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I take a few steps toward him.
He stands like a sentinel, straight-backed, blocking a good portion of the window. Some slivers of light break around the outline of him. “I just don’t understand how you can let them get away with brutalizing you for years and just walk away. Forgiveness might be in your nature, but it sure as hell isn’t in mine.”
I swallow hard, staring at his back, willing him to turn and look at me. “There’s a difference between forgiveness and self-preservation. All I want is to be free of them all. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be free of my family name to live my own life.”
The tension grows tight, pulling between us despite what we shared earlier in the bathroom. Maybe because of it. Both of us think we’re someone we aren’t. Someone each of us needed in a painful moment.
I hug myself tight again, needing comfort, even if I won’t get it from him. “No, everyone can live their lives surrounded by pain and death. I’ve paid my dues; now I want out.”
“I don’t live this life this way because I have a choice. You may remember you, and your father kidnapped me, so what comes next is all on you.”
It’s been a while since the rage in his eyes made me scared. At least for myself. When he turns his cold eyes to mine, I feel a hot flash of anger in my belly. I’ve more than made up for my mistakes, but with a heart full of vengeance, he’s not going to let me forget my role in his capture. How long until I’m the only person left he needs to get revenge on?
I step back, keeping my eyes on his face. “Good to know how you feel. Thank you. That will make leaving a lot easier.”
He doesn’t let me retreat. “You thought what? We’d get free, set up house, and start a little nuclear family?”
It’s stupid to rile him, but I roll my eyes anyway. “I’m not an idiot.” Instead of getting into the details, I sigh. “Forget it. As I said, I want to be free of all this. Spend the rest of my life safe and bored.”
He bears down on me again, snatching my bicep in his iron hold. “You can leave when I say you can leave. In other words, you can leave when I’m done with you.”
I swallow hard, unsure of what to say to that. It doesn’t matter since he doesn’t give me room to speak, placing his other hand around my neck. He doesn’t squeeze but simply holds me in place, not allowing me to move another inch away from him.
I hold my breath when he leans down, his mouth millimeters from mine. “Open the door.”
My heart is pounding as I figure out his words. He flexes his fingers on my throat for a moment, then gently shoves me toward the door. I don’t even consider if I should or what it might mean for me. I open it.
On the other side stands a tall man, glossy black ringlets brushing his cheeks. I blink for a second to check if he’s real.
“Open the door for Michail, Malyshka,” Ivan orders again.
I hold it open farther and stare as the man enters, barely sparing me a glance as he eyes Ivan.
The man claps him on the shoulder and then drops a bag at his feet. “You scared the shit out of me, you bastard.”
They hug, Ivan wrapping his hand around the back of the other man’s neck, squeezing tight. I’m still staring between them when they separate, though neither spares me even a look. That’s fine. I’m not a woman who needs attention. I’m greedy for information about Ivan, watching them carefully, hoping one of them gives me something.
They whisper a moment, and Michail slides something small across Ivan’s palm. A key, maybe?
When they finish, Michail faces me, his eyes dark and almost feral as he sweeps me a glance from my head to my toes. “You were at the casino.”
I gulp and nod.
“You hurt him again, and I’ll kill you myself.” With that little tidbit, he leaves, closing the door behind him.
Ivan crosses to me, the bag in hand. “Let’s go.”
Wait. What? He takes my hand and turns me to the door. “Where are we going?”
We step outside, and I notice a slight chill in the mid-afternoon air. “Somewhere better and more secure than this place. I need to plan and a better place to do said planning.”
There’s a car waiting for us. Shiny. Black. Nondescript but definitely high-end. He crosses to the driver’s side, tosses the bag in the back, and I scramble to the passenger seat to the right side of the car and buckle up.
Our flight the other day feels a million years ago. Ivan is tense and silent as we pull out of the driveway. The towers of the city loom closer as we drive. I don’t know how long we drive for, fifteen, twenty minutes maybe, can’t be more than that, but again, I’m not keeping track of time. The car rolls to a stop, and we park outside a shiny high-rise.
