by Bethany-Kris
“If you have ever been in business with Mr. Yazov, now would be the time to tell us all about it,” Packard said. “Otherwise, if we find something, we might have to come chat again. It might not be like this, then, Demyan. Think about it.”
Demyan was unmoving. “Are you threatening me?”
“Warning you,” the taller agent replied.
“Consider it unheard.”
The men gave a respectful goodbye and thanked him for his time before they quickly took their leave, and showed out by the bull in much the same way he’d shown them in. Only this time, he didn’t come back because he would be walking them to their car. Demyan hoped he’d given them exactly what they needed to shut them up for a while, and keep them off his case.
Once the door closed, and he was alone after the only other man in the room took his leave, Demyan sipped on the vodka again, and turned to the screen on his computer. The glass was nearly empty by the time the agents’ sedan rolled up to the gate once more. The vehicle stopped while they waited to be let through. The passenger window had been rolled down, and there, he saw Packard look up straight at the camera.
Demyan mashed his teeth to hold back the rage when the man waved, and the car pulled beyond the opening iron. For now, they were gone, but it wouldn’t be the last time he saw them.
That much was clear.
THIRTEEN
Karine woke up the next day with Roman’s name already on her lips. As if she’d been dreaming of him all night. God. Maybe she did. She still couldn’t remember her dreams. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in the room with her—because she’d demanded he stay away from her—and yet, impossibly, it felt like he’d been touching her all night. That he had his arms around her up until the very minute when she opened her eyes.
Eyes that brimmed with tears she couldn’t blink away while she struggled to focus on the sloped, log ceiling of the bedroom overhead. Already, she was remembering that Roman would be leaving today.
Barely awake, and it hurt.
Karine wasn’t ready for how it would feel when he was actually gone.
Refusing to let her mind obsess over something she couldn’t control, Karine climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom that was attached to the room. Her steps on the cold, hardwood floors hesitated when the sight of Masha asleep on the floor reminded her that she wasn’t actually alone.
Masha had made a bed for herself at the door like she’d been doing for a while. Every time Karine asked why she was choosing to sleep on the floor, like a guard at her door when she’d been given her own room, Masha’s answer was always the same.
She just wanted to make sure that Karine felt safe.
How could she argue with that, all things considered? Especially now that Roman was leaving. It was one thing to be in Vermont with him, but it was an entirely different thing when he hadn’t intended to stay.
Karine’s favorite room in the lodge was the bathroom attached to her private bedroom. The moment the door opened, gone was the wood-designed focus, and instead, the space opened up to white tile and marble. Everything from the plush towels rolled into fluffy tubes inside the rows of shelves to the tub in the middle, hanging like a stretched hammock, it was all white.
Luxurious.
Calming, in a way.
It was essentially a spa in the middle of nowhere with a spot to sit and enjoy tea or breakfast at a window nook, a freestanding shower with a view of the trees outside, and even a masseuse table.
There was no denying that Roman was going to leave her in the lap of luxury, even though he was still leaving her. Karine just wasn’t interested in any of that—she didn’t care how big the house was or the enviable amenities the place had to offer. None of it would make a difference when he wasn’t there.
She splashed icy cold water on her face at the sink, and took a moment to stare at herself in the mirror. Soon, in only a few hours, Roman would be gone and then she’d be alone. She couldn’t escape the thoughts, the creeping fears slithering around her spine, or even the deep sense of impending abandonment that wouldn’t leave her fast-beating heart. No matter how many times someone tried to assure Karine those feelings weren’t real, another fight she’d been battling for most of her life, she didn’t listen.
How could she?
She felt it.
Rational or not.
It was still there.
Sure, she’d have Masha, Michelle, Claire and even the handful of bodyguards who were supposed to keep her safe—none of them would make her feel the way he did, though. That was thing, and she didn’t know how to explain it.
Would it even matter if she did?
Had she been wrong in trusting Roman, in getting so wrapped up in the way he made her feel that she forgot he was still just a man? And every other man in her life, well ... they had all taught her the same in one way or another. In the end, the lesson never really changed—but goddamn, it always hurt.
She pressed her eyes closed, and searched her mind for those conflicting voices that sometimes warred within her. The voice of Katee, soft and mellow, telling her she just needed to forget. The commanding, older, more authoritative Katina who would say she should fight. Hurt people only hurt people, Karine. That was the only way for her to survive.
Yet, as much as she searched for those voices, she couldn’t hear them. Even the fractured fragments of her mind, a mess of her own making, didn’t seem to want to help Karine today.
Just my luck.
The only thing she found when she opened her eyes again was the face staring back at her in the mirror. Her own.
Sadly.
If even the identities meant to protect her from pain wouldn’t save her, Karine wasn’t quite sure what could. All she wanted, more than anything, was to make her way back to bed, hide beneath the blankets, and stay there for the rest of the day.
Or forever.
Either worked.
What did it matter?
“Karine, dear?” In her distraction, Karine hadn’t noticed Masha coming to stand in the open bathroom door. She met Masha’s eyes in the mirror, already shaking her head when she asked, “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
No.
Not at all.
“I don’t want him to go,” she said softly.
Her lips quivered.
Even her hands shook.
Karine just felt ... pitiful. All over, from top to toe. She didn’t even want to be stared at by her long-time friend, and caregiver.
Masha inched forward, opening her arms to offer comfort. Not that Karine took it. In fact, she slipped around the woman when she came too close, and darted for the door where she could see the safety of the bed willing to greet her, and take it all away.
She still heard Masha behind her, though, and what she said.
“I know you don’t want him to go, Karine, but he has to. We don’t always get to do just what we want, and it’s okay if you don’t understand it, but it won’t change what happens. Pretending doesn’t make it go away.”
But it did.
It had.
For a while.
• • •
Karine refused to leave her room all morning, dreading that first step out to face the day more and more with every passing second. The day that would end with Roman gone.
She’d somehow convinced herself that if she stayed in the bedroom, then she could just keep pretending he never left. That he was working—doing something important in another part of the home or property.
Reality had never been a very fun place for Karine to be. Masha knew her too well, and even though she called Karine out earlier in the bathroom, it still wasn’t enough to stop her from doing what she had always done when things were just too much.
Masha had left the room to go take care of the laundry—only after Karine insisted she would be fine by herself.
When a knock rattled against the bedroom door, she didn’t know who was waiting on the other side. Masha would have walked right in. She stay
ed quiet when a part of her dared to hope it was Roman.
Because at the very same time, she hoped it wasn’t.
When Karine didn’t respond to the knock, the door opened slowly with a quiet, “I do know you’re in here. Masha told me so.”
At the sound of Claire’s voice, Karine sat up in the bed, still surrounded by the sheets and pillows from the night before. She hadn’t even let Masha turn over the sheets and make the bed pretty and inviting again. At the sight of Roman’s mother standing in the open doorway, a vicious relief pulsed in her heart.
It wasn’t Roman.
Even though she had desperately wanted it to be, and it hurt that it wasn’t—that was fine. It meant one thing, and that was most important. She didn’t have to say goodbye.
Yet.
The whisper in her heart was cruel.
But not wrong.
“Can I come in—you don’t mind, do you?” Claire asked, not actually waiting for a response, and entering the room anyway. “I wondered where you were when you didn’t come down for breakfast.”
“I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Claire smiled. “No worries here, but I still wanted to check on you.”
“Sorry,” Karine replied, fingering the sleeve of the long-sleeved, oversized shirt she had worn to bed and not bothered to change since waking up. The fraying, black fabric took up her attention instead of the watchful, caring gaze in the doorway. She found herself trying to find the words that would serve as good enough excuses, but she couldn’t. She had no explanation for how she was feeling. Especially since this woman was the mother of the man she was falling in love with, and Claire couldn’t possibly know it. “I felt like being in bed today, I just ...”
Claire came to sit on the edge of Karine’s bed, then, quieting the lies slipping out of her mouth. Or rather, the lie she was about to tell to placate the woman in to thinking she was okay. It was second nature for Karine, another way to protect herself by keeping people away. But the warm smile lingering on Claire’s face put her at ease, and she dropped that wall. It was so easy to do with her, she radiated a sense of security and tenderness.
She felt like a mother.
“You know,” Claire said, lifting the shoulder of her too-large wool sweater as she regarded Karine once more, “you really don’t owe me anything, and I hope you don’t think you have to tell me how you’re feeling just because of who I am. And it’s okay because I understand. It’s shattering every time I have to be away from Roman’s father, and I hate to say it, but it’s not something that gets better with time. You just learn how to deal with it. When you ... well, when you rely on someone and trust them like no one else in your life, and when they’re not around you when you feel like you need them, it’s normal to be a little bit lost.”
Claire could read a room, apparently.
Too well.
Karine let out a sigh, and raked shaking fingers through her hair to untangle the strands. It also distracted her from the uncomfortable fact that she didn’t know how to reply. Even if Claire was speaking the truth.
Not that woman seemed to mind.
“Especially when you still don’t know what any of this means,” Claire added softer. “And it’s new. That’s scary, too.”
The swift urge to fall into this woman’s arms, to maybe try and discover what it would feel like to have a mother’s support, welled in Karine. She couldn’t imagine what that would be like, but she felt closest to it sitting next to Claire.
She looked away, embarrassed by her own thoughts. Ashamed at the things she would like to have, but didn’t know where to begin to ask for—no one thought to teach her how. Affection came with strings. Karine was tied up enough.
“I just want to be in here for a while,” Karine said instead. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course, you can.” Claire kept that same, supportive smile as she reached over to squeeze Karine’s knee—tender and quick—before pulling back and adding, “You’re free to do whatever you like. Coping may be only a mechanism, Karine, but sometimes it’s the one thing we have. At least you’re doing something.”
It had to be some kind of terrible irony that Karine found it was too overwhelming for her—having people around her who actually gave a shit, spending days being told everything was on her terms.
The shift happened fast.
She was still spinning from the result.
“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”
Karine snapped her head up to look at Claire, furrowing her brows. “What?”
“If you let him leave without seeing you, without saying your goodbyes—you might regret it. Tomorrow or a few days from now, whenever. This could be your one chance in a long time before you’re together again, Karine, we really don’t know what the coming days and weeks look like. Think about it.”
She did.
Not that she wanted to.
Claire clasped her hands in her lap, her smile faded though the kindness still remained in her eyes. Karine swallowed back the lump forming in her throat, but it didn’t help to form the words trying to get out.
Instead, all she managed to ask was, “Did he send you—”
“No,” Claire interjected before Karine could even finish. “You don’t have to worry, Roman hasn’t sent me here. In fact, he’s protective enough of you that if he finds out I came to speak to you about this, after he told everyone to leave you be, well ... I’ll hear about it, trust me. He’ll be nice about it—I’m his mother—but he’ll still do it.”
She gave Karine a playful roll of her eyes, and a wave of one hand. “Oh, well. I just thought I should say something—we weren’t exactly spying on the two of you, but everyone couldn’t help but see what happened when you weren’t very private about it, either. I won’t pretend my son is perfect.”
The lopsided grin on Claire’s face made Karine relax further, but her sweet laughter, drenched in the love she felt for her son, blanketed the room in invisible warmth.
“He’s not perfect,” Claire repeated, “but there’s a very good chance he wants to be perfect for you. And trust me when I say when it comes to them, that makes all the difference.”
“Them?” Karine asked.
“Avdonin men. They’re all the same. Every single one.”
“I know he’s only trying to help, and I’m grateful but ...”
“Who asked you to be grateful—to thank him, or us? I’m not saying this because any of us expect anything from you, Karine. I’m saying it so you’ll see what I mean. Everything Roman does, he’s doing for your sake. Even if you don’t like it. Nobody said you had to.”
Well.
Claire didn’t offer the truth harshly, but there it was. All the same. The former lump in Karine’s throat had now settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. Despite how much she hated the reality of the day, it still stared at her right in the face. There was no looking away.
“I don’t want to regret this tomorrow,” she murmured.
“Then go speak to him today,” Claire added. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over all these years ... well, they will make mistakes. Even if they are perfect for us, they’re still human, too. And they’ll crawl through glass if they have to—to come back to us, they will. If they have to.”
Karine knotted her fingers together, glancing at the open door. Claire hadn’t closed it, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was by design. “I’m not too late, am I?”
“You’re not. He wouldn’t leave without seeing you,” Claire replied.
FOURTEEN
By the time Karine stood in front of Roman’s bedroom door on the third floor, she had a moment where she wanted to turn away. Not knowing if he was actually inside, not wanting to be wrong ... she almost didn’t knock.
Claire claimed he wouldn’t leave without seeing her, but Karine couldn’t say for sure. Still, she shoved down the fear, knocked on the door, and waited. Before she could consider turning away a s
econd time, the door pulled open and she faced a very tired Roman.
“Karine,” he said, eyes heavy-lidded like he hadn’t slept a wink. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to let me say goodbye, babe.”
Yeah.
Her, too.
She stepped past him into the room, heart thundering the whole way, and he shut the door behind her. Just the sound of the latch closing them in sent a delicious thrill down her spine.
They were alone.
The world was gone.
Everything was perfect again.
She kept her back to him, refusing to look at him while she said the words she had come to say. It just made it easier.
“I shouldn’t have shut you out. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you’re doing something wrong,” she said.
She kept a steady voice, but barely. She had to be strong, get the words out, and go from there. That’s what she kept telling herself, even if it was terrifying.
Roman let out a heavy sigh, and she heard his palm rub against his beard. “I wish I could explain everything to you, Karine, but I don’t have the time or all the answers except to say I don’t really have a choice at the moment. You’re going to have to trust me that I’m doing this to keep you safe, and we can figure out the rest later.”
She spun around to face him. “I know you didn’t ask for this responsibility—of being responsible for me.”
Roman stepped towards her, but kept his twitching hand at his side. She wondered if it did that because he had to keep from reaching out and touching her. God. She wished he would—that made everything better.
“I’m sorry that you’re going through all this because of me,” Karine added, twisting the end of her index finger to make the bone crack because the pain steadied her resolve even more. “I know you and your family wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for me.”
“Karine, stop it.”
She didn’t, twisting another fingertip, cracking it again when she muttered, “And I do understand that you can’t tell me everything, but I don’t like knowing nothing, either, okay? I always know nothing. It doesn’t help.”