Page 67 of Reckless Bride


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“You let me worry about that. I’ll ask for one favor, and one favor only. The rest will be for me to handle.”

She looks uncertain. “We could just stop Rustik from stealing.”

“True, you could. But I can give you access to the East Coast markets. Marijuana will be legalized throughout the northeast, it’s only a matter of time, and you all will be uniquely positioned to move in with your mature product. I can ensure a smooth, even prioritized transition.”

“All we gotta do is grant you one favor?” Mac asks. There’s more murmuring among the assembled.

“Only the one,” I say, giving them my most charming smile. Waiting for someone to ask. The silence is filling up the room, the suspense thick and tightening.

“Which is?” Tess finally prompts.

And I know I have them.

Chapter 36

Alisa

I can’t do much these days.

Wake up, shuffle to the bathroom, shuffle back to the bed. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Sunlight hurts my eyes. Noise hurts my ears. It’s safest under my covers.

I think about Liliya in her final moments.

Hoping for a way out.

Was Papa there in the room? I don’t think so. Whatever Papa did, that happened before Liliya got in the bath.

Did she know she was dying? Did Papa tell her to take all those pills? Did he force her on them?

I see my sister terrified and alone. Abandoned by her own father. Abused by her husband.

I was the last person she tried to reach, and I didn’t know how bad things had gotten.

How could I have known?

But I could have.

I’m stuck in a self-reinforcing loop. I couldn’t have known. I should have known. Over and over. Shuffle, back and forth. Shuffle, shuffle. My mind feels like a deck of cards flipping back over itself, never in the same position twice.

Liliya’s dead. She can’t come back to explain herself.

Those emails said too much, but left out even more.

After a while, days probably, the door to the room opens. He’s standing there. He’s always there, always nearby. Coming and going. Checking on me, trying to help me, but I can’t do much more than shuffle.

He comes to the bed. Sits on the edge. He brushes the hair from my face. “Alisa,” he says. His voice is deep. He’s beautiful, that beast. “It’s time.”

I know what he means. I put my head in his lap and he strokes my cheek. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Are you ready?”

I want to close my eyes. Instead, I stare at Liam.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m afraid. Is it okay that I’m afraid? I should be angry.”

“It’s okay that you’re afraid. It’s what you do while you’re afraid that matters. Are you going to stay here? I can do this on my own.”

“No.” I force myself to sit up. I can’t keep shuffling. I can’t keep looping. Liliya is dead. But even alive, she wouldn’t have wanted this. “No, I’m coming. He’s my father.”

“And don’t forget that,” Liam says.

He helps me shower and dress. It’s intimate. I feel pathetic. But if he minds, he doesn’t show it.

When we’re finished, I feel like half a person again, which is better than I’ve been. I follow him to the car and he drives himself while I sit in the passenger seat. Sean’s following behind in an SUV filled with soldiers, not that I think we’ll need them.

“Do you remember what we discussed?” Liam asks as he parks out front of my father’s office.

This building is so familiar. I worked here for a long time, but now it feels strange, like it’s been twisted by everything that has happened.

“I remember.”

“Be strong. I know you can do this.”

I follow him inside. The front office secretary’s a nice girl named Rachel. She seems a little awkward when I brush past her without an appointment. “My father won’t mind,” I say, flashing the poor girl a smile.

She has no clue what’s about to happen.

I meet other employees that I used to be friends with. It feels like I’ve been gone for years, though it’s only been a few months. I stop and make small talk, chatting very briefly, catching a glimpse of what my life could’ve been like if none of this had happened. Instead, Liliya is dead, I ran away from my wedding, I married Liam, and now I’m going to murder my father.

Papa’s in his office. His personal secretary doesn’t look happy as I continue on past her. “He’s on the phone,” she says in a weak attempt at stopping me.

I find my father staring out the window. There’s no call, nothing to indicate that he’s even busy. I shut the door behind me, and Liam keeps it closed with his foot.

Papa looks over. His face goes through confusion, anger, fear. “Alisa, Liam,” he says. “What are you two doing here?”

“We need to talk.” I approach my father. I want to be sick. I feel dizzy like my head’s disconnected from my body. I can almost stare down at the scene from the ceiling.

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