The brisk wind cut across her cheeks and her ears burned slightly from its sting. She shoved her fists deeper in her coat pockets as she reached the corner of the block where the wind whipped around her like a Tasmanian devil. Cassandra’s blustery thoughts matched the weather perfectly. Her mind drifted in a whirlwind to Trevor.
All she wanted was to be able to reach him somehow, grab him and run. But she knew it was impossible. Not with the few resources they had at their disposal. She hadn’t made up her mind about contacting Boris regarding Trevor’s confinement in the mansion. Not once had he contacted her in the days Trevor had been gone, and she still didn’t know if she could really trust him.
George had sent over some transcripts to Jennifer and now it was a matter of sitting tight—again. Jessica hadn’t been able to pinpoint any useful information or connections and had yet to say anything about what was going on with her. Cassandra’s brows drew together as she walked the cold streets of St. Petersburg, fully engrossed in the chaos in her head. Among all the convolution of the days since Trevor had been stuck in the mansion, Cassandra had not rested, revving to get moving, to get things done. She hated sitting on her hands, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The blare of a horn drew her out of her tempestuous musings. Her eyes took in her surroundings. Adrenaline spiked in her veins, chasing the cold that had become her constant companion of late. She shook her head and tucked her chin further into the collar of her coat as she gazed across the street.
Her eyes traveled the length of the stonewalls and the wrought iron gate holding the mansion she had only seen on video within its protective circle. Following the curve of the intricate design on the gate to the camera situated at the top of one of the pillars, the memory of the bruise on Trevor’s back flashed before her eyes. Damn him. It’s even freaking higher than I imagined.
A shiver held her in its grip as the light turned and she stepped into the crosswalk. Keeping her head down, she watched the gate from the corner of her eye until she reached the small garden where Trevor had hidden the transmitter. How the hell had she gotten there? Him. He drew her. She knew it was a ridiculous thought, but somehow she could feel him.
She ducked into the garden and found a bench far enough back that she wouldn’t look suspicious, yet close enough that she could still see the gate and any activity. As she sat there, her mind was totally focused on Trevor. In the days he had been gone, mornings were the worst. She missed waking up to his spicy warm scent and his lean muscular body wrapped around hers. She missed fighting for the hot spray of the shower each time he joined her. Morning showers that usually ended up with more steam than…Hell.
A cold breeze crossed her knees and she tucked her arms tighter against her sides, her hands wadded the fabric inside her pockets. Why am I torturing myself? What counts is that he’s okay. Each morning she would get some kind of message from him. “Picture in your head the Imperial March sounding each time someone rings at the door,” “This morning I imagined taking a shower with you,” or, “I love how you smell in the morning. Warm in all the right places. I miss that, a ghrá.” Stupid little messages, but they helped get her through the day. While she observed the house, her gut twisted in knots again. The same feeling that had followed her through the many days he’d been in there. So close, yet so far.
But even with that big bump in the road, she didn’t allow herself to dwell in negativity. She used her pent-up energy and, yes, her worry to power her forward and through it. She tracked down as much as she could on Boris.
Jessica had thought at one point she had a lead on a family connection, but that didn’t pan out. The data trail had simply dried up. Overall, he appeared squeaky clean—a little too clean, considering his association with Mikhailov. It should have marked him somehow, but it hadn’t. His business did well, his accounts modest with no signs of large deposits. Jessica hadn’t found any trace of additional off-shore accounts, so it didn’t appear as if he was totally on Mikhailov’s payroll. It was all in George’s hands now.
Cassandra hadn’t wanted to burden anyone with her worry. She knew that Jessica was getting concerned. She had even considered contacting Nathan as a precaution, but thought better of it. He would just add to her stress, insist she abandon Trevor and get the hell out of there.
Cassandra’s body shuddered as icy cold fingers found their way up the back of her coat and into her boots, numbing her toes. It was getting late; Trevor would be out for a break soon. She exited the garden and, as she turned to the left, she saw a tall woman wearing tight black jeans, a leather biker jacket, and boots entering the mansion grounds after checking in with security. The same woman she had caught a glimpse of before on the feeds. An aura of confidence exuded from her long purposeful strides. As her dark ponytail swung out of sight, deep-seated curiosity took hold of Cassandra. There’s something about her…. Time to find out who you are, chica, Cassandra mused as she hurried back to their apartment for her next fix of Trevor’s voice.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Shredded
SOMETHING WAS GOING DOWN AND, whatever it was, it wasn’t good. From their quick conversations over the last weeks, Jessica had picked up on the tension in Cassandra’s voice. The words left unsaid spoke louder than the ones she voiced. Yet her friend had not revealed what was the cause of the tension, or what was really happening with them on their trip.
Although Jessica wanted to blast Cassandra for keeping secrets, she couldn’t. Hadn’t she been doing the same? Cassandra had sensed there was more then met the eye since their little midnight tête-à-tête. She had kept her relationship with Stephan under wraps, cherishing and nurturing it covertly as if it were a rare seedling, afraid it would wither the minute it was brought out into the open, under the glow of public acknowledgement and scrutiny.
Jessica thoroughly enjoyed having a part of him nobody else had. Whenever they were out for dinners, or pints at the pub, he behaved like the ultimate gentleman—calm, cool, and collected, gentle—even though Jessica could see the passionate, demanding, masterful Stephan in the gleam of his eyes, the one that came out in private, the one who touched her in ways that made her toes curl and her heart flip wildly in her chest, leaving her craving more, craving forever.
She didn’t regret that she had held that information back, especially in light of Stephan’s most recent behavior. At first, Jessica had been so caught up in assignments and worry for Cassandra that she had missed the first signs of change on his end—late nights at work, forgotten calls, broken promises. She had attributed it to the days of work he was trying to make up. Days he had fallen behind on as a result of their budding relationship.
Jessica missed lazy days in bed, exploring, challenging. The times Stephan had pressed her body tight against his lean muscular length, as if not wanting to let go, not wanting to be apart for a second. Her heart soared at the memory of the emotion that had surrounded her while cradled in his arms.
Uncertainty had been her constant companion of late. It had wrapped its tentacles around her, and they squeezed tighter with each clear avoidance. Tighter each time she caught a deep frown marring his handsome features whenever he was around her. Tighter still, each extra hour of the days spent without a word from him.
She hadn’t seen or touched Stephan in days, their lack of contact again the result of late hours at the office with promises of seeing her soon. A soon that never happened. Her heart cracked a little more with each broken promise. So different from those first few weeks, when he had almost begged her to wait for him at his house.
Each day without seeing Stephan had been torturous. Jessica knew it was impulsive, but she needed to snuff the uncertainty that had been holding her hostage at his indifference. She could taste her excitement on her tongue and her hands shook like an addict needing her next fix as she stepped up to the Brennan Enterprises security desk. She had headed to his office for the second time, hoping for a repeat of the temptation and good dose of rough loving she’d r
eceived the first time around.
Just as before, the guard cleared her through. Standing before Stephan’s door, her heart pounded out of control; need, a barely checked fire waiting to be fanned by his touch. Jessica steeled herself, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
She stuck her head in. “Surprise!” But the look in his eyes was nothing as it had been before. There was no glimmer of pleasure or a wickedness shining in them. They were flat, cold, dead. Her heart fractured a little more.
“Jessica. What are you doing here?” His voice was brisk and to the point.
“I came to rescue my prince again.”
His expression shut down even more. A deep frown creased his brow as his gaze turned back to the papers in his hand. “You shouldn’t be here. I told you I would see you tomorrow.”
Dread pounded like a sledgehammer in her head and she blurted out, “What’s going on, Stephan?”
He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. His hesitation spoke louder than words. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and her knees grew wobbly. After a few moments, he squeezed his eyes shut. Wanting to touch him, ease the frown from his brow, she took a step forward. But before she could reach him, his eyes snapped open. The sorrow that bled from them sent a blanket of ice spreading under her skin. The warning in his stare stopped her in her tracks.
“Jessica,” his tone was dark, unforgiving. “We can’t do this anymore.”
“What are you saying, Stephan?”
“I am trying to ease us out of it, but it’s not working.”
The pain that flooded Jessica’s eyes pierced Stephan’s chest. It took all he had not to take back those harmful words. He had been avoiding her, avoiding a confrontation. He had justified the distance, kidding himself that he was simply looking for a way to let her down gently, mitigate her pain like a well-orchestrated business deal. But no amount of careful wording would lessen the pain he was inflicting on her. On them.
When her future was filled with all she was meant to have—deserved to have—a beautiful home filled with the carefree laughter of children and a loving husband. He prayed she would understand and forgive him.
Another sharp stabbing pain sliced into his heart with the smooth efficiency of a well-edged sword as he imagined another man giving her all he couldn’t. Another man waking up beside her every morning, rolling over, and plunging into the warmth of her body, coaxing moans of pleasure from her sweet lips. He shook his head and scrubbed his face. Sweet Mary, his thoughts were going to kill him.
“Ease us out of what exactly?”
“I am terminating our agreement. It’s time to part.”
“What are you talking about?! Terminate our agreement? When did you decide that? Don’t I have a say?”
“I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for a little while. I just couldn’t find the right time…or way.” He avoided her eyes, preventing her from seeing how close to the edge he was. How much he wanted her. Needed her.
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“No, Jessica. I would never joke about something like this. We had a great run, but it’s time to move on.”
“What the hell! Where did this come from? Have you found someone else? Did I do something? What? Tell me?!”
“Don’t.” His command was set in stone. If she argued, he wouldn’t be able to resist. “We talked about this, remember? When either one of us said it was over, the other would walk away without any argument.” Nothing Stephan had ever said before in his life had been harder to verbalize. The only time he had felt that devastated was when he had delivered the news to Trevor about Conor and Maeve. Not even Layla’s desertion had left him feeling so torn inside. He was doing Jessica a favor. He tried to keep that in mind, but it didn’t help excise the feeling of being shredded from the inside out.
Jessica stood motionless in the middle of the room. She shivered as a deep freeze enveloped her when she took in his lack of expression. “Is that the agreement you had with Terese, too?” she spat out impulsively.
“I didn’t have to remind her of it.”
Jessica cringed. There was the inference to age again. When would he understand that she wasn’t a young impressionable woman? That she was a woman who knew and understood what she wanted? That she wanted him? She searched his eyes and found none of the warmth, even love, she had seen in them before. Jessica felt her forever escaping through her fingers like fine sand. “You’re really serious. You want me to leave.”
“Yes.” One sharp word that cut to the bone.
“You know I am staying in Dublin. That we will be crossing paths at functions…at Trevor and Cassie’s.”
“I am aware. Yes,” Stephan answered through clenched teeth.
She thought she heard a small tremble to his voice, but the icy glint in his eyes confirmed she had to be mistaken. Jessica hugged herself in an attempt to ease the pain squeezing her chest, the emotions choking her. Her thoughts scattered as she processed everything that had been said.
She wanted to scream like a child, break something, slam doors. She wanted to make him see what he was doing to her. She wanted to expose the shattering pain consuming her each second he stared at her with those cold eyes. Instead, she did the mature thing—bottled her rage and screams of frustration deep inside. Later, when she was alone, she would let it loose; but she knew she would never be the same. “Okay, message heard loud and clear. When can I come home—I mean, go to your house to pick up my things?”
Her mention of his house as “home” dealt another deep blow to his heart. That was the way he wanted it to be. He wanted his house to be her home, their home. Instead, he had to resign himself to living in the big place all by himself. Could he even do it, now that she had filled every nook and cranny with her essence and memories? Smiles through bathroom mirrors while brushing their teeth. Her perfume lingering in the hall as she passed. Her warmth against him while watching a movie or the news. Meals shared over the kitchen table. Nights. Nights of heated groans and whispers echoing in his room. The fist that had gripped his chest shifted deeper and took a tight hold of his heart. Squeezing it so hard he felt it would be pulverized at any minute. He closed his eyes, afraid he couldn’t hang on to the pretense much longer if he continued to gaze at her.
“I’m staying here for the night. You can do it at any time at your leisure.” He would miss seeing her clothes hanging next to his. Her sexy undies in his drawers.
“Wow. Was I a fool? I never thought we would burn out this quickly. I thought we would fan the fire, keep it banked.”
“I warned you.”
“You led me to believe…I thought we were—” Jessica shook her head and her shoulders lowered slightly under the weight of her sorrow. “You never warned me you were a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. Who knew?” She threw up her hands and paced the room. “Now I know how Terese must have felt. I can’t tell you how that pisses me off to no end.”
“I did not—I’m not…”—he had never tired of her. He could never tire of her. How could he when the woman had taken his heart and flipped his life inside out? Had become the woman he loved more than life itself? Once he had tasted a life with Jessica, he realized that with Layla he had been young, and in love with the idea of being in love. It was because of the depth and veracity of his love for Jessica that he was ending their relationship now. Hopefully, one day she would be grateful— “…excusing my behavior to you, Jessica.”
Jessica breathed in deeply. “Alrighty then….Since you won’t be home tonight, I’ll collect my things now.” Her chuckle held a sense of sadness. “I guess it’s a good thing this ended so fast, or there would have been more to move out. No worries. I should be out of your hair within the hour.” She hesitated, and when he made no move toward her, turned around and walked to the door.
As she extended her hand to the handle, he spoke from his desk. “Thank you.”
Her head dropped forward, his words robbed her of air; sh
e couldn’t breathe. A knot of rage, jealousy, hatred, and…love churned in the pit of her stomach. A sob bubbled from her chest, and, before she totally lost it, she jerked the door open and walked out without a backward glance.
She would remove herself from his home, his life; she only wished she could also cut him from her heart in that moment. That would take longer and require a full-blown exorcism. More than ever, she wished Cassandra was home. She needed her friend to console her, to take her side, and kick Stephan’s ass for her. But more than ever, she needed Cassandra to tell her that she would be okay.
As Stephan watched Jessica leave, a deathly numbness pervaded his body. He could barely believe he had found the strength to send her away. When she had reached for the door, he had wanted to call her back, make her stay. Fuck altruism! He wanted her for the “to have and to hold,” for the “until death do us part.” He wanted to tell her about all the events that made him who he was, turn the reins of their relationship over, and let her decide where to take it. Then clarity came and he knew she would accomplish more in life without the restrictions imposed on her by his hang-ups, his limitations. He would do anything for her happiness, and letting her go was the least he could do to make that happen.
He dropped his head back against the chair, closed his eyes, and let the wave of loss he had been holding back wash over him. He raked his fingers through his hair and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, lost in a movie of memories from the last weeks with her as they lit up the screen in his mind. It was only then that he allowed the tears he had suppressed so skillfully to roll freely from the corners of his eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Snake Pit
THE SLIDE OF METAL AND turn of a doorknob jerked Trevor from his restless sleep, and he scrambled from the bed to face whomever was coming through the door. Dread flooded him when Deminov stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Leaning lazily back against it, Deminov crossed his arms and his legs at the ankles. Trevor was wary of his calm demeanor and mimicked him by leaning against the opposite wall. His gut knotted. What the fuck does he want?
To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) Page 30