Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)

by Bethany-Kris

“Yeah,” Violet confirmed. “Just looking at the front door right now.”

  “Don’t move. Gee will be there in ten minutes.”

  Violet swallowed hard. “Why?”

  “I have something I want you to see.”

  She knew it then, when he didn’t outright lie but he didn’t tell the truth, that he was looking at the same photos she was.

  Violet wasn’t quite sure what she should do at that moment. Call her father out on it, or placate him as much as possible.

  Alberto spoke again, forcing her hand in an entirely different manner. “And guessing by the note included in the gift that just arrived at my door, I think you know exactly what I want you to see. I thought you were doing so well, dolcezza. And I can see now that my blind affection has made us both fools, hmm?”

  “Daddy—”

  “Be in front of that building when Gee arrives. You will not like what happens if you make me come looking for you myself, Violet.”

  The call hung up.

  Just like that.

  Violet blinked down at the phone as she pulled it away from her ear. Panic settled in deep, burrowing into her bones and seeping through her nervous system.

  She didn’t know what to do, but her first instinct wasn’t to listen to her father. His voice in her head had lessened—it didn’t hold quite the same quality of law that it used to.

  Someone else had told her to look around and listen more.

  And so she had.

  But it was still a fight for her. An internal war with one side of her brain telling her to stay put and do as she was told because she had done wrong, while her heart screamed for her to move because Kaz was right.

  Her heart won.

  Violet turned on her heel and bolted toward the street, straight for the crosswalk blinking for people to walk. She weaved in and out of people as she sent off her first text message to Kaz. A second quickly followed, more panicked than the second to the point where it was barely legible. She didn’t stop moving further from her building and where Gee thought he would find her.

  Blocks, three at least.

  And then another two.

  Finally, her phone rang.

  Violet saw Kaz’s number flashing across the screen, and relief swept through her blood. She still didn’t stop moving, and checking over her shoulder at the same time as she answered the call.

  “He knows,” Violet said the second she put the phone to her ear.

  Kaz was quiet on the other end, Violet almost thought that maybe he didn’t hear her.

  “My dad—”

  “Violet.”

  Her name always came out so smooth and deep from Kaz, but that time he said it hard and sharp enough to make her steps stumble.

  “He sent pictures,” Violet said, barely able to even say the words. “Your father—to me and my dad. He sent pictures of us. All sorts of pictures, Kaz. Walking. At the pier. Going into your place. And inside …”

  Kaz blew out a heavy breath. “Inside where?”

  “Your place.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know!” she cried.

  “Violet, what were they of?”

  She choked on nothing but air. “What do you think?”

  Kaz cussed—thick and angry. “Where are you right now?”

  All Violet managed to reply to that was, “Not going to my father.”

  The tears had started falling.

  Her panic kicked up a notch.

  She still heard Kaz’s voice in the background of it all. He rattled off the name of an address she didn’t recognize that was situated mid-Brooklyn.

  “Get in a cab,” Kaz said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  Violet handed over what the taxi driver asked for, and stepped out into a residential neighborhood that wasn’t exactly upscale, but certainly wasn't the slums. She kept a hand on the cab door, unsure if she was at the right spot. A small driveway led up to a modest two level home that was pretty on the outside, and had a white Bentley parked in front of the small garage.

  “Miss, I got another fare to pick up,” the driver shouted.

  Violet hesitated. “Is this the right place?”

  He rattled off the address she had given him. “I’ve lived and drove in Brooklyn for forty fucking years—this is the right place, girl.”

  She let go of the door, knowing she didn't have much of a choice. Stepping up onto the curb, she felt her phone began to ring and vibrate in her messenger bag. It hadn’t stopped since she jumped into a cab and took off. Without a doubt, she knew it was her father.

  Violet had checked a couple of times, just to make sure it wasn’t Kaz. He hadn’t called her back, or messaged, so that only left Alberto.

  Guessing by the number of voicemails her father had already left, he was livid.

  Beyond pissed.

  She couldn’t be bothered to listen to a single one.

  Why should she when she knew what they would say?

  As the cab pulled away, Violet stayed on the curb, still staring at the house and wondering why in the hell Kaz would send her to a place he had never taken her to before.

  What was she supposed to do, just go on up to the door and fucking knock?

  Violet eyed the quiet neighborhood and figured doing just that might be better than standing way out in the open where anyone might see and recognize her. She quickly crossed the driveway, and took the couple of wooden steps up to the front door. Rapping her knuckles to the glass twice, she took a step back so whoever was inside could get a decent view of her through the small clear slates in the design of the frosted glass.

  She heard the footsteps approach from within, saw the light-colored shade move, and then waited another thirty seconds before the door was finally opened.

  Familiar gray eyes greeted her.

  For a second, Violet just took in the woman on the other side of the door. She was pretty, with her high cheekbones and her soft lines. There was a resemblance between the unknown woman and Kaz that Violet recognized almost instantly.

  But where Kaz was the more masculine version, the woman was far more feminine in her features.

  “Hello,” Violet said.

  It felt stupid because she didn’t know what else to say.

  The woman’s hand never left the doorknob, like she was thinking about closing the door on Violet if she moved even an inch. “Hello.”

  “I’m—”

  “I know who you are,” the woman interrupted sharply. “And I don’t know why you’ve found your way to my door, but I don’t need you here causing me any kind of trouble, Gallucci.”

  Violet was stunned. The coldness of the woman’s tone rang out in each word she spoke.

  “If you know who I am, then maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me who you are, or why Kaz gave me this address to come to.”

  For just a brief second, almost quick enough to miss it, the woman’s stance softened. But just as fast, she straightened right back up like a rod had been shoved into her spine.

  “Vera Markovic,” she said, her gaze never leaving Violet’s still form on the doorstep. “And Kazimir is my brother. But what exactly is he to you?”

  Violet opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her.

  She realized she didn’t have a clear, good answer to give back.

  Kaz was a lot of things to Violet, and he had very quickly turned those things into even more without trying at all.

  He was her safe place.

  A friend.

  Her lover.

  A confidant.

  Stolen moments.

  Silent conversations.

  Long nights and late mornings.

  How was she supposed to sum that up?

  What word was good enough?

  Vera cleared her throat, still looking like she was trying to decide whether or not to close the door. “So … it’s like that, huh?”

  Violet blinked, warier than ever. “I don’t understand what you mean by ‘like that’.”

 
“Really?”

  “I—”

  The roar of an engine and the scream of tires made Violet turn fast on the doorstep to find a familiar Porsche coming to a halt right in front of Vera’s driveway. He didn’t even cut the engine before he was getting out of the car.

  Kaz rounded the front of the Porsche, his gaze zoning in on only Violet like she was the one thing he wanted to see, and just like that …

  Just like that the fucking tears started again and the pain was back. All that anxiety she had been pushing down, and the realities she was pretending didn't exist were shoving their way forefront into her heart and thoughts like they didn’t have any plans to let go.

  All she needed was the sight of Kaz—his fast steps, worried, angry eyes, and his hands outstretched for her.

  Because he took, all the damn time.

  From her, he took anything she didn’t want to hold anymore. Stress, worries, and petty shit that she didn’t have anyone to talk to about, he was the one who was there. When she had anxiety over upcoming tests for her classes, he had her books spread out over the bed. When she didn’t want to just be the Gallucci girl—Alberto’s daughter—she got to be just Violet with Kaz.

  Violet’s foot had just hit the asphalt of the driveway and Kaz was already there. His arms swallowed her whole, tightening around her so goddamn hard, enough to hurt and take her breath away, but she found that for the first time in a good hour, she could actually breathe.

  She caught him around the middle, hugging tight when his one hand splayed wide to her back, and his other wrapped up in her hair, holding her close.

  “I got you,” he murmured into her hair before kissing the top of her head. “We’ll figure it out, Violet.”

  All over again, time stopped.

  There was nothing else that mattered when he was there, holding her like that.

  Safe place.

  Everybody had one person to be theirs. That one single person in the world that never asked for more than what was given, but always took what was too much to handle. The one person who made everything better, and made someone else better, too.

  Kaz made her better, and she hadn’t really thought to look beyond it because she couldn’t. Not without maybe losing herself, him, or even them in the process.

  She wanted to keep that safe place that he had become for her.

  But it was too late.

  And even if she didn’t get to keep it—keep him—she knew now …

  Kaz was that one person.

  For her, he was that one soul meant for hers.

  And she wasn’t allowed to have him.

  “I moved the Bentley and put your Porsche in the garage,” Vera said.

  Violet looked over Kaz’s shoulder to find his sister leaning in the entryway of the kitchen. Vera hadn’t spoken a lot since Kaz arrived. Or rather, she said barely anything to Violet, and when she did speak, she directed everything she said to only Kaz.

  It was cold and disconcerting.

  Violet tried not to let Vera’s attitude bother her, but it was hard. Kaz had told her once that out of all his siblings, he was closest to Vera in both age and in friendship. And it was clear that Vera didn’t like Violet at all.

  It was tough to swallow.

  “Thank you,” Kaz said, never turning around.

  His finger tapped the bottom of Violet’s coffee mug, silently telling her to take another drink. She lifted the tea and sipped, still watching Vera out of the corner of her eye. Kaz’s gaze was firmly stuck on Violet, and she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking, or he had a damn good idea. His one hand rested on the edge of the counter as he stood in front of her, close enough that he was keeping her in place and with him.

  When his other hand landed on her waist with a soft touch, Violet’s gaze flew to his.

  Kaz smiled, but it didn’t quite ring as true as it usually did. “Vera is ...”

  Violet waited for him to finish whatever he was going to say, but he just left it hanging like that.

  Vera huffed under her breath, and Violet watched as she spun on her heel and disappeared somewhere down the hallway outside of the kitchen. She hadn’t gotten the chance to explore much of the home’s layout, seeing as how Kaz had forced her into the kitchen and worked on soothing her panic attack first and foremost.

  “She doesn’t like me,” Violet whispered.

  “Vera isn’t going to like anyone I care for at first unless she’s hand-picked them,” Kaz said, smirking just a little.

  “That is not why she doesn’t like me.”

  Kaz nodded once. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then why send me here if you already knew, Kaz?”

  “Because it was a safe place—Vasily won’t come after Vera, no matter what happens in all of this, and I needed time.”

  “Time?”

  “To think,” he clarified.

  “Oh.”

  Suddenly, Kaz pushed away from the counter and Violet. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed a fistful of his jacket, tugging to pull him back. She liked him closer—there with her. Standing with her, locking her in with him.

  That’s where he needed to be.

  “Don’t go right now,” she said quietly, her gaze lowering.

  “I have to talk to Vera for a second, okay? Drink the tea. Don’t worry.”

  That was much easier said than done.

  Still, Violet let him go, releasing his jacket from her hold and staring out the small kitchen window as he followed the direction his sister had gone just a couple of minutes before.

  Violet didn’t miss how on his way out of the kitchen, he grabbed the packet of photographs that were sticking out of the top of her bag, resting on the table.

  Not ten seconds later, the voices started to raise from down the hall.

  “Are you serious, Kaz? Are you trying to get yourself killed—oh wait, it’s too late to ask that question, considering the two of you are here. What were you thinking?”

  “Vera—”

  “And of all the women in New York, you picked the one that would piss off Vasily the most? If the situation wasn’t so serious, I might have given you a pat on the back.”

  “Vera—”

  “And how long do you think you can hide out here before Vasily arrives?”

  “Will you shut up long enough for me to speak?” Kaz asked dryly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Please, enlighten me on how you expect to get out of this one without our mother having to bury you … I’ll wait.”

  “Jesus, when did you become so pessimistic?”

  Clear as day, Vera said, “The day my brother brought the one female to my door that would surely get him a bullet to the forehead. How do you want me to act, Kaz? Should I go out there and smile pretty, make sure she’s happy and comfortable? Wait until her psychotic father sends some of his people to kick in my door trying to get her back?”

  “Don’t, Vera,” Kaz said with an edge to his voice. “Don’t blame her for the decisions I made.”

  “No, you’re just as guilty as she is, but at the end of the day, she may get no more than a slap on the wrist. You, Kaz … they’re going to bury you for this.”

  Violet clenched the cup a little harder in her hands, wondering how much truth was in Vera’s words.

  Probably more than she wanted to admit.

  They had gone into this whole thing so stupidly. Together, sure, but dumb all the same. The innocence of it was quickly wiped away by the fact it had always been hidden, quiet, and secret. That alone was enough to say it was wrong, and they knew it was.

  And yet, here they were.

  Violet lifted her cup for another sip as Kaz strolled back into the kitchen, his expression a blank slate. He stopped at the table, and one by one, dropped the pictures down as he looked through them. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she let him do whatever it was he was doing.

  Finally, when he came to the last one—the most revealing of them all—Kaz scowled and tossed it down, t
oo. “These were not included in the one Vasily showed me.”

  Her heart stopped. “What?”

  “The one photograph he showed me was innocent, and he alluded to more, but nothing to this …” Kaz’s jaw clenched before he finished with, “Extent.”

  Anger and betrayal swirled fast in Violet’s emotions, warring with one another for attention. “You knew he—”

  Kaz spun around, a hand raising slowly. “Don’t do that with me right now.”

  Violet dropped her unfinished tea into the sink, the cup clanging loudly against the metal. She took a step forward, hurt and so angry. “Don’t do this? Like what, like I shouldn’t be angry with you that you already knew?”

  “You’re assuming. Don’t assume.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Kaz.”

  “I’m not. You’re angry, and you’re worried. You’re lashing out at me instead of listening to me.”

  Violet had all she could do to stay where she was, knowing he had a point. It didn’t help her fury a great deal. “Go ahead, then, explain to me how you knew he had pictures of us, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick up a phone and at least tell me that he had them!”

  “Have you thought … Oh, I don’t know, in the last fifteen or so minutes—maybe since you got the pictures—that this was exactly why I didn’t call you?”

  How was he so calm when she was clearly pissed?

  “You’re doing it again. Patronizing me. Stop it.”

  Kaz sighed, and raked a hand down his face. “I knew he had the pictures, yes, but he also made it clear that if he caught me running around with you again, that he would send them to your father. I was waiting for his attention to cool down enough that I might be able to get away with meeting up with you. This wasn’t something I wanted to do over the phone, Violet. But let’s not forget how he had someone following me for weeks.”

  Violet snapped back at the sudden heat in Kaz’s tone. “I—”

  “Weeks,” he repeated sharply. “And obviously, by the looks of those last few, we can safely fucking assume I get so entirely distracted by you that I don’t even notice when someone is photographing me from outside my goddamn home!”

  “Don’t blame me. It wasn’t just me.”

  Kaz let out a short, dry laugh. “Oh, Violet. I don’t blame you for very damn much. Some things, yes, but not this mess.”