The heat from the graze on my cheek is barely noticeable until he returns his eyes to the scenery whizzing by his window. He’s been detached since our negotiations were finalized during the first forty minutes of our trip like his mind is far from here.
I discover that’s the case when he tugs his cell phone out of his pocket. Although he doesn’t dial a number, he speaks down the line as if he did. “I need my father’s schedule synced with mine as soon as possible.” The man he’s speaking to attempts to interrupt him, but Dimitri continues spraying out orders, faulting his effort. “His movements the past three months are to be on my desk before dawn, and any upcoming functions over the next two weeks should be forwarded with them.”
“On it,” says a man with a uniquely distinctive accent. It’s either British or Australian. It could even be a combination of both. “Anything else?”
“One last thing.” My pulse twangs in my neck when Dimitri shifts his eyes to me. They’re as hot as ever, even with them being the color of ice. “Call Alice. I want to see her tonight. Offer her double for the late hour.”
It’s deplorable to comment on the jealousy roaring through me, so I won’t. We’re not friends or lovers. I am his property until he says otherwise. His stipulations during our one-sided talk were as clear as glass. I’m to do what he says, when he says, for exactly how long he says. If I do that, I’ll come out of the exchange with my life intact. If I don’t, I won’t want to know the consequences of my stupidity.
His threat would frighten me if I had more family than I do. If it weren’t for Estelle, I may have let him kill me.
My eyes float up from my clenched fists when the man on the other end of the line says, “Consider it done.”
Dimitri’s eyes remain on me even with his focus being devoted to his caller. “Tell her I want the works.” When my eyes unwillingly roll, his lips do their favored half-smirk. “No holds barred.”
I imagine the gleam in Smith’s eyes matches Dimitri’s when he replies, “Alice knows what you like, so she won’t let you down.”
Their call ends just as the Range Rover pulls onto the curb across from my building. You’d think the embarrassment I felt begging for my life would keep my annoyance on the down-low. Regretfully, my hair isn’t red for no reason.
It matches my fiery personality.
I slip out the back of Dimitri’s car so fast, even if he wants to follow me, the brutal slam of his door in his face won’t allow it. I’m not running. I know the terms we agreed upon during the first half of our trip. My ass is Dimitri’s until his daughter is returned without a scratch. But that doesn’t mean I have to continue displaying the weak, pathetic woman I did in the woods an hour and a half ago.
I hate that I begged at Dimitri’s feet. I’ve only ever pleaded for one thing in my life, and that teary wish was never answered. I want a redo of my last conversation with my nanna. If I knew how things were going to end, I would have hugged her fiercely instead of storming off in a huff the way I did. I was angry she was still treating me like a child, having no clue she was only treating me that way because I was acting like a child.
My eyes snap to the door of the outdated elevator in my building when a tattooed hand shoots out to stop it from closing. I’m anticipating for Rocco to join me inside, although quiet, he seemed more on my side than Dimitri’s during our negotiations, so you can imagine my shock when Dimitri enters the confined space in his place.
After pulling across the rickety gate that’s meant to keep us safe in this death trap, he jabs his finger into the ‘close door’ button multiple times in a row, obviously impatient.
Once the elevator shudders into action, he shifts on his feet to face me. He looks set to remind me of our agreement, but instead, steers our conversation in a direction I never saw coming. “Stay away from Rocco.” His gruff tone gobbles up my scoff. “He has a soft spot for battered women, but that isn’t whatthisis about.” While saying ‘this,’ he shifts his hand between us. “If you want to fuck him after this is over, that’s your choice, but I won’t allow it to occur under my watch. I won’t be made to look like a fool.”
“Like your wife was?” I snap out before I can stop myself.
Mercifully, the elevator car arrives at my floor a nanosecond later, saving me from being scolded by the wrath of his anger in a tight confinement. I barely survived it in his car the past hour and a half, so I don’t see me faring well in a much tighter space.
Incapable of breathing through the sternness of his glare, I mutter out, “I understand your request. I’ll keep my mitts to myself.”
I break into the hallway before he can see my mouth’s arched response to the hesitation firing through his eyes. He was satisfied with my response until he realized that means my hands won’t go anywhere near him, either.
It’s as if he yanks out the electrical cord responsible for my snippy attitude when he says, “I wasn’t lying about Eduardo. He didn’t murmur your name once. You weren’t on his mind at all when I punished him for hurting you.”
Aware he only said his comment to return my serve, and a little unsure how to react to his confession he killed Eddie because he hurt me, I stab my house key into the rusty lock on my apartment’s front door before pushing open the water-damaged wood.
“We’re behind on the electric bill. There’s a torch on the kitchen counter,” I advise Dimitri when his multiple flicks of the light switch fail to illuminate the room.
It’s the fight of my life not to let my laughter be heard when he crashes into the entry table I purposely forgot to warn him about. He can’t bitch-slap my attitude back to next week because he didn’t look where he was going.
After lighting a candle on the dresser in my room, I head for my overflowing closet. One of the benefits of stunted growth is the ability to wear clothes from my teen days. My height hasn’t altered since I got my learner’s permit, and despite my budget only affording me the privilege of grease-laden food, my waist is around the same size as well.
I sense Dimitri’s presence before I hear him rummage through the bag I’ve just commenced packing. With Estelle at work, it isn’t hard to miss the disapproving huff of someone hating my sense of style.
“You won’t need any of this.” He upends my bag onto my bed before he drags his narrowed gaze over my candlelit room. The further his eyes travel, the more disgust crosses his features. “You won’t needanyof this.”
I sound like a whiny brat when I snap out, “You said I could pack my things.”
“Yeah, things you need. Notthisjunk.”
Heat creeps up my neck when I struggle to hold in a blood-curdling scream. “These arethingsI need. They’re all I have.”
