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Dmitri smiles. “I hear you guys have a club to our tastes. We could come by and hang out in a more casual setting, not business. Just a drink.”
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
“Thanks for your time, Vincent.”
“You’re welcome.”
He dips his head for a curt nod and leaves. As he does, I take a moment to think.
He seems like a decent guy. That’s the appearance he portrayed. It was just that it didn’t feel real to me.
Most often when something feels too good to be true, it’s usually not.
* * *
I get home late and head to my office.
There’s a private room in the back where I have some CCTV set up.
The house is like a fortress with security comparable to a prison. There’s no way I’d make the same mistake as I did at the old house.
That was different though. With my best men protecting the place and guards at the door, nothing would have stopped the infiltration because we had a rat.
I don’t want to think about it now, and I wish I could stop seeing the image of my dead wife’s body in my mind.
Some nights when I can’t sleep, I end up here and just watch the place like I’m triple-checking the house is safe while I sleep. Checking my baby is safe in his room and Marguerite in hers when she’s here.
I do that looking in on both, and then I look in on Ava. This would be the third day that I haven’t seen her. I told Marguerite to tell her I’d be working late. Ava’s not stupid though.
I’m a fucking prick, but I wasn’t that to her last Friday. All I did in that room with her was real.
She’ll know that’s why I haven’t been around her. She’ll know straight up that I’ve been avoiding her. No matter what excuse I tell Marguerite to give her, she’ll know the truth.
We crossed the line. We crossed the line big time, and I’m trying to make my way back.
She’s awake but lying down on the bed in the dimly lit room.
She’s gazing out the window with an expression that shows a million questions on her mind. I can practically see them swirling around her pretty little head.
She wants to see her father, she wants to speak to him, she wants her life back, she wants to leave here. She wants to leave me.
I watch her sit up and pull her top over her head, showing me her naked
breasts.
Those fucking guards better not be watching. She doesn’t know there are cameras in the room. There’s a camera in every room of the house that connects to my phone. If anyone would be idiot enough to break in, they’re dead. Pure and simple. Dead.
I tap on the keyboard and disable the view of her room from everyone else.
It’s only me who can see her now.
She gets up out of the bed. It’s torture watching her parade her body like that in front of me when I can’t touch her. She walks over to the window and cracks it open slightly.
It is hot, so I don’t blame her. She gets back in the bed and covers herself slightly then rolls onto her side, where she resumes her thoughts.
I wonder what crosses her mind when a tear rolls down her cheek.
What is she thinking about?
