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“I’m glad to hear it.”
The cars stop and Lilli’s face drains of all its color when she regards the house of horrors she calls home.
“Fuck.” Her low expletive makes me smile.
“Language, baby.”
She shakes her head. “As if I care.”
The door opens and I note my guards getting into position. The house will be surrounded, and I’m guessing the neighbors are about to learn exactly who lives among them.
Lilli is visibly shaken, and I grip her hand tightly and say gently, “It’s okay, you have me and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“I know.” She attempts a smile and then says with a tremble in her voice, “Let’s go and get that diary and then we can get the hell out of here.”
As we walk up the driveway, I note the well-tended border and the mown grass and stare at a house that is in direct contrast to what’s inside. Normal on the outside, disguising a center of pain and suffering. No wonder Mickey moved in. He probably thought all his Christmases had come at once.
Lilli pushes open the door and I roll my eyes. For fuck’s sake, anybody could walk in here. Where is the security in this place?
As we step inside, at first impressions there’s no one home, and then we hear groans coming from a room down the end of the hall.
“They’re here.” Lilli’s eyes widen and she grips my hand tightly and I say in a low voice, “Where?”
“Their bedroom.” She pulls a face. “Mickey doesn’t care about discretion. It’s not unusual to walk in on them.”
She looks away in shame and I spin her around and growl, “This is them, not you. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”
“I disagree.” She hangs her head. “I allowed it to happen. I should have run, but I stayed. What does that say about me, Mikhail?”
“It says that you had no choice. No place to go and I’ll tell you again, none of this is down to you.”
I glance at Damien and nod toward the room at the end. The last thing I want is to see that shit and so I say to Lilli, “We’ll wait in there.”
I spy a large living room and as we head inside, I glance around at a place that belies what goes on inside. To any stranger wandering in, this place almost appears respectable.
I say to Lilli, “Go and find your diary and then wait in the car.”
“But–”
Her eyes widen and I say roughly, “Wait in the car, Lilli. You do not need to see this.”
She nods and then walks away, the expression on her face telling me she’s shit scared right now. I need her to be safe and that is in my car because when I get my hands on Mickey Gruber, it won’t be pretty.
CHAPTER 32
LILLI
It’s so strange being back here. It’s only been a couple of days, but it may as well have been a lifetime. So much has happened in such a short space of time, and I am still struggling to process it all.
I met Mikhail. The single most life-changing thing that has ever happened to me outside of Reggie’s death. I wasn’t expecting him. His life, his dominance, and his compassion. On the outside, he is ferocious, the monster in the shadows, but he also has a side to him that is gentle and kind. I doubt Mickey will agree.
I am strangely nervous for him. I can only imagine what Mikhail is capable of, but Mickey is no pushover. The fact we have come in mob-handed is a relief because I wouldn’t put anything past Mickey. He is a law unto himself and always has been.
I pass Reggie’s room and knowing what lies inside makes me want to hurl. My shame lies behind those doors. There is also the fact Reggie’s body hung there. I tried so hard not to dwell on that as I performed for the camera, imagining her sadness as she looked down from heaven at what I had become. She had escaped, but I filled her place, in a different kind of way admittedly.
My heart thumps as I head down the hall toward my room and pray that the diary is exactly where I left it. I really hope it contains what Mikhail needs, but I want it back. It’s mine and one of only a few things I have left of my sister. It’s as if she is still here with me when I read the script and I’m not ready to lose her a second time.
I reach my room and head inside and for some reason, it seems different. As if a stranger lives here, not me. I never had much, not compared to many other women my age. Just what I need and nothing more. No posters on the wall, no drawers filled with memory boxes, make–up and stuff. College work mainly and some clothes. Nothing I will miss when I leave, and I will leave. This part of my life is done, with or without Mikhail.
