“Is everything okay?”
Three long heartbeats pass before Lenin replies, “The machine is broken.”
Yes!
I settle the excitement in my voice with some big breaths before murmuring, “Oh, that’s a shame. I guess it’s lucky I packed some then, isn’t it?”
“I’m not to leave your side; you’ll have to use toilet paper.” He sounds sick just at the idea of discussing girl issues.
I use his hang-up against him. “I can’t use toilet paper. It’s the first day of my cycle, so it’s heavier than usual. There are too many stringy clots—”
My hands shoot up to stifle my chuckle when he roars, “Enough! Fuck—that’s way too much information.”
When his shadow moves away from the door like he’s afraid he’ll catch a period, I add to my deception. “I have tampons in the side zipper of my purse. The coat room is like ten seconds away. How much trouble can I get into in ten seconds?”
“From the stories I’ve heard, a lot.” His snarky pitch takes on a new tone. “I’m also not carryingtamponsthrough the club.” A smile stretches across my face from his uncomfortable delivery of the word “tampons.”
“Then I guess we’re stuck here.” I sigh like I’m disappointed we’re missing out on the festivities.
After a few minutes of silent deliberation, Lenin grumbles, “Fine! Stay right there; I’ll bring you your purse. . .” The rest of his grumble is stolen by the bathroom door slamming open so fast it smacks into the drywall.
I’m busting to pee, but Lenin’s eagerness to leave reveals I don’t have time. I dash to the sink to wash my hands before racing for the exit Lenin shot through only two seconds ago. With my heart in my throat, I carefully pry it open to make sure the coast is clear.
My ruse to slip out undetected is foiled by Asher suddenly cranking his head in my direction. The deep scowl imbedded between his brows reveals he’s not buying the excuse Lenin is whispering in his ear. I’m not surprised. He knows all aspects of his staff’s lives, so I don’t see why that wouldn’t include their menstrual cycles. Furthermore, he had his head buried between my legs only a few hours ago. I never said my ruse was smart. It was more in desperation than anything.
When Asher weaves through the people swarming him, I slip out of the bathroom and race down the nearly empty corridor. A voice in my head is screaming for me to stop, but unfortunately, the devil on my shoulder isn’t as saintly as the sweet voice of reason. It’s demanding I remember I’m a person, not an object, and that I have the right to speak to whoever the hell I want to. Because I somewhat agree with it, I continue hightailing it in the direction opposite the one Asher is coming from.
I’m about to burst through the double glass doors at the end of the corridor when apssstcomes out of the storage closet on my right. I don’t get a chance to evaluate who the voice belongs to before my wrist is seized and I’m yanked into the pitch dark room.
I scream in fright, but a large hand muffles my cries for help. “Shh, Ari. It’s me, Uncle Nesti. You need to be quiet, or he’ll find is.”
His words thrust me into a childhood memory. It’s more frightening than the clutch he has on my body, but before fear can eat me whole, Asher’s voice breaks through the pulse in my ears. His deep timbre is brimming with unbridled anger, but it’s somewhat soothing to the terror engulfing me. “Is she in there?”
Even though I don’t hear a reply, he must get a nonverbal confirmation, because his curse word is louder than my walloping heart. “Search every stall. If she isn’t in one of them, have men comb the perimeter. It’s freezing outside, so she won’t get far without her coat.”
A frigid breeze whips underneath the storage room door when someone pushes through the exit doors opposite us. It’s as cold as the terror sluicing through my veins. I shouldn’t be scared; I’m a grown woman, for crying out loud, but things that go bump in the night have always startled me. Asher knows this more than anyone.
The room Uncle Nesti and I are hiding out in is as black as a starless night, but my eyes have adjusted enough to see the door handle lowering when someone tests if it is locked. Here it comes. I’m about to get in even more trouble than I did when Uncle Nesti discovered me in a similar-sized room eleven years ago.
My heart stops drumming my ribcage when the door fails to open. I sag against my uncle’s chest, grateful he was smart enough to fix the lock. He’s never been the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Where’s the key for this door?” Guilt pelts down on me when Asher’s question pummels my eardrums. He sounds more anxious than angry.
I instinctively move toward the door, wanting to ease his worry. I don’t get within an inch of it before my uncle flings me away from it. His clutch on my body is too firm for me to wiggle out of, and his hand slapped over my mouth is stealing more than just oxygen from my lungs. He’s furious I’ve put him in this situation.
His frightened response is understandable. If he’s found in here with me, he’ll lose more than the ranking my father did. His penalty will cost him his life.
I can’t let that happen. I don’t want another death on my shoulders.
“There’s a master key in your office.” This reply is from Lenin. He sounds more pissed than Asher.
Stomping feet boom through the door a mere second after Asher instructs Lenin to search the property lines while he gathers the master key from his office. I stand in silence for several long moments, stunned Asher left. That’s the equivalent of him backing down. I never thought I’d see the day.
Confident the coast is clear, I soundlessly request to be set down. When Uncle Nesticomplies, I pivot to face him. I can’t see him in the darkness, so I just face the direction his unique, woodsy scent is coming from.
“What are you doing here, Ari?” he queries at the same time I ask, “Have you heard from Vaughn?”
My question is more intelligent than his. Although he stepped out of the Volkov realm a long time ago, he’d still be aware his brother gave my hand in marriage to Asher, wouldn’t he?
