by Nadia Lee
“Backup. Right…” I look at the cream of corn. It’s basically an entire wall of explosives. “What if something sets them off?”
“That won’t happen. C-4 isn’t nitroglycerine. Very safe so long as you know what you’re doing.”
Right, except I have no clue what I’m doing around explosives of any kind. Everything I know about them, I learned from Hollywood. I study the huge reef of “cream of corn.” Holy shit.
I wipe clammy palms on my pants. I don’t think I can ever get used to the sight of it. Or learn what to do with it, not when just the thought makes my hands slick with sweat.
“Do you have backup…stuff…in the fridge?”
“Yes.”
Good thing I asked. “Anything I shouldn’t touch? I don’t want to eat a C-4 pork chop and blow myself up.”
He lets out a short laugh. “There’s only a gun in there.”
Still. I make a mental note never to grab anything to eat or drink myself. He might’ve forgotten some camouflaged dynamite masquerading as a hot dog or something.
We stop right at the huge glass door to the balcony. He points at a black box on a shelf to my right at my eye level. “The parachute. Make sure to grab it before jumping. There’s also a hatchet next to it for extra self-defense if you want.”
The hatchet?
He points to another black box, but this one has a red D on the edge, which must stand for defense. It’s right next to the box with the parachute inside.
He gives me a long stare. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with the weapon.”
I shake my head.
“Thought not,” he says.
He then shows me a staircase tucked between the living room and the corridor. I missed it because of a half-full bookcase that partially blocks the view.
“What’s upstairs?” I ask.
“Two rooms and the pool. Let me show you.” We walk up the stairs together. He points to the farthest door. “That room is off-limits.”
“Another office-slash-armory?” I ask, although the door doesn’t have a fancy super-lock like the one downstairs.
“No. It’s Lyosha’s room. He complains when people go into it.”
“Who’s Lyosha?” I haven’t seen any sign of another person living here. Tolyan also hasn’t invited this person to dinner or breakfast. Hopefully, Lyosha isn’t a hostage who’s held inside naked.
“My son.”
“Your son?” I suppose it isn’t totally unrealistic that he has a kid, but there isn’t a photo or anything anywhere in this home. My parents had my photos and soccer trophies and so on in their home. Nobody would have assumed they were childless if they visited.
Tolyan nods, his expression flat.
“So…where is he?” Shouldn’t the child be with him? Or is he having a sleepover? Or maybe staying with his mom?
“Berkeley. He’s a freshman.”
“Your son’s in college?” I stare at Tolyan, studying his face closely. There are a few faint lines in the corners of his eyes and some across his forehead, but nothing that makes him look old enough to have a kid in college.
“How old are you?” I blurt out, then slap my hands over my mouth at the rude question. Why and when did my filter quit on me?
Tolyan’s eyebrows pinch together slightly. Oh shit, he’s annoyed. And for a good reason, too.
“Sorry.” The words are muffled against my hands. I drop them. “Sorry,” I say again. “You don’t have to answer. Actually, you shouldn’t answer. That was a rude que—”
“Forty,” he says.
I lower my hands a little. “Forty? Really?” The second the words leave, I know my filter’s still malfunctioning. I should just keep my mouth shut.
The frown on his face grows more serious. “Do I look that old?”
“No! No, no, no. I just didn’t realize you were that old.”
He raises an eyebrow.
Oh crap. “I mean, you look really young!”
The eyebrow stays elevated.
My whole body’s flaming, and my brain is working hard to find something to say to make the situation better. I blurt out the first thing that sounds okay in my head. “Young, like you’re in your late twenties.”
The eyebrow rises higher.
Okay, now that I said it out loud, it does sound a bit much. There’s no way he can pass for twenty-something, even if it’s a late twenty-something. “Or, you know, in your early thirties or, uh, something like that.”
A corner of his mouth twitches.
Is that an “I’m so mad my muscles are twitching” thing? If so, I’m totally screwed. More things I could say to fix the situation pop into my head, but I clench my teeth together. You’ve hit the bottom already. No need to bring out the jackhammer!
Finally, Tolyan lets out a soft laugh. “You’re a funny little fawn.”
Funny is good, I’m pretty sure. His gray-blue eyes glimmer with humor.
The knots inside me relax. I exhale softly. “Well, uh, I’m glad. Do you want to know how old I am?”
“No. It would be rude for me to say yes, and frankly, I’m not interested.”
He’s being a gentleman, but a small part of me is unhappy that he isn’t showing any curiosity, not even a little. It’s like he has no desire to get to know me.
Come on, Angelika. This isn’t really a “get to know you” situation.
Maybe he’s one of those people who likes to discover stuff about others organically, without the other person vomiting everything about themselves out in one shot.
Tolyan opens the door next to Lyosha’s room. “This is the home gym.”
We step inside. It’s equipped with a treadmill, weights and a large, empty area for stretching and other activities. The floor-to-ceiling window faces a deck outside, which has a pool.
“Use it anytime you want,” Tolyan says. “Actually, it might be safer for you to run here than outside, at least until I can sort Roy out.” His tone makes it sound like Roy isn’t a person, but a problem that requires expedient handling. Which is true, since he is the biggest issue in my life.
“Okay,” I say, since jogging is about keeping fit enough to make my escape if Roy ever comes after me. It doesn’t matter where I get my exercise. And there won’t be any flasher pervs here, which is a definite plus.
Tolyan takes me out onto the deck. The pool is sizable, almost like one for the Olympics. The deck is wood and has a few sunbeds for lounging, plus there’s a large area covered with Astroturf. The farthest corner has a sandbox, which reminds me of a giant cat litter box.
“Do you have a cat?” I ask, looking around. Although I haven’t seen any signs, Tolyan or his son might have one, one that the Dobermans were trained to get along with.
He shoots me an unreadable look. “If I wanted an untrainable, disdainful animal with an attitude problem, I would’ve gotten myself another teenager.”
I laugh. Okay, no cat for Tolyan. “So what’s the sandbox for?”
“The dogs. They’ve been trained to take care of their bodily functions there only. I can’t have them dirtying the entire area at will. It’s unsanitary, and I’m not hiring someone to enter my home regularly to pick up after them.”
Makes sense. Given how paranoid he is about security, he wouldn’t want somebody having a regular access to his home. I look around the deck, then squint at the sky.
“You know… Somebody could skydive into this area and then break in. Which means they’re bypassing all the fancy security you showed me earlier,” I say, half teasing. I don’t really think anybody would be crazy enough to parachute in just to break and enter his home, but it’s interesting he isn’t talking about some super-duper security feature up here.
Tolyan nods, his expression too serious. “Don’t worry. This area’s booby-trapped also.”
Should’ve expected that. He’s exacting about safety—which, given my situation, is great. “But your dogs come up here. What if they get hurt?”
“Obviously,
the security measures are only for intruders. It isn’t that difficult to rig something for uninvited guests.” He gestures behind himself at the small, circular decorative patterns on the edge of the built-in shades and walls. “Don’t worry about your safety. Besides, your stepbrother doesn’t have the balls to land here.”
Tolyan’s tone says he’d love nothing more than to have Roy show up, but my mouth still dries a little. The idea of Roy getting close always makes me clench up. But my heart isn’t pounding ten thousand beats a minute like it normally would. It’s like some instinct knows that Tolyan isn’t someone Roy can easily go through to get to me.
“Do you know how to shoot, by the way?” Tolyan asks as he takes me back inside.
“No. I’ve never held a gun in my life.” Guns scare me. The potential violence and the sound just freak me out. It’s not the most logical reaction from someone who really could use a firearm for protection. But I can’t change how I feel about them any more than I can change how I feel about big spiders.
Tolyan grunts. “Knives?”
“Um… For cooking, sure.” Ugh. I’m starting to sound like some child who wants to sit on her ass while Tolyan does the heavy lifting of protecting me. It’s uncomfortable and embarrassing to realize that the only real skill I’ve perfected over the years is running. “But I can learn. In fact, I should learn. You know. To defend myself and help out.”
“If you’re going to half-ass it, you’ll help most by staying out of the way. It’s quite simple to take a knife from somebody who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”
His placid tone is making me feel worse. I think I would feel better if he’d just yelled instead about how clueless I am about the basic methods of self-defense. “I’m very good at running, but maybe I can learn to punch at least?”
“You’d have to be too close to hit him. With the amount of time we have to work with, I don’t think you can be trained to overpower your stepbrother.”
“You think he’s going to come soon?” Just the idea sends a wave of horror up my spine.
“You are living here and will likely start to work at the Pryce Family Foundation. I provide security for both, which means that Roy will not be able to get at you easily. That will bother him.”
I realize that what Tolyan’s saying is true. Roy gets off on making me do things, whether it was in bed or in my own life. The idea that I might be in a situation that’s beyond his power to control will drive him crazy. Well, crazier.
“Besides,” Tolyan says, “he won’t come alone.”
“You think he’s going to bring people to kill me?” The question comes out in a cracked whisper.
“He’s a coward. He’s going to do it in a cowardly manner.” He lifts a hand, hesitates for a second, then pats my shoulder awkwardly. “That’s going to be his downfall. And you’ll be fine.”
Chapter Eighteen
Angelika
Soon after the tour of the penthouse, the stuff from Monique’s store arrives. And oh my lord it’s a cornucopia of fashion. There is so much more than I expected. I’m grateful and excited but also a little embarrassed that Tolyan paid for all of it, on top of helping me with Roy. Tolyan helps me carry everything to my room without a word.
“Thank you,” I say again. It seems like I can never thank him enough.
“My pleasure,” he says in a mild tone. “Do you need help putting them away?”
“No. I think I got it.”
He nods. “Is there something you want to do later today?”
I want to treat him to something nice, but I doubt that’ll happen. He wouldn’t let me pay for my own clothes. I don’t think he’s going to let me pay for a nice meal out. I should think about what I can do for him—and how to arrange it so he doesn’t end up putting it on his credit card.
“How about…staying in for a movie?” I suggest, since that seems like the most benign activity. “I’ll pick something, if that’s okay.”
He looks slightly pained for a second, then goes back to his typical impassivity. “That’s fine.”
Once the door closes behind him, I smile a little. From the wince, he probably thinks I’m going to force him to watch a chick flick. I love romantic movies, but I don’t want to put him through that. An action movie should be perfect.
Then I put away the clothes. Everything’s folded and wrapped carefully in some kind of gauzy tissue paper. I hang the clothes in the closet, marveling at how luxurious the fabrics feel, and put the underwear in the dresser drawers. I even find a few exercise clothes. When did he ask Monique to add them?
Tolyan has thought of everything. It’s surprising…and nice that he’s so thorough without me having to say anything. His son is lucky.
But if he has a son… Where’s his wife? Or maybe he never married the mother of his child… Or maybe they’re divorced. There are a lot of possibilities.
Elizabeth said she’s never seen Tolyan with another woman, and they’ve known each other a long time. Maybe the woman left him and he’s still pining over her, although it’s difficult to picture him pining over anybody.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. I wasn’t able to imagine him being a dad, either. He just seems like one of those rare snow leopards—an apex predator that enjoys solitude.
You’re just sad because the guy you are developing feelings for has a college-age son and an ex-wife or some such equivalent.
Shut up, self. I never asked you. And I probably shouldn’t be arguing with myself, but I’m used to it. Can’t be helped when I don’t have friends to talk to.
But even if I did, Tolyan isn’t a topic I could bring up truthfully. I can’t tell anybody how I ended up getting him to agree to help me.
When I open the top drawer on the second dresser, close to the bed, something gets caught. I stop and jiggle it around a bit until something thunks and I can pull out the drawer.
A knife sits in the center of the drawer. I pick it up. It’s definitely not a typical kitchen knife. It looks serious—like something a Navy SEAL or some other badass might carry. The blade seems sharp, and I know better than to fool with it.
I put the knife on top of the dresser and put away the rest of my things. Given how thorough Tolyan is, I doubt it being in the drawer was a coincidence. But it’s weird that it was placed there so…sloppily. If he needed to grab the knife in a hurry, the way it got caught would eat up precious time.
On the other hand, given how methodical he is, maybe there’s a reason he put it here. I should just act like I didn’t notice anything.
My phone pings. I pick it up to glance at the message.
–Courtney: I ran into Ben Gibson and was reminded of you.
Ben? I haven’t thought of him since my parents died. We dated for, like, two months during our freshman year of high school before deciding that we’d rather be friends. We had zero chemistry, and I think he only asked me out because he liked the idea of having a girlfriend, not because he actually had boyfriend-like feelings about me.
–Me: I didn’t know he was in Philadelphia.
The last I heard, he was in Jersey City. But that was five years ago.
–Courtney: Just traveling through, he said. He asked if we keep in touch, and I told him you were doing fine. Hope you don’t mind.
–Me: You didn’t tell him where I was, did you?
I don’t want him to know. Actually, I don’t want anyone to know. Courtney’s the only exception. She’s the only friend I have left, and she’s been checking up on me over the last eight years.
–Courtney: No, of course not. I didn’t give him your number, either. Just said you’d changed it and I didn’t know.
I let out a soft sigh.
–Me: Thanks. I appreciate it.
The lie couldn’t have been easy for her. She was close to Ben. They actually dated during our senior year.
–Courtney: So everything’s good in L.A.?
–Me: Yeah.
Then I hesitate for a second. Sh
ould I tell her about Tolyan? The fact that the universe has given me a positive sign after eight years means so much that I’m bursting with the need to tell someone.
Well, it’s probably okay to share a little with Courtney. I’ll leave out the details that could put Tolyan in a bad situation.
–Me: I think things could work out.
–Courtney: What things?
–Me: I found somebody who I think can help me with Roy.
–Courtney: Wow. That’s great! So the cops there are taking you seriously?
–Me: Not a cop. Somebody I met.
–Courtney: Somebody you met? Are you sure he’s legit?
–Me: I’m pretty sure.
–Courtney: He could be a scammer. Just out to take your money and not do what he promised.
–Me: No, he isn’t taking money or anything. Actually, he’s been helping me with security.
Ambiguous enough that she can’t find out who he is, but basically honest, I decide.
–Courtney: Did he say what he wants from you?
–Me: No, nothing. I wish he would. If there’s something I can do for him, I’d like to do it.
–Courtney: Okay, you’re scaring me. Just who is this guy?
She’s so freaked out. I understand her concern. I would be too if the situation were reversed. On the other hand, I don’t want to tell her exactly who Tolyan is or how we met.
–Me: Like I said, just somebody I met. He’s totally aboveboard.
–Courtney: Well, be careful. He could be doing it for his own reasons. Ask you to traffic drugs, sell you into sex slavery. Anything. I read about that stuff, you know.
I shake my head. I wish I could tell her more, but at the moment, I can’t.
Before I can respond, another text comes in.
–Courtney: I mean, maybe he’s not a criminal. But he might make you owe him one, and want you to pay him back in a way you aren’t comfortable with. Just saying you should figure out what’s in it for him.
I don’t think he’s going to ask me to pay him back, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to find out why he’s helping me. It sure isn’t because I tried to blackmail him. He could’ve killed me and dumped my body many times over since I met him in the parking garage yesterday.