Dmitri hesitates, a multitude of questions and emotions flashing across his face before he meets Mike’s handshake, and his eyes.
Mike closes the doors and the ambulance takes off, siren wailing.
“Let’s go,” Dmitri says as I see, out of the corner of my eye, Dean stalking up to us.
“She’ll be taken care of,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous, aimed at Dean and the surrounding officers. “We are leaving.”
Dean yells something about obstruction of justice, but Dmitri keeps walking me toward the black sedan they arrived in. He glances back at my ex only once, with a look of cold calculation in his eyes.
Dean glares at us as Pavel gets into the driver’s seat, and Dmitri slides in next to me in the back. We pull away from the chaos, back into the darkness of the city, and whatever waits for me at Dmitri’s penthouse.
22
CLARA
The drive is silent as the blur of city lights streak past the tintedwindowswhile Pavel navigates through Manhattan’s late-night traffic. The tension of unsaid words and feelings sits heavily.
I don’t look at Dmitri. I can’t. My body is still thrumming with adrenaline, my head echoing with the sound of gunshots, the smell of gunpowder still in my nose. But the cold sharpness in my chest has nothing to do with being shot at, and everything to do with being in an inescapable car with a man who still isn’t sure I’m not working against him, who could believe I would betray him like that.
We finally pull into the hotel’s underground garage, and Pavel lets us out by the elevator. We ride up to the penthouse in silence. Dmitri remains quiet as he puts my bag down. He then takes off his coat and gloves, stows them in the closet, then reaches for mine and does the same. I don't know what he's thinking; I can't read his expression or his body language, except that he seems wrapped up in whatever's going on inside his head.
The penthouse is a bunker cloaked in tarnished gold that is safe, sterile, and feels like a cage. I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home,myhome. My apartment, with my bed, my blankets, my stuff. Not this gigantic museum that is cold and unwelcoming.
I’m beyond tired. Draining adrenaline has left me entirely bone-tired.
“Where should I sleep?”
Dmitri looks at me with brief confusion before asking, “What?”
He’s somewhere far away. I can’t blame him, even though I want to. I know he’ll never admit it, but I’m sure this was as traumatic for him as it was for me.
“I need somewhere to sleep. Were you expecting me to stand here all night?”
“Of course not.” His eyebrows knit together, his eyes narrowing as he says, “You will stay here where it is safe. Until then, you do not leave without my say-so.”
“Don’t you dare,” I reply, the words coming out shaky with a fury I’ve been holding back ever since I saw Dean’s smug face. “Don’t you dare treat me like a possession you’re moving from one safe house to the next. Not a word about security, not a word about safety, until we talk about what just happened.”
Dmitri slowly turns his large frame toward me. The monster is still there—the cold, ruthless detachment making his eyes look like chips of polished stone.
“What just happened, Clara,” he begins, his voice flat, “is that you were almost killed. The police, led by your pathetic ex-boyfriend, who is still dangerously obsessed with you, areactively looking for an excuse to put both of us in jail. We are not safe. I’m afraid discussion is a luxury we do not have right now.”
“No,” I shoot back, my voice rising. “That is the physical reality. I’m talking about the emotional one. You had Pavel follow me, Dmitri. You didn’t trust me. You thought I was the mole. Me! You believed—in fact, you still believe, I can see it in your eyes—that I had seduced you to worm myself into your life while I collaborated with the FBI, except that someone shot at me for the simple reason that I’m withyou, and now,” I point to my own shoulder for emphasis, “my best friend is in the hospital because of me and my choices.”
Dmitri avoids my gaze for a fraction of a second—a micro-expression of guilt—before the mask snaps back into place, more severe than before.
“The possibility had to be assessed,” he replies, his Russian accent thick. “I operate with facts, not sentiments. You ran. You tried to disappear. You are connected to a man obsessed with my downfall. You have access to private information. What did you expect me to conclude, that you were taking a sabbatical?”
The words fall like stones, sharp and heavy. They don’t just hurt; they wound me right to my core.
“I was running away fromyou,” I whisper, the raw honesty of it suffocating. “I was running away fromthis.” I gesture between us. “Away from the tension and mistrust, away from the man who could look at me in one moment with fire and passion, and the next, turn into a monster, and then, without warning, treat me like a traitor. I was running away from the danger, from the lies, from a world that demands I check my soul at the door just to survive in your orbit, which puts my life and my profession on the line. I was runningfromyou, Dmitri, nottoDean or theFBI or anyone else! But even with all of that, I would never, ever betray you.”
Tears prick at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. They would just give him an advantage.
“Betrayal is a luxury, too,” he snarls, leaning in so close his breath ghosts over my cheek. “And you are capable of it, just like anyone else. Look at the facts: You wandered randomly into my penthouse that night. You were the only lawyer present when Dean raided our headquarters. And then you ran when things got difficult! In my world, those are the actions of a traitor to my company, to myBratva, to us.”
“There is nous!” I shout, the control finally breaking. The words echo in the high-ceilinged room. “You try to control me, then you open up to me. You act like you need me, then become a monster when something goes wrong. And the second your opinion of me was challenged, you decided I had to be the bad guy. I didn’t betray you, Dmitri. I chose my own survival, just like I told you I would.”
I shove his shoulder hard, needing the physical release.
