Rip

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Do you like it?” Mr. Blazik asked, setting the key on the white granite countertop.

  “It’s… something.” I shivered. “No color?”

  “Not here,” he barked, though his eyes seemed to penetrate right through me, like he was waiting for me to run or scream.

  I held up my hands, seriously, one minute the guy was calm, not necessarily warm but at least somewhat kind, the next he looked ready to turn a knife on himself—I shivered—or on me.

  “Mr. Blazik—“

  “Nikolai,” he corrected. “If you don’t mind.”

  I ground my teeth together. “Nikolai, is there a reason we’re here?”

  “To eat.” He flashed me a white toothy grin that matched perfectly with the décor around us. “And to make sure you get settled in.”

  He moved effortlessly through the kitchen and began pulling things from the dinosaur fridge—I couldn’t help thinking of it as T-rex, the thing was so huge—he set some cheese, bread, and grapes on the counter, then pulled out some sliced meat. Everything looked like it had been prepared or catered for a specific event.

  I really hoped I wasn’t that special event, but I had a sinking suspicion I was.

  I quietly set my purse down on the white couch and made my way over to the kitchen.

  Nikolai retrieved a bottle of chilled champagne from T-rex, popped the cork, without injuring me or anything else in the apartment, and poured two glasses.

  My hands were still shaking when he gently shoved the glass against my trembling fingers. I hated that I gave myself away so easily—but what woman, I don’t care how strong, wouldn’t be freaking out?

  It was all like a bad dream.

  Gorgeous billionaire kidnapping me from my drug lord family? Hah, right, I think I read that somewhere in a book.

  But this wasn’t a book.

  It was as real as death, and something warned me that if I pushed him too far, he’d break—and I’d be caught in the storm, unable to save myself or anything around me.

  The terror was coming back full force. I had no idea who this man was—outside of reading magazines and watching interviews on TV. He was brilliant, he was rich, and something about him was clearly… off.

  “Let’s make a toast.” Nikolai said, his dark eyes trained on my mouth. “Shall we?” His eyes jerked away from my mouth as if I’d done something offensive like try to breathe or something.

  “A toast,” I repeated. “Am I supposed to pretend like this is a happy moment in my life?”

  Nikolai set down his flute and pressed his palms flat against the granite, his expression hard, his mouth set in a grim line. “Life doesn’t always go as planned. Think of it this way, you wanted to interview me, and now you have an internship. Make it through the next year, and who knows what doors may open for you?”

  “So that’s it…” I held the champagne to my lips. “You want me to pretend I’m okay with this for a year—and when I’m finished being your secretary I get my freedom?”

  “Freedom…” He lifted his glass again, his dark gaze finding mine, penetrating to my very soul. “…has to be earned.”

  “So,” I said, irritated that my voice came out in a hoarse croak, “how do I earn it?”

  He took a long swig of champagne and grinned. “Maybe you should read what’s in that folder… ask and you shall receive, Maya.”

  I finished the entire glass of champagne in one gulp.

  “Eat.” He tapped his manicured fingertips against the counter. “I’ll be back in three hours to check on you and make sure everything is agreeable.” He started walking toward the door then paused. “Oh, and Maya? I’d really read that folder if I were you.”

  “If I read it that means this is really happening.” My voice was shaking, I couldn’t control it anymore than I could control my emotions.

  Nikolai hung his head. “Sweetheart, some things have been set into motion for centuries, things you can’t fathom or understand. This moment right here, this is taking place because of things that you have no control over. You coming here today is proof of that. When you sin…” His eyes flashed. “It’s only a matter of time before you’re asked to repent.”

  “Repent?” I repeated. “But I didn’t do anything!”

  “Maybe not.” He jerked open the door. “But your father did. And the daughter carries the sins of her father…” With one final glance in my direction he shut the door behind him.

  And locked it.

  I ran over to the counter top searching frantically for the key.

  Nothing.

  Maybe it only sounded like a locking mechanism, I rushed to the door and pulled. No such luck.

  I banged my fists against the wall. What if there was a fire? What if I started choking on a peanut and needed 911?

  “Bastard!” I hissed, kicking the door with my high heel and stomping back into the living room.

  I couldn’t enjoy the beauty because it felt so wrong, so…t rapping, so final, like a high-priced cage with invisible bars. For the most part I felt like I was handling things. I mean, I didn’t have a nervous breakdown, but I wasn’t the type of person to do that.

  I was logical, a realist. It only made sense that what he was doing was illegal, but I knew firsthand men like Nikolai, men like my father, they were above the law, they had the law in their back pockets.

  With a shudder, I walked over to the kitchen and poured myself another glass of champagne to settle my nerves. My eyes fell to the couch and my purse with the black folder sticking out.

  Blowing out a heavy breath, I chugged the rest of the glass and made my way over to the couch.

  I could do this.

  Reading. I could read. The words had no power over me and Nikolai had no power over me—regardless of what he believed.

  The folder was thick and heavy. I sat on the couch and opened it to the first page.

  It was the contract he’d asked me to sign, I imagined he would have made copies of it so tearing it up would do no good. It was a basic NDA saying if I spoke to the press or anyone about the happenings of Blazik Enterprises I’d be sued.

  I skipped the fine print and went on to the next page.

  Job Title: Intern.

  Hah! So, he wasn’t lying about that part. Feeling a bit more optimistic I kept reading underneath the bold print.

  —Don’t ask questions. Ever.

  —Don’t give your opinion.

  —Dress Code: Black. If an error occurs during operations and you need to get something dry cleaned, you must wait before sending it in.

  —No outside phone calls.

  —Eight-hour work day. Vacation available but travel must be first approved by Mr. Blazik and will be monitored.

  I scrunched up my nose, what did that mean? Monitored? At least he was going to let me vacation though I had a sinking feeling we had two very different definitions of the word.

  —No relationships.

  —No family.

  —No Internet.

  Seriously? So I was basically going to be locked up in a fancy apartment for an entire year, wearing black, and doing… what? His laundry? I grit my teeth and read the next line, my eyes nearly fall out of my head at the next line.

  —No sexual relationships. Must stay pure the entire year.

  My cheeks heated with embarrassment. How in the world did he know I was still a virgin, and what business was it of his in the first place? Rage overtook me as I threw the papers across the table and cursed.

  It wasn’t for lack of trying—the whole virginity thing. But my father had made sure no man touched me. And every time I did date it was like the men in my life panicked and backed off. The one and only time I’d gotten close to hooking up with a random guy from a bar—don’t ask, low point in my life—I went home with him and he had a freaking heart attack—at twenty-eight—in my bedroom.

  He lived.

  But blamed me.

  What? Like my mere presence caused his heart to stop?

  Tea
rs stung at the back of my eyes as I glared at the papers. I wanted a life away from my father, away from his control, away from my family. This morning I’d been so excited about my research, about meeting a man who was my idol.

  It sucked.

  Meeting someone you idolized for five years only to find out he’s not the hero after all—but a complete monster in disguise.

  Two and a half hours—and my monster would return.

  I’d be ready.

  I just needed to say that in the mirror about fifty more times after finishing that bottle of champagne.

  Police suspect the Pier Killer may be a woman based on the hate crime toward women’s reproductive organs, reports reveal—The Seattle Tribune

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS CLOSED. I GLANCED at my reflection through the smooth metallic surface and looked away.

  My entire life I’d avoided mirrors, shiny surfaces—anything that would reveal to me what I already knew about myself.

  That I was a monster.

  The eyes are the window to the soul, and I knew better than anyone else that mine was a very dark place. In bartering for Maya’s life, I hadn’t once thought about what I would do when I was finished with her.

  Granted, she had to survive that long.

  And so many pieces had to fall into place for that to happen that I knew getting attached would damn near kill me, destroy possibly the last shred of humanity I had left.

  When the doors opened, I forced a smile across my lips—it felt awkward—it always did because happiness was such a foreign emotion I wasn’t sure I would even recognize it if it came and hit me upside the head.

  “Mr. Blazik.” Tom Mikelson, one of the board members, walked by me giving a slight wave of his hand.

  “Tom.” I nodded and forced the smile wider. “How’s your wife? Recovering from hip surgery?”

  “Oh yes.” Tom rocked back on his heels then pushed his spectacles up on his large nose. He resembled a younger version of Santa Claus, with graying hair, ruddy cheeks and pronounced lips and nose, he was the closest thing to a friend I had.

  Which was pathetic when I really thought about it.

  “She loved the flowers.” He nervously tapped his pen against his leg as he was prone to do when I engaged in conversation with him. He was fidgety, always fidgety when approached by authority. “You didn’t really have to do that.”

  “I did,” I said in a soft voice, trying to put him at ease. “And I’m happy she’s doing well.”

  “Yes well.” Tom cleared his throat.

  “Was there something else?”

  He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Mr. Petrov is waiting for you in your office. I noticed him waltz in when I was coming down to deliver some contracts.”

  “Thank you.” I touched his shoulder. “I’ll deal with him. Why don’t you take a long lunch?” I pulled back. “In fact, take off the afternoon, visit that wife of yours.”

  His eyes narrowed in the protective way they often did when he suddenly felt the need to come to my defense, I might be the boss but he had a son my age, and always felt the need to step up to the battle if called. “Listen Nikolai, if Petrov is sniffing around again I can—”

  “It’s fine.” I chuckled. “I promise. Now, go take care of your wife, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He licked his lips, his eyes darting back and forth with uncertainty before he stepped back and nodded. “Right. I’ll do that.”

  “Good afternoon, Tom.”

  “Nikolai.”

  He rarely called me by my first name. It still made him uncomfortable to do so, and he only threw it out there when he was concerned. I thought of it as a paternal instinct, but I wouldn’t know. Both my parents were dead.

  I straightened my tie and made my way to my office.

  Sheila, my assistant, shared a look of disdain with me before shaking her head and grabbing her purse.

  “An hour should be adequate.” I opened the door for her to leave and listened to her heels click against the marble floors. Typically, she took her breaks whenever Petrov was in the building. I didn’t want her asking questions, and I sure as hell didn’t need her to know what was going on so that she could incriminate not only herself but my entire company.

  I reached for the door to my office and pulled it open.

  Classical music floated through the air. The distinct smell of expensive cigars and my finest whiskey gave way to the familiar scent of Petrov. He was seated at my desk as if he owned the damn world, twirling a cigar between his fingers.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “As well as could be expected.” I walked over to the sidebar and poured myself a healthy glass of whiskey and sat on the couch, showing him my ease at his visit even while I was wondering in the back of my mind if he really would keep his end of the bargain.

  “Good.” He stood. “I was worried.”

  “Bullshit.” I took a swig of whiskey. “Try again.”

  He pulled his lips back, revealing even white teeth as he formed a menacing smile against his pale complexion and dark hair. Petrov was a large man, he enjoyed the finer things in life and it showed in his skin and inability to wear a suit that wasn’t made strictly for his large body.

  “Can a father not be concerned for his daughter?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep myself from insulting him and stood. What about his other daughter? The one that was currently dying from cancer? Did he care for her? Just thinking of Andi made me want to run my fist through the man’s arrogant face, but now wasn’t the time to act, not yet. “So, now that you know she’s just fine, you’ll be leaving? Wasn’t that part of the deal?”

  “The deal…” he repeated, puffing out smoke from his mouth. “I’ve come to renegotiate.”

  “No.” I walked slowly toward the door.

  “I rarely hear that word.”

  “I wonder if it’s because you kill the individuals before they have a chance to utter it.” I tilted my head in amusement. “Now, if that’s all?”

  “This isn’t over.” Petrov put out his cigar on my mahogany desk and strutted toward the door. “Eventually you will renegotiate, you’ll need a favor so I keep your little secret quiet.”

  It wasn’t fear I experienced in that moment, more like dread. I’d fought for years to keep my identity a secret, to keep my family name in the clear.

  “The contract states you have no choice.” I crossed my arms. “So unless one of us breaks said contract…”

  “Hah.” He tilted his head back and barked out a strangled laugh. “Have you seen my Maya? I’m surprised the contract isn’t already void.”

  “I have self control.” Disgusted that my suspicions were correct, I turned away from him, giving him my back was basically like pulling a gun on the man. It was disrespectful, but it was all I had. Having him in the same building, let alone the same city as Maya didn’t sit well with me. She’d always been more of a pawn than a daughter, and I was beginning to realize how much.

  “Till we meet again,” Petrov said in a calm voice.

  The door to my office shut with a quiet click.

  And I was left staring at the smoking cigar on my desk. Wondering how the hell I was going to keep my end of the bargain, when ten minutes ago I was contemplating all the ways I could break it.

  The last female victim has been identified as Mary Smith, a drug addict and prostitute. She was HIV positive. –The Seattle Tribune

  THREE HOURS LATER AND I WAS still in a state of utter disbelief. I searched the entire apartment. No computer. No phone, not even a phone jack, yes I’d actually gotten desperate enough to search for one.

  I was stuck in a freaking compound.

  At least I had food. And alcohol.

  Pacing the marble white floor, I started chewing my thumbnail. I was a smart girl, logical, able to put pieces together, but each time I tried to make the pieces fit, it was like they rejected each other, and I was just as confused as before.

  Who
was Nikolai Blazik? And why was I so important?

  What the hell did my father do to get on this guy’s bad side? Furthermore, how was Nikolai in the type of position that he could exert power over my father—one of the scariest individuals I’d ever known?

  Nothing made sense.

  Except one thing… if my father made a deal with Nikolai, that meant he was a scary man, a bad man, one who would think nothing of killing me and making it look like an accident.

  My head still hurt.

  The sound of a lock turning had my heart speeding up like I was getting ready to witness my own murder. Funny, how I’d look back on that very moment and realize how true my own words were.

  But in that moment, with the lock turning, all I could think was that it was some sort of sick joke, or that surely Nikolai would re-think his decision. I had absolutely nothing to offer him—other than my brain and couldn’t he find any girl to do what he needed me to do?

  Air whooshed out of my lungs at seeing him again. It should be a crime to be so beautiful, it was as if every single part of his body was in perfect sync with the universe as he made his way slowly across the marble floor, his shoes hitting in perfect cadence with my heart beat.

  Slowly, his lips turned up into a breathtaking smile. One that had me staggering backward and wishing he was ugly so I could hate him.

  But it was hard to hate pretty. Even I had to admit that. And Nikolai? He was more than pretty, he was beautiful. All our lives we’re told that ugly, deformed, is bad—but it’s a lie. Sometimes the most terrifying things you will ever encounter are also the most beautiful.

  “I see you’ve read the folder?” He pointed down at the coffee table where I’d basically made a massacre of all the different pages.

  “Yeah.” I croaked. My body and voice were so not in sync at that moment and my heart was still beating so hard I was afraid he was going to see the pulse in my neck and attack vampire style—he seemed the type. In fact, the whole scenario seemed like a vampire movie gone bad.