by Nadia Lee
“You do now. You are too skinny. Almost malnourished.”
I hate the idea that he can tell I haven’t been doing well in life and want to argue out of pride—tell him I’m skinny because I jog regularly, not because I don’t eat!—but I keep my mouth shut. I have a feeling that I’m not going to win an argument with him, especially when it’s about something that’s decidedly true. I am too skinny. And to be honest, I might be slightly malnourished. Cheap mac and cheese probably wouldn’t top a nutritionist’s recommendation list.
“So, your eggs?” he says. He’s going to feed me no matter what, so I might as well accept it. After all, the reason I quit eating breakfast is because I was too busy in the morning…plus the savings.
“Anything is fine. I’m not picky.” Only an ungrateful asshole would be picky about free food.
The Dobermans whine louder when Tolyan lays the bacon out on paper towels. Mussorgsky puts a tentative paw into the kitchen.
“Mussorgsky, no,” Tolyan growls, beating countless eggs in a bowl with brisk motions of his thick wrist.
The dog moves back, his head low.
“Is it okay if I feed them a little?” I ask.
“No more than two strips each,” he says. “And don’t let Stravinsky fool you into thinking you skipped him.”
“Got it.” I pick up six slices and give each dog two each. It’s weird to call their eager reaction cute when they’re so large and powerful, but they’re simply adorable. I can’t stop smiling.
Sure enough, after the bacon’s doled out, Stravinsky puts his head on my pelvis, whining loudly, licking the fingers that held the bacon moments ago. He has incredibly expressive eyes, and they’re saying he hasn’t been fed. At all.
“Sorry, kiddo.” I scratch him behind his ears with my other hand. “Your daddy told me not to fall for that.”
Soon, Tolyan puts scrambled eggs on two plates. He also puts a mountain of toast, a bowl of cut fruit and a serving spoon out on the table.
“Coffee or juice?” he asks.
“Coffee, please,” I say.
He pours and hands me a cup. “I only have sugar,” he says.
“It’s okay. I drink it black.” I’m surprised he thought about sugar at all. Based on how he dumped the coffee from the café, I wasn’t sure what to expect here.
“I don’t like fussy coffee.”
“So why did you throw out the coffee from the café? It was straight black.”
“I wasn’t there for coffee.”
Oh. Is he…trying to say he came to see me? But no. He couldn’t have known I was working there on Friday, and he didn’t know I was working Saturday, either.
We sit down at the table and start eating. The dogs watch us, licking their chops from time to time and letting out small whines.
Tolyan doesn’t talk. He eats efficiently and finishes before I do. But he sits and waits for me.
“I’m full. Thanks,” I say.
He looks vaguely displeased that my plate’s not empty, but I’m just not used to eating this much food so early. Not that I’m ungrateful, but…my morning belly can’t handle the amount of food he thinks is acceptable.
I help him clean off the table. Once everything’s loaded into the dishwasher, he whistles. The Dobermans perk up immediately and trot toward us.
“I’m going to walk them,” he says.
“I’ll go with you,” I say quickly. I want to know exactly where I am and figure out escape routes in case Roy does something. I have no clue what he’ll do, but when it comes to Roy, it’s impossible to be over-prepared.
Tolyan nods, and we go out together.
The elevator to the unit is private and can only be operated by his thumbprint and a six-digit passcode, which I can’t see because of the covering over the number pad. I spot two cameras embedded on the ceiling, both glowing red.
“Isn’t that overkill?” I ask, pointing at them. “Isn’t one camera enough?”
“No blind spot,” he says.
“What do you think is going to happen? A home invasion?” He couldn’t possibly be living under some kind of constant threat. And this kind of security can’t be installed overnight.
“Assuming a team got past the security in the lobby and the elevator, the security cameras would text me when an unexpected visitor shows up. I feed the system with a list of visitors I’m expecting every day of the week on Monday.”
“Shouldn’t the alert go to the security guys you hired to…you know, watch over the place?”
A corner of his mouth quirks up, but I don’t think it’s with humor. “They’re good for letting deliveries in, but that’s about it. I wouldn’t entrust my dogs’ safety with them, much less my own.”
Once the elevator opens, the dogs trot out fast, and we start to walk along the trail around the penthouse complex.
“What if somebody gets all the way to the top anyway?” I ask, stunned at how thorough he is. It’s like he’s hiding a vault full of secrets people would kill for.
Tolyan smiles wolfishly. “There are ten booby traps in the penthouse that can be armed and ready with the push of a button. I’d love to see somebody survive them.”
I look at him. He doesn’t seem to be kidding, despite his grin. “What if they do survive?” I say, like a child who can’t stop asking “why?”
“Then I’ll give them my respect.” But his tone says nobody will be earning that. Ever. “And do what I can, but I might make my escape.”
“How? Is there a secret exit?”
He shrugs. “Not so secret. You exit from the balcony.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, your home is on the top floor of a very, very tall building.” I point at the huge skyscraper.
“Yes. One must jump.”
“Jump! What did you do, put huge inflatable cushions under your part of the building?”
He laughs softly, then pauses for a second like the act of laughing has surprised him. It’s surprised me, too. I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh with genuine amusement before.
“You have an overactive imagination,” he says. “Obviously, I don’t believe I can defy physics and common sense. That’s why I have a parachute.”
“A parachute?” I repeat stupidly.
“Yes. Perfectly safe. I already ran simulations.”
“On a computer?”
He frowns. “On people. Nobody does theoretical simulations for something like this.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “Actually, I know some who do, but they’re lazy. So they’ll probably die in some botched attempt.”
I’m speechless. He’s kidding… He has to be.
He puts a finger under my chin and gently pushes it up. “No need to have your mouth hang open. The plan is solid. It worked fine.”
“What if the parachute was defective? You could’ve died during the test run!”
“It was not, and I wouldn’t have died because I threw somebody else out with the parachute.”
Somebody else…?
He adds, “But if it doesn’t work, then you say, ‘It is a good day to die.’”
“And you said a parachute. Don’t I get one?” I ask, half serious and half wishing he’d say, “I’m just messing with you!” He has to be joking. The secret exit has to be something else. Really.
But no such luck. “The parachute is for you,” he says.
“What?” He wants me to jump off the balcony with nothing but a parachute, that he says is going to work, but if not, oh well…?
“Obviously, I’m not going to be hiding in the penthouse. I said I’d take care of your slimeball stepbrother, and I will. But that means I need to be out and about.”
“What about me?” I put a hand over my chest, where my heart is beating unsteadily.
“You should be up there when you aren’t working”—he points at the penthouse—“because you’re supposed to stay safe. Nobody can reach you there except me. You’ll also have Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky and Stravinsky. They’ll attack anybody who
doesn’t belong.” He lifts a hand, hesitates for a second, then pats my shoulder awkwardly. “You’re going to be fine. I promise. I’ll stop Roy.”
His gray-blue eyes hold mine; his voice is steady, calm and utterly confident. Electric shivers shoot through me, sending chills along my arms and back.
The erratic beat of my heart isn’t just from nerves, I realize. My lungs are struggling to drag in air, and my insides feel hot.
All this… Over his vow to stop Roy and keep me safe.
A sudden urge to grab him by the shirt front and drag his mouth down for a kiss overwhelms me, but I manage to control myself. That would be a huge mistake.
Instead, I go up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper through the thick lump in my throat, my voice raw and low.
He gives me a long, level stare, then finally nods. “My pleasure.”
Chapter Fourteen
Angelika
Once we’re done with the walk, Tolyan leaves the dogs at his place and gestures at me to come with him.
“Where are we going?” I ask, seated in a huge SUV. Not the car I saw him take to that “suicided” man’s house.
“Shopping.” The word is clipped.
Bet it isn’t his favorite activity. “You sure you want to come with me? If you’ll bring me to the café, I can take my car. That way if you need to leave early or something…” I’m used to shopping alone, and I know what to do to stay safe. Normally, Roy doesn’t come after me in crowded areas like malls. Too many security cameras and witnesses. And it isn’t like his goons can make a quick escape, like they can with a hit-and-run.
“Your car is in guest parking here in the building,” he says.
“How…?” I swallow the rest of the question. The man works in mysterious ways. He thinks it’s perfectly normal to skydive out of a balcony, so… “Never mind. I just—”
“We’re going to Lizochka’s home. She’ll take you shopping.”
I can barely remember a time when I went shopping with somebody. Ever since my parents died and Roy started coming after me, shopping became one of those activities I did cheaply and alone. If Tolyan likes Lizochka enough to ask her to go with me, I’m sure I’ll like her too. Sudden nostalgia stings my nose. I’m going to shop with a friend. It’s almost like…I’m a normal person, not somebody on the run from her evil stepbrother.
My insides jitter with nerves and anticipation. I miss being able to do ordinary social activities…maybe more than I realize. Gratitude flows through me. Tolyan’s helping me re-experience one of the many joys of life.
“Make sure you get everything a woman needs,” Tolyan says.
“Just some clothes and shoes,” I say, my voice slightly hoarse. I clear my throat with embarrassment. I don’t want to get weirdly sentimental. He doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate it. He’s civilized and smooth, but there’s a hint of gruffness to him that says he always does what he has to, and what pleases him, not because he wants credit or acknowledgment.
“Shoes. Yes. For every occasion. I’m expecting enough fashion brands to open a warehouse of shoes.”
I choke on a laugh. “It isn’t that bad.”
“It usually is.” He keeps his eyes on the road and takes us to a gigantic mansion. It’s surrounded by animal topiary, a pond that’s been carefully fenced off and water fountains that shoot into the air at random intervals, plumes of the falling water carried by the breeze onto the lawn.
“Wow.” I’ve never seen anything this grand in my life. “It’s amazing.” But as awesome as the mansion is, what about Elizabeth? Am I really going to get along with her well enough to shop together? She and I are from two very different worlds. Even if my parents hadn’t died and Roy hadn’t been born, my family would be upper middle class at best.
“Dominic is made of money. It’s the least he can do,” Tolyan says cynically.
“Who’s Dominic?”
“Lizochka’s husband.”
“You don’t approve of him?”
“Not particularly. She could have easily done better.”
“So how did he end up with her?”
“By taking a bullet for her.”
Oh my God. That’s…intense. “Taking a bullet for somebody does kind of prove that you’re serious.”
Tolyan shrugs, but his eyebrows pinch together harder, forming three deep lines. “It wouldn’t have been necessary if he hadn’t screwed up in the first place.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance.”
He makes a noise in his throat. “You’ll get along fine with Lizochka.”
When he kills the engine in front of the huge front door, it immediately bursts open and a small boy runs out.
“Tolyan!” he yells, his arms spread wide. His dark hair is cut stylishly to frame an angelic face with wide gray eyes and rosy lips. He’s in a red Spider-Man T-shirt and black shorts.
“Thomas.” Tolyan smiles and picks up the boy, lifting him up high above his head. “Look at you! Very big and strong now.”
“I know! Daddy says I’m a strong man, too. Says I need to protect Mommy.” The child smiles.
Tolyan’s smile becomes more brilliant, but I don’t think it’s because he’s pleased. His eyes have an odd gleam.
Thomas seems clueless as he smacks a loud kiss on Tolyan’s cheek.
A stunning blonde in a pink dress and strappy silver stilettos walks out, a gorgeous leather bag hanging from her slim arm. She walks up, her gray eyes shining with intelligence.
“Thomas went on pins and needles the moment the security system alerted us that you were here,” she says, then turns to me.
She’s the one who hosted that fancy hotel event. I brace for something snotty. Not overtly rude, since Tolyan’s here, but just enough to make me know she thinks I’m beneath her, since I’m never going to tell a Riesling from a Chardonnay by just looking.
A friendly, open smile curves her lips. “You must be the one.”
The one? Her eyes are twinkling too hard to have merely meant “the one I’m supposed to go shopping with.” “Hi. I’m Angelika Wilks.” I can’t seem to think of anything else to say.
“Elizabeth King.”
“A pleasure.”
She extends a hand, and we shake. She has an excellent grip, her palm dry and soft.
But confidence isn’t all she’s exuding. She’s giving off a vibe that says she can be my best friend if I’ll just let it happen. And I’m too dazed to process it at the moment.
“Where’s your security?” Tolyan says.
“Antoine’s busy,” Elizabeth says.
His face twists. “Doing what? Licking Kristen’s feet?”
“I’m sure that’s on his list of favorite things to do,” Elizabeth says with a mischievous grin, which makes Tolyan look like he wants to throw up. “But more likely he’s probably massaging them right now.” She turns to me. “His wife’s pregnant, and she’s pretty swollen.”
“That shouldn’t be a reason for leaving you unprotected.” Tolyan sounds like he wants to beat up somebody. Probably this Antoine guy.
“Well, you’re welcome to come shopping with us if you’re so worried.” Elizabeth sounds entirely too pleased with herself. I’d bet every penny I have that Antoine didn’t show because of her.
Tolyan purses his lips, a man trying to hold his irritation in check. He nods once.
“Let’s go.” Elizabeth loops her arm around mine. “We’re taking my Lamborghini.” She walks us toward an incredibly expensive-looking green car.
“I’ll follow,” Tolyan says.
Elizabeth looks at me and gestures to the two cars questioningly. Apparently, I have a choice to make. I glance at Tolyan, whose face is set in its usual stoic impassivity. Elizabeth, however, looks positively radiant, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
The Lamborghini it is. I climb inside, shifting a bit until I’m comfortable in the luxurious leather seat. I run my hand over it carefully; it feels unbeli
evably soft and smooth. Holy cow, when people say things like some cars smell like money, I always assumed they were being silly. How can a car smell like money when everyone knows cars drop in value the second you take them off the dealer’s lot?
But this car? It does smell like money. Lots and lots of it. There’s simply no other word.
Elizabeth launches us down the estate’s long driveway and onto the road. The woman doesn’t hold back, and the roar of the engine is like a physical thing, the power vibrating through me. My heart beats a little faster with exhilaration.
“So. Tell me how you met Tolyan. You’re living with him, right?” she asks, her eyes on the road.
He sort of kidnapped me yesterday. I don’t think that counts as living with him, but I can’t quite tell her the truth. “Well, sort of…”
“My God, that’s amazing.” She shoots me a look of admiration. I feel like a newly discovered jungle flower or something. “I’ve never even seen him with a woman before.”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. And I’ve known him since I was a teenager.”
Tolyan is either really good at hiding things or he hasn’t been with anyone—seriously, anyway—for a long time. My heart flutters with something that feels like happy relief, but I suppress it. He’s rich, good looking, and powerful. There’s no way he hasn’t had anybody special for so long. “He’s probably had a lot of girlfriends. You just don’t know that he’s had them.”
Elizabeth laughs. “I would have known. Trust me. For example, I know that Gwen Alt has been after him for three years.” Her expression cools. “Not that it did her any good.”
“Who is Gwen Alt?” I ask, already not liking the mysterious woman. Just hearing her name makes my stomach burn uncomfortably.
“Ms. I Wanted Chardonnay, Not Riesling,” Elizabeth says in a singsong voice.
“Oh my God! Does she do that with everyone?”
“I saw her talking to you, by the way, although I didn’t know exactly what she said at that time. Otherwise, I might’ve intervened.” Elizabeth shakes her head ruefully. “As for your question, no. She has a different tantrum for every event, which is saying something, since her weekends are filled with parties. I make it my business to know everything that happens at the functions we host. And I’m sorry you had such an unpleasant experience.”