opens the black wooden front door and I let him as well as Marco step in first. Marco's an interior architect, he took care of my last place and I want him to do the same with the new place. The flat is not a penthouse like my current is, but I somehow like it.

I close the front door behind myself and I stand directly in the open living concept. The place is completely unfurnished like I asked to. This way Marco can think the clearest. There's hardwood floor, which needs a bit of work. A black marbled open fireplace with a mantelpiece is across me. Two doors are on either side, probably a bathroom and bedroom. I look to my left and see the open kitchen with a white marbled kitchen island and black cabinets. There are brass handles and the faucet is brass as well. "I like the kitchen." I say in a cold voice. It's very different from my current one. It's free of any memories.

"That flat is tiny!" Marco breathes out, not hiding his Italian accent. He's dressed in all black like me. "But don't worry, I can make it look fabulous for you."

Michael walks over to the white wooden door that's next to the fireplace. "That's the master bedroom." He opens the door and leaves it open. I can see the glass front, revealing the river Thames that's right in front of me and the same parquet. I never owned a place this close to the water, but I like it. I like it a lot. We're in Greenwich, also a part of London I've hardly come across by.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Marco says with a grin as boats start passing by.

"The glass front is mirrored so no one can see inside. You have complete privacy."

"What about the sounds? Can I hear the boat's honk?" I ask as I walk through the wide living area. I really like the view. I don't have that one in Parsons Green. The other two flats we visited today were penthouses. They were too similar to my current home.

They reminded me of her.

But not this place. "Where's the bathroom?"

"There are two." Michael explains with a smile on his lips. The blonde man must've understood that I like the flat. I've barely shown interest in the other two.

"The master bathroom is over here." Michael walks over to one of the two black wooden doors in the white room with a glass front as the fourth wall. He opens the door and I see white marble.

"Are you coming?" I ask Marco, who weirdly stares at the white wall across the glass front, rather than outside to appreciate the view.

My black haired best friend shakes his head, "No, you go. I think the painting of the sailing boat, the one in the rough waters would look good here." He points at the white wall. "You know, the one Gabriella gifted you. Right above a king sized bed."

I frown, his mind is already decorating the place although I haven't bought it yet. "I thought it was too small."

Marco looks at me with his green orbs, "It is, but my opinion is not going to keep you from buying this flat."

"I'm not thinking about buying it." I clarify.

"Wlad, this is the eighth flat we visited. It's the first that got you to say something other than hmm and okay. You said you liked the kitchen! And you clearly like the view. I saw that micro-expression. You showed a smile there."

I hadn't realised this was already the ninth flat. "I'm rubbing off on you, aren't I?"

He grins at me, "Over fifteen years of friendship and I still love you like the very first day, my friend."

I chuckle at his words. It is the first chuckle in a long time.

His eyes widen at my reaction, "Michael, he's buying that flat!" Marco calls out.

I roll my eyes at him before walking through the room. I stop at the open door that's showing the long white marbled bathroom. There's a brass line on the left side of the floor which goes all the way from the door to the window front in the back where a free standing tub is standing. A glass front with the same brass thin line at the edge is separating the shower with a brass rain shower head and the white free standing tub from the rest of the marbled bathroom. On my right is a sleek white cabinet with double sinks and a wide mirror. The light source across the mirror is made out of three white balls with brass on the right.

"The bathroom is nice."

Michael smiles at me, "You can of course change it if you want darker colours."

I shake my head, "I like it." I say before stepping out again. Marco has opened the other black wooden door, revealing a dressing room that's filled with empty shelves. My Italian friend has a disgusted look on his face before his green orbs meet mine. "I'll fix this, don't worry."

I chuckle, "I hope you will."

"I'm thinking walnut or oak shelves."

I shrug, "Whatever you want."

"Where's the study?" Marco asks Michael.

"Right next to the bedroom. It's a bit smaller than this room but has the same window front as this master bedroom."

I nod, "The other bathroom?"

"That's across the kitchen." Michael starts walking and I follow him out of the master bedroom, leaving Marco alone with his creative mind.

I stop as I reach the open living area again. My eyes scan the are in front of me again. It's a really nice flat. I can see myself in here very easily. "I've seen enough."

Michael stops walking and turns around at my words.

"I'll take it."

There's absolutely nothing that reminds me of her.

It's perfect.

Adaline's point of view:

"You should start dating." Sophie says after we changed into fresh clothes. The workout with Max was good. Turns out Krav Maga is not really our thing.

"No, I don't know, Soph..."

She zips her gym bag clothes, "I'm telling you, start dating. Ask Max out. It's been five months. It's time for you to start getting back out there."

I gulp before I follow her out of the changing room. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should go out there. Don't they say the best way to forget a man is by replacing him? The gym's full of people working out as it's seven thirty in the morning. Sophie and I worked out with Max for two hours, doing Cross Fit until we both were dog tired. I've started to get my energy back and I think Max noticed it. He pushed me harder than he did over the last five months. Everything Sophie did, I had to do double of. Sixty burpees instead of thirty, fifty push-ups instead of twenty five, a hundred crunches instead of fifty. And it felt good. I feel so good! So full of endorphins.

As we walk past the group that Max is training with I stop. I decide to ask him out. "Hey, Max." I say loudly, so he can hear me over the music.

He looks up from the brunette he was teaching how to do proper sit-ups, "Yeah?" He walks over to me, abandoning the group.

Sophie looks at me, "I'll be outside."

I watch her leaving the gym before turning around. Max is standing across me. He is good looking, Sophie is right. "Do you want to go out with me?" I ask him bluntly.

He stares at me, his deep green eyes are wide.

I take that as a yes. "Tomorrow at seven?" I ask him, knowing I have the day off.

He nods, "Shall I pick you up?"

So my parents can start their inquisition before I even had a chance to get to know him?! No, I'd rather not. "I'll meet you at the restaurant. Text me the address."

"Alright. Until tomorrow." He says with a nice smile on his lips.

I return his smile before leaving the gym. Sophie is right. It's time for me to move on.

I yawn before taking another sip of my green juice. I have been here for almost twelve hours.

"How about coffee instead of that green shit?"

I turn around at the deep masculine voice. Dr. Josh Fleming is standing behind me with a grin on his lips. "That is much more nutritious than a black coffee." I answer with a frown. "You're working today?"

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I'm here on a personal behalf."

"Personal?" I ask. Why is he wearing his uniform then? "As a patient?"

He chuckles, "No. I'm working on something outside all of this." He circles his forefinger in the air.

"A secret project?"

He nods, "And it's world changing."

"Well then I shouldn't keep you from it."

"You don't want to know?"

I shake my head, "By all means, I don't care what you do in your private time. As long as you don't interfere in my work life in any way, you can do whatever you want, Dr. Fleming."

"Alright, but I'm telling you, one day you'll want to know." With that he turns on his heel.

I frown as I watch him go. What an odd conversation.

"You know, rumour has it he just recently split from his wife." Stacy, the chief nurse says to me with a smirk. She's wearing a deep purple uniform.

"Why should I care about that?" I ask her back.

"He's into you."

"He's not into me. He doesn't even use my doctor title because I remind him of a teenager."

"Well, technically you still are, Dr. Bolton."

I growl, "I can't wait to turn twenty."

Stacy chuckles, "He never mentioned a secret project before but I've seen him walking through this hospital in his free time as well. He's kind of like you."

"He is not like me. We have nothing in common."

"I know you're working on your own secret project as well."

I can't hide the surprise in my face, "How do you know that?"

"I'm the chief nurse. I know what every doctor and every nurse in here does all the time. You're living in this hospital, Dr. Bolton."

"Well, I can assure you my secret project has nothing to do with his. Besides, I do have a life outside the hospital."

"Yeah, sure and I'm the Queen of England."

"I have a date tonight."

"A date?"

I nod. "With a fine looking man."

She smirks, "Seems like you have a life after all, Dr. Bolton."

I finish my makeup with a nude lipstick. My makeup is quite heavy, for me anyway. I'm wearing a black cat eye to emphasises the navy in my orbs. The mascara I borrowed from my Mom makes my voluminous lashes looks three times as long. A little blush is on my cheeks. I look pretty, maybe even hot.

I styled my hair straight with Ana's straightener. She forgot it the last time she was home. My straight hair reaches almost down to my navel. I fix my hair one last time before turning away from the mirror in my marbled bathroom. I walk out of the bathroom and back into my room. I love my room, it's full of light thanks to the French windows and the window in the ceiling above the king sized bed. I used to watch the stars when I was little until I fell asleep. I remember sleeping best when the rain clashed against my windows. The sound was so soothing. But then I kissed Wlad and my whole world turned upside down. Suddenly, nothing was better than sleeping in his arms. Sleeping here, alone in this huge bed, was impossible. I sleep best in his arms. And five months later it's still true. No rain, no stars and no moon can give me the feeling his arms gave me. Sophie promised me it would get better, but I don't see how or when. But at least, it's not getting worse.

"Are you going on a date?"

I twist my body around as I hear Rory's voice. She's standing in the doorway along with Jo. Her icy blue orbs are staring at me. "No." I lie to her. They shouldn't even be here right now. Don't they have to do something else?

"Oh she is!" Jo says with a grin, "Mom, Della's-" I rush over to them and close their mouths with my hands before they can yell any further.

"No word to Mom." I tell them and lift my hands.

"What do we get in exchange?"

I think for a moment, "I'll do your homework for a month."

Rory looks at her eleven year old twin sisters, "She likes him."

Jo giggles with Rory before looking back at me, "No." she says, crossing her tiny arms in front of her chest. Rory mirrors her bigger sister's gesture.

"No?" I ask them back. A month is a pretty good deal.

"We want a ride in Daddy's Bugatti."

My eyes widen, they are pushing their luck. "The Bugatti?"

"Yes. One ride with each of us. Next week. Daddy's going to be in Barcelona." Jo explains with a nod.

"Yeah." Rory agrees with her. I swear, us Bolton women have gasoline in the blood.

"Alright fine." I give in, "Deal." I shake their tiny hands and they turn around before running away.

I turn around again and walk into my dressing room. I switch on the lights and stare at my clothes on the white shelves and in the glass cabinets. Everything is sorted by length, fabric and colour. I don't have a lot of clothes. I walk over to my dresses and pick out a black strapless knee length dress. It's fitting and I think I can't do anything wrong with that. I never dressed up for Wlad. I never had to. He loved me the way I was - whether that was in jeans or joggers, it didn't matter to him. I was beautiful nevertheless.

I have to stop this. I have to stop thinking about him. It's been bloody five months!

I hold the dress onto my body as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. After showering, I've wrapped myself into a creme coloured silk morning gown that has lace applications at the sleeves.

"It looks good."

I jump up as I hear my mother's voice suddenly. Damn it, Rory and Jo! I thought we had a deal. I turn around and look at her. She's wearing grey joggers and a white shirt that she has knotted in the front. She always wears casual clothes when she's at home. She looks stunning in them. Her dark brown curls are open and the makeup she put on this morning has been washed off. She turned from boss-lady to mother within a few steps. "Mom, you scared me."

"You're going out?" She nods towards the dress I'm holding.

I hand her the dress that's by Dolce Gabana. "Yes."

"Will he pick you up?" She asks me as I turn around.

I open the illuminated glass drawers in my dressing room and pick out matching black laced underwear. "No." I say as I open my silk gown and get into the underwear. "We'll meet there."

"I see..." she hands me the black strapless dress and I change into it. "I have matching shoes, come on."

She turns around and I follow her out of my bedroom and down the hallway. We pass several framed photos that my father took of us in the last years. I stop briefly as we pass the gallery, because it offers a stunning view over the living area with the glass front. Daddy's favourite painting is hanging underneath me. Water lilies by Monet. I love this painting just a much as him... I love my home, but I loved his penthouse more. Somehow, it felt more like home than this.

I inhale deeply before I continue walking down the hallway until I reach my parents master bedroom. My mother has already disappeared in their dressing room that's double the size of mine. I pass their Häastens bed and let my eyes wander through the room. There are armchairs placed in front of the open marbled fireplace. French windows let in lots of natural light. The door to their bathroom is closed. I walk over to the dressing room, that doesn't have a door. The walnut wooden shelves are divided equally. The left side is my Daddy's, the right side is my Mom's. His side is full with suits and Oxford shirts in every colour and shape. There're only a few casual clothes, because he feels most comfortable in suits.

I look to the right and see my mother's side of the closet. Hers is much fuller. It's stuffed with dresses, skirts, jeans, sweaters, blouses... everything. The thin drawers are filled with jewellery most people will never own. I don't want to think about the value this closet holds. My Mom is bending down at the end of the closet where her shoe collection is. She has an insane amount of shoes all sorted by colour and height. I walk in, passing her purses that are sorted by colour as well. Chanel is her favourite brand. I don't blame her, I kind of like the clothes they do as well.

"Okay, I thought maybe these could fit you." She pulls out rose gold coloured shoes with embroidery at the heel.

"Mom, they are pink. I won't wear pink shoes." I point out.

"Okay, fine. Maybe another pair then..." her chocolate brown eyes scan her shoes.

I look up and stare at the golden doorknob across me. I never asked my parents what's behind this door. I don't think I want to know. It's most probably a panic room. Or a room where my father keeps all of his weapons. Or a really large safe.

Definitely one of the three.

"How about these?" She holds out a golden pair of stilettos. They have gold metallic leaves that wrap around my ankles. They are open, so they will show off my French manicured toes. Francesco Russo is the designer. Not that the name tells me anything.

"They are okay."

"Great!" She grins at me as she hands them over. "Do you want matching jewellery as well?"

"I don't really wear jewellery, you know that." I say as I walk out of the dressing room. I sit down on one of the beige armchairs before getting into the sandal heels.

"Yeah, but maybe a bracelet or earrings?"

"Fine!" I say as I close the second heel. The shoes don't look bad around my toned legs. They don't look bad at all. I walk back into the dressing room, now being ten centimetres taller. Shit, I hope I'm not going to be taller than Max now. That would be awkward.

"Oh, these shoes look stunning on you!" My mother smiles as she sees me in them.

"They are just shoes." I roll my eyes at her and see the diamond bracelet she's holding. "Is that for me?"

"Yes." She says before closing the delicate diamond bracelet around my left wrist. It's sparkling in the light. "Nothing too fancy, you don't need it. You're beautiful the way you are."

Wlad used to say the same. I gulp down my emotions, shit. "Earrings?"

"Yes," she pulls a thin drawer open, revealing the many earrings she has. "What about those?" She shows me white golden diamond earrings in the shape of snowflakes.

Cнежинкa, his voice rings in my ears as I remember the day when he told me about his white Persian cat. He named her snowflake. I lick my lips as they start trembling and simply nod. I don't think I could say a word. Shit, this is much harder than I thought.

My Mom hands me the earrings and I put them quickly on. I'm going on a date with another man, but it still feels like I'm taking Wlad with me.

Wladimir's point of view:

I take another sip of my Merlot, cherishing the red wine before allowing it to run down my throat. Marco invited Troy and Gabriella, Kyler and his wife Stephanie, Vermont and me all over to dinner at his place. I mean, his and Brooke's place since they've been living together for a few months now. I knew those two would last. I am happy for Marco. He deserves someone who can make his heart stop and that someone is definitely Brooke.

The brunette is fitting right in with us. She has the same humour, she's only a few years younger than Marco and she has won Gabriella's heart over with her first smile. Since Ella is the glue in our circle, it was pretty much the okay from all of us.

"So, what's the reason for this?" Troy asks as we're enjoying desert. A tiramisu that's reminding me of Della, but I try to not think of her so much. The pain is getting easier, it's now much more dull, rather than pulsing and slicing like it had been for the last five months. Gabriella's right, my heart will heal. However that's possible.

"Wlad found a new flat." Marco says, causing all eyes to look at me. "I'm designing his new place as well."

"That's not the reason why you called us all in here." I hiss at Marco. Shifting the attention to me was a pussy move. He's hiding something.

"Where will you live now?" Stephanie, a blonde Swedish woman asks me.

"Greenwich. Bought a place at the pier."

"So there's a view of the Thames right?" Kyler asks me.

I nod, "There's a glass front in the bedroom and study."

"Nice." Troy nods, knowing this place a lot better than me because he had a few business dinners there.

I glare back at Marco, who shrugs in response. I frown and suddenly realise that Brooke is nervous as well. "Spill." I hiss at Marco.

"We're getting married." My Italian friend breathes out.

"What?!" Gabriella asks shocked. "You're engaged?"

I had no idea. Why didn't I see that coming? I know my work has suffered over the last months, but... I didn't think it would affect my personal life as well. I've lost my skills as a profiler.

"That's great news!" Kyler says while Stephanie rises from her chair to hug them both. I watch Gabriella, Troy and Vermont rising from their chairs as well before embracing the newly engaged couple. Engaged...

Why didn't I see that? Why didn't I notice anything? I used to see love miles apart. Normally I know what's going to happen before the people know themselves. I knew they would end up being married at some point... but why didn't I see it coming? Why didn't I see the signs over the last months?!

I gulp, I was too busy grieving. I was too busy being heartbroken. Shit, I really need to move out of my penthouse.

"Wlad,"

My head swings up at Marco's voice. "Yes?"

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

I nod before rising from my chair. Brooke is showing everyone her engagement ring but I don't see it as I follow Marco out of the dinning room. He stops in the beige coloured living room with soft couches, an open fireplace and many framed photos of him and Brooke that were taken when they visited his parents in Tuscany.

"I'm happy for you, Marco."

"That's not why I wanted to talk to you, but thanks." Marco says to me, "Listen, I gave her the pear shaped diamond as an engagement ring. You know, the one you saw on the day we surprised her at work... the one when you looked for engagement rings yourself-"

"Yeah, I remember." I interrupt him. She's wearing half a million on her left ring finger. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I remember every second of it. I remember how all the diamond rings looked in the glass cabinets, I remember the watch that I bought for her. The one that's sitting in my nightstand because I can't bring myself to throw it away but gifting it to her would be weird now as well. I don't know what to do with it.

"Look, I hope it's not weird for you. I looked at other engagement rings, but none were as fitting as this one."

I frown at his words, "Who did you bring with you when you went looking?"

"I went with Troy. Since you and mystery woman are over, you've kind of been..." he sighs and his green orbs fill with pain, "Man, you're totally wrecked. I wasn't going to drag you into a jewellery shop and slap you with my happiness. You are hurt enough."

I gulp. I hadn't realised my pain was so obvious to my friends. "Well, it's a really pretty ring."

He nods, "I know and Brooke likes it too."

I force myself to smile, "Good."

"Listen, I'd like you to be my best man. Since, you know, you brought us together."

I feel a stitch in my heart. I hope Brooke won't ask Adaline to be her maid of honour. "Of course. I'd be honoured."

Adaline's point of view:

I get out of my Porsche Cayenne and accept the golden round plate that has a number engraved into it from the valet parking service. I didn't think Max would choose such a fancy restaurant. I underestimated him. A lot.

"Have a great evening, Miss Bolton." Seth, the man at the valet parking service desk says. Everyone knows my name. Not just everyone in London, but in the whole wide world.

I smile at him before a porter holds the French door open for me. I flash Justin, the porter, a smile as well. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The sixty year old man says as I walk past him.

I walk into the French restaurant and stop at the reception. A brunette lady with a black blouse and skirt smiles at me. "Hi, I'm-"

"This way please, Miss Bolton." She says before leading the way. Sometimes I forget that I'm sort of a celebrity because I tend to hide in the OR. Of course she knows who I am.

I follow her through the restaurant, passing several couples and families that enjoy their time here. A few people recognise me, but I hope they aren't going to ask for photos with me. Soft violin music is filling the room and I look to the right, seeing the violinist. He's really good.

"There you go." The brunette says to me and I see Max's backside. He jumps up at the sound of the brunette. "Enjoy your evening."

I walk around the table, "Hi." I greet him with a soft smile on my lips before sitting down across him. There's a white lit candle between us on the table.

"Hi." He shows me a megawatt smile. I can see how the dimmed light glitters in his dark green orbs. He shaved, freed his chin from the black stumbles. He cleaned up nice in that black suit. It doesn't look like it's tailored to his body shape like all my father's are, but he looks nice. I appreciate the effort. "You look stunning." He breathes out as his eyes dance down my body.

"Thank you, so do you." I smile at him before picking up the menu.

"I didn't order anything yet. I don't know what you like." He informs me as I scan the menu. It's completely in French, but that's not a problem for me.

Wlad, always knew what I liked. He knew it even before I knew it myself. No, no I have to stop thinking of Wlad. I have to stop comparing these two man, because Max clearly doesn't stand a chance. I decide to push him out of my mind tonight. Max deserves a chance. A real chance. He deserves my attention. "That's alright. I am very picky when it comes to my food." I tell him as I flip the page. This restaurant is haute cuisine, so I know everything will taste amazing. "Have you been here before?" I ask him as I decide on a simple salad as a starter, a steak as my main course and I leave the dessert up for the kitchen's recommendation.

The sommelier appears and asks us for our wine order in fluent French. Max looks at me stunned, clearly not understanding a word. Why did he chose the restaurant then?

I order a bottle of Bordeaux from 1845, knowing that's a year that will compliment the steak that I picked out. The sommelier nods before disappearing again.

"You speak French?" Max asks me.

"You don't?" I ask, although I know the answer.

He shakes his head, "I thought they would speak English as well."

"I'm sure they do, but they prefer to speak in their native language." That is something my father taught me. People from different countries always prefer speaking in their native language, no matter where they are. That's why I learned to speak seven languages fluently. "But don't worry, I can order for you."

"Would you? That would be very nice."

I smile at him, "Of course. What did you choose?"

"I'll have whatever you have."

I assume he didn't even understand the menu, but I only nod. The sommelier comes back and shows me the Bordeaux before uncorking it. He fills my glass and I watch the red bubbles appear as the smell fills my nostrils. The Bordeaux will be perfect for the steak, no doubt. 1845 was an excellent for this French region.

I take a sip of the Bordeaux and swirl it in my mouth, cherishing the taste before nodding towards the sommelier. He fills up the second glass and leaves with a bow.

"Merci, monsieur." I tell the sommelier.

Max's green eyes stare at me, "Did you grew up in these kind of restaurants?"

"Something like this." I say with a smirk on my lips.

A blonde waitress comes and she takes my order that I place in fluent French for both of us. I didn't think I had to take over this dinner, but I don't mind. I should give Max a chance. He's making an effort.

"What do you think of the wine?" I ask him after he took a sip.

He gulps, "It's good."

He has no idea how good. "I enjoy it as well." I say with a smirk on my lips.

"You know, I'm really glad you asked me out." Max says, already tipsy from the bottle of Bordeaux we shared over the dinner. The whole dinner was filled with a conversation about micronutrients and protein intake. He talked to me like I had no idea, he must have forgotten who is sitting across him. I am a doctor, I know more about micronutrients and protein intake than he does! But I didn't correct him when he was wrong. He was trying to impress me. He still is.

And I feel flattered.

"Yeah?" I don't really feel the wine yet. But I didn't have as much of it as Max. He practically drunk it like water.

"Yeah, you know all these years we've been training together... I always liked you. I always wanted to ask you out, but..." he trails off with a shrug.

"But what?"

"You know, with that grey eyed man who always waited for you when you came out of the gym..." his words vanish in my ears as I realise he's talking about Wlad. I tried really hard to not think about him the last two hours and now Max throws him at me. Of course Wlad was outside the gym, waiting for me. It was his job, his privilege... his pleasure. "... I kind of figured it wasn't the best time."

I gulp. No, no more Wlad. "Well, he's no longer hovering in front of your gym."

"I noticed. Did you guys date? Was he your boyfriend?"

We were so much more than that. There are no words to describe what we were, what we felt for one another. It was too intense to grab, too intense to hold on to. "Yes, but that's over now." I say and take another sip of my wine, needing the alcohol badly. I have to get Wlad out of my system and maybe the best way to do so is to fuck him out of there.

"Well, I'm glad you're giving me this chance now. What would you like for dessert?"

"You." I say bluntly.

His eyes widen at my word. "What?"

"Get the check. We'll go to your place."

Wladimir's point of view:

I stare at the screen of my iPhone. She's in one of those fancy French restaurants in South Kensington. She's been there for the last two hours. Fuck, she's on a date!

I can't believe she already started dating again. She only left me yesterday! I look at the date. It was five months ago. To this day, it happened five months and two weeks ago.

She has every right to move on. I let her go as best as I could. She deserves to be happy, to figure herself out. She deserves a life without me.

But I still wonder if she hurts for me the same way I hurt for her.

Adaline's point of view:

I get up from the bed and start collecting my underwear from the hardwood floor before changing into it.

"You're already leaving?" Max asks me, laying naked on his bed. His bedroom is tiny, so the bed alone takes up all the space.

I turn around as I get back into my black skin tight strapless Dolce Gabana dress. "Yes." I zip the zipper at the side close.

"I enjoyed our evening. It was good." He's grinning and those green orbs are sparkling. He clearly misinterpreted the situation.

It was awful. I rode him like a maniac, desperate to get Wlad out of my system. But I didn't even come. I had no chance as Max came before an orgasm even started building. "Yeah." I agree as I slip back into my heels.

"We should repeat that."

"No, definitely not." I disagree as I get into the second shoe. "We should just stay friends. We should stick to training." I tell him as we don't really have a connection. The evening was a disaster.

Max frowns at me, "I thought you enjoyed it."

"I did but not enough to want to repeat it." I pick up my purse. "I'll see you on Friday at five thirty." I tell him before rushing out of his flat in Putney.

Wladimir's point of view:

She fucked him. She went to an address in Putney and stayed there for an hour before probably catching a cab. I watch the red dot on the map moving into the direction of Richmond. She's heading home.

I can't believe she fucked him!

She fucking moved on.

I empty out the glass of Scotch next to me, not feeling anything.

She moved on... while I am still stuck.

I will never get over her. It's been five months and I am still a wreck. I bought a new place to get over her, yet I am still talking her.

She's fine...

And I am still heartbroken.

Adaline's point of view:

I throw my purse on the beige armchair that's across the open white marble fireplace in my room before tearing the door to my bathroom open. I switch on the lights, close the door and rip the Dolce Gabbana dress off of me, destroying the zipper of the five thousand pound dress. My hands start shaking as I get out of my panties and bra.

What have I done?

I get into the glass shower with a rain shower head. My hands and legs are shaking as I touch the faucet. Tears start building in my eyes before streaming down my cheeks, smearing my make up. My lungs burn from the pain I feel and my throat is tight. I turn on the water and shiver from the touch, although the water is warm and not cold. I look down at the black puddle at my feet as the water washes away my make up... my protection shield. This date was horrible and the sex... Why did I think that was a good idea?! Why the hell would a boy like Mac erase Wladimir from my mind?! No one can erase him and what we had! No one can make me feel better.

I tilt my head back and allow the water to wash out the stiff hairspray. Quickly the sleek chestnut strands curl up, getting back into their natural form. I place my palms against the white marble wall in my shower as my body starts shivering again. It's too much. This pain... it's too much. My legs are shaking, my hands are shaking and my heart... it feels like there is none inside of me. I can feel it beating, I can hear my pulse humming in my ears but I feel hollow. I feel so hollow and hurt... it's such a excruciating pain that all I want to do is curl up my bed and wait for the dark clouds to disappear above my head.

But they won't. Because they know exactly who put them there.

It was me.

I put myself in this misery. I did this to myself, so I can't cry over a heartache that was easily avoidable.

I inhale deeply, lift my palms from the marble wall, grab my shampoo and start washing my hair. I stop scrubbing my scalp with my fingers, having a head full of shampoo.

Suddenly, I scream. I scream at the top of my lungs, knowing my sound is going to get muted by the running water and the many doors. I don't care if my siblings hear me or if my parents notice my heartache. I'm broken.

I'm broken beyond repair.

And now I have to deal with the consequences all by myself.

"So, how was your date with Max?" Sophie asks me as we walk down the hallways at the Lindo Wing. Tonight is a quite one. Not too many emergencies.

"Awful."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, the dinner was filled with a conversation about his diet. He talked about it like I was a stranger to this. I didn't correct him when he made mistakes while explaining to me how our cells fuel on certain nutrients."

"Poor thing, I thought Max would be a good choice."

"Yeah, no turns out he's not. That man came faster than my orgasm could build."

"You slept with him?" Sophie asks me shocked.

"You said I should give him a chance."

"Yeah, with a date! I didn't say anything about sex!"

"Well, now I can ensure you that the sex was just as awful as the date. This man came after a minute like a teenage boy!"

Sophie chuckles, "Funny, the teenager says a twenty seven year old man is-" she stops at my dark glance. I am not a teenager. I never was no matter my age. "Right, sorry. "

"You better be. I never had worse sex in my life!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." She embraces me, "But at least now you know. The first date after a breakup is always the hardest. It'll get better."

She said that months ago and it's still not better. I don't think it ever will be. I have to learn to live with this constant pain.

"Bolton,"

Sophie lets go of me as Dr. Fleming's voice fills the hallway. I didn't even know he was working tonight.

"Dr. Bolton." I correct him as Sophie runs away from him like a scared bunny.

The blonde doctor that's fifteen years older than me stops across me, "What?"

"It's Dr. Bolton. I think we both know that you only have that job because of me, Dr. Fleming. I deserve the same respect as every other doctor in this hospital." I hiss at him.

He furrows his blond brows at me as his light blue orbs stare at me, "Well, Dr. Bolton, I saw that you're working on a Parkinson's study."

I frown at him, "Who told you that?" No one even knows what I'm working on.

"You left a piece of paper on the dining table in the doctor's break room." He gets the folded sheet out of his lab coat.

I must have left it there when I poured myself a cup of coffee. I got an emergency call and ran out. I want to take the sheet out of his hand but he snatches it away.

"I've read it. It's a good start. No one ever saw this way."

Of course it is a good start. It will heal Parkinson's. I snatch the sheet out of his hand. "Thank you for giving it back."

"Listen, I'm working on a study about it myself. Maybe we can put our heads together?"

I frown. Fleming and Parkinson's? I will definitely not put my head together with him. I don't want to share my Nobel prize! "No, I don't think this is a good idea. I work best alone." I turn on my heel,

Suddenly, he grabs my wrist and I feel sparks. Sparks. Why do I feel sparks with Fleming?

"How about we work alone together? We can review each other's work over a bottle of wine."

I look at his hand that's still wrapped around my wrist. I untwist my wrist from his grip, "Since when do you value my opinion, Dr. Fleming?" I ask him, crossing my hands in front of my chest.

He gulps. "I know, I've been unfair towards you. I treated you a little harsher than everyone else, but that's only for the best. Bol- Dr. Bolton, you are meant for something bigger. And I think together we can heal Parkinson's."

I stare at his blue eyed face. I think he really means what he says. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, I'll have a look over your study." I give in. Maybe he has some ideas I didn't think of. I'm close to the solution, but not close enough to start a clinical trail. Maybe he has the missing piece.

"Great. Tomorrow at eight?"

"I have to work tomorrow night."

His pager beeps and he gets it out of his lab coat. He looks at it and frowns. "Not anymore. I'll mail you my address." He says before rushing away.

I wave with my hand at him before turning around and continuing walking through the empty hallway.

"What did Fleming want from you?" Sophie asks me as we eat breakfast at her flat in Chelsea. She can make really good omelettes.

"Nothing." I lie.

"I saw him handing you a sheet of paper." She narrows her blue eyes at me.

I take a sip of my lemon tea, "He had a suggestion for me."

"What kind of suggestion?"

"He wants to work together." I say and shrug before continue eating.

Sophie stares at me with wide eyes, "He wants to work with you?"

"Yeah."

"On what?"

"I don't want to share."

"Della,"

I stop eating and place my fork on the plate, "Parkinson's."

"What?"

"He wants to heal Parkinson's with me. He found a sheet of paper in the doctors break room. I left it there by mistake. He read it. He read that I was working on the same thing and he wants us to merge."

"Merge?" She asks me shocked. "I didn't know you were working on healing Parkinson's. How long have you been doing this?"

"For the last four years. I started collecting ideas and read research... until I had a theory and I started working on it. Mostly at night, during my night shifts when the night is not too hectic."

"And he saw your work?"

"Yes, by accident."

"Do you want to work with him?"

"I don't know. I feel like I'm almost there but there's a tiny piece missing. I can't seem to figure it out."

"Maybe Fleming can help you with that."

"I'm working on a virus but one component is missing."

"And you think Fleming knows what that is?"

I shrug, "I want to heal Parkinson's so badly." And win a Nobel prize for it.

She licks her lips, "Well, Fleming is good at what he does. I'd say you have a look at his work and then decide."

I take a sip of my camomile tea as I stare out of the glass front in the living room. It's raining. I love seeing the raindrops against the glass. I can't believe Fleming gave me today off. It's weird to wake up and not have to get ready for work. I spent the morning in our gym, doing cardio on the treadmill and boxing. Then I went for a swim in our indoor pool. The spa we have looks like the one in La Mamounia in Marrakech. Marrakech... A tight feeling wraps around my heart. Shit, it's been over five months and on some days it hurts like it happened yesterday.

"Hey,"

I wince at the sound of my mother's voice. As soon as she found out that I had the day off, she took the day off as well. She hasn't left me alone for a second, except for the emergency call she got thirty minutes ago. Her firm can't even go a day without her. "Hi. Everything alright with the label?"

"Yeah... Everything alright with you?"

No, I am not fine. I haven't been fine in the last five months because I'm walking around with a broken heart. I fucked my trainer to try to forget about him. I'm hiding behind my Parkinson's study. But I can't tell her that. "Sure. I'm meeting with the chief of surgery in a few hours."

She frowns, "Really? Why's that? I thought you have the day off."

I lick my lips. I might as well tell her about my study. "Parkinson's."

"I'm sorry?"

I inhale deeply, "I've been working on a study about Parkinson's. The chief saw a sheet of paper that I forgot in the doctor's break room. He is working on a study himself. He asked me to review his work and would do the same with mine. If the components fit, we might merge."

"Merge? So you'd be doing the study together?"

I nod, "I'm very close to finding a cure for it, but there's a piece I'm missing. Something I can't seem to find."

She stares at me in shock, "You'll heal Parkinson's?"

I nod, "One day."

"Della, that's amazing!" She wraps her arms around me.

"I haven't found a cure yet and it could take years to heal it."

She leans back and looks at me, "How long have you been working on it?"

"Since four years."

"Four years?"

I nod, "I'm financing this out of my own pocket. I don't want anyone else to put their noses into my work. I'd like to work on it myself, but I've hit a bricks wall."

"So now you're merging with the chief of surgery?"

I shrug, "Anything to heal Parkinson's and win a Nobel prize."

"A Nobel prize?"

"Yes."

She smiles at me, "If anyone can win this thing then it's you."

That's what Wlad said. The pain in my heart is indescribable.

I take another sip of the Merlot before flipping page. I place the wine glass on coffee table as I sit crossed legged on the fluffy beige rug in his living room. I have to say, his theory is not bad at all. In fact, it makes sense. It makes total sense!

It's the perfect addition to mine. It's the missing piece that I was looking for.

"And?" He asks me, hovering over me as he looks over my shoulder.

"Stop hovering. I am not done reading it." I mumble as I feel his body heat burning behind me. We shouldn't have chosen to do this in his living room. We should have chosen a public place like I suggested, but he said his material is too sensitive and I guess, mine is too. I wouldn't want a stranger to read what I've been working on for the four years.

"I thought you could read 20.000 pages per minute, Dr. Bolton." His hot breath clashes against my neck.

I feel the hairs in my neck rising. I can't believe I feel attracted to my boss! He's the chief of surgery for crying out loud! "I can." I close the sixth folder he gave me. Every single one was as thick as the Mount Everest.

"What do you think?" He sits down across me. I have never seen him in casual clothes, always in dark blue scrubs with a lab coat. Except for that one evening at the gala when we danced together. I felt sparks back then as well. But that was two years ago - and they're still there. The light blue Oxford shirt and the dark washed jeans look good on him. Fleming is an attractive man actually.

I take my wine glass and sip on the Merlot on purpose. I can't believe I'm considering his suggestion. Healing Parkinson's together.

He takes the glass out of my hand and I notice that his left ring finger is missing his golden wedding band. I heard that he separated from his wife, but I didn't know they were divorced.

"You're divorced?" I ask him.

"Separation year." He answers, placing the glass next to him on the parquet floor. We're in his townhouse in Knightsbridge. My grandpa lives not far from here, but I only met him once. I barely remember Franklin Bolton and my parents don't like talking about him.

"I see."

"So?" He raises his eyebrow at me.

"It's good." I say with a nod. It's fucking brilliant!

"Does that mean you want to work on the clinical trail with me together?"

I lick my lips as I feel how his bright blue orbs awaken my body. So far, only Wlad was able to do that. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" He asks me back surprised. "What do I have to do to get you on board?"

My pussy starts pulsing at his question. Shit. This is not good. This is bad, really bad.

"Bolton," he rips me out of my thoughts.

"When we will win the Nobel prize, I get to give the acceptance speech." I tell him. Standing on that stage, holding the Nobel prize - that's my dream. I gave up Wlad for this dream, I won't let Fleming take that away from me. Not with the sacrifice I had to make for it.

His eyes widen at my words. Suddenly he jumps up and lifts me in the air. He swings me around with a chuckle that I mirror before I feel steady floor beneath my feet again. "We'll heal Parkinson's."

"We'll heal Parkinson's." I agree with him, staring deeply into his light blue eyes.

When he leans in to kiss me, I don't move away. I let it happen.

Because somehow it feels right.

I wake up in the middle of the night, feeling hot out of the sudden. I look to my right and see Fleming sleeping next to me. I can't believe I slept with my boss. My boss! That must've been the worst thing I have ever done. I mean, I'm about to start a clinical trail with him and what do I do? I have sex with him.

Breathtaking, amazing sex. This was wrong although it felt right in the moment. So right, that I actually climaxed. That didn't happen to me since Wlad. I frown as I realise I haven't thought about him in the last twelve hours. Ever since I stepped into his house all I thought about was the clinical trail... And then when we kissed all I thought about was how badly I wanted him... and then when we had sex all I thought about... was him. No Wladimir.

My ex was completely erased out of my mind.

That never happened to me before.

I think I just found a solution to my problem.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews on the last chapter.

What do you guys think of the Della-Fleming pairing? Do you think Wlad is going to find out? And if so, how is he going to react? Do you guys think he will confront her? Or Fleming?

Who do you think is suffering more? Della or Wlad?

And will they ever get together again?

Translations: Снежинка - Snowflake

I'm trying to keep the Russian to a minimum, but I want to keep it in the story as it's such a big part of Wladimir's identity. Tell me if it's too much. I'll try to narrow it down if that's the case.

Please review!