by Nadia Lee
“Good. What did she say about the perp?”
“Nothing.”
Both of his eyebrows go up. “She didn’t see him either?”
I shift my weight, crossing my arms. “That’s not really the cause.”
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t remember,” I say vaguely.
“Damn.” He huffs with frustration. “I was so hopeful.” His eyes turn serious. “You think she’s blocking it? Too traumatic?”
I hesitate, not wanting to reveal Elizabeth’s true condition. Antoine may be my best friend, but my protective instinct cringes at the idea of sharing her vulnerability. If I tell him she’s a bit disoriented at the moment… No. That’s a dumb lie he’ll see right through the second he sees her. “I don’t think that’s the reason. She doesn’t even remember her name.”
“What?”
“Temporary amnesia is what the doctor says.”
“Whoa. That’s… I’ve never heard of people experiencing something like that before.” He scowls. “Need me to get in touch with her Russian?”
I stiffen, hating the way Antoine calls Tolyan her Russian. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Antoine’s jaw drops. “You can’t just leave her here alone.”
“I’m not going to.”
He gapes at me like I just lost my mind. “You can’t stay here indefinitely either. You got a company to run.”
“I know that.” But that hasn’t factored into my decision at all. I trust Inara at the helm one hundred percent. She’s an amazing executive.
“Then what’s your plan?”
“You know I own an island nearby—”
His voice rises. “You’re going to take her to that island of yours? What have you been smoking while waiting in that hospital?”
“She needs peace and quiet.”
“Bullshit. The island isn’t the only place she can have those.”
“She can’t return to L.A. We don’t know who tried to hurt her.”
Antoine shuts up at that. He hates failure, and us not knowing is definitely failing as far as he’s concerned, even though it’s really not his fault. There aren’t any witnesses—not surprising, given the horrible storm—and there isn’t any security camera footage. We’re at an impasse until Elizabeth regains her memory.
But it doesn’t take long before he recovers. “That’s why she has that Russian. Let him keep her safe. That’s what he’s paid to do.”
Officially, Tolyan is Elizabeth’s assistant. Neither Antoine nor I believe that. I’ve seen the man. He doesn’t look like the type who can bang out at least a hundred words per minute and alphabetize files neatly into stacks. But he certainly seems like the type to enjoy breaking a few knees just because, and in certain situations, those skills are more valuable than creating a day’s agenda.
I look away, dismissing Antoine.
“Come on, what’s the real deal?” he says, making another attempt at appealing to my sanity.
“I need to make things right.”
“And your brilliant plan is taking her away? What about giving her the painting back?”
I shake my head. “Not enough.”
“You gotta be shitting me. And she said okay?” Abruptly he stops, his eyes going wide. “You told her you’re her fiancé.”
“Hey, the doctor said it, not me,” I say. “Besides, the engagement is your lie, not mine.”
“You aren’t pinning that on me. I only did it so you could be informed of her condition. What you’re doing is torpedoing the line.” Antoine puts his hands together over his chest, then snaps his elbows straight, arms angled outward. “Nuclear fucking bombing a line you shouldn’t even be thinking of getting near.”
You and my conscience both, buddy. Still, I shove both of them away, not interested in listening to naysayers. “The island is perfect. It gives us the privacy to sort everything out, and nobody can get to her without me knowing about it.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Until she gets her memory back.”
Antoine shakes his head. “There you go, irrational and impulsive about her. That’s how you got into trouble ten years ago.”
I scowl. “We aren’t the same people—we aren’t kids anymore.”
He throws his hands in the air. “What do you think she’s going to do when she regains her memory? Be grateful and give you whatever it is you’re looking for?” He gives me a hard, piercing look. “You hated her for the last ten years because she lied about her age.”
I bristle with indignation. Shouldn’t he be on my side? He knows what I’m trying to do here. “That could’ve landed me in jail and ruined my life,” I say, mostly out of irritation.
“All she did was using a fake ID, something almost everybody in America has done at least once. Including your sister, in case you’re wondering.”
“Leave Kristen out of this.”
Shrugging away my warning, he continues, “Are you going to have her sleep with you, while she believes you’re her fiancé? Have her feel bad that she doesn’t remember anything sweet and romantic that must’ve happened between you two lovebirds?”
My jaw tightens as his words remind me of my lie—that the island is where I proposed.
“That’s some fucked-up shit. It’s a helluva lot worse than what she did to you, and a helluva lot more insidious than your original plan of taking the damned portrait from her. You’re taking advantage, lying when it’s not necessary for your own benefit. Mark my words—at some point, she will remember everything. And you aren’t going to get whatever it is you want to get, assuming you even know what you want anymore.”
“Shut up.” I shoot him that lame-ass comeback because he’s right. Unless I’m careful, I’ll end up taking advantage whether I mean to or not, and that cannot happen. Usually I know exactly how to get what I want. Not with Elizabeth, though. With her, my emotions and thoughts swing from one extreme to another so fast that my head spins and I’m not sure exactly how to proceed.
But the primary concern at the moment is keeping her safe. I cling to that, because it’s better than admitting I might be screwing things up.
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth
Dominic isn’t returning tonight, specifically because I asked him not to. He looked awful, and he needs some sleep in a real bed, not folded up in that uncomfortable hospital chair. Still, a part of me wishes I hadn’t asked him to stay away. Or at least insisted on leaving here with him. I hate the hospital—the pungent smell, the brisk efficiency and the sickness.
I snort at myself. It’s ridiculous that I’m complaining. I’m one of the patients. Just look at the stapled gash in my head.
I’m bored out of my mind, but I’m not interested in watching TV. Most channels are showing old TV shows and movies—fashion and hair looking dreadfully dated. I shouldn’t snicker too much, though. I’m sure twenty years from now people will look at my pictures and say, “Wow, what was she thinking?”
CNN International broadcasts another depressing piece of news about some conflict overseas, where a bunch of civilians are murdered. I turn it off, helplessness unfurling inside the pit of my belly. I don’t understand why they show such things, knowing that most of us can’t bring about real change. It’s as though they want us to feel awful and anxious about what’s around us. Exhaling roughly, I reach for one of the books Dominic left behind. They’re romance novels, all of them contemporary. I raise an eyebrow. Of all the things, romance is not what I expected Dominic to buy. I thought he would read me a book on—
A loud commotion outside interrupts my thoughts. Voices are rising, and I hear a gravelly curse word or two.
“I’m her personal assistant. She wants me with her.”
“But sir—”
“All you have to do is let me in. Then we’ll see who’s telling the truth.”
“But it’s late, and she nee—”
The door to my room opens, and a tall, broad-should
ered man enters like a battle tank. His sandy brown hair’s not even an inch long over the curve of his skull. He’s in a stiffly starched dress shirt, open at his throat, and black slacks. His pale blue eyes pin me to the bed.
“Lizochka,” he says, in a voice that is simultaneously chilling and soothing. “How are you feeling?”
The nurse who followed him points an accusing finger at him. “Miss, do you know this man?” Then she shakes her head. “Why am I even asking?”
I blink at her, wondering what she expects me to say.
The nurse shakes her head again. “Okay. I’ll have him thrown out,” she says, her voice hard with determination.
I study the small woman and the huge man. He looks like he could break a sequoia over his knee. Security won’t stop him.
“That won’t be necessary.” Speaking to him is going to be far more interesting and productive than watching the news or reading a romance novel. “He’s…uh…my assistant. I really need to speak with him.”
He gives the nurse a triumphant smirk. “See?”
“This is against the rules. It’s after nine thirty!”
Goodness. So now the time of day is wrong, too. “I’m sorry.” I keep my tone soothing and sweet. “But I don’t want to be alone tonight, and my fiancé isn’t coming back until tomorrow.”
The man’s head swivels in my direction with the speed of a praying mantis spotting prey. He waits until the nurse finally gives up and leaves, closing the door behind her, then sits in the most uncomfortable-looking chair made of molded plastic.
“A fiancé?” He arches an eyebrow. “When did that happen?” He stops and raises a hand. “But first, I’m Tolyan. I do everything you need me to do.”
“Hi.” I smile at him.
“You can trust me, but you should also be wary of me.”
“Why?”
“Because of your memory. When you can’t trust your memory, you can’t be too careful.”
“You’re funny. And you just made your job harder. What if I decide I don’t want to trust you after all?”
“Then I’ll just have to earn it.”
I grin in spite of myself. I like the flat way he speaks, like it’s all just a matter of facts. “Confident, I see. How many nurses did you have to harass to reach here?”
“A horde. Apparently none of them believed I was your assistant.” He rolls his eyes in a hugely exaggerated motion that makes me giggle. Abruptly, he grows serious. “They’re very protective of you, Lizochka, as they should be.” He sighs. “I should’ve never let you come here alone.”
I start to speak, but the door bursts open again. I tense, wondering if the nurse decided to call in reinforcements to get rid of Tolyan after all.
Instead, it’s Dominic.
His hair tousled and his eyes shooting death from their vivid blue depths, he looks like the Hulk without the green skin. He zeroes in on Tolyan. “How the hell did you get here?”
* * *
Dominic
Elizabeth starts at my outburst, while Tolyan looks amused. I swear the man has a crocodile’s sense of humor.
“By plane. It’s the most efficient,” the Russian says.
I grind my teeth. “There’s no way you could’ve known so fast and made your way here.”
“Couldn’t I? I already knew something was amiss when she didn’t show up at LAX yesterday afternoon …like she was supposed to.” His gaze slides to her. “When I contacted the resort, they told me what happened. I only let her come here alone because I thought she’d be safe. Obviously, I misjudged. It won’t happen again. And she’s going with me.”
Bullshit. The Russian had an inside tip, and it doesn’t take long to figure out. Fucking Antoine.
“Get out,” I say.
“So you can play her fiancé? I don’t think so.”
Bastard.
“Tolyan…” Elizabeth begins.
“You don’t know what he is,” he says. “Let me handle him.”
“No.” She turns to me. “Dominic, let me talk to Tolyan in private. He travelled all the way out here, so that’s the least I owe him.”
“You didn’t ask him to come,” I point out.
“Please?”
I bite back a curse. I can’t read the Russian at all, and I don’t trust him. “If you need anything, I’ll be right outside,” I say.
“Thanks.” Her smile does little to reassure me.
Pacing in the hall, I pull out my new phone to call Antoine. “You son of a bitch,” I say the moment he answers. “You didn’t have to call in her dog.”
He doesn’t bother to deny it. “The guy’s faster than I thought,” he says.
“That’s not something to be impressed by.”
“Sure it is. Not everyone can be so quick. Look, even if I didn’t tell him, he would’ve found out and made his way to the island. Is that what you want? And do you want her family to worry about her disappearance?”
“Her parents don’t give a shit.” I know that for certain.
“She and her brothers seem close. Wouldn’t you freak out if your sister vanished?”
God damn it. If Kristen were to disappear without a word, I wouldn’t rest until I found her.
The door to Elizabeth’s room opens, and Tolyan walks out, his stride long and unhurried. He stops for a second, then makes a crisp turn and walks toward me.
“Where are you taking her precisely?” he asks.
“My own private island.”
“You’ve come a long way from your poor college days.”
“I’m not as helpless as you think.”
“Helpless is not what I think. I consider you bad for Lizochka.”
I almost growl at the way he calls her Lizochka. It feels too damn intimate.
“Keep her safe or I’ll gut you.”
From almost any other man, the threat would sound brash and stupid. From Tolyan, it’s a promise.
“You aren’t going to tag along?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Hell no.”
He smiles, but his eyes remain cold. “Then shut your trap and be grateful.”
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth
Dr. Raydor reluctantly discharges me the next day. I think he’d prefer that I stay under his care until he’s confident I’ve fully recovered. But the stern frown on Dominic’s face can be quite intimidating—a deity losing patience with the babbling protests of a two-year-old over his sippy cup.
Those two talk while I get dressed. Dominic brought me my suitcases, full of pretty clothes and shoes. I’m sick of the pale blue and white of the hospital gown, so I put on a hot-pink dress and nude beach sandals and immediately feel a hundred times better. It’s amazing how a little bit of normalcy can improve your outlook.
When I step out of my room, Dominic’s scowling at the poor doctor. I place a hand on Dominic’s forearm with a smile in a small, placating gesture. Babysitting me while I recover wasn’t what he signed up for. He’s a busy man, and he’s already spent eight days on St. Cecilia.
“Sorry I’m pulling you away from important work,” I say as he takes me to the airport.
His friend, Antoine, who’s driving the Jeep, snorts. He hasn’t spoken much, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t eloquent. If disapproval were green, he’d be the envy of leprechauns on St. Patrick’s Day.
After shooting a quelling look at the back of Antoine’s head, Dominic turns to me. “What makes you think it’s important?”
“You’re obviously a man of means. You paid the hospital bill without blinking, and you put me in a private room the entire time, rather than have me share one with other patients. I don’t think you’re some idle rich guy who inherited your money. I wouldn’t have fallen for someone like that, would I?”
“No,” Dominic says. “But my work isn’t as important as you, Eli—Liza.”
Antoine coughs hard into a fist.
“Do you need me to slap your back, buddy?” Dominic asks. “Maybe som
eone to pour some water down your throat?”
I bump my shoulder against Dominic’s. He doesn’t have to be hostile to his friend. And there’s no need for them to bicker over anything, especially me. It’s obvious that Antoine doesn’t approve of Dominic taking me to his island. I’m not sure why. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t like me. He doesn’t know me well enough.
Maybe he doesn’t like the added responsibility of keeping me safe. After all, he called Tolyan, undoubtedly hoping to foist me off on him.
I hope Antoine isn’t coming to the island with us. I make a mental note to avoid him as much as possible for my own peace of mind.
When we reach the only airport on St. Cecilia, a private jet and helicopter are waiting. I start toward the plane, only to have Dominic put a hand on my shoulder. “Not that one. The chopper is easier and more convenient. My island’s close enough to St. Cecilia that we won’t need the plane.”
“I’m being flown home, so I’m taking the jet,” Antoine says, his light British accent making the clipped words sound more censorious. What he finds objectionable about a private jet, I’m not sure.
“How remote is the island?” I ask.
“Very,” Antoine says at the same time Dominic says, “Not that remote. It’s stocked with everything we need.”
I beam at him. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter Eleven
Dominic
I can’t wait.
Elizabeth’s excited words and brilliant smile hit me like a sucker punch, leaving me dazed and breathless.
Jeez, what the hell am I doing? Lying to her and taking her away…
Thanks to Dr. Raydor, she thinks we’re engaged. Tolyan apparently hasn’t disabused her of that notion, although I’m not sure why. She obviously believes we’re madly in love from the sweetly shy grin she flashes me. It’s the same one she had when she talked about studying with her grandfather and becoming an artist…back before our world crashed and burned.
Only until she regains her memory or we catch the creep, whichever comes first, I tell myself, even though it feels self-serving. Damn it, it’s like Antoine got inside my head and is screwing with me.