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“Nice.” He grins, his shock over the style instantly mollified by the price tag.
The second dateisbetter, only if by virtue of the fact that going to the orchestra means less time actually listening to Nick talk. Unfortunately, I’m put on the spot as to whether or not I want to get coffee afterward, and once again, I fold in the face of having to decline in person.
We end up at a little Italian cafe not far from the theater, and I order a macchiato and a pistachio pastry, just as an affront to Nick’s comments about my eating habits. He doesn’t say anything this time, but I can’t forget the first conversation.
Overall, I don’t think he’s abadperson–just not someone I would want to date. Everything he says–about his job, his family, what he wants out of life, just serves to remind me how much I prefer Max’s outlook on things and how much more comfortable I feel with him. I can’t imagine opening up to Nick about my past and telling him the truth about the things that happened to me. Frankly, I don’t think he’d know what to say–and if he tried, it would definitely be the wrong thing.
“Can I see you next week?” he asks as we step outside, and I text my driver.
“I–” I hesitate, forcing myself not to accept a third date that I definitely don’t want out of sheer awkwardness. “I think we’re all going out of the country next week. Impromptu Europe trip. I don’t know the exact dates when we’ll be back, but I’ll get in touch when I do!” It’s all entirely made up, but I don’t feel that bad. I don’t think he would take the truth–that I just don’t want to see him again–all that gracefully.
Nick leans in to try to get a kiss, and I move away, looking towards the street. “Oh, I think that’s my driver,” I say quickly, though I don’t actually see the car yet. “You don’t need to wait. I’ll text you!”
I start walking away quickly before he can answer, not caring if he sees it as rude or not. The idea of kissing him makes my stomach turn, especially when I think of how my first kiss with Max made me feel.
I don’t think anything could make me feel like that, ever again–unless it was with Max.Am I just going to have to settle for less?
I peer into traffic, hoping Nick doesn’t follow me.Where is my car?There’s plenty of traffic, but usually, it doesn’t take my driver so long to get to me.
A hand closes around my arm, and I whirl, thinking it’s Nick, coming to press his luck with the kiss. “I don’t want to–” I start to say, and then the words die on my lips as I see a strange pug-nosed man with dark hair standing in front of me, his hand clamped around my arm as he starts to march me away from the sidewalk.
“Stop!” I wrench at his grip, looking around as people split and pass around us. “Help! Get your hands off of me!”
I’d heard about the story–the one about the girl who was assaulted, and no matter how much she screamed, no one came to help. I hadn’t believed it, that someone could be hurt in full view of others, and not one person would come to her rescue–but if anything, the people around us seem to move faster as he drags me towards the alley, as if they want to get away from us.
“Fuck you!” I shriek, trying to wrench away or drag my feet, but it’s no use. He keeps hauling me forward into the alley, and I try to knee him in the balls, desperate to keep him from taking me to wherever he’s trying to go.
“You little bitch!” He snarls, slapping me hard in the face. I reel backward, his nails catching on my skin, and I let out a small scream as we make it halfway down the alley. I start to try to swing a punch, as little good as I think that’ll do, when another idea comes to mind.
I kick my foot up behind me, grabbing one of my shoes and wrenching it off when he looks away. I wince as my bare foot touches something wet and soggy, but I don’t have time to be disgusted by it. I kick at his ankle, and when he wheels around to slap me again, I hit him in the face with the sharp-spiked shoe as hard as I can.
Itworks. The spikes snag his skin, leaving bloody furrows as I rake it down his face, and the shock of it causes him to let go of me for a split second–just long enough for me to kick off my other shoe, turn tail, and run.
Please be out there,I think frantically as I run down the alley, hearing the man cursing behind me as he tries to catch up. I can’t get to my phone, my purse was lost in the scuffle, and I search the sidewalk frantically for a familiar car.
There.I see it, closer to the cafe, and I run through the crowd, pushing and shoving without caring who’s angry at me for it. I don’t dare look behind me, and I see the shocked look on my driver’s face as I push towards the car, flinging myself into it as he closes the door.
“Go!” I shout as he opens his door. “Hurry!” I can see the pug-nosed man a few feet away, close to being able to get to the car. My heart is in my throat as the driver lurches away from the curb, the car pulling out into traffic just as the man’s hand touches the side of my door.
I huddle in the seat, shaking, still clutching the bloodied shoe. My heart is racing, and tears clog my throat, small sobs catching behind my tightly pressed lips as I try desperately not to spiral into a panic attack.
One attack could have just been a mugger, some guy who thought he could rob or assault me. Buttwo, in this close of succession–something is going on. Somethingbad, and I have no idea why.
The man who raped me is dead. Alexei is dead. Who would want to hurt me now? I’m nothing to anyone, just an immigrant girl who works as a nanny now. Even if someone was out to hurt the Andreyevs, why would they come for me?Imight know that I mean something to Caterina and Viktor. Still, no one would assume that, any more than they would assume any other member of the staff meant something to them. If someone wanted to hurt them, it would make more sense to go after Sofia or the children.
Maybe they were after the girls–but even that doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t out with the family, I was on a date–unless the attacker had planned to force me to give up some kind of information.
Still, it doesn’t add up, no matter how I twist and turn it. I go over the events, again and again, both the first attack and the second, but even by the time the car is pulling up to the mansion, I can’t make it make sense.
Slowly, I get out of the car, limping a little as I head into the house. It’s late enough that everyone should have turned in for the night, which means at least I won’t have to answer any questions until the morning–I hope.
I’m not so lucky.
I’ve barely stepped into the light of the hallway leading into the living room when I hear a voice call out my name–a voice that I know, of course.
“Sasha?” I hear Max’s footsteps coming towards the doorway, and I flinch, trying to turn my face away before he can see–but he makes it into the light before I can. “Sasha, what the hell happened?”
He’s in front of me in an instant, his face creased with anger and concern. “Who did this to you? Was it Nick? I swear to God, if that bastard touched you–”
