by Anna Antonia
Risa left me, finally doing what she tried to do that last night in my apartment, the one that started this whole path to misery.
31
RISA
“I hate you! I fucking hate you so much, you goddamned cocksucker!” I slapped at Marcus’s face, shoulders, and chest. I didn’t give a shit if he was driving or if he ended up crashing our car off the bridge. “You didn’t have to come into his home! You could’ve waited until I left!”
He didn’t fight me back. He stoically took my punishment until I collapsed. Turning away from Marcus, I curled up into the corner of the seat and sobbed.
"It didn't have to be this way!" I screamed. “You had no right to violate his privacy. You had NO RIGHT to come into his home!”
Marcus didn't say a word. He simply drove, but I felt his gaze every few seconds. I was sure he wondered if he’d finally pushed me too far.
He would be goddamned right.
I kept thinking to the last moment with Damian. Marcus tried to assure me Damian was unaware of what was happening. I knew better. I could feel it in his heart through mine.
His hand twitched because he heard us.
He’d believe I’d betrayed him in the foulest way possible. He would think I’d seduced him and planned to bring another man into his home when he was most vulnerable and based on what happened—he’d be correct.
“You didn’t have to come in. I was on my way out.” Another round of sobs wracked my body. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay, but you didn’t even let me check! He’ll think I just drugged and abandoned him! He will never love me again after this!”
“You’re wrong, Miss Kelly. Damian will always love you. Damian will always forgive you. He has no choice.”
I shook my head madly and fought to answer him through my sobs. “No. You don't know Damian like I do. All the intel and dossiers can’t tell you the real truth of who he is. He trusted me, Marcus. He believed in me. And now he will think I’m a lying bitch and he will never, ever forgive that.”
I curled into an even tighter ball, thinking to when Damian struggled to share why he’d kept his Konstantinov blood secret. At that moment, I wanted so much to hug him close, stroke his hair, and tell him it was okay. I didn’t judge him for who his father was.
I loved him regardless of his background or any sins he took on because of it.
But instead of saying that, I had to pretend his past mattered. I wounded him deeply and I’d have to live with that for the rest of my life.
The pain turned me inside out. My entire body ached with suffering. After having Damian, being in his arms and feeling his heart beating against mine, feeling his cock deep inside my body, and hearing his beautiful words of love whispered in my ears, I felt like an angel cast out of heaven.
I may have saved Damian's life, but in the end, I’d lost my entire world.
And that was what would finally kill my heart dead.
32
DAMIAN
Risa betrayed me.
Three words became an endless loop. They didn’t leave when I saw the footage showing her exiting her accomplice’s vehicle. Nor did they leave when I watched him enter the foyer and immediately dispatch Wolffington’s crew with tranquilizer darts.
It was a mercy I didn’t trust.
They rang over and over again when I saw him easily override the elevator key and enter my home. They screamed when he lifted Risa off the bed by her arm and especially when he put his hand overs and held it against her side.
Then the impossible happened.
Risa and he disappeared. Except they didn’t. Someone got into the Jaguar and drove off. Except there was no digital evidence of the two.
Wolffington examined the footage over and over again. He cursed in shock, making sure to look at the drive to verify the footage hadn’t been doctored.
It wasn’t.
“I’d heard rumors this shit was in the works, but…fuck me. This changes everything. Do you understand, Black-Price? With this anyone can become a real-life ghost. No digital trace. The intelligence world is going to shit bricks if they find out Risa Kelly has it.”
A part of my brain found the seemingly-impossible to be a source of distant fascination. The overriding thought was three words.
Risa betrayed me.
She came into my penthouse, the place that was once hers as well, and used her body against me. The lush form I called home became a weapon. One used by them both.
My enemy, this man named Marcus, whored Risa to me and she willingly went along with it.
All the tenderness I felt for Risa Kelly disappeared just as she did.
To what would prove to be our regret, my love still remained. But it became malignant.
I no longer simply loved Risa. I hated her as well.
Elaine betrayed me, but I always knew what she was capable of on some level. But Risa…Risa was on a pedestal. She was incapable of ugliness on this scale.
Or so I thought.
Risa. Betrayed. Me.
And she would pay.
33
RISA
I’d spent several more days crisscrossing the globe. I expected us to return to the bunker but instead we were in the middle of nowhere Minnesota.
I had barely spoken three words Marcus since I collapsed in his car. Every waking moment was spent thinking about Damian and how I had betrayed him to save his life.
My body felt broken, my spirit shattered, and yet here I was still breathing. It felt like another betrayal.
Two men manned a guard booth before an enormous iron gate. Marcus and I got out of the car while they scanned us and the car, presumably, for weapons. Marcus relinquished two pistols plus the clips. This didn’t seem to alarm them. The guards took his weapons and locked them in a box.
Soon they waved us through and after driving another mile, we finally pulled up in front of a sprawling mansion.
It was a thing of beauty, designed to intimidate while pleasing the eye.
Marcus put the car in park. Mildly curious, I looked about the wide circular driveway. There were several Hummers, an Aston Martin, along with two Range Rovers.
Clearly, we weren’t going to be here alone.
“Miss Kelly.” Marcus waited until I diverted my attention back to him. “We are going to be taking a meeting with the Volkov family.” He waited a beat before continuing. “The Volkovs were the chief competitor to the Konstantinovs in the 80s. Seeing the writing on the wall, they left Europe to Damian’s father. They then emigrated to the US in 1992 and have steadily worked on amassing two empires—one legal and the other illegal.”
Marcus’s green stare didn’t have the power to pull me out of my mutism. What was there to say? Nothing mattered to me except for finishing my job and freeing Damian.
The less words said, the better.
“The head is Iliya Volkov. He has three sons—Sascha, Alexei, and Ivan. Sascha is his heir, Alexei is his front, and Ivan is the muscle. Damian’s father negotiated with Iliya before his death, but the deal isn’t done until they see your tattoo. We’ll be going into negotiation, but I’ll handle it. Do not interfere.”
“Fine.” What did he think I’d do? Try to cut a better deal when I still didn’t even fucking know what the original one was?
“No one in that home will hurt you, but don’t mistake them for safety. You’re part of a trade, rather the tattoo you hold is. Do you still remember how to activate it?”
I scowled. Memories of that night led a straight line to Damian and how much he must hate me.
“Yes.”
“They’ll want to see it. You’ll be asked for a demonstration. Do not show them weakness, Miss Kelly. Keep your questions to yourself. These men are not like your Damian. Their civility is surface-deep, understand?”
“I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Marcus regarded me beneath a placid stare. “I understand your anger from the other night, Miss Kelly, but take care not to show it to them. If the Volkovs
believe you’re not biddable they’re liable to back out of the deal completely. We need them on our side.”
I turned my head away and looked back out the window. “I know how to be submissive. Otherwise, I would’ve found a way to shoot you dead by now.”
His lips curled up into a boyish grin. It might’ve been infectious in better circumstances.
“That’s good to know. Remind me to keep an eye on my gun and any other sharp weapons.”
I kept my attention centered on the gated door.
“Iliya is talkative. He enjoys telling a story or two, especially to beautiful women. Listen to him, smile when necessary, and you’ll go a long way in getting into his good graces.”
My jaw tightened. I concentrated on breathing steadily. I was more than just a pretty face and body. I wasn’t eye candy. I wasn’t a goddamned tool.
Except when I was.
Except for when I dressed up for seduction, subconsciously knowing I would’ve ended up in my lover’s bed, and then turned my beauty against him.
I’m so sorry, Damian. Please forgive me.
“Any questions?”
I recognized it wasn’t rhetorical. Marcus wouldn’t make a move until I answered him.
“No.”
“Very well then, Miss Kelly. They are waiting for us. Be patient and this will be over within the hour.”
I gave him a stiff nod, not fighting when he helped me out of the car nor when he placed his hand on my arm and guided me up the steep stairs. I simply didn’t have the fight in me anymore. All I had was my grief and my sorrow.
And my memories of my last night with Damian.
A butler met us at the closed double doors. He was unlike any I had seen before on TV. Red haired, short in stature with a wicked scar running down the side of his face, the youngish man wore the traditional butler’s suit except with a gun holster visible beneath the jacket.
He looked us both over before giving a clipped nod. The doors whispered opened and then we were in an immense marble foyer that looked more at home in 19th-century Great Britain. Against my will, the luxurious surroundings caught my eye.
Oil paintings, greenery, golden objects d’art, all made for a truly beautiful room. I couldn’t study it for long because a retinue came out of what I assumed to be a drawing room on the left.
Six large men dressed in black suits, the kind that typically carried a $3000 price tag, suddenly made the expansive room seem small. Hair clipped short, faces identical in their blandness but ever-watchful eyes, the men carried weapons as well. Some looked to be machine guns slung over broad, meaty shoulders. Others were handguns hiding in plain sight.
A month ago I would've shrunk against Marcus, nerves making my palms slick with sweat. Now I barely stirred to care.
“It’s very good of you to join us, Mr. White. Miss Kelly. Please make yourself at home.”
This came from a grizzled older man. He was far shorter than his retinue but his proud shoulders told it carried the mantle of leadership. This could be none other than Iliya Volkov.
“Thank you, Mr. Volkov. Your home is lovely.”
Manners first and always, even when faced with a gun-carrying retinue of criminals.
His tight smile told me he wasn’t sure if I fully understood the gravity of my circumstances.
I did. I just didn’t care.
Between my grief and constant fatigue, I simply wanted to go lie down until I figured out how to get my life back under control. I couldn’t even properly plot vengeance against Marcus, Elaine, Thomas, or the shadowy government agents who started this whole goddamned thing.
Not when I’d seen how easily I could be used against Damian.
This is what he tried to protect you from. But you didn’t want to listen. You were hellbent on proving you could do it and look where it got you. Stuck in the belly of the beast.
Marcus pressed a gentle hand against my back and nudged me forward. The older man snapped his fingers. A maid darted from the hallway and met me. Her melodious and accented voice requested I follow her.
I broke away from Marcus easily, no longer seeing him as an ally in this mad world. He was the same as anybody else. I was simply a tool to be used as he saw fit.
Until it was gone, I didn’t realize how much I depended on the hope tethering me to Damian.
Now there was no Damian, therefore no hope.
I cared about my parents enough to toe the line and I absolutely would do my part to keep Damian safe, but I knew I could never go back to him.
He’ll never want you again.
I clutched a hand against my heart, stopping halfway up the stairs.
“Miss Kelly, are you okay?”
I waved Marcus off. I didn’t need his faux kindness. The only man I needed was halfway across the country and a million miles away. Then I remembered his warning.
Show no weakness.
That was right. Marcus didn’t care and it was better for me this way. I didn’t need his kindness or anyone else’s for that matter. I was on my own and that was exactly how it needed to stay.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” I looked to Iliya. “May I ask your maid for a glass of water, Mr. Volkov?”
My submissiveness pleased him. I’d taken the right tact.
He directed a short stream of Russian to the young woman. She bobbed her head and asked me to follow her again. I smiled my thanks and followed her up the stairs, glad to be away even for just a few moments.
The young woman led me into an elegantly appointed room. It reminded me of Romania with its antique furnishings.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I hissed out a breath.
No. Don’t go there.
Nausea rose up. I hadn’t suffered it the last few days, but being on solid ground seemed to have opened up the door.
“Miss? Are you okay?”
Drawing in shallow gasps of air, I nodded. “I’m just jet-lagged.”
She smiled and rapidly showed me the large en suite bathroom. “There is medicine here to help you.”
I took the package from her slim hands and thanked her. The maid bobbed a curtsey and informed me that she’d be back with my water in just a moment.
I miss you, Damian.
Dry-eyed I made my way into the bedroom and sat down on a chair flanking the fireplace. The nausea receded, but my grief didn’t. Did Damian take me at my word?
Right now was he cursing my name?
Of course, he wasn’t. Damian wouldn’t waste the energy on a faithless bitch. He’d put me out of his head and heart. He’d replace me with another woman, a better one. A woman with confidence in him and herself. She wouldn’t let herself get used by others to hurt him.
She’d be loyal. Faithful.
Oh no.
The package in my hand swam beneath the weight of my tears. I blinked them back, turning to discreetly brush them away by the time the gentle blond maid came with my water.
“Thank you…what’s your name?”
“Bridgette, Miss Kelly.”
Quietly I wondered how such a sweet girl came to work for the Volkovs. Maybe she didn’t come here of her own free will. Maybe she’d been sold.
The nausea came back twice as hard. I tore open the package and swallowed the pills before leaning back against the seat. Shallow breaths came into time to my rotted thoughts.
More than ever I thanked Grigor for his sacrifice. Otherwise, Damian would’ve been just like those men downstairs. Another shudder went through me.
I didn’t care how ruthless he was in business. I knew Damian. He didn’t belong in this world. He belonged on Wall Street.
I’d do whatever it took to keep him there.
“Miss Kelly?”
Shifting in my chair, I looked over to Bridgette. She held out a slinky red gown. “Mr. Volkov said to wear this.”
Show time.
Getting up, I submitted to her gentle hands. Bridgette led me into the bathroom for a shower. She averted her gaze while holding up a th
ick bath sheet. Her strong fingers massaged scented oil into my skin, taking care not to touch my tattoo, before wrapping me in a robe.
I wondered if she’d been warned.
Soon, she sat me down in front of the vanity and deftly applied cosmetics. Bridgette then swept my hair up, pinning it expertly. She turned her attention to my hands. Crimson polish gleamed a few minutes later.
Bridgette led me back to the bedroom. She brought me a solitary undergarment before helping me slip the dress over my head. The air felt cool across my exposed back while I tucked my feet into a pair of heels.
Apparently, I was ready because Bridgette raced to the door. A man stood on the other side. Tall, though not nearly as tall as Damian, he waited as I came towards him. His dark eyes flicked over me, assessing me the way all men did when confronted with a woman he didn’t know.
Whatever the verdict remained with him. All he did was wave me ahead. Softly, I thanked Bridgette for her help. I then walked past him, conscious he was only a few feet behind me. Somehow I made it down the stairs, hand clutching the banister tightly, and followed the man deeper into the house.
My heels clicked annoyingly loud across the marble. I was surprised to be brought into a dining room rather than office. The table must’ve easily spanned fifty feet. Only two men were seated—Marcus and Iliya.
The others stood at attention on either wall. I felt their eyes on me as I walked past them. My escort led me straight to Marcus. He stood up and pulled out a chair before retaking his own. I noticed the escort didn’t sit down at the polished table, choosing to stand by the closed door instead.
Iliya Volkov began without preamble.
“Grigor made many promises. They’ve all been true. There was one thing he couldn’t do, not until he was dead. He told me you’d take care of the rest.”
“It’s in play.”
Iliya cupped his chin, looking far too substantial for the mini-throne made of what looked like mahogany.
“How long before they come out?”
“A week for setup. Then we wait.”
He nodded and then turned his attention towards me. “She has it?”