“Rourke?” Everly’s voice sounded distant. “Where are you?”
We sprang apart. Roman turned away to fasten his jeans, but not before I saw the faint pink stain on his shirt where his bandage had leaked. Guilt flashed through me. What was I doing? Talk about sending mixed signals. I’d just told him I was leaving then fucked him in the library like a sex-starved crazy woman. I rolled my eyes at my irrational behavior. This was the reason I had to put distance between us.
“Hey. What’s going on?” Everly rounded the corner of a bookcase. Snug tan breeches outlined the curves of her body. As she walked, she slapped the end of a riding crop in the palm of her opposite hand. Her gaze bounced from me to Roman and back again. “What’s wrong?” The line of her lips thinned. “What have you done now?” She grabbed my hand, pulling me away from him, her arm wrapping around my shoulder.
“I’m going home,” I said. “Are you coming with me?”
20
Rourke
I cried during the entire return flight to New York City. Then I cried in the car on the drive to the penthouse. By the time I reached our bedroom, the waterworks had dried and left me with an insane headache.
“I’ve never seen anyone cry so much,” Everly said as the landing gear touched down at the airport. “You’re really scaring me. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
Throughout the lengthy flight, I’d stayed in the bedroom, preferring to lick my wounds in private. Julie had remained behind until Ivan’s body could be claimed and his funeral arranged. Although I wanted to support her, she was probably better off without me. I was too broken to be of any help.
“I think my marriage is over,” I said through a throat swollen from excessive sobbing.
“Sweetie, no. Don’t say that.” Everly rubbed small circles on my back. “You need time to think. Divorce isn’t something to rush into.”
“You did.” As soon as I said the words, I bit my lower lip. Thankfully, she wasn’t offended.
“My situation was completely different. My ex-husband was an asshole. There was no way I could love a man like him.” Her gaze softened. “You and Roman love each other.”
I sniffed and blew my nose on a tissue, considering her observation. “Is love enough to keep two people together? He’s not the man I thought he was, Everly.”
She remained quiet while we disembarked the plane and walked to the waiting SUV. Neither of us spoke until the car turned onto her street. The driver pulled up to the entrance of her building. She asked him to wait a minute before turning to face me. “You know, I love my daddy to the moon and back. He’s rich and powerful. Maybe not as rich and powerful as your husband, but he was the Vice President of the United States for eight years. I grew up rubbing shoulders with world leaders and influential people. When I was about sixteen, I went through what Daddy called me ‘hippy phase’. I asked him how he could stand by and watch our military drop bombs on other countries, sometimes killing innocent people. He said the path to freedom came at a high price. I told him I was worried about his soul, and he said he was willing to sacrifice it to protect our basic human rights.”
My brain, overtaxed by international travel and the disaster of my marriage, struggled to comprehend her words. “What’s your point? You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”
“Roman might be toeing the line between good and evil, but he’s necessary to the cause. The world needs people willing to risk everything for their beliefs. He’s one of those people, Rourke.”
I nodded, the weight of her statement hitting home.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” she asked. “Let me run upstairs and throw some things in a suitcase.”
“No. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.” She’d sacrificed enough of her personal time over Roman’s shenanigans. She’d been texting with Nicky nonstop since the plane had hit the runway. A secretive smile had played on her lips, and I tried not to cast judgement. Instead, I gave her a hug, squeezing her tight enough to make her groan. “I love you, Everly McElroy.”
“I love you too.” Emotion brightened her eyes. “Think about what I said. Call me if you need to talk. Anytime. Morning, noon, or night.”
I thought about her words on the way home. Maybe I needed to look at the bigger picture. Roman had many wonderful traits. He was generous, hard-working, and more intelligent than any man I’d ever met.
When the elevator doors opened into the penthouse, the scent of roses and lilacs permeated the space. The aroma took me back to our second night as man and wife, the night he’d filled the apartment with flowers and drawn a bath for me. Kaylee, the live-in housekeeper, greeted me in the foyer. Two beautiful floral arrangements sat on the center table. “Kaylee, where did these come from?”
“Mr. Menshikov arranged for their delivery, ma’am.”
“Is there a card?”
“No, ma’am.” She hovered, waiting expectantly with a pleasant smile. “He called this morning and asked me to have the flowers here for your arrival.”
“Did he leave any messages?”
“He said he’ll be returning in a few days, and he’ll be staying at the Four Seasons if we need to reach him.” Curiosity flared in her gaze. If she thought it was strange for newlyweds to live in separate spaces, she didn’t mention it. “Is there anything else?”
“No. Thank you.” I lowered my gaze and headed upstairs.
Alone in the bedroom, I stared at my phone. No messages. Apparently, he intended to honor my request for time to think.
21
Roman
Rourke requested space, and I gave it to her. One week with no communication. Of course, I received daily updates from Lance through Spitz. After a few days, I hated New York City. Everything reminded me of her. I looked for her in restaurants, on the sidewalks, in every crowd. The sight of blonde hair gave me a rush of adrenalin followed by deep depression when it turned out to be a stranger. To relieve the disappointment, I threw myself into work. Before I’d met Rourke, my business had meant everything. Not any more. Now, the only thing that mattered was getting her back. I stared at my phone, willing her to call. Spitz’s name flashed across the caller ID. I answered, irritated by the way my heart leaped.
“We have a problem,” Spitz said. “There are federal agents in the lobby.”
My phone vibrated with a second incoming call. Rourke. My chest tightened. “Find out what they want and send them away,” I said, eager to pick up her call.
His exasperated sigh gusted in my ear. “I’d like nothing better, but they want to talk to you. Now.”
“Fine. I’ll come down there.” I hung up the call and opened Rourke’s voicemail. My stomach flipped at the sound of her sweet voice.
Her voice grew quiet and small. “I miss you. Can we talk?”
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. I listened to the message a dozen more times between the penthouse and the lobby, trying to guess the motivations behind her words. Was she as sad as me? Or maybe she wanted a divorce. The thought split my heart in two. I’d never allow it. She’d have to fight me for release from her vows, because I’d meant it when I said I’d never let her go.
I typed out a reply, but before I could press send, the elevator doors opened into the lobby. Gun barrels pointed at me from every direction. Men in black bullet proof vests surrounded me. Within seconds, I was handcuffed and shoved into the back of a waiting van. Spitz was nowhere in sight.
“Are you arresting me? Is someone going to read me my rights?” I asked, directing my questions to the guy who seemed in charge. “Or is this more of a social call?”
The man grunted. “You’ve been under investigation for years, Mr. Menshikov. And now it’s time for you to pay up.”
No one answered or spoke until we reached the Federal Building, and then it was only to give me terse directions. My captors led me through several high-security clearance areas. I’d been here enough times to know where I was going, and it wasn’t good. They put
me into an office without windows and nothing but a desk and two chairs. Two of the guards stayed in the room with me. A federal agent sat behind the desk and studied me with flat, gray eyes.
“You’re in a whole heap of trouble, Roman. First names are okay, aren’t they? I’ve been watching you for so long I feel like we’re old friends.” He smiled, lending an air of false politeness to his sharp features.
“You can call me, Mr. Menshikov,” I said.
“You’re quite the interesting fellow, Roman. Exiled prince, billionaire, business mogul, illegal arms dealer.” He untied the string of a plain, white envelope and drew out a dozen photographs.
“Cut to the chase. I’m a busy man.” I shifted into a posture of relaxed casualness, crossing my legs at the ankle and tossing an arm along the back of the chair. I needed him to get to the point, so I could go find Rourke.
“I’ve got enough evidence here to put you away for two lifetimes; extortion, racketeering, smuggling, and my personal favorite—treason.” He spread the photographs across the desk in front of me. I didn’t have to look to know what they depicted. My guts churned. I’d been rubbing shoulders with the seedy underbelly of the criminal world for most of my life. Although I’d always worked to remain on the right side of the fight, the evidence could be incriminating.
“Look. You’re wasting my time here. We both know that I’m going to walk out of here as a free man, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” I decided to call his bluff, but inside, I wasn’t sure at all about my fate.
22
ROURKE
Knowing I might run into Roman on a random street corner made my stomach flip. Because I was desperate to avoid him, I stayed away from the office and hid in our bedroom, eating pizza and watching television, until my clothes were too tight. The staff tiptoed around me, probably because I hadn’t showered in days, and did their best to avoid eye contact.
The penthouse seemed empty without him. I missed tripping over his big shoes by the front door, and the way he left the toilet seat up in the middle of the night. Most of all, I missed his rich laughter when I said something amusing, and the strength of his arms around me first thing in the morning. Throughout the day, I stared at my phone, willing him to call or text.
At the end of the second week, I was in the middle of eating a bag of potato chips when Everly’s name flashed across my caller ID. I sent the call to voice mail. She called back immediately and kept calling until I answered.
“We’re going to a movie,” she said.
“Who is?” Too many carbs had fogged my brain. I flicked crumbs from my chest, heedless of the mess it made on the floor.
“You and me.”
“No. I don’t think so.” I started to end the call, but she shouted into the phone.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Rourke.” In all the years I’d known her, she’d never raised her voice to me. “Get your ass out of bed, take a shower, and meet me downstairs in thirty minutes.”
“I’m not in bed,” I mumbled through a mouthful of chips.
“Whatever. I’m serious. You can be angry with Roman, and you can be sad about your relationship, but hiding in your gilded tower like Miss Havisham isn’t your style. You’re a strong, smart, young woman and you’re better than this.”
The truth stung, but she was right. I tossed the potato chip bag into the trash. The pity party had to end. Wallowing in misery had never gotten me anywhere. “Okay, okay. Stop yelling at me. I’ll go.”
“I’m sick and tired of the way you’re—wait—you will?” Her voice turned hopeful.
“Yes. But no love stories and nothing sad.”
We compromised and chose a mindless comedy. I forced myself to laugh at the appropriate times but never felt the humor. It was hard to be merry when my heart was breaking.
“Have you talked to Roman at all?” Everly asked as we left the movie.
Instead of taking the car, we had decided to walk and enjoy the clear spring evening. Lance wandered a few paces behind us. I drew in a lungful of the chilly air, feeling rejuvenated by the freshness after staying inside for so long. Green buds peppered the trees branches above our heads
“No.” After declaring that he’d follow me to the ends of the earth, I’d expected him to shadow my every move. But there’d been nothing. No messages. No texts. “I’m so mixed up. I told him to give me space, but I didn’t think he’d actually listen.”
“Maybe you should reach out to him.” She tucked a strand of glossy hair behind her ear, dividing her attention between me and the screen of her phone. Every time it vibrated with a new text, she smiled.
“I wish it was that simple.” Many times, I’d picked up the phone but had ended the call before it had gone through. The nights and days of constant introspection hadn’t brought me any closer to a decision. How could I remain married to a man with so many dark secrets? To a man who had deceived me? On the other hand, how could I spend the rest of my life without him?
“You’re making the situation way too difficult. You love him. He loves you. This living-apart deal is pure bullshit. How can you work through your problems if you’re not speaking to each other?”
We walked along the sidewalk with Lance trailing a few paces behind us. I’d learned to accept his presence and even welcomed it after Roman’s experience in Zurich.
“Maybe I don’t want to work things out.” Nothing could be farther from the truth, but I had to consider the idea that Roman and I might not be ideal partners. “Not everyone belongs together.”
She stopped and slid the phone into her purse. “Now you’re being plain crazy.” The crowd flowed around us. We paused at a crosswalk to let a horse and carriage pass by. The horse’s hooves clip-clopped on the pavement.
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“No, it’s a fact. Nicky says Roman is really hurting. He says he’s never seen him like this.” Two handsome young men in military uniforms smiled at us. Everly smiled back, but I looked away, avoiding their gazes. “See? Right there. Two perfectly hot guys checked you out, and you didn’t bat an eyelash.”
“If he’s hurting so badly, why hasn’t he called me?”
I wasn’t sure I belonged with Roman, but he’d ruined me for anyone else. If we failed to reconcile, I intended to spend the rest of my life alone, probably with cats. Deflecting the topic to something less sensitive, I started walking again. “Do you talk to Nicky a lot?”
“Daily.” Her face lit up. “Last night, we had dinner at Swerve. He closed the entire restaurant, so we had the whole place to ourselves.” Stars filled her eyes. “And then we took a carriage ride through the park. It was amazing.”
I made a gagging noise. “Are you falling for him? Because if you are, I’m going to have to stage an intervention.”
“No, of course not.” Her fervent reply suggested the exact opposite. “But he is the sweetest guy. Look what he gave me.” She lifted her wrist to display a diamond tennis bracelet.
“Wow. Very nice.” In the short time I’d known him, Nicky had never gone out with a girl more than once or twice. Maybe Everly was an exception. Maybe he really liked her. She was one-in-a-million. Any man would be lucky to have her.
“We’re going to Vermont next weekend.”
“Wait? No, no, no.” I grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop walking. “Casual sex is one thing. Weekends at his Vermont estate are something else. Are you sure you’re not in love with him?”
“Of course not.” Her cheeks turned bright pink, a sure sign she was lying.
“Everly!”
“Alright, alright. Maybe a little.” A huge sigh gusted from her lips. “I can’t help myself.”
“Nicky is supposed to be your rebound guy, the one who gets you over your divorce and ready for your next relationship. You’re not supposed to fall in love with him. He’s not supposed to ‘the one’.” Although I knew she didn’t want to hear it, I had to warn her away from him. “It’s not too late. Cancel t
he Vermont trip. Spend time away from him. Date someone else. Get perspective.”
“My perspective is fine, Rourke.” She yanked her hand from mine, drawing curious glances from the passersby, and started walking, head down. “If you can’t be happy for me, then keep it to yourself. Just because your marriage is failing doesn’t mean you have to hate on my relationship.”
Her barbed remark found its target. I winced at the pain then lifted both hands in the air. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you cared for him that much. It’s none of my business.”
“Damn straight.” A chilly wind swept down the sidewalk, ruffling our hair. She avoided my gaze. “Look. It’s late. I’m going to catch a cab. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Sure.” With a heavy heart, I watched her climb into the nearest taxi and disappear down the street. We never argued, especially over men. Somehow, Nicky had managed to come between us. I stood on the street, hands in my pockets, alone and miserable.
“Is everything okay?” Lance asked. His question gave me a start. We rarely spoke, except to discuss logistics, and his intrusion was out of character.
I flinched and cursed under my breath. “Jesus, do you have to sneak up on me like that?”
“My apologies, madam.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not you. I haven’t been myself lately.” Sirens blared a few blocks over. We stood in silence by the curb. I drew in a deep breath and tried to center myself. “Could you have the car brought around? I’m ready to go home.”
Except home wasn’t home anymore. It was an empty shell of a place filled with Roman’s things and constant reminders of our past. I refused to let the maid change out the pillowcases on my bed, because the scent of his shampoo still clung to them. The sight of his toothbrush in the bathroom reduced me to tears. He was everywhere—everywhere but here.
The Exiled Prince Trilogy Page 33