Page 41 of Lord of the Underworld

"Can you sleep?" he asks.

"Yes. Stay?" It slips out. I'm embarrassed by my neediness, but before I can apologize, he stands and strips, quickly, efficiently, down to tight boxer briefs, and climbs into bed. Pulling the covers over me and settling me against the pillows, he runs a finger down my cheek.

"Sleep now," he says, with just the slightest curve to the corner of his mouth.

I could take his words as a promise, or a warning, maybe a threat. This being Vadim, it could be a bit of all three. I close my eyes with a smile. Tomorrow, I'm probably going to be outraged all over again, that he got into my bedroom, that he put in cameras, and, oh the hot flash of embarrassment. I'm going to feel when I remember that I had masturbated in bed twice, thinking of him.

For tonight, I'm completely wrung out of everything but relief and a sense of peace.

Chapter Eighteen

In which everything insists on getting more complicated and no one is getting a honeymoon.

Oksana…

I can hear the shower running when I wake up the next morning. The blackout drapes are half drawn across the windows and the morning sunlight illuminates only the corners of the room, protecting my eyes.

Heaving ungracefully out of bed, I find my purse, slipping my fingers through the sealed, secret lining to pull out my second phone. My heart sinks. There are at least a dozen frantic texts and messages. I hastily pull on a robe and step out onto the terrace, shutting the door behind me as I dial Yvette.

"Oksana!" Yvette explodes. "Thank God. I thought that Turgenev had already killed you as some sort of human sacrifice to his Murder Gods."

"That's a bit much, Yvette," I say sternly. "Vadim has actually been a far more protective and better husband than my father ever was as a parent. It's a long story. Tell me what's going on."

"That fucking Don Rossi is moving the timeline up. Luciana called me in a panic. He came home last night, stinking drunk and told her there was a party this upcoming weekend, and he told her to, and I quote, "Make sure the girls look very pretty."

"That's… horrifying," I groan, putting my hand on my forehead, pacing the terrace. The wind is whipping the robe around my ankles as I stare out at the city, trying to strategize. “This gives us, what? Three days, four days?"

"At the most," she says.

"Montel has their new identities ready to go," I say. "Um... don't we have two or three emergency safe houses that haven't been exposed yet?"

"Yes," she sighs. "One in Sydney, and another that I can safely guarantee in Vancouver. Both are registered under a shell company which is registered under another shell company. I feel confident he couldn't track them."

"Good! This is good, Yvette!" I say encouragingly, trying to shove out that little tinge of hysteria that keeps trying to creep in. "Okay. So, we need to get together an extraction group. Can she meet us, or is this something where we're going to have to pull her out?"

Yvette's losing her composure, and this is never good. "Oksana, if we have to try to extract her from the Rossi compound, it's never going to happen," she says. "We don't have that kind of firepower. This could blow apart our entire operation. If we're exposed, everybody we've helped escape is dead, too."

"I know." My heart's pounding in my throat, like it's trying to escape. "But we can't leave them there. We could… We could do this separately, right? Luciana's son's nanny is sympathetic, right?"

"Yes," Yvette says hopefully.

"Have her take him to one of the museums. The Chicago Children's Museum is right in Navy Pier, lots of tourists, easy to distract security. Now, for the girls… didn't he say that he wanted them to look pretty? So, Luciana takes them to a spa. Navy Pier is right next to the Gold Coast; there has to be half a dozen bougie spas within walking distance. We can do this Thursday. It won’t look unusual to the Don."

"This sounds reasonable," she says, cautiously hopeful. "His little boy, going out to improve his mind. The sisters are getting prettied up. But if we do this with the nanny, she's got to go with them. She'll be killed if she comes back without the boy."

"Agreed," I say, still trying to rub away a headache blooming behind my eyes. "I'll call Jerome back, get more papers. Who can you pull together in time for the extractions? Because this breaks up the regular plan, we're going to need twice as many people to make it work."

"I'll get started on it," she says, "How is your husband, the Angel of Death? You actually sound rather happy."

"I don't know if it's just for me, but he's different," I say. "Not the terrifying creature of the night everyone else sees. He's treated me very well. I know he's anxious to fly back to Chicago, so I'll convince him that I'm ready to go, too."

"There are three women I've worked with before on extractions," Yvette says thoughtfully. "They're expensive, but they're good. And they have no fondness for abusive pieces of merde, shit."

"Mercenaries… that can be good and bad," I say.

"I know, but at this point, we need all the help we can get," she sounds gloomy and I feel terrible that she's been dealing with this on her own.

"Agreed. I'll start making calls," I say. "Are you going to be okay?"