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Chapter Eleven
Raina
Sweat and tearsstream down my face, and I cower back as the Russian man reaches out and grabs my chin, forcing it up so I meet his gaze. My cheek still stings where he slapped me most recently, and my head throbs from him shouting in my ear.
I’ve never been more terrified in my life.
When I awoke, I knew immediately how dangerous my situation was. I was sitting slumped over in the chair I’d spied in the middle of the room, my arms and legs bound to it. I froze the second I came to awareness, and the man pounced.
He didn’t even give me a chance to prove how willing I was to cooperate, how quickly I would share any and all information I had. He struck me unconscious a second time, then finally woke me with a third, stinging slap.
The shouting and tears had come soon after that, along with my babbled explanations.
“I am telling you, I’m innocent. I swear it!” I protest, for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Donatelli Jewelers has served the Ivanov family for decades,” he snarls. “This is the first time any jewels have come up missing or changed. You expect me to believe you aren’t the reason why? How is that possible?”
“I didn’t change the jewels! I couldn’t even imagine doing something like that. It would be too easy to discover the truth, the moment a jewel slipped out of its setting or was separately appraised for insurance. Donatelli Jewelers provides an appraisal as part of the package, but…”
I break off, my mind churning. Donatelli’s didn’t always do their own appraisal, I realize dimly. That practice only started a few years ago, after old Mr. Donatelli officially retired and his son took over full operation of the business. Was there a reason for the complimentary appraisals? Did the son realize most people wouldn’t get a second appraisal right away, and so his duplicity likely wouldn’t be discovered?
“What is it?” the Russian snaps right in my face, and I flinch back. He moves so quickly! I think that’s the most unnerving thing of all.
“You have to find Mr. Donatelli to explain this. Maybe there’s been a mistake! He personally oversees every appraisal and every shipment. If you went back in his records, checked everything…”
“I don’t care about what has come before. I want to know where Natasha Bolykin’s jewels are. The real ones.”
“But I don’t know where they are,” I protest. “I left immediately after Mr. Donatelli repackaged the bridal set. He had hours to do something with those jewels. He could have locked them in the safe, or handed them off to another courier. We have cameras, but he controls the cameras. There’s no way of knowing what he did.”
I break off again, hiccupping in misery. As a fall guy for this terrible scheme, I really am the perfect dupe. My boss has never been horrible to me, merely condescending. He’s always been happy to take credit for my designs, but in return he’s allowed me to work on some of the most breathtaking jewels I’ve ever seen. It was a trade-off I was more than willing to make. I never asked any questions about how he ran his business, because I never wanted to run a jeweler’s business. I only wanted to create.
And now I’m going to be killed for my stupidity.
As if he can read my mind, the Russian man turns to me. His hands are still encased in the thin black leather gloves that render his slaps and punches quieter, but no less painful. His face is unbelievably cruel above his black turtle neck and tailored trousers. He would be handsome if not for his dark, scowling eyes—eyes that now glitter with excitement.
“If you cannot tell me where the jewels are, or where Donatelli might’ve sent them, then I’m afraid you have no more use to me, save one,” he says, stepping forward. Once again, I instinctively cringe back, but there’s nowhere for me to go. The chair is bolted to the floor, a detail I hadn’t noticed until it became glaringly obvious after the man hit me heavily enough to send me slewing sideways in my restraints. The thin sheet of plastic covering the floor around the chair is a detail I don’t want to think too much about. I’ve seen it in enough movies to understand why a man like this one would lay plastic beneath a chair—to make cleanup easier when he disposes of the body. My body. I shudder when that reality sinks in.
The man continues, leering down at me. “I will kill you, but even that is not enough. The message must be sent to anyone who would dare betray the Ivanov family. You must suffer in order to send that message effectively.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” I sob. “Mr. Donatelli can tell you where the jewels are. You should be going after him, not me.” I bite my lip, knowing I should share more details about my work with the Donatellis, anything to keep this man from hurting me, but I defiantly don’t. Nothing I say is going to change his mind about me. I’ve never considered myself brave, and I’m not brave now. But I suddenly think of Alek’s face, especially when he learns of what this man has done to me, and a strength entirely not my own makes me square my jaw. Alek! Why hadn’t I thought of this before?
“You say you represent the Ivanov family,” I blurt out. “Are you an Ivanov yourself?”
The man narrows his eyes at me as he smirks contemptuously. “Don’t try to delay what’s coming to you.”
“I think you are an Ivanov. Not a cousin, but a brother to Aleksei Ivanov.”
“You will not speak my brother’s name,” the man says, confirming my suspicions. “I know you lured him away from the reception last night. I knew he was lying when he said he hadn’t come home. I was here in less than two hours to ask him why. Then I watched, and I waited. And sure enough, he kicked the baby bird from his nest as soon as he was done with you. The fact that he continued to fuck you even after knowing you are a lying whore who betrayed our family is something I’ll enjoy discussing with him long after you’re dead. But make no mistake, if he let you out of his room, he knew he was signing your death warrant.”
I stare at him, all hope draining from me. Alek hadn’t let me out of his room. I’d slipped out secretly, thinking I was doing nothing bolder than sneaking downstairs to check on a missing briefcase.
“Oh, Alek, please,” I whisper. He loves everything so perfect, so exact. He thought of me as beautiful. I hate that his last memory of me will be as a broken, bloody corpse, horribly misshapen. I don’t have any illusions about his brother sparing me that fate. I’m so sorry I left!
“You should be begging me, not him. But save your breath. My brother knows better than to defy a family order. Unfortunately, he never did have the stomach for beating up a woman. He wouldn’t have gotten the job done, or sent the message that needs to be sent.”
“No…” I push the word out past my bruised lips, but the man only speaks the truth. Alek is fierce, ruthless even, but I can’t see him harming a woman. Killing one, maybe. But not breaking her in pieces. I force back a hysterical sob, trying to fix on Alek’s face no matter what’s about to happen to me.
“He won’t know about any of this until your body is found. Sweet Raina Darcy, killed after enduring a brutal assault, and discarded on the lakefront in full view of Alek’s penthouse. Penthouse.” The Russian curls his lip, glancing around the empty room. “This was the first apartment the family bought in this building, at his insistence, and we took it down to the studs to re-create it in the style he wanted. Then the penthouse came open, and he bought that and stopped work here, leaving it to sit. I think he’d buy out the whole damn building if he could, just to assure his privacy. But it turned out to be good for me that he had it on hand. I’ve used it more than a few times already for my work in the city, with a few adjustments, of course. Sound-proofing the walls and ceiling, bolting the chair to the floor.” He nods toward a room in the back. “You should see what I’ve done in the kitchen. You’ll like it very much, I think.”
“Please,” I try again, licking my split lip. “I’m telling you, I didn’t do this. Mr. Donatelli did this, I don’t know why. He’s not a bold man, though. He probably hasn’t done anything with the rings, or any of the other jewels either, if there are others. He’ll wait until he feels it’s safe. So they’re probably still…somewhere. You just have to go—”
“Enough of your lies,” the man snaps, drawing back his hand sharply. “You’re only making it worse for yourself. It’s time for you to stop your whimpering…and start your screaming.”
His fist lashes forward, passing right in front of my face before shearing off as I yip in terror. But I already sense that the man’s teasing will be short lived. The next strike will end me. And though I try to be brave, when he pulls his arm back again, I can’t help the scream that tears from my throat.
“Alek!”
