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I look over my shoulder quickly to make sure the coast is still clear. Then I cover the trapdoor and leave it as I found it, springing up and making a mad dash to the stainless steel fridge. Yanking open the door, I bury my nose inside and exhale when I hear Alek enter.
“????????” His surprise is clear.
I take a few moments to catch my breath and calm down. “Hello.” I feel so strange addressing him this civilly. All I want to do is kick him in the balls and make a break for it, but I can’t. I have to be smart, especially since I’ve found my way out.
“You’re awake?”
“Yes.” I refrain from adding he probably should have amped up the dose of whatever drug he gave me.
Unable to hide in this fridge forever, I close the door slowly and come face to face with the man I hate with every fiber of my being. He looks casual in a white linen shirt and fawn-colored pants, but I don’t let his looks deceive me.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be up. I wanted to show you around your new home personally. I see Sara failed to do what was asked of her,” he says, his nostrils flaring slightly.
“She tried to stop me, but I get cranky when I’m hungry. Her red cheek proves just how cranky I can get,” I innocently say while Alek’s lips slowly lift into a sly grin.
“We are one and the same.”
We arenothingalike, but I smile nonetheless.
“I’m sorry about the commotion.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Commotion?” He needs to be a little more specific because this entire shitshow has been a commotion.
“Yes, on the yacht. With Saint shooting you and all.” He points at my wounded shoulder.
The moment I hear his name, my façade almost slips, but I pull it together. “I don’t remember much.” I need to know what exactly Saint told him before I go divulging what I remember.
Alek leans against the counter, folding his arms casually. “Of course you don’t. You drank the drugged vodka. Saint explained how Zoey was trying to hurt you. How she drugged us all because she was green with jealousy over you.”
My legs tremble, but I keep calm. Saint said that? He threw his own sister under the bus to save me? “That would explain the lapse in memory,” I say, nodding as if I’ve just solved an ambiguous puzzle.
“Zoey is spoiled. I blame myself,” he explains offhandedly while I wonder how the hell he’s come to that conclusion. “I should be harsher with her, but she loves me. I can’t punish her for that.”
It takes all my willpower to remain cool.
“Saint revealed how jealous Zoey has been over my need to”—he wets his bottom lip—“broaden my horizons. She thought if she killed you, then that would prove her love for me. Thankfully, Saint didn’t drink the drugged liquor, so he was the only one awake to tell the tale. Zoey, of course, had a far different version of events.”
I gulp because her version is the truth.
“But I know that she’s lying.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, feigning innocence.
Alek never takes his eyes off me when he coolly replies, “Because Saint doesn’t miss. If you had, in fact, done all the things Zoey claimed you did, then you wouldn’t be standing here today.”
No further explanation needed.
“He told me she used you as a shield as she held a gun to your head. He had no other choice but to shoot you so he could disarm Zoey. Adrian, on the other hand, was intent on revenge because of what happened to Kazimir. He was stupid to think he could ever compete with someone like Saint.” His tone holds an almost pride at the killing machine Saint is thanks to him.
Saint has tied a big red bow on this entire story, and Alek has fallen for it. The only other witness is now dead, which only leaves Zoey. But I remember Alek’s words before he was out cold.
You will pay.
At the time, I thought our ruse was up, but it appears I was wrong. I don’t know the full story, but from the pieces I’ve gathered, it seems Saint has blamed everything on Zoey, and it’s stuck because she hasn’t hid her hatred for me.
Alek believes Saint because why would he lie to save me? Zoey is his sister. She’s the reason he’s here in the first place. He owes me nothing, but that’s exactly what he did. Alek may have clued on to some kind of connection between Saint and me, but he would never suspect Saint to do what he’s done. And neither did I.
I want to ask where he is, but I don’t.
