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I don’t need her to be ecstatic though. All I need is exactly what she’s giving me—herself. Wrapping my hand around hers and watching her fingers vanish in my grip, I can feel her trembling in my grasp. I know it’s taking every ounce of strength in her body to not break down in tears.
Not because she’s afraid.
But because she knows she has no other choice than me.
I stop fighting the expression I’ve been warring with since I entered the room as I give her hand a firm shake, and I smile.
8
GALINA
I’m trapped with a killer, and I just agreed to stay with him for as long as it takes.
That’s what Arsen is. He didn’t try to deny it. If anything, he seemed disgustingly proud of the fact that he was capable of murder. There was not a tinge of remorse in his eyes or voice when he told me his version of what happened the other night by the docks.
How can I know anything he tells me is real? The stuff about Yevgeniy could be a ploy. But as odd as it seems, I truly do believe Arsen. My gut instinct is that he has no reason to lie about this. If he wanted to kidnap me or hurt me or my mother, he’d just do it. Which means there’s a kernel of truth in his vow to protect me.
But I don’t have to be grateful.
Not to a bastard like him.
I can’t believe he’s Bratva. Well, actually … That part makes sense. The access to money, how he owns Tsar’s and who knows what else … this mansion, and his men. Even the way that waitress looked so afraid when telling me he was in the VIP, though she had no compunction about elbowing a man in the face for touching her.
Honestly, I feel a bit dumb for not considering this sooner.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. It startles me so badly that I half-fall off the bed. I’d been perched on the edge, unable to relax, with my thumbnail between my teeth. I tried to make a call in the car, but after, in the chaos, I forgot I had it on me at all. My credit card and driver’s license are tucked into the wallet slip on the back. Not that they’ll do me any good here.
Arsen took my car keys, but not my phone. The implication is clear: I can call for help, and no one will come.
Reading the screen, I see the text is from my mother.
Mom: How are drinks with Arsen going? You’ve been gone a while.
I curl into a ball, my shoulders scrunching up to my ears. What do I tell her? Arsen claimed that this Yevgeniy guy was following Mom and me. He agreed to protect us from him. Does that mean he has his own men watching her right now? Should I warn her about what’s going on?
No ... it’ll just terrify her. If I so much as hint that I’m in danger, she’ll call the police. And if the police get involved, then that’ll only make everything messier. I don’t have a doubt in my mind that Arsen has a few dirty cops on his payroll. And if he has someone watching Mom …
No. The best thing to do is to reassure her that everything is okay. And I need more information before I do anything risky.
Me: Drinks went great! I ran into Audrey, and I’m going to crash at her place. Don’t want to drive and get a DUI!
Mom: Oh, good idea. Will you tell me everything in the morning?
Shaking my phone in frustration, I try to come up with a believable story. I’m not sure when Arsen will let me leave his mansion. I need to buy myself some time.
Me: Audrey will want to get brunch, you know her. OBSESSED with mimosas.
Mom: Haha, that’s true. I think she has a problem.
Me: Yeah …
She’s not the only one. My problem is a bit bigger, in fact.
Mom: Stay safe, malyshka! Talk soon! Love you!
Me: Love you, mamochka!
It’s not going to be possible to keep this charade up for long. I live with my mom, so spending more than a day away isn’t the norm. I’ll need Arsen to let me visit her to keep up the lie that nothing is going on. That, or a grand lie to excuse myself for vanishing.
