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All at once, I shrink back against the wall.
Timofey’s hand slips away from my face, leaving me cold from the lack of him.
“I need…” I scramble for something, anything, to say to give myself five minutes. “I’m thirsty. Can I go get a drink?”
Timofey labors through a sigh. Am I imagining things or is he actually… disappointed?
“I’ll go.” He drags a hand down the back of his neck and turns away. “You stay here. And, for fuck’s sake—put on the purple dress.”
He walks away so fast that I start to wonder whether he needs a few minutes to himself just like I do. But there isn’t time to wonder.
I only have a short window of time here, and I need to make it count.
How many times are we going to have to go through this before you realize there is no escape?
Timofey was right. Again and again, I tried to grab Benjamin and run. Run where, though? Timofey has threatened every person I love. He’s told me he’ll kill me if I take Benjamin from him.
So the only thing I can do now is get my family away from him.
I drop to my knees next to my jeans piled on the floor and pull out my phone. As fast as I can, I type in “flights to Mexico.” I click on the cheapest link and buy two tickets.
I just got paid, so I have enough in my bank account to afford them. Whether or not I can afford my rent is another story, but so long as I’m living with Timofey, that won’t be a problem. As far as I can tell, I’ll be living with him for a long while.
I shakily type in Gram’s and Ashley’s information and enter in my card number. I’m amazed I can remember anything. My hands are trembling, and I keep pausing to listen to the hallway.
Is he coming back? Do I hear footsteps?
I’m still naked, and he asked me to put on the purple dress when he left, but I’ll deal with that later.
Right now, I have to take care of my family. I have to make sure they are okay. That way, I can stay here, gather evidence against Timofey, and have his murderous ass thrown in prison where he belongs.
Deep down, some part of me balks at the idea.Does Timofey really deserve prison? Is that what you want?
I shake the thought away. It doesn’t matter what I want. Right now, it’s all about needs. Mine and Benjamin’s.
As soon as the confirmation goes through for the tickets, I clear my history, shove my phone back in the back pocket of my jeans, and step into the purple dress.
I just get the gown pulled over my pounding heart when the door opens and Timofey comes in. He has a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.
I turn around, showing him the undone zipper along my spine. “Can you zip me up?”
58
PIPER
Timofey places the wine and glasses on his bedside table. A moment later, I feel his fingers on my spine. He doesn’t need to touch me to zip up the dress, but I’m too busy trying to keep my legs from buckling to question his methodology.
An electrical current zips through me. A shiver follows. As if trying to warm me with his hand, Timofey presses his entire palm to my exposed back.
“Sit down,” he orders. His voice is quiet but firm.
“But I need—” I lift my arm weakly over my shoulder to gesture to the zipper. “I need to be zipped. I need—”
“You need to sit down,” he repeats, directing me towards his bed. The armchair is covered in discarded dresses. “You’re about to pass out, and I’m tired of saving you.”
I’m shaking. Adrenaline and deception are a lethal mixed cocktail in my veins. Timofey can probably see right through me.
He knows what I’ve done.
