by SR Jones
“We’re fine,” I say to him. “I knocked my jug off accidentally.”
Konstantin picks them up and places them on the table with studied calm. When the nurse is gone, he turns his cold gaze my way.
“You think that of me?” he demands. “You think I’d do that? Rape.”
“You said … to me you said…”
“Cassie, shut the fuck up and listen to me good. I don’t think you have a clue who I am.”
“No,” I say, “I don’t because you won’t show me. You’re all closed up and hard. You’re too hard for me, and you need to let me go.”
“I ought to let you go seeing as you think I’m so low I’d rape someone. I ought to never see you again for that. I can’t, though, because you’re not safe, and I need to keep you safe.”
“Why?”
He rakes a hand through his hair and looks at me. He diverts his gaze to the wall and sighs, then looks at me again. “I don’t fully know why, Cassie. You obviously mean something to me. More than any woman has in a long time. Liza is in this hospital somewhere fighting for her life, half her head blown off and pregnant, and I was with her for months. Yet, I’m here with you. That should tell you something.”
“She said I was too soft for this world you inhabit. I think she’s right. I thought I wanted adventure and romance and maybe even some grand tragedy, but now I realize those were the idiotic ideas of a young woman who hadn’t understood the reality. Now all I want is peace and quiet. It seems Liza is correct.”
He sits and looks at me, then he takes my hand. “You are soft, Cassie, and that’s what I like about you. You’re good and kind, and yes, you have a wildness and craving for adventure, but it would never be at the expense of hurting others.”
“Unlike your wildness,” I say.
He nods. “Unlike my wildness.”
“You said once you thought we were similar because of that wildness, but we aren’t. You’re hard, and I’m soft, and hard breaks soft.”
“No,” he says, as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “Hard protects soft. Most people, they end up roughed up as life thickens their outer shells. Let me be your shell, Cassie. Let me protect you, and you can stay as beautiful, kind, and sweet as you are now.”
His words are in some ways lovely, but they’re a lie. He can’t protect me, keep me soft and pliant by taking me to his castle like some fairy tale princess. If I stay in his world, the poison of it will slowly fill me too.
“I want the fairy tale, Konstantin,” I tell him, letting him see my vulnerable side.
“What’s the fairy tale, Cassie?”
“Love, and happiness,” I reply.
“I can’t offer you everything, but for now, right now, I can keep you safe.”
“In your bed?” I snap. “One of your whores?”
“I’ve never slept with a whore. I might have made some questionable choices, but I never saw those women as whores or treated them as such.”
I laugh, and it sounds as hollow as I feel. “No, maybe not, you treated them like dolls. Kept them. Petted them. Dressed them in fine clothes and designer bags, and fucked them like a sex toy, then you simply discarded them when you got bored and moved onto the next model. It’s like with me. You asked me what clothes I wanted, told me to write a list, and instead of getting me what I asked for, you got me sexy lingerie and low-cut swimsuits.”
“You have an amazing body, and it’s a crime to hide it away,” he says.
“I’m not your doll,” I raise my voice, getting angry now. “You don’t get to dress me up the way you see fit. You called me jailbait, sunshine; all these names, they aren’t me. You don’t see me. You don’t know me. I doubt you even want to. You only want to know the surface, what you think I am.”
He stands and paces a few times, not speaking. Then he turns to me.
“I do want to know the real you, and there’s hardly anyone in this world I’ve felt that way about. The trouble is I don’t think you’ll like the real me.” He sighs heavily. “I have a war on many fronts, Cassie, I don’t need one with you. I have to know that in the coming weeks you’re safe.”
“For the next few weeks only, until you win this war?”
He doesn’t answer me.
“Those are my terms, Konstantin. For the next few weeks only. Once you win this war, I’m going home.”
“Fine,” he snaps. “Do you want anything to eat?”
Oh God, the thought. My stomach roils, and I shake my head. “No, I couldn’t eat a thing.”
“You’re in shock; you need a drink.”
“I can hardly start downing vodka in here, can I?”
“No, but I can bring you some sweet tea. It won’t be peach, but the sugar might help.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely. He’s being sweet, and he’s agreed to my terms, so for now, we can have a truce. He’s right, he can’t fight too many wars at the same time; no one can. And winning this war with the Armenians is what matters. It’s the only way I get my life back, so I will try to cause as little trouble as possible. I won’t be a distraction, so that he can do what needs be. Then, when he’s made it safe, I will finally get my life back.
He leaves to get me a tea. I lie back and close my eyes.
The swish of the curtain has me snapping my eyes open, expecting to see Konstantin coming back to ask if I want anything else, but it’s Andrius.
“May I?” He points to the chair.
“Yes, of course.”
“How do you feel?” he asks.
The question should be how does he feel? His nose is stuffed with gauze or something similar, and his eyes are darkening. He must be in a world of pain, but he doesn’t show it at all. I don’t mention his obvious injuries, and instead answer his question.
“Okay, I suppose. I feel numb, but I can’t get the images I’ve seen out of my head.”
“Totally normal. You’ve been through a massive trauma; it will take time. Maybe you ought to get some help, see a therapist.”
“I will, as soon as I’m free. Right now, Konstantin plans on keeping me as his prisoner for a bit longer, because he says I’m not safe out there.”
Andrius sighs and settles back in the chair. “He is a hard person. Harder than me, I think. He finds it difficult to show patience or to trust people. He’s had more people betray him than most of us must contend with. Give him time.”
“It’s fine, Andrius,” I say. “I appreciate your advice, but I don’t need it. I don't want him to chase me, or fall for me. I just want my life to go back to normal.”
He smiles, and it’s a touch pitiful. “Ah, Cassie, there is no going back to normal for you. This world? It’s split between those of us who have witnessed the things you saw today, and those who haven’t. The divide is one that is hard to cross. You might go back to your office job, and marry a boring but nice man, but you’ll always have it in you. What you saw, the horror, the knowledge of what’s lurking in the dark corners of the world. And those people you work amongst, with their watercooler discussions about boring television shows, and your nice new husband with his insistence that every Sunday you cut the grass and wash the car, in your suburban home… They will seem like aliens. I don’t think you should walk away from Konstantin. You are good for him, and I think he could be for you. That is all. I will leave you now to rest.”
He leaves, and I sink back onto the hard bed and sigh. Why does he want me and Konstantin together? Why does he care?
My eyes close as exhaustion steals over me. I start to drift and then I jerk awake with a gasp, as images of blood, death, and the sounds of Liza’s moans hit me. I can’t breathe. I panic and sit up, trying to suck in air. I can’t get any in, though. Nothing, no air. I’m suffocating. I try to reach out, desperate to breathe, and I grab the table by my side, as I half lurch out of the bed. I knock the table over, and it lands on the floor with a loud bang. I follow it, falling out of bed and landing in an ungainly pile of limbs. Ouch, it hurts. Luckily for me, the pai
n seems to do something breathing wise, and I gasp as blessed air rushes into my lungs.
The curtain opens, and heavy footsteps fill the space.
“Cassie?” Konstantin places a steaming plastic cup on the floor at the end of the bay and comes to me. He lifts me carefully as two nurses rush into the space.
“Are you okay? What happened?” one asks.
“I couldn’t breathe,” I say. “I started to doze a little I think, and I jerked awake because I couldn’t catch a breath. My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t get air in. It was horrific.”
“How did you end up on the floor?” Konstantin asks.
“I reached for the table, knocked it over, and fell out of bed onto it.”
“Sir, can you take a walk for ten minutes? Maybe get a drink?” the nurse asks.
“I just got a drink,” Konstantin says in reply, surly and pissed.
“Okay, then some fresh air perhaps?” The nurse doesn’t back down which makes me respect her.
Konstantin gives her a dark glare but turns to walk out of the curtained off room, leaving the drink. “I’ll be five minutes,” he tells me.
When he’s gone, the nurse turns to me, a concerned expression marring her face. “Is he hitting you?”
“What? No,” I answer before I think. I go with the honest answer, my gut leading the way. But then my brain kicks in… If I tell her he’s hitting me, will they put me in some sort of protective custody? This is it. My chance to get away is here, all wrapped up in a shiny bow. To take it, all I have to do is lie and tell these nurses that Konstantin hurts me.
I can’t do it.
Damn it, but I can’t tell them he hits me. I can imagine his face if they tell him his girlfriend, he told them we are a couple, is gone. Taken away to protect her from him. He’ll be furious, he’ll be livid, but he’ll also be hurt. In fact, the anger, it will simply be another way to cover up the hurt from yet someone else betraying him.
I can’t do it.
Damn me and my soft, soft heart, but I won’t tell such an egregious lie about him. Which means I’m going home with him. It also means I’m doing so by choice because I could put a stop to all this. Yet, I’m choosing not to.
The nurse takes my hand. “I can see you’re torn. He’s a handsome man, charismatic too. I understand how you would be attracted, but honey, he’s not good. I can tell. You work in this job, and you develop a good judge of character. If he’s hurting you, we can help.”
“It’s complicated,” I say. “But I swear, he’s not hurting me.”
At least not physically, I think. Emotionally? Yeah, he’s hurt me, but not because he meant to or wanted to, but because he’s so emotionally screwed up himself.
I think back to what Andrius said.
It’s like I’m standing in front of two doors. Door A takes me back to the normal world, the one I came from, and all I have to do is say that Konstantin hit me and step through it. Door B leads into the dark, but also, in some ways the light. He might be emotionally closed off, but Konstantin seems to know instinctively at times what I need. He also makes me feel safe, perversely. The moment he wraps me in his big arms, the world seems to fade away, and only his warmth remains.
I take a deep breath and choose Door B. “He’s never laid a finger on me,” I tell the nurse.
She purses her lips but nods and leaves me.
I sit alone and wait for my captor, my savior, my lover, and my obsession to return.
Chapter Five
Konstantin
By the time I’ve got the gunshot damage at the house sorted, which took twenty men and a lot of money, it’s past two in the morning. I’m still at the damn hospital though because Liam and Reece have been working on my security. Reece with his arm bandaged up. The bullet did more than graze him. It tore a big path along his upper arm, but he’s going to be fine. Must hurt, though, and he’s refused the pain killers because he wants to stay sharp.
I’ve had good news and bad news. The bad news is that Liza won’t live, which wasn’t unexpected. The good news is Vasily will, and Liza’s baby is viable. The team is going to carry out a delivery at some point in the next few days. After that, I don't know what will happen to Liza. She’s basically a vegetable kept alive by machines.
Her mother arrived at the hospital. A woman I hadn’t met before. She wasn’t what I expected. Unlike Liza, she wasn’t draped in designer clothes but dressed in comfortable jeans with sneakers. She had a pleasant face and greeted me warmly, when I went over to introduce myself. She told me her name was Sandra, and that she’d heard Liza mention me. She explained she hadn’t seen her daughter in some time, as they’d been estranged on and off for a few years, and she’d not been privy to much of Liza’s life. The nurses led her away to Liza's room, and an hour later she returned to the waiting room teary eyed. We chatted, and she told me she would be raising the baby.
She looked at me and asked me straight out if the child was mine.
It was an uncomfortable moment, what with Cassie sitting right by me, but I told her that no, according to Liza, the child wasn’t mine.
At some point, when the baby is born, I’m going to need to do a paternity test because I can’t trust what Liza said. Right now, I can’t think about that. I have too much else on my mind.
I’m waiting for the call from Liam to say the house is ready, and we can return there. We could have holed up in a hotel, but frankly, I didn’t think it would be safe. The Armenians are hardly going to bust into a hospital emergency ward and take us out. So here is the safest place to be.
Finally, my phone vibrates and we get the all clear. I say my goodbyes to Sandra and tell her I’ll be in touch. I also give her my number and ask her to call if there is any news, or if she needs anything.
We head outside, me and Andrius, with Cassie flanked between us. Ethan and Luka bring up the rear. My security service pulls up outside the drop-off bay. The sleek black Mercedes with bulletproof tinted windows is out of place amongst the taxis and small buses idling nearby. We climb in, Cassie in the back between me and Andrius, and Luka and Ethan behind us in the third row.
As the car glides silently through the streets, I turn to Cassie. “What did the nurses want to talk to you about?”
“Nothing important,” she says.
Little liar.
I leave it though, for now. I’m bone weary, and Cassie is probably still in shock, so it’s not the time. We arrive back at the house, and my heart sinks when I look at it. I’ve never loved the house; I simply saw it as a safe place to stay. Now it’s not even that. It’s tainted, with the blood of Vasily, Derek, and others marring its surface, even if that blood is hidden.
Derek will survive, but he won’t be working for me for a long time. The doctors told me he’s going to need a lot of physiotherapy and ongoing treatment. I’ll pay his wage for as long as he needs, and if he can’t work again, I’ll pay him a damn good pension.
When I get out of the car, the two dogs rush out and greet me. Damn it, they’ve only known me a few days and yet they greet me as if I’m their best friend. Dogs are the fucking best, I think as I stroke them.
My phone jumps in my pocket. I take it out and read the text message as the others troop past me and into the house.
“Be there first thing in the morning, boss. Things are covered here, and I’m not worried about them taking care of themselves for a couple of weeks, B.”
Thank fuck. Bohdan will be here tomorrow. I have Andrius, the four British Special Forces guys, who I might not like, but they seem shit-hot at what they do. There’s also Alexei and another of Allyov’s men, a Polish man called Kasper who has already endured much teasing about being a ghost.
Cassie heads into the kitchen, climbs onto a stool by the breakfast bar, and puts her head in her hands. Why not go into the living room and veg out on the sofa? Or go to bed?
“Why are you hiding out in here?” I ask as I follow her into the kitchen.
“I need a bit of qu
iet,” she says. “I like this room. It’s friendly.”
“You want a glass of wine?” I ask.
“God, yes. Red please.”
I open a bottle, pour her a large glass and take it to her. “Here you go. Why don’t you go and sit in the living room? Rest up on the sofa.”
She nods, takes the glass and does what I say, squeezing past the group of men gathered in the hallway.
I go up to the men. “Meeting. Kitchen. Now.”
They all shuffle in, and I busy myself pouring drinks for everyone. There’s a mixture of people wanting brandy, whisky, and vodka, which I serve up and hand out.
Once we’re all standing around, sipping at our drinks, I speak.
“As you can imagine, it’s been a very shitty twenty-four hours. I was attacked, on my own property by the Armenians and Popov. They took out Derek and Vasily. They’ll both live, but Derek won’t be back to fighting fitness for some time. Vasily, who looked worse to me, is going to be okay. He needs surgery, but they’ve said his recovery should be smooth.”
I sip at the scotch and relish the burn.
“The Armenian who got involved with Popov is called Tigran. He’s dead, along with Popov, but sadly he wasn’t the head of the Armenian snake. From the intel I’ve got so far, these men are involved in shitty stuff. People trafficking, domestic slavery. Not the kind of thing we want going on under our noses. They’re also aiming for us, so whether we want a war or not, we’ve got one.”
“Myself, Allyov, and Andrius are all in their crosshairs.”
“And the Greeks are going to be dragged into this,” Andrius says. “I’ve received reliable info that they’re taking people through Turkey, then into Greece before smuggling them into the rest of Europe. They’ve also been supplying some of the wealthy Greeks with domestic servants, or rather unpaid laborers. Stamatis Kantos is not going to like this. I’ve spoken with Damen about an hour ago, and they’ll be in touch. He’s handling this, but he’ll be reporting back to Stamatis of course, so we’ll see how much help they can come up with.”