by LK Shaw
To fear.
To what ifs.
The alarm on the front door disengages, and it swings opens. Thank god, thinking time is over. Except it’s not Pierce who steps through.
It’s someone I never expected to meet again. I rise from my seat on the couch. She strides purposefully through the entryway while a lone, suit-clad man behind her closes the door. He remains at the entrance, hands crossed at his waist.
Brenna looks completely different than the last time we were together. Her red hair falls in waves over her shoulders. Shoulders that aren’t naked. Her clothes are relatively casual—a pretty olive green blouse with puffed sleeves and cream slacks—but, like her husband, there’s an aura of power surrounding her. Not as bright as his, but certainly noticeable.
I’m fully aware of my own ill-fitting, and far too casual, t-shirt and scandalously short shorts. My fingers pat my messy hair in a self-conscious gesture. Brenna stops only a few feet from me and a kind smile crosses her face.
“I’m glad to see you,” she says.
To my complete surprise, she closes the short distance between us and pulls me in for a hug. I can’t help but return the embrace. Against my will, tears spring to my eyes. Maybe she has some sort of agenda for being here. Who knows? It just feels good to be hugged.
She pulls back and meets my gaze. There are tears in her eyes as well. We both laugh, me self-consciously, and release each other to wipe the wetness away.
“I’m really happy you’re all right,” I tell her. I am, too. I’m glad that Mikhail hadn’t been able to hurt her more than he had.
Her expression turns serious, and she reaches for my hand, pulling me down onto the couch to sit next to her. “What about you? Are you okay? How are you being treated?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m not sure exactly why she’s here, but until I discover the reason, I’ll play a role.
“Oh my gosh. You saved my life, which I never got to thank you for, and I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Mila,” I tell her, gently pulling my hand from hers. I’m not entirely comfortable with her apparent kindness.
“I’m Brenna.” She glances around the living room. “I had no idea my husband owned this house.”
I don’t say anything, because I’m not sure she expects a reply.
“I understand Pierce has been keeping you prisoner.” There’s no disguising the bite of anger in her tone.
Again, I’m not sure what I should say. Is she here to gain my trust? Is this yet another mind game he’s using to fuck with me? It seems like something he would do.
Her eyes scan my face, and her expression shifts. “Considering how you’ve probably been treated, I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that you’re being held here. It’s not right. I just want you to know that I’m going to do what I can to help you.”
“Brenna,” a deep voice growls from the doorway. It’s filled with a warning.
We both jerk in that direction. Standing there, with a dark expression, is her husband. His jaw is tight and there’s anger radiating off his powerful frame. I glance at the woman next to me. Her body is rigid. Is she afraid he’ll hit her? Is she not supposed to be here?
Her husband makes his way toward us, his steps booming on the hardwood, and his wife rises almost casually. I scramble to my feet as well, not liking being at an obvious disadvantage. He stops directly in front of her, his eyes darting in my direction, before returning to his wife. I can’t be sure, but they seem to soften for a moment before hardening once more.
“I thought I told you to leave it alone,” he says in a low tone.
“Oh, yes, because keeping a woman locked up against her will is the organization’s business.” There is so much disdain in the way she nearly sneers the word. “You must not know me if you really thought that I was going to just let this go. Especially after speaking that way to me in front of Pierce. What happened to respect?”
I quickly jump forward. “I’m not here against my will.”
There have been far too many things in my life I’ve been responsible for. This woman getting in trouble won’t be one of them.
The two of them turn their heads in my direction, and I shift nervously, clearing my throat, my hands fidgeting at my sides. Her—Brenna’s—expression is one of confusion and disbelief, while her husband’s is thoughtful.
“I’m not sure who you think you’re protecting by trying to get me to believe that, but everyone in this room knows you’re not here by choice,” she says gently before she swivels her head to glare at the man at her side.
“Brenna,” he says again, only there’s resignation in his tone this time.
“Jacob,” she snaps right back, undeterred. “This is my business. Mila is my business. I was the one tied to that table. Mila was the one who got me out. The one who saved my life. And you’re letting Pierce keep her locked up in here. For what? Because she’s Russian? Because you think you can get something from her?”
Brenna turns and faces me, shutting her husband out entirely. “I’ll be back in a couple days to visit. Is there anything I can bring you to make you more comfortable? Anything you might need?”
My gaze darts back and forth between her and her husband, whose fierce and intense expression terrifies me. I shake my head. “No, really, I’m fine. I have everything I need,” I rush to assure her. “It’s a lovely house. I’m enjoying the garden very much.”
I don’t care for how he’s studying me, but Brenna’s gaze is gentle. I’m not sure if I’ve managed to fool her or not, but I’ll say anything so she doesn’t get into trouble with her husband.
“Maybe when I come over next, you and I can do a little gardening.”
I give her my best smile. “That would be nice.”
For the second time, she hugs me. Then, with an almost regal bearing, Brenna turns and strides straight past her husband and through the entryway. The suit sends a questioning glance at his boss, who waves him on. He opens the door, and the two of them exit through it, leaving me alone with this intimidating, and slightly scary, man.
He turns to face me. I desperately want to separate the distance between us, but I manage to hold my ground, bracing myself for whatever happens next.
“I would never hurt her.”
That’s certainly not what I expected him to say.
“While I appreciate your attempt at lying,” he continues, “you should know that I would never raise a hand to Brenna. Thank you for trying to protect her. Again.”
Pierce’s boss pivots, and before I have time to process what just happened, he disappears out the front door as well, the familiar beeping signaling he’s re-engaged the alarm. He’s grateful to me, but not enough to forget I’m still a prisoner.
Chapter 16
Pierce
* * *
I hate the smell of hospitals. The antiseptic scent that always manages to linger for hours after you leave. I make my way into the elevator and up to the fourth floor where they finally moved Giovanni after he’d gotten out of ICU.
Given her—caution—around men, I’m a little surprised by the fact that Francesca has been here every day checking on him. Especially after it had been clear that he was going to pull through surgery.
The elevator opens, and I stride down the hallway, glancing at the room numbers until I get to four sixteen. The door is partially open. Faint voices filter through the crack. I rap my knuckles on the wood and push it the rest of the way. Lying on the bed is a distinctly unhappy looking Giovanni. Francesca and Brenna, who seems to be fussing over him, hover at his side. Jacob stands near the window.
Everyone glances up at my arrival. My sister sends me a smile while my cousin’s wife narrows her eyes at me. Jacob moves away from his spot, and I follow him back out into the hallway.
“How’s he doing?” I ask.
“Gio’s fine. He’s antsy and irritated and more than ready to get out of this place.”
/> I can’t blame him. It’s why we pay Dr. Marino a fortune to take care of all the men in the syndicate.
“Brenna showed up at your little house today,” he adds drily. “Apparently she threatened Lazarro if he didn’t take her.”
Fuck. “Did she go inside?”
Jacob huffs out a breath. “Of course she did. By the time I was able to make my way over, she and your little pet project were already having a nice cozy chat.”
“Don’t call her that,” I snap.
My cousin sends me a knowing glare. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Jacob says.
“Everything is still going according to my plan. Every day, I’m learning more.”
He eyes me critically. “You’re getting emotionally involved with this woman, Pierce. Even if you can’t admit that to yourself. There’s something between you.”
I blow out a breath and rub my hand down my face. Jacob isn’t wrong. There is something. There shouldn’t be. She’s Russian. Jesus.
“Do you care about her?”
My gaze jerks to meet his. “Of course not. She’s the enemy.”
“Is she, though?” he asks quietly. “Look at what she did for Brenna. Hell, even today she tried to protect my wife. Outright lied and said she was staying in that house of her own free will. Would she have done that if she were the enemy?”
I don’t have an answer. Or rather not one I’m willing to admit to.
“I think she’s just a woman who has done whatever she’s needed to to survive,” he adds.
“When we found Francesca all those years ago, I vowed to destroy the Russians. I swore that even if it took the rest of my life, I would annihilate every single one of them,” I say. “I never told you, but she was pregnant.”
Jacob’s whole body freezes. He doesn’t even blink.
“I don’t know if it was an act of God or just fucking luck, but about two months into it, Francesca had a miscarriage.”
“That’s the business you had to come back and take care of after we first arrived in North Carolina,” he says with pity.
“Yes. You didn’t see her back then, Jacob. She wouldn’t let me touch her. Hell, she barely let Theresa touch her. My sister was eighteen years old and pregnant by our enemies. Enemies who took pleasure in raping her.” My voice rises in volume, and the nursing staff stares at us before continuing on their business. I snap my mouth shut to try and calm my growing anger. “You’re asking me to forget about all that. To disregard the fact that our enemies took something from my sister she will never get back.”
“What are you two talking about?”
Francesca is standing outside the door, her face pale, her body shaking. Her expression is one of betrayal.
“Chess,” I step toward her, but she holds up her hand. I freeze.
“Why were you talking about me? About that?” Her voice trembles.
Just then Brenna steps out of the room. Her gaze bounces between the three of us. “What’s going on out here?”
“Why don’t we all go somewhere a little more private?” Jacob suggests.
Francesca shakes her head. “No. I think you all should leave.”
“Fran—“ I begin.
“No,” she snaps, wrapping her arms around her middle. She refuses to look at any of us. “Leave. Please.”
That same helpless feeling washes over me as it had seven years ago. I hate that she’s hurting. That, this time, I’m the one who hurt her. I sigh in defeat, and gesture with my chin to Jacob and Brenna, who continues looking confused. Then she meets my gaze and her expression slowly shifts to anger. She carefully approaches Francesca and whispers something to her before walking away. Jacob and I follow her.
I glance over my shoulder, but my sister has already gone back inside Giovanni’s room and closed the door. My cousin and his wife reach the elevator, and I head toward them. Neither speak, but I can sense both their emotions. I wait for Brenna to rail at me, but she continues to seethe in silence. The ride down to the lobby is heavy and the air around us is tense.
We reach the ground level, the elevator pings, and the metal door slides open. She’s the first to exit. Why I’m still following behind them is beyond me. Their driver, Aurelio, who stands outside their town car, hurries around to the back door and opens it. Brenna stops and turns toward me.
“You terrified me from the moment I first met you. I thought you were cold. Emotionless. But I’ve gotten to know you. Or rather, I thought I did,” she says with scorn. “I know what it’s like to be a pawn. To be used for money and power. It’s something I would expect from my grandfather. I never would have imagined you’d be just like him.”
She doesn’t wait for a reply before she disappears into the back seat, slides to the opposite side, and sits facing forward with her hands in her lap. Jacob glances in my direction and then climbs in beside her. Aurelio encloses them inside while I stand there, my distorted reflection in the dark-tinted glass staring back at me, until the town car pulls away from the curb.
I need a fucking drink.
Chapter 17
Mila
* * *
I spend another night and day alone. Despite what Brenna’s husband said about not hurting her, I still worry that she’s being punished for her obvious defiance in coming to see me. If her husband is anything like Pierce, then I may have a right to be concerned. My stomach dips with nausea. Will she really come back like she said?
The front door alarm beeps, and my heart stops as I wait for whoever is going to step through it. Pierce’s familiar imposing figure appears, and that stupid organ in my chest picks up the pace and the fluttering sensation starts in my stomach. How is it possible for me to have missed him? The man who torments me, yet makes me ache.
I rise from the couch as he moves from the entryway into the living room. He doesn’t stop until he’s mere feet from me. My head tips back to stare up at him. His arm twitches like he means to reach out to me, but catches himself. Instead, he returns my stare with such intensity and heat, my center throbs. Do I want him to touch me?
“I meant to be here sooner,” he finally says, surprising me with its sincerity. “I’ve had a few things I needed to take care of.”
“I understand,” I whisper back.
“I’m having a meal delivered here shortly. I thought we could sit out on the patio and eat supper together.”
My heart races even faster. Outside. Like a date? Don’t be stupid, Mila. My eyes search his face for any signs of deceit, but as usual, I can’t read him. “I’d like that. I’m starting to go a bit stir crazy in here,” I admit. “It’s been so long since I’ve been outside soaking up the sunlight and breathing in the city air.”
“The city air that smells like garbage, you mean?” he chuckles that rusty sound that is beginning to grow on me.
I shrug. “If it means sitting peacefully with the flowers and imagining, for a moment, that I’m free—that I’m happy—then yes, I’ll breathe in every scent this wonderful city has to offer.”
Pierce’s eyes shutter, and I almost regret my words. I don’t though. I can’t. No matter how uncomfortable they make him.
Finally, he moves around me and to the French doors, punching in the security code. He opens the doors wide, faces me, and sweeps his hand out for me to proceed.
I only hesitate for a second. I cross the living room, brush past him, and step out onto the large square cement patio. I stop directly in the middle of it, tilt my head back to look up into the sky, and take a deep breath in, filling my lungs with the warm, late spring air. The sun shines down, heating my face. I close my eyes and soak it all up.
Only once I’ve breathed in my fill do I tip my head down and open my eyes, turning to face the man still standing just inside the house. Pierce’s gaze is laser-focused on me.
“Thank you for bringing me out here.”
He dips his head. “You’re welcome.”
The first steps onto the well manicured lawn tickle the soles of my feet. I
stroll leisurely around the yard, stopping here and there to admire the flowers. I gently cup the flowering bud of a gorgeous white gardenia, inhaling the creamy spiciness of it. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I’m aware of Pierce’s gaze following my every move.
I smell every flower I come across, drinking in the scents to hold me over. Who knows if, or when, I’ll be allowed out here again. There’s a knock on the front door. Pierce eyes me critically and then heads into the house to answer it. Does he think I’m going to try and scale the fence to escape? As much as I’d like to, I understand the futility of it.
Moments later he re-appears with a large brown paper bag in one hand and the same white plastic bag from a couple days ago. Already, my mouth is watering for dessert.
“Eager for more tiramisu?” he teases, as though reading the craving in my expression.
“Yes,” I admit with a smile, not even the least bit ashamed.
I meet him at the square glass-topped table and help him unpack the food. Everything smells delicious and reminds me how hungry I am.
“Sit. I’ll finish,” he instructs.
I do as he says, and soon there are several open containers with more food than I could eat in a day. “It all looks delicious.”
Pierce dishes out a little bit of everything—from spaghetti to lasagna to what I think is chicken parmigiana—onto my plate. “I’ll never be able to eat all this,” I groan.
“Whatever you don’t, I’ll finish.”
We settle down for a lovely meal. I eat as much as I can before having to push my plate away from me. As he said, Pierce takes care of the food I’d left. In the distance, children yell and play. Someone mows their yard. All around us are everyday sounds of a neighborhood completely different from where I live. I don’t even feel like I’m still in Brooklyn.
I cast several sly glances in Pierce’s direction. This evening has been everything I imagine a real date would be. Not that I would know.