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Chapter 6
Death ends a life, not a relationship. - Mitch Albon
Natasha
As I scrub my hands under the tepid water of the sink, I am not sure how many times I have been in here since we boarded the plane. Anton’s car took us to his private jet, no surprise, though we are alone. It must mean his goons are either locale-specific or he makes them fly commercial. You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats those under him. Heh, what a fucking joke that is. I am included in that statement.
I turn off the water and sigh. I can’t avoid going back out there forever, and I have scrubbed my hands raw to get all the blood off, but honestly, I keep looking down at them like it’s still there. It feels like it is still there. I will probably feel that way for a long time.
I make my way back out to the seats, taking the same one I had when I got onto the plane. I insisted on sitting in the aisle across from Anton because I did not wish to be next to him. I still don’t. It’s too close and too dangerous right now. I sit in my seat and look down at my hands in disgust. I still feel like I am somehow responsible for this. Like I should have known something was off.
I am so angry at his betrayal. That’s what it is. I have been trying to think of the words for it, but now I have it. He has betrayed me, my trust, my body.
“Natasha?” His voice is calmer and different than the man that stood over my uncle with a gun to his head. I didn't like it at all.
“Why are you trying to talk to me?” I snap at him. “I never agreed to talk to you.”
“Natasha,” he says more harshly, no question this time, no inflection in his tone. “You act so innocent here, but you didn't exactly tell me who you were either,” he says, and I try to ignore him, ignore the way he is turning any of this on me. The thing is, I may have a last name that means power, and my uncle may have been the leader of a Clan, but I have never been directly involved in it. It is not something I feel the need to advertise.
“You don’t normally start a relationship by saying, yeah, by the way I am related to a Clan leader of the Romanian Mob,” I seethe. It's ridiculous really. I look at him and cross my arms, waiting for a reaction. At first, there is none. He just looks at me, watches me. He wants to see what I will do and say next. Is he waiting for me to fly off the handle so that he has an excuse to tie me up and make me submit? Or is he thinking I am just going to change my mind and suddenly jump his bones? What a fucking asshole.
“And I don’t make it known to just anyone that I am the leader of Clan Balan for the Romanian Mob, surely you of all people can understand that? I would have had to reveal it eventually, but this was new, and I had no idea you had a right to know, that you were a part of this.”
I scoff at the answer that he finally gives. There is nothing to understand, that I could understand. I am too furious for this conversation. He is the reason my uncle is dead. That's all I see.
“The reason your uncle is dead is because he tried to have Mariana executed, for the last time, Natasha. This is a serious matter, a crime, and that type of betrayal will never be tolerated,” Anton attempts to explain away after he apparently read my mind. This is fucking infuriating even being in the same space with this man and remembering the blood all around my uncle, blood that he ordered to pour out of him.
“You would certainly know about betrayal, wouldn’t you,” I snap at him. I didn't wait for any more response, because I can’t take any more of this. Not from him or anywhere else. I am emotionally exhausted. I recline my seat back as far as I comfortably can, so I don't have to see his face and take the liberty of turning towards the window. I don’t see much out of it right now, but it’s better than what awaits me from the other direction.
My thoughts bombard me. There is no rest for me. There is no rest for the wicked. Is that what I have become? How did my relationship with Anton turn into something like this? How is this all even possible? I was going to be happy. I was happy. I had finally moved on from the shit show I was staring in before him. And yet again, my life fucked it all up; the joke of the fucking universe. I must have some kind of sign on me, a big one, that says ‘send all mobsters, dealers, and cartel members my way’. I can’t even blame it on my last name this time, because he didn't even know who I was. I saw the shock on his face plain as day when I walked through Jan's door. It was like he'd seen a ghost until he was told who I was. Then, I turned into some kind of trophy. I don't know why I hadn’t been more worried about something like this when I was younger. I was never so dumb and naive not to understand what my father was dealing in, what kind of enemies and even friends he had been making his whole adult life. But, maybe that’s naivety, thinking it wouldn’t ever affect me because he kept me at an arm’s length.
I don’t know how long it is before we land. My mind finally goes blank, but there is no sleep, not yet. Not in this dress, not on this plane, not when I don't know where or how I am going to be when we land.
Then, I end up in another car just like the others, sleek and black, tinted windows so no one can see who is in here, who is basically holding me hostage.
We pull up to a home, the kind of home that does not feel like a home. It is a huge, towering high rise that is right on the beach. Not that I never appreciated its luxuries, but when I think of the word of home, I think of cozy. There is nothing about this place that says that, though I hope the thread count at least makes up for it because I am fucking exhausted.
Anton comes around and opens the door of the car for me as if he is the picture of the perfect gentleman. What a joke.
I get out of the car and his hand is instantly on me, lightly against my lower back as a reminder that I belong to him, I am his. It’s what I agreed to, right? So, why does it make me feel so violated even though he used to touch me in ways much more intimate than this?
We walk inside, coming out of the elevator, and there is silence that greets me in this large, decadent house. It is a second and third floor in a high rise, and it is gorgeous, but a bit luxurious, even for me. He begins to show me around, and I take note of a few things, where the bathrooms all are, the kitchen and the way it is stocked full of everything I could ever need or want, the chandelier that hangs high above the entryway. Then, it’s the bedroom he leads me to, the master bedroom to be precise. I can tell by the way it looks more like a hotel suite, though devoid of a woman's touch for sure. There is a large walk-in closet and an ensuite that puts what my uncle had in his home to shame. I don't like the way he has brought me in here and what it might mean. What if he demands that we share this room…this bed?
I turn to him immediately, keeping my cool as I tell him it’s not happening. “I am not sleeping with you, Anton,” I begin. I am not beating around the bush here. I just can't. “I need… time to figure this all out.” That part was utter bullshit, but I have to play a part to save my life. I know that. If this man is anything like my father or men I have known before, he can turn on me at any time.
He puts his hand on my back again, but this time he leads me across the hall into another bedroom, and relief washes over me in waves. I think I might have won this one tiny battle against Anton. “You can sleep in this one,” he says. He states no other rules or conditions. Not that it means he won't change his mind the next day, but for now, it’s a reprieve. “I called ahead and had some clothes put in here for you. It’s not much. I will have to take you shopping some other time or send for your things from Seattle. Goodnight.”
Anton lets go of me and leaves me alone in the room. It is dark, and I search for the switch on the wall with my hand, so I can see. I shut the door as well. I want a warning if he decides to come in here, and I don't feel comfortable changing where he can just walk out of his room and see me. It's bad enough I have to give in and use the clothes he had bought for me by one of his goons or someone else he controls with fear and money, but I have to get out of this damn dress.
I go into the closet, smaller than the one in the master bedroom, but that's not saying much. It could still be a small room of its own. I find what he says, a small collection of clothes and opt for a pair of jeans and a cami, the most acceptable comfortable thing I see.
I fall into bed, hoping that sleep will come as a mercy for me after all I have faced in the last few hours. Instead, I begin to cry against my will, and I hope he can’t hear me through the walls. I cry harder than I have ever cried in my life. My body is quaking with sobs.
Thoughts of my uncle come back to me, the way he was before all of this mess. Jan saved me from an abusive relationship and gave me the means I needed to start my life over. He let me begin my life dream, which was now sitting in Seattle without me. My uncle showed me how to regain my confidence, my faith in my own abilities. He was a father to me, like one I never had since my own father never treated me with such respect and compassion. It is because of him that if I ever do have children, I will know how to raise and care for them. He is my example on what not to do.
This is when it hits me, my life playing before my eyes like a movie as if these are my last moments on Earth. The reason I am crying and such a mess over all of this isn't just about my dead uncle, not at all. I feel like this because I am falling for Anton, or at least I was. If I didn't feel that way about him, it wouldn't feel like a Mack truck hit me when he hurt me in the most unimaginable way.
