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She smiles brightly as she pushes the stroller closer. “It’s me, Rosalie. You didn’t call.”
Crap.
I shut the book and give her a sheepish expression. “Shoot, I lost the sticky note.”
As she sits, I notice men in suits fanning out around us.
Jesus!
My heart sets off at a crazy pace, and grabbing my bag, I dart to my feet. Intense fear overwhelms me, and I struggle to think straight.
Rosalie’s face fills with worry. “What’s wrong?”
Not thinking, the truth spills from my lips, “There are men watching us. I have to get Vincent!”
She stands up again and takes hold of my arm. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re my guards.”
My anxiety spikes dangerously high, and my breaths come way too fast.
Svetlana. Guards. The ambush. The torture.
With a concerned look, Rosalie wraps her arm around my shoulders and ducks her head close to mine. “Shhh…it’s okay. You’re safe.” She leans even closer to me. “Try to take deeper breaths. You’re safe here.”
My eyes lock on hers. “Who are you? Why would you have guards?”
She shakes her head. “Just the wife of a man who’s overprotective. The guards are here to make sure Roman and I don’t get kidnapped and held for ransom.”
Her honesty has my heartbeat slowing down a little. Shaking my head, I say, “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.”
This is all too familiar.
Pulling away from Rosalie, I run to where Vincent is playing with Jonas.
“Come, baby. We have to go.”
He gives me a stubborn look. “No, it’s not time yet.”
Taking his hand, I pull him to his feet. I have to drag my son, who’s kicking and screaming, away from the playground to the car.
My eyes keep darting around us, and every time I lock eyes with one of Rosalie’s guards, my fear intensifies.
I bundle Vincent into his car seat and quickly strap him in before I rush to climb behind the steering wheel. Panicking, I start the engine and floor the gas.
Only when we get home, and I lock the door behind us do I manage to catch my breath.
Vincent is crying next to me, and it feels like I’m about to have a breakdown.
Sinking to my knees, I wrap my arms around my son. “I’m sorry, baby. Mommy had a fright and just wanted to make sure we’re safe.”
“I…wanted to…play with Jonas,” he sobs as if his little heart is breaking.
I feel horrible for the way I reacted and comfort my boy until his sobs die down.
“Mommy will make it up to you, okay?” I say as I wipe the tears from his face. “We’ll go back tomorrow so you can play some more.”
Vincent nods, then he mumbles, “I want ice cream.”
Climbing to my feet, I lift Vincent to my hip and carry him to the kitchen. “How about Mommy makes popcorn, and we watch Ice Age?”
