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It’s going to be fine.
I’ll make it.
I have to believe that.
Swallowing the growing knot in my throat, I approach my car and throw my suitcase into the trunk. Then I press the button to open the garage door and watch it lift silently. No slow, noisy mechanisms here, thank God. As quietly as I can, I start the car and back out of the garage, then steer around the house to the driveway.
It takes everything I have to drive down the mountain calmly, sedately, like I’m in no rush. If the guards are watching the road, I can’t have them getting suspicious. As is, icy sweat trickles down my back, and my knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as I pull up to the tall metal gate.
What if Nikolai gave them instructions not to let me out?
What if I’m a prisoner here for real?
But the gate slides apart at my approach, and nobody stops me as I drive through. Shaking with relief, I maintain my slow, steady speed for another thirty seconds or so, until I’m out of view, and then I floor the gas, speeding away from the safe haven that just might be the devil’s lair.
From the man I yearn for with every fiber of my heart.
49
Nikolai
I wake up with my body humming with contentment and my mind filled with greater peace than I’ve ever known. Last night was everything I thought it would be, and more. I can still feel her, smell her, taste her on my lips. Smiling, I roll over, patting the sheets for her small, warm body, and when my hand encounters nothing but a bunched-up blanket, I open my eyes and survey the room.
Chloe is not here, which is disappointing but not surprising, given the bright sunlight. She’s probably already had breakfast and is teaching Slava; maybe they’re even out on a hike. Normally, I would’ve heard her get up—I’m a light sleeper—but I was coming off thirty-plus hours with no sleep and the jet lag kicked my ass hard.
My mood darkens a fraction, my adrenaline levels rising as I think of the video that dominated my thoughts on the flight over, keeping me from getting any shut-eye, and of everything else Chloe told me. The idea that someone out there wants to hurt her, kill her, fills me with incandescent rage, one tempered only by the knowledge that they can’t get to her in my compound.
The precautions that keep my family safe from our enemies will keep Chloe safe from hers while I work to figure out who they are.
Eager to get started on that, I get up and fire off an email to Konstantin, detailing everything I learned last night. Then I hop into the shower for a swift rinse, get dressed, and go in search of Chloe.
I start with my son’s room. Nobody’s there, so I go downstairs. The dining room is empty, but I hear voices from the kitchen, and when I walk in, I’m surprised to find Lyudmila feeding breakfast to Slava all by herself.
He smiles at me shyly, and my chest fills with uncharacteristic warmth as I recall how he greeted me last evening. Even as laser-focused as I’d been on getting answers from Chloe, I couldn’t help reacting to that small, sweet voice calling me Daddy.
I didn’t know how badly I’d yearned to hear it until it happened.
Until she made it happen.
“Good morning, Slavochka,” I murmur, going down on my haunches in front of his chair. Switching to Russian, I ask, “Did you have a good night?”
He nods, eyes big and wary, and my ribcage tightens with a familiar squeezing pain. I want to step away, end the conversation so I can be rid of the discomfort, but instead, I lean into it, letting myself feel it as I smile gently at my son.
He’s so much—too much—like me, but maybe with Chloe in his life, he won’t follow in my footsteps.
Maybe he won’t grow up hating me the way I hated my old man.
“Where is Chloe?” I ask, and my smile broadens as his eyes brighten at the mention of her name.
“I don’t know,” he says shyly and glances up at Lyudmila, who’s putting berries into his bowl of cream of wheat.
“I haven’t seen her this morning,” she says. “Maybe she’s still sleeping?”
My smile fades, an unpleasant feeling stirring low in my gut. I haven’t checked in Chloe’s room, but I assumed she left my bed to start her day, not sleep in hers. Rising to my feet, I tell Slava, “I’m going to go find your teacher. You’re eager for your English lessons, right?”
He nods vigorously, and I grin at him. On impulse, I ruffle his hair the way I’ve seen Chloe do it, and ignoring the surprised look on Lyudmila’s face, I go back upstairs.
