by Ellen Lane
A beat of silence passed between them, and Charlotte knew that Lila was working out what might have happened in the redhead’s three weeks of silence. Her roommate knew her better than almost anyone, so Charlotte couldn’t imagine that it would take her very long to figure it out.
Lila exhaled a long breath before answering her. “Ok. Well...call me when you get there. Tell me what’s going on. I’ve been worried about you, Lotte.”
Charlotte smiled fondly. “You always worry, Lila.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my MO. Have a good flight.”
“Thanks, Lila,” Charlotte was reminded how lucky she was to have the younger woman in her life. “I’ll call you as soon as I get a minute to breathe.”
But Charlotte had never imagined that moment would be so long coming. If she thought her three weeks in Russia were a whirlwind, that was nothing compared to the next twenty-four hours. She found that she hardly had room to worry about all the concerns that had plagued her on the way back from St. Petersburg. Before she knew it, they were on a plane bound for John F. Kennedy Airport in New York.
The seats were economy, but Vladimir didn’t utter a single word of complaint. In the five hours that it took to get from LA to New York, he clutched at his armrest so tightly that his wrist went pale. It was hard for Charlotte to watch him so bottled up. Though she’d sensed some tension in him on their way back from St. Petersburg, it had been nothing like this.
This, she thought, was as close as she was ever going to get to seeing Vladimir Kensley genuinely terrified.
Charlotte knew that there was nothing that she could say that would possibly comfort him. Vladimir needed to see his father as soon as possible - which made their five-hour-long plane ride one of the longest of her entire life.
The only thing she could think to do was to reach for his hand. Without even looking at her, Vladimir’s fingers curled around hers so tightly there was an edge of pain in his grip. But Charlotte didn’t complain. Better this than unfettered inner turmoil. If there was any way that she could help comfort him, she would take it.
They reached JFK at around eleven in the evening Eastern Time, and the moment they deplaned, Vladimir was on the phone. For the past five hours, he hadn’t let go of Charlotte’s hand, and he didn’t do so now.
“Which hospital has he been admitted to?” He strode through the airport so fast that Charlotte could barely keep up with him - and there was no stopping at the baggage carousel for their luggage. They were waved through customs within minutes, and the moment they stepped outside, Vladimir had hailed a cab. “I’m on my way. Is he awake? No. No, I just arrived. Give me twenty minutes.” When he hung up, his expression was unreadable.
For only the second time in her life, Charlotte felt absolutely helpless. She wanted to tell Vladimir that everything would be OK, but there was no way for either of them to know that. She wanted to embrace him - hold him close. But Vladimir wasn’t the kind of person that thrived from physical attention in public.
For the time being, all she could do was hold his hand - and hope that was enough.
It dimly occurred to Charlotte that this was her first time in New York. Another time, it might have been something to celebrate - but now, the city lights that winked in the distance inspired no excitement. She had no sense of direction, really, but noticed that they drove away from the huge metropolis rather than towards it. Her perusal of several signs along the highway told her that they were in Long Island - which she knew to be just outside the city.
Close to Vladimir’s family home.
It didn’t even take them twenty full minutes to reach their destination. As if the driver sensed the urgency, he got them there in close to fifteen. They had barely pulled to a stop in front of Winthrop-University hospital before Vladimir was all but throwing money at the man before he yanked Charlotte from the car with him.
He didn’t stop until they made their way past the front desk and up to the fifth floor. Outside a room at the end of the hall, no less than five people were gathered outside. Charlotte recognized them all, in some shape or form, from articles and TV spots that she had seen over the years. There was a lean, blonde man who was almost as pale as Vlad himself, with piercing green eyes - he was the most casually dressed of the bunch, and the youngest Kensley son, Lucas. Standing beside him as a mammoth of a man who towered over even Vlad, ruddy and red-haired with a full beard and almost bursting out of the blue-button up he wore - Alistair, the eldest. Leaning against the wall with an anxious expression was a man dressed in a suit that was far crisper than Vladimir’s after almost twenty-four hours of travel. His deep mahogany curls and full mouth identified him as Ethan - younger than Vlad, but older than Lucas. Next to him was a woman Charlotte didn’t recognize - but she had to be someone of import. She was dressed from head to toe in designer duds, her blonde hair coiled impeccably atop her head. Despite her inherent beauty, her expression matched Ethan’s, and the two stood close enough to touch.
Last, but certainly not least, there was a doctor speaking to all of them. The closer they drew, the clearer her words became.
And Charlotte felt her stomach twist in horror.
“...Stage III. It’s not the worst, but it could be better. He’s been managing his symptoms well - I’m not surprised that none of you knew.”
“What the bloody hell do you mean ‘managing his symptoms?” The doctor had barely finished her sentence before Alistair Kensley butted in with a Scottish brogue almost as huge as he was. “How long has he been sick?”
Next to her, Charlotte felt Vladimir stiffen. He stopped just short of his brothers, listening to the doctor intently. The elder woman took a deep breath before answering Alistair’s question with a surprising amount of aplomb, considering the furious expression of the man confronting her. “I’ve been instructed to let him speak with all of you on that matter.”
“Like hell.” Lucas spoke quietly, but it was enough to make everyone listen. “I want to know everything, and I want to know it now.” When the others nodded their agreement, the doctor adjusted a pair of thick glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“My apologies, but Mr. Kensley had signed a number of medical non-disclosure forms that prevent me from discussing this with you. He’s been awake for the past half an hour, and I’m sure that he’s ready to discuss matters with you himself.”
“What happened?” It was the first-time Vlad had spoken since they left the airport, and, at the sound of his voice, everyone present turned to him. He still hadn’t let go of Charlotte’s hand, and she found her cheeks flushing as she was met with several looks of outright shock.
At least a minute passed before anyone present recovered enough to speak - and Alistair led the charge. “Fucking hell, Vlad. Haven’t seen you in an age.” He moved forward to enfold his brother in a tight embrace, and Charlotte finally moved away, somewhat relieved to be out of the spotlight.
Vlad returned the gesture only limply, and she knew he was intent on information. “Where’s mom?”
“She’s in the room with him,” Lucas piped up, his voice wavering slightly. “He collapsed a few hours ago in the kitchen and she had to call an ambulance.”
“Apparently, Dad’s been hiding something from us,” When Ethan spoke, his tone was both rueful and bitter. “You’d better go in and talk to him.”
They had, Charlotte realized, been waiting for him.
Before she met Vladimir, Charlotte had often wondered why Jackson Kensley hadn’t merely set the line of succession to his company with his eldest son. Why not Alistair? She had found, over the last few months, how much of a natural leader Vladimir was. How easy it was for him to keep his head cool under fire, and work under pressure. He was, she realized, the natural choice - not only for his father, but for his entire family.
“Go on, Vlad.” Ethan urged him in a low tone. “We’ll be right after you.”
Vlad looked to each of them, visibly exhausted and pale - but still unbroken. With a solemn nod,
he turned to enter the room.
And Charlotte held her breath.
Chapter 11 - Always By Your Side
“Well, Vlad, took you long enough to get here.”
For a long moment, Vladimir simply stood before the hospital door he’d just shut and stared at the sight that met his gaze. His father lie propped up on numerous pillows, his skin a little pale. His smile, however, remained unchanged. His wife sat by his side, clutching his hand, her eyes red from grief.
How the hell could he be smiling? Vlad was caught somewhere between wanting to throttle the older man and wanting to collapse at his bedside. Ultimately, he decided on neither, merely swallowing thickly before he answered. “Father.”
“Come, have a seat, won’t you?” Jackson patted an empty spot next to him on the bed and Vlad reluctantly crossed the room, a torrid mixture of feelings churning in his gut. Briefly, he bent to tug his mother into his arms for a brief hug, noticing that, not once, did she let go of his father’s hand.
Slowly, he sank down next to his father, looking over his familiar face as he tried to drum up his anger. Somehow, try as Vlad might, it wouldn’t come. “How bad is it?”
Jackson sighed, leaning back against his pillows. “Stage III Hepatic Cancer - told me about six or seven months ago. I’ve been doing my best to hit all my treatments, and they tell me I’ve got a good prognosis for a man my age.”
Vlad felt his throat constrict as he clenched at the thin coverlet beneath him with a fist, trying to gather his wits about him. This wasn’t a business deal. It wasn’t a paper he could sign off on or a problem that he could fix with a logical solution. This...this was life; and he was helpless before it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“My dear boy, why would I?” Jackson patted his son’s shoulder gently. “My sons have a company to run. Lucas has a life to discover...you all have your own paths to tread. There’s nothing to be gained by worrying any of you - especially you, Vladimir. You carry so much on your shoulders already.”
“Is this…” Vladimir forced himself to ask the question, though his chest felt too tight to draw a decent breath, “Is this why you announced your retirement?”
Jackson nodded unabashedly. “The company will run smoothly with you at its head, Vladimir, regardless of what happens to me. The family will run smoothly.”
If Vladimir felt anxious about the passing of the torch before, that was nothing compared to what he felt now. He had always imagined that his father would be present to guide him in the right direction, regardless of his retirement. Now, he had to face the possibility of losing him altogether.
It was a devastating blow. One that he certainly hadn’t been expecting the moment he returned from Russia.
Before he’d gotten the call, Vladimir had quite a lot on his plate already. He meant to get back into the swing of things Stateside and resume his management of the LA building. First and foremost, however, he had planned to speak to Charlotte - to convince her of the futility of their continuing their intimacy once they returned to the city.
He had allowed himself to deviate from his typical beliefs in Russia - been overcome by the most powerful desire he’d ever known. But things were different back in the US - they had to be different. If he was carrying the mantle of his father’s company on his shoulders, that reputation had to come first...and it certainly wouldn’t be helped by sleeping with the lead architect on his project.
But Vlad had put the conversation off. He meant to have it in the taxi on the way to the airport, and then on the flight itself...but he couldn’t bring himself to start it. While he knew that Charlotte wasn’t the type to throw a tantrum or be unreasonable, he was loathed to retract the comfort they had found in one another.
While they were together, Charlotte reminded him that he wasn’t just in the running to be CEO of a billion-dollar corporation. That he wasn’t just the face of Kensley Enterprises. She was living proof that there were times where he could just be a man...and he didn’t want to give that up.
That was, perhaps, why he’d brought her with him.
At the time, he hadn’t been thinking straight. He had only known what Ethan had told him, and that he hadn’t ever heard his brother sounding so desolate. There wasn’t very much that disturbed Vladimir, but his short conversation with Ethan had been enough to do just that. He hadn’t been able to fathom the idea of going to New York alone.
And so, as selfish as it had been, he brought Charlotte with him.
He was shocked, even now, by the powerful urge to lose himself in her. To block out the pain and uncertainty of the situation he now found himself faced with and pretend, if just for a few hours, that everything was going to be alright.
But he had no way of knowing that.
“Don’t look so glum, Vlad.” Jackson gave him the same benevolent smile that he had for the past twenty-two years, and, embarrassingly, Vlad felt his gut seizing in grief. “I’m not dead yet.”
“That’s not funny, Jackson.” The older man’s wife warbled from his side, still clutching his hand tightly. “I’ll have you know that when you get better, I’m going to pummel the life from you.”
“Of course you will, lovebug.” Jackson turned to smile at her, stroking her hair gently. “I can’t wait.”
Vladimir couldn’t stay here. After rushing three thousand miles to be by his father’s side, the site of him in a hospital bed was almost too much for him. He needed some air. “I’ll tell the others to come in and see you.” He stood abruptly, hating the feeling of helplessness that seemed to grow inside him with each passing moment. “They’ll be happy to see you up and talking.”
“Of course,” Jackson returned, his voice just as calm as it had ever been. The man wasn’t even ruffled by this proof of his mortality, and it was just like him. Infuriatingly like him. “You don’t have to stay, you know, Vlad. I’m alright now, and we can keep you posted just as easily from LA. I know you’re still busy there, and Charlotte-”
“Charlotte is here with me, father,” Vladimir cut him off dully, his chest growing even tighter. “Charlie has handled things for a couple of weeks. He can handle them a while longer. This is...important.” With that, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Outside, his family was watching him with anxious faces. “You can go in now,” He spoke in a quiet, terse tone. “Did someone call Toshiro?”
“He’s doing all he can to get here,” Lucas answered him. “But his flight’s been delayed. It’ll probably be another twenty-four hours.”
With a stiff nod, Vladimir turned from them, making his way towards the nearest door he could find. It led to a dimly lit staircase and, after several flights, that staircase led to the roof. Outside, the night air was cool and crisp.
He had never wanted a drink so badly in his life.
Thankfully, no one else was on the roof, and Vladimir leaned against the edge of the waist-high brick partition encircling it and drew in a deep, steadying breath.
How had everything gone downhill so quickly? His time in Russia had been idyllic compared to what he had returned to. And now he found himself questioning everything he knew. His father knew he was sick for almost six months before this little incident forced him to reveal himself. What did that mean for the company? What did it mean for their family?
Even he, the staunch workaholic, wanted to stop everything to be by his father’s side, but he knew that he couldn’t. The most he had was a week or two before he would be forced to return to LA - to re-immerse himself in the process that would put him at the head of his father’s company come hell or high water.
Or even his death.
It was hard to even contemplate such a thing - his father dying. Vlad knew he wasn’t a child, and that Jackson Kensley was almost seventy. He had lived a long, full life...but that didn’t mean that his sons and wife were ready to let him go.
He had always judged himself in the efficiency with which he handled every situation thrown at him - there
had never been anything that Vladimir Kensley couldn’t handle.
But he had no idea how on earth to tackle this.
After about ten minutes, he heard the door to the roof open and close again and then, Charlotte was by his side. She said nothing, merely leaning against the brickwork with him as the breeze played through her mussed auburn curls. Wordlessly, she reached over to take his hand in hers.
The effect was astounding and instantaneous. The terrifying thoughts that assaulted him, the responsibility that threatened to weigh him down until there was nothing left of him...those things seemed to lessen, somehow. To dim. And all at once, there was nothing but her and him, and the grounding grip of her fingers on his.
A good ten minutes or so passed until she finally spoke with him, and, when she did, she didn’t utter a single word about his father. “I’m going to find a hotel somewhere nearby and bunk down. Call Charlie and make sure he’s got the timeline for the next week or so of construction. Do you want me to stay here for a while?”
He realized, quite suddenly, that no one in his family knew who she was. Only Toshiro had met her, and he was still on his way from Africa. Vladimir hadn’t the wherewithal to introduce her - he was far too absorbed in trying to digest this startling turn of events. In effect, Charlotte had merely stood there and let herself be stared at and speculated on. It must have crossed her mind more than once how selfish he had been to demand that she come with him.
And still, she uttered not a single accusation. She didn’t even demand to know why she was here.
“There’s no need to book a hotel,” He finally managed, his throat oddly thick. “You can call Charlie just as easily from the manor. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay with us.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened a moment before she began to protest. “Vladimir, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to-”
“You’re staying in the manor, Charlotte. Don’t argue...I’m not in the mood.”