by P. Dangelico
Holding his gaze, I continued. “We were engaged three years later. Then my father was…well, you know.” Looking away, I shrugged. “Anyway things started to escalate. The press followed us everywhere. It was a nuisance, especially on campus where Alek taught. He wanted to start over, move somewhere else.” I scoffed at the memory.
My mind lost focus, wandering back in time. I could still remember the acute shock I felt watching Alek get on that train, the disbelief that he was actually leaving me. The echo of a pain I thought long forgotten found its way into my heart. “There was no way I was leaving my father. So he suggested that he travel to Brussels and find us a place to live, a teaching position, while my father’s case was resolved…that was the last time we spoke, the last time I saw him before today.”
I didn’t have to guess what was going on in his head. Dark, blonde eyebrows lowered over eyes that resembled two burning slits. The tension of his muscles spoke volumes. “The son of a bitch abandoned you?”
“I thought so…” I couldn’t hold his gaze as I told him the rest of it. Because withholding any information from Sebastian was out of the question. He asked for my trust and I gave it to him without reserve. “He said he’s been looking for me for the past six years.”
“How fucking convenient,” he spat out snidely. The bitterness in his low growl prompted me to meet his gaze.
“How so?” I asked genuinely unaware of where this train of thought was headed.
“He magically turns up shortly after you and I get married?” At the still confused look on my face he continued. “You married a billionaire, Love––you can’t possibly be that naïve?”
The shock was plain on my face. “You think this is about money?”
“Everything is about money.”
My head was shaking before he finished his sentence. “No, no, Sebastian, it isn’t. Alek is an academic. He’s not motivated by money.” At this, Sebastian chuckled darkly and turned to face out the window.
“What else did he say?”
“Not much. I was in a state of shock. You showed up shortly afterwards.”
A heavy pause followed, weighed down by all the important things still left unsaid. I could feel him struggling to contain his emotions. His dissatisfaction with the conversation was palpable so I decided to squash any chance this had of festering into a serious wound.
“I’m glad I saw him.” With that, Sebastian spun around with a look of total wounded surprise on his face. Those expressive eyes of his followed every step I took to reach him. When I placed my hand on his chest, he flinched. Under my palm I could feel the heavy thumping of his heart, the heat burning through the fine cotton of his white shirt.
With my hand resting over his sternum, I said, “I’m glad because now I know. I’m not mad anymore. I feel nothing where he is concerned. It’s like getting rid of one more suitcase with no wheels.” His brow furrowed in confusion at the metaphor, at the memory of what my life had been like before I met him…all that heavy baggage I had to carry around by myself.
“If you had any idea how much I love you, you wouldn’t have that look on your face.”
He breathed out a heavy sigh. His hand came up and covered mine, keeping it over his heart.
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Yes.” His eyes slammed into mine, though to give him credit he didn’t argue. “For myself––not for his sake. I want to know what happened.”
Chapter Twenty-One
By the time I got home that evening, an empty home that is, I was too tired to do anything other than take a hot shower. It was eleven when I finally crawled into bed. My cell phone rang. Too spent to even glance at the screen I answered absently, “Please tell me you’re on your way home.”
“Vera?”
The shaky, broken voice sounded alarm bell. I sat straight up in bed. “Emilia? Is that you?” I glanced at the cell screen and noticed it was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Yes.” The heavy silence afterwards had me on edge.
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m at the club…in the office.” A fractured sob followed. Then a small, “No.”
“I’m coming to get you. Are you safe?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll be there in few minutes. I’m in town. It won’t take long.”
I was out of bed and dressed in seconds. Since the case at the bank had closed, the twenty-four hour security team had dwindled down to Bear, who had gone to the office to wait for Sebastian once he’d dropped me off at home. The cab I called was waiting for me when I made it downstairs. Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of Fix, Yuri’s nightclub.
It was Thursday night and the front of the club was crowded with young professionals, trust fund babies, and scantily clad women trying to get into the ultra trendy club. A mountain of a man guarded the entrance. Techno music, pumping loudly, spilled out every time someone entered or left. I walked up to the bouncer and his narrowed eyes traveled from my long sleeve t-shirt down to my dark jeans. Clearly, I wasn’t dressed for the occasion.
“I’m here to see Emilia.” Nothing. All I got in return was a blank stare. “Yuri’s girlfriend. I suggest you let me in.” Still nothing. In desperation I made one last attempt. “Do you know who I am?” And then, shamefully, I scraped up the courage to say, “My last is Horn––as in Horn Banque.” Skepticism largely remained on his face, though I could sense doubt sneaking in. Pressing my case, I took my brand new identity card out and held it up to his bearded face. His blue eyes darted back and forth from me to the ID card. Then he stepped aside and unhooked the velvet rope.
Holy crap. That was a rude awakening. The name of the owner couldn’t get me into the club, but Sebastian’s did.
Inside the music was so loud I could feel it thumping inside my chest. Neon strobe lights overhead offered only the mildest illumination. Although large, the club was packed. My eyes scanned the sweaty bodies smashed together on the dance floor. Pushing past them, I made my way to the VIP lounge. Not surprisingly, it was cordoned off, another bouncer faithfully standing guard. Seated at one of the booths with three, super thin and ultra young women was Yuri.
The problem with monsters is that they rarely look like they’re supposed to. He was neither sinfully handsome, nor ugly. From what I could recall he was also neither crass, nor loud. He was tall and well proportioned. On the thin side. He had wispy blonde hair, quintessentially Slavic cheekbones, denim blue eyes…and he wore glasses. They weren’t trendy, cool glasses. They were the kind of glasses you see on an accountant, often smudged and a bit crooked. Not on a man who beats his girlfriend. Not on one that runs a serious drug operation––and God knows what else. Not on one that operates as an arm of the Russian mafia.
I stared at him with daggers in my eyes. He glanced my way once and looked away. I watched with disgust as his hand skated up the thigh and over the crotch of one of the girls who appeared to be underage. He didn’t recognize me. Having met him only once––when I first arrived, when I had long hair and not a pound to spare––it wasn’t a surprise. And I preferred it that way.
I had no intention of questioning him about Emilia. Stealth and anonymity were the only tools I had, the only way I could retrieve her and get out without an altercation that would impel me to call my dear husband to come to the rescue.
My next stop was the bar. I figured one of the bartenders could send me in the right direction. The bar was massive, stretching the entire length of the wall. I pinched and pushed my way closer. I may have even kicked someone. Subtlety and manners were luxuries I couldn’t afford at the moment. The closest bartender was a young man around twenty-five.
“Excuse me! Excuse me!” I shouted, fervently waving an arm at him. Even as I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice could barely be heard over the music. He finally glanced my way and came over. Cupping my mouth, I screamed in French, “Do you know Emilia Gani?” He nodded. “Where can I find her?”
“I don�
�t know. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of busy.”
“Well, can you at least tell me where Yuri’s office is?”
He gave me a skeptical look. Scanning left and right he said, “Why do you want to know that?”
“Because I have to find Emilia and I think she’s in his office. Look, this is kind of an emergency.”
He raked his fingers through his dark, shoulder length hair. I could tell he was anxious, that he wanted no part of this––or me. And yet I could also see that he wanted to help Emilia. His eyes met mine again. “Go to the back, make a left, then two rights. If anyone stops you, tell them Stefan sent you to get more singles.”
“Thank you, Stefan.”
He nodded again. “Be careful…and take care of her.”
“I will.”
I pushed through an endless supply of bodies. Packed tightly on the dance floor, the sweat pouring off of them landed all over me. The neon lights coupled with the techno music made me dizzy. Just before I reached the end of the dance floor, I spotted a familiar face. It took me a minute to place her. Sebastian’s neighbor, Lucida. She was sandwiched between two very young men who were grinding against her. Cupping the head of the one behind her, she brought him closer and stuck her tongue down his throat. I kept walking.
The halls was not empty. There was a woman leaning against the wall and a man on his knees with his mouth fastened onto her groin. Neither one of them noticed me walk right past them, too busy celebrating their party of two.
“What you doin’ here?” A thick Russian accent stopped me in my tracks. I turned slowly, taking the time to gather every drop of courage I possessed. Before me stood a man that was easily six foot seven and all of it pure muscle, the kind of exaggerated muscles that have veins popping out all over the place.
My eyes climbed up to his surprisingly refined features. It almost seemed that the muscles were an attempt to balance a face that could’ve easily been described as pretty. That’s not what held my attention though. It was the dagger tattoo drawn on his collarbone. A tattoo signifying he’d been in the Russian prison system and committed murder; no doubt he was wearing the tank top as warning. I swallowed the lump of unadulterated fear clogging my throat.
“Stefan sent me.”
“Stefan?”
“Yes, Stefan. Are you hard of hearing?” Where the hell that came from, I’ll never know. “He sent me to get singles in Yuri’s office.”
Muscle man just stared right back at me. Most unnerving. Sweat beaded on my forehead as if I was running a marathon across the Arabian Desert. “No need to be bitch.” He stepped aside and let me pass. Instinctively, I reached up and rubbed the diamond cross hidden under my shirt. I didn’t breathe again until I reached Yuri’s door.
Without knocking, I opened it. Emilia was sitting on the ground with her back against the wall, her arms wrapped around her bare knees, the micro mini she wore gathered around her waist. Her face was red from crying, her shoulders hunched over in defeat. My gaze immediately zeroed in on her swollen cheekbone. She glanced up then. When our eyes met, a fresh set of tears ran down her face. I was at her feet, crouching down, a moment later.
“You okay?” I whispered, wiping away the tears still running down her face. She nodded. “We’ll talk later. We need to move fast. Are you hurt, or can you walk?”
“I can walk,” she mumbled in a timid voice. As I placed my hands under her arms to help her up, she winced. “Don’t look at me that way.”
“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry with him. But we don’t have the luxury to sit around and chat right now.” Something told me we were running out time, the danger escalating every second we remained inside the walls of the club.
The hallway was blessedly empty. “If we run into anyone, I’ll say that we’re going to find Yuri,” Emilia instructed. We reached the end of one hallway and turned down another––where muscle man was apparently busy watching the woman deep throat her companion. With his back to us he didn’t notice anything until we had passed him and the couple.
“Where you go?”
“To find Yuri,” Emilia answered over her shoulder in Albanian. Every second of silence felt as if my head was being held under water.
“Send Vlad. I need break.” Neither one of us turned to look at him; Emilia simply nodded. We didn’t uttered a word until we reached the main part of the club.
“Thank God, I didn’t speak Albanian,” I said anxiously.
“A lot of these guys are part of the Albanian mafia. They’re working together now.”
“Drugs?”
Emilia’s troubled eyes met mine. “Girls.”
That one word stole my breath away and made my stomach burn. “Let’s get out of here.” If we didn’t get out in the next few seconds, we stood a very good chance of becoming someone’s personal fuckpet as Sebastian had put it.
Holding onto her wrist, I pulled her through the melee of bodies on the dance floor bouncing up and down with the music. Suddenly she was yanked out of my grasp, most of her scream blotted out by the deafening mix of music and people surrounding us. I turned swiftly to find Yuri holding onto her upper arm in a cruel grip, while Emilia, plastered to him, had her chin tipped down and her long black hair hanging in her face.
“Let go of her, you bastard.” I put as brave a face on as I could considering how my pulse raced. If it weren’t for the chaos swirling around us, he would have easily noticed how scared I was.
His impassive, blue stare jumped from her to me. He whispered something in Emilia’s ear that made her cower even more, her bony shoulders curving in.
“How did you get into my club?” he calmly asked, only a hint of a Russian accent to his English.
“If you don’t let her go, I will call the police.”
“You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble. First the police are in my house and your boyfriend screams in my face. Then Etienne, my best man, is arrested because of you…and now you want to steal my girlfriend.”
“You hurt her––repeatedly. She doesn’t want to stay with you any longer.”
“Nobody screams in my face.” It was the lack of anger, of any human emotion that frightened me most. He turned his attention back to the woman cowering next to him. “Emilia, tell this troublesome friend what you want.”
“Emilia, let’s go.” I said, talking over him, because I knew where this was headed. Emilia’s voice was barely audible. I moved to grab her other arm, but he jerked her closer to him. “Emilia let’s go,” I shouted.
“I’m going to stay,” I heard her mumble. Her face was still tilted in the direction of her feet. She wouldn’t look at me. He’d thrown a proprietary arm around her neck, his thumb caressing the bare skin of her collarbone. The threat camouflaged by tenderness. It made me sick. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t leave her there. The punishment he would inflict on her was something I didn’t dare contemplate.
Yuri’s gaze moved beyond my shoulder. I was too petrified to look. God help me if it was muscle man. Slowly, the people crowding around me bled away and a halo of space opened up. I was just thinking how grateful I was not to have all those bodies smashed up against me when a very tall and very familiar one walked up beside me…
His Highness to the rescue. I’m ashamed to say that on the inside, I was screaming in unabashed glee.
He barely spared me a glance. The cold, hard look on his face was all for Yuri. “We’re taking her with us,” was all he said.
“No.” Emilia replied. Head shaking, she pressed herself closer to Yuri as if seeking shelter from us––as if we were the enemy. “No. I’m staying here.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was terrified of him.
Yuri petted Emilia’s hair. “There, you see––this was simple misunderstanding,” he remarked, his English faltering. I wondered what that meant.
Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flared. He tipped his chin at me, continuing to avoid my gaze. “We’re going.” Grabbing my arm, h
e turned to leave.
“I’m not going anywhere without her,” I screeched. Then his eyes crashed into mine, burning with barely contained fury. I’m surprised I didn’t drop dead from the glare alone.
“We. Are. Leaving,” he ordered through clenched teeth, a staccato of words fired at me like bullets. He yanked on my arm, dragging me away. Bear, right next to us the whole time, brought up the rear. I hadn’t even noticed his presence until that moment.
“Get leash for that one.” Yuri’s accent was more pronounced, his grammar broken. “She’s wild…not broken yet.”
Sebastian stopped walking. For a moment I thought he would turn and go back for Emilia, but I was wrong. After a beat he exhaled harshly and kept walking, dragging me along with him.
Outside the club, the bouncer watched us curiously as Sebastian shoved me into the back seat of the Mercedes. I glared at him for the shove, though his attention remained ahead so little good that did. The tires screamed as Bear hit the gas, driving us out of there quickly.
“Did I not tell you to stay THE FUCK away from her?!” His voice escalated with every spoken word. I jumped in my seat, my nerves hypersensitive. And still, he wouldn’t look at me. The dark did nothing to obscure the vein throbbing at his temple, the tight edges of his mouth. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
Any other time I would have apologized––he already had too much on his plate to contend with––however, this was a matter of life and death. I couldn’t say for certain that Yuri wouldn’t kill Emilia. Was he capable of it? My mind didn’t want to go there.
“He beats her. She called me in hysterics again. And then you walk in and let him intimidate her into staying?”
His head swiveled in my direction, his wide, fiery eyes locked onto mine. “What would you have me do? Start a war with the Russian mob for a woman that would most likely crawl back to him by morning?”
He had a point there. I hated it when he made sense. Last time I’d tried prying her away from Yuri, after he’d given her a broken rib, she ended up giving me the cold shoulder for weeks. I exhaled in frustration. Sebastian’s glare softened. We were both silent for the rest of the ride.