by Jocelyn Han
Lana wiped her wet cheeks, leaning closer to the screen. “He didn’t kill her, papa. It was an accident.”
“The hell it was,” her father shouted, his face red with agitation. “He lured her out so he could lead her straight into a trap.”
“Hypocrite,” Bruce hissed, lowering himself to glare at Mr. Ivanov. “Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”
Her father paled somewhat. “I was out of line,” he hastily apologized. “Please don’t take it out on her. Give me a few more days.”
“If that’s what you need,” Bruce shrugged. “Just be aware that your beloved Sveta will have a few more days of this if you don’t hurry up.” He pointed at Lana, who was still pressing her hand to her nose.
“You have no heart,” Mr. Ivanov choked, his face drained.
Bruce exhaled. “I have no use for one,” he replied icily. “Always keep that in mind.”
He slammed his hand down on the keyboard connected to the computer system, ending the call before Lana could ask her father anything else. And then, he just stood there, simmering with anger, avoiding her gaze by staring at the black screen on his desk – a haunted man with no use for a heart or soul.
“Still think I’m decent?” he finally spoke up, turning around to face her.
Lana sniffed, wiping the blood from her hands with her shawl. The image of her mother’s upset face on Bruce’s computer wouldn’t leave her mind. As difficult as it was to admit to herself, she didn’t think her dad was telling the whole truth.
“I think you’re fucked up,” she softly replied. “And I want to watch that recording of my mom again.”
“No. We’re done here,” Bruce snapped, sitting down heavily in his desk chair. He narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s time for you to run screaming.”
For some reason, his remark filled her with a quiet sadness. “Fine. I’ll leave.” She shuffled toward the door, turning back one last time to face him. “Just don’t forget that you do have a heart.”
Before he could sneer at her or try to change her mind, Lana slipped out the door and into the hallway, the bloodied fabric of her shawl crumpled into her fist. She’d have to get through the rest of the day without a scarf to conceal how much he’d marked her.
12.
After Lana had rinsed the blood from her face in the bathroom, she decided to run herself a bath and soak in some hot water. Since the mansion had two bathrooms on the second floor, she argued nobody would mind if she locked herself in and spent some time alone. As she slipped into the hot water, her mind was trying to make sense of everything she’d discovered in the past few days.
Her dad was hiding something.
Her mom’s death had not been random.
Bruce was dangerous and violent, but he was a better man than many people thought – including himself.
And she had to get out of here before she’d lose herself in him.
A quiet knock on the door interrupted her mental whirlwind. “Who’s there?” she called out.
“It’s Chester. Are you all right in there?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “Did you come to check up on me?”
The man outside waited a few beats before replying: “Bruce told me what happened.”
“You mean him hitting me in the face?”
“And everything that came before it.”
Lana closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear. Strangely enough, she didn’t want to disappoint Chester, as though he’d been her teacher, too.
“I’ll go tell him you’re okay,” Chester continued. She listened to his footsteps trudging back down the hall and let out a sigh. Did that mean Bruce had sent his old friend up here?
With an irritated huff, she plunged down, the hot water stinging her sore nose as it closed over her head. The longer Lana held her breath, the more she felt that this was what she’d been doing in this house from the very beginning – in fact, this is what she’d been doing for years. Holding her breath. All those years after her mother’s death in which she’d hidden herself behind a false identity and a façade of ice. In college, boys had called her ‘ice princess’ because she kept aloof most of the time. Sergei had also accused her of pushing him away. Looking back, Lana knew he’d been too different from her – always so preoccupied with wealth and appearance – but still. She hadn’t let anybody in, save her father and Tori, her oldest friend. And she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to breathe out, come what may.
When Lana finally made her way downstairs, the entire group of pirates was assembled in the living room, hunched over a pile of maps and schematics on the dinner table. When she approached them, their conversation stopped short.
“I’ll be outside,” she said with a blush, hyper-aware of all the eyes on her as she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. “In the woods. If that’s all right.”
“Go ahead,” Bruce said in his dark, rough voice. “Chester, why don’t you go with her?”
“I think you should go with her,” Chester replied.
Lana’s head shot up, her gaze volleying between Bruce and Chester. Was the old hacker telling Bruce off?
“Why?” Bruce said calmly.
Chester smiled. “I’ve got hay fever. Being under trees gives me a rash.”
“Hey, that’s funny,” Shou piped up. “Stress gives Lana a rash...” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the enormous hickey in her neck. “Oh,” he added gingerly, his eyes widening.
“Fine,” Bruce grumbled. “I’ll go.” He got up and tilted his head to the kitchen. “Since we’re going there, you might as well take a basket so we can pick some oranges.”
“Sure,” Lana muttered, inwardly cursing Chester for sending Bruce with her so soon after what happened this morning. Who cared if the ex-teacher was covered in hives within minutes? “But I don’t mind going alone – I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Grab a basket,” he repeated. “I’m waiting.” He sounded as if she had inconvenienced him quite enough by merely existing. It wasn’t fair – if he felt guilty about hitting her, he shouldn’t have done it. How was this her fault?
In a huff, she strutted off to find a container in one of the cupboards. When she emerged from the kitchen again, Chester and the Japanese brothers were discussing one of the stellar maps on the table. John shot her a spiteful look aimed at the purple mark in her neck before he looked down again, leaving her to approach Bruce standing by the patio doors. “All set,” Lana declared, holding up the basket.
“After you,” Bruce mumbled, gesturing outside.
Lana brushed past him, her gaze cast downward. She set course for the patch of trees near the fence, squinting her eyes at a bank of dark clouds near the horizon. Her heart leapt in her chest at the thought of rain – real, natural rain. They didn’t have anything like it in Novi Moscow. Sure, it rained sometimes, but the showers always came at scheduled times, and the water always contained certain nutrients for the soil that made it smell slightly off-putting. Maybe, if she stalled long enough, she’d get a chance to be outside and feel it on her skin.
Bruce remained silent as he fell into step next to her. Lana wished he would say something – the unspoken words on his lips made her feel awkward and apprehensive. “How many oranges do you think we should pick?” she hazarded just to break the silence.
He looked sideways. “As many as we can fit into that basket,” he replied. “I’m making fresh juice.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll try my best.”
The heat was getting oppressive. It had to mean there was a thunderstorm coming – Lana remembered it from summer camp all those years ago. Tori and she had sat huddled together in their tree house, gaping at the flashes of lightning in the sky, marveling at the uncontrollable forces of nature all around them.
“We shouldn’t stay out for too long,” Bruce said at that moment. “It’s dangerous to be outside in a thunderstorm.”
Lana’s face fell
. “Can’t we just stand in the rain for a few minutes?” she said disappointedly. “I was kind of looking forward to it.”
The tall pirate gave her an amused look. “You were?”
“Yeah. It’s so – alien.”
“Only a Ganymede-born girl would say such a thing,” he said, shaking his head.
“So where were you born?” Lana inquired. “Here on Earth?”
He frowned. “Don’t try to interrogate me.”
“How is this an interrogation? Am I shining a bright light into your eyes with you being tied to a chair?”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I may have said this before, but I think you’ve watched too many old movies.”
“So, you don’t want to tell me where you were born?” Lana concluded shrewdly.
They both slowed down as they reached the woods, finding the path between the trees that would take them to the clearing.
“Dublin,” Bruce finally said. “British Isles.”
Lana smiled. She didn’t ask him anything after that. Instead, she enjoyed this little victory in getting to know Bruce just a bit better.
When they reached the orange tree, Lana set down the basket and looked up at Bruce expectantly. “Who’s gonna climb up there?”
“You,” he replied calmly. “I’ll hold up the basket.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“Never said I was gentle.”
Lana shrugged, wrapped both hands around the lowest branch and hauled herself up. Despite her lack of exercise in recent years, she was still good at climbing trees. With a little, smug smile of satisfaction, she registered the surprised look on Bruce’s face as she clambered up like a monkey. He hadn’t expected this little Ganymede princess to be able to pull it off so easily. “Ready?” she shouted, dropping the first few sour oranges into the basket he was holding up.
“Ready and steady,” he confirmed.
Lana worked her way around the entire tree, sticking to the lowest branches, until all the ripe fruit there was gone. When she risked venturing out a bit higher, she could feel the first few drops of rain on her head.
“You should come down,” Bruce said. “The rain is gonna make the branches slippery.”
“In a minute.” Lana tossed down a few more oranges, sucking in her breath when one of them hit Bruce on the head. “Uhm – sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, trying to bite back a nervous giggle.
“Oh, you will be,” he said, rubbing his head as he shot her a dark smile.
“Maybe I won’t come down then.”
“I’m a patient man. Unless you want to live out the rest of your life in that tree, you’ll find me here.”
“It was an accident,” she said, getting a bit frightened. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” Lana searched his eyes for a trace of compassion when she suddenly caught a glint of mischief in them. Bruce was just trying to yank her chain, for crying out loud.
He set down the basket of fruit with a little smile. “Come down here. You don’t want to be caught in a downpour.”
Lana bit her lip. As she climbed back down, her one foot slipped on a branch she was using for support. Bruce was right – it was dangerous to climb trees in the rain. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled as she lost grip. With a scream, she skidded down, frantically seeking purchase with her hands.
A pair of strong hands gripped her hips. “Hey,” Bruce said. “I’ve got you.”
Lana exhaled. He slowly lowered her with her back pressed against the trunk of the tree, her face at eye level with his. And then he set her down, her feet back on solid ground, his body still inches from hers. She shivered as his hands slid up to her waist, her heart kicking up a beat when Bruce gazed into her eyes.
He dipped his head and lightly brushed the sore spot next to her nose with his lips. It was as though he was trying to undo the pain he’d inflicted on her. Lana resisted the urge to lift her face and meet his lips in a soft kiss. Bruce was so adamant he wasn’t a nice guy that she should probably heed his warning. “Thanks for catching me,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “You’re welcome. I’m still cross at you for throwing oranges at me, though.”
“But not mad enough to let me break my leg?”
Bruce sighed, a sudden look of exasperation crossing his face. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Lana swallowed, staring intently at the V-neck of his sweater. “I know.”
“We have to get back inside,” his voice rumbled above her as the rain started to come down more heavily, rustling the leaves above their heads in a sound so sweet it transported her back to the summers of her youth.
“Not yet,” she replied almost pleadingly. “I just want to – listen.”
“The youth lies awake and harks to the musical rain,” Bruce said cryptically. It took her a few seconds to realize he was quoting Walt Whitman.
“Yeah, something like that,” Lana agreed. “Walt knew what he was talking about.”
They stood there, raindrops trickling through the canopy of leaves, slowly soaking their clothes until the air between them thickened, tingling with expectation. Bruce leaned into her, his hand softly stroking her hip before traveling up to cup her breast. When she didn’t protest, his mouth brushed her lips, teasing her with sweet temptation as his warm breath mingled with hers. Lana exhaled shakily as Bruce slid his hand into her neck. “You still want this?” he said hoarsely, looking at her from up close.
“Yes,” she sighed.
He closed his eyes for a second. “You silly girl.” And then he crushed her lips with his mouth, making her whimper in desire and agony at the same time as pain shot through the sore corner of her mouth where his hand had struck her. Despite the sting in her lip, Lana slipped her arms around his waist and drew him in, kissing him back with such fervor that she made him moan softly. Her skin turned warm and slick in the summer rain as she ran her hands up and down his back. He felt strong and dangerous and much too alluring.
Bruce was the first one to pull away from their kiss. He stared down at her, his lips slightly parted and his breathing shallow. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he wanted to know, a tone of quiet wondering in his voice.
“I am,” she acknowledged with a tremble.
“So you do realize I’ll hurt you more if your father doesn’t stick to his promise?”
Lana bit her lip. “Yes.”
“Then why...” He didn’t finish his sentence, just looked at her in puzzlement.
“Because I can feel you don’t enjoy it.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued: “And because I know you don’t want to.”
Bruce’s eyes hardened. “Are you gonna tell him that?”
The silence stretched between them. “I might,” she finally admitted. “I’m sorry.”
Abruptly, he took a step back, pointing at the basket of oranges. “Let’s just get this back to the house,” he said, slipping his hand around one of the handles. “I’m getting cold.”
“Have – have I said something wrong?” she stammered. “I was just being honest.”
He shot her a sideward glance, his gray eyes burning into hers. “Everything about this situation is wrong,” he replied, tilting his head at the basket. “Grab the other handle, will you?”
She silently obliged. As they marched back to the house, Bruce’s words were still singing around in her head. He was absolutely right – everything was wrong. And yet, she didn’t seem to be able to step away from it. And neither could he.
13.
Svetlana decided to hang around with Hikaru and Shou for the rest of the afternoon. Bruce had gone upstairs to change and then steered clear of her by disappearing into his study. John and Chester had left – undoubtedly on their way to whatever it was they’d been looking at on those star charts. The Japanese brothers had chosen the coffee table to dismantle some kind of electronic device on which Shou called a scrambler.
“We salvaged it from the wreck of an old Desidan patrol vessel,” Hikaru explained. “Blew the ship to
bits, but apparently they build those gadgets out of titanium.”
“What do they do?” Lana asked curiously.
“They scramble tracking on other ships,” Shou explained.
“Why would Desidan patrols want to fly under the radar?”
The Japanese man looked up at her wearily. “The Elite always have things to hide.”
“But the Alliance is neutral. They’re supposed to police the other states.”
“They’re just trying to get a grip on everyone and everything,” Hikaru grumbled. “You think they give a shit if they encounter injustice? As long as they benefit, they turn a blind eye.”
“I’ve met some really decent Desidans,” Lana protested. “Commander Aataaq of Desida One is a very nice guy.”
“Well, the world isn’t such a black-and-white place,” Shou commented. “You of all people should know that.”
Lana arched an eyebrow. “Me of all people? How so?”
He snorted. “You with your enormous, purple hickey. I guess Bruce isn’t quite as appalling as you thought, is he?”
“How would you...” Her face turned red. “Maybe he forced me.”
“Nah.” Shou shook his head firmly. “You didn’t look too raped to me when you skipped down the stairs this morning. I mean, if it helps you sleep to think you were coerced, be my guest. But you don’t fool me.”
Lana’s next retort died on her lips. Of course, he was absolutely right. “No, he isn’t that appalling,” she mumbled. “I can actually see why you like working for him. Despite his violent tendencies.”
“And why is that?”
“He’s a reasonable man. And he seems – honest.”
“And yet you still think he’s lying to you about your father’s business,” Hikaru muttered under his breath, prodding the partly dismantled scrambler with a sharp utensil.
“I don’t know,” Lana replied miserably. “Maybe he just got his facts wrong. My dad said it was complicated.”
“Life ain’t easy,” Shou deadpanned.
“Well, I haven’t gotten the chance to really talk to him yet,” Lana objected. “Bruce keeps our video calls short. This morning, he hit me so hard that I couldn’t get two words in before he shut off the monitor again.”