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My car is still in the parking lot when we arrive. The police tape has already been removed, all signs of disaster gone like the shooting never happened. I’m still not entirely convinced the police were behind it, but if they were, they probably wouldn’t bother staying at the scene for very long.
Just enough to make it look like they cared, and then they’d move on to the next thing.
It’s sad, really, but it’s not my business. All I’m supposed to do from here on out is keep my head down and act like I don’t know anything. I’ll go back to work, settle into my old lifestyle, and try to figure out how to continue on through life without a strong masculine figure beside me.
Difficult though it may be, I’m sure I’ll manage. If there’s one thing Dimitri taught me, it was the power of independence. Sure, we’re always stronger as people together, but that should be a voluntary undertaking. You should always be able to rely on yourself if you need to.
Ivan’s eyes are narrow, and his grip on the steering wheel is tight as he parks next to my car. He scans the parking lot, the tension in the cabin palpable. “You need to stay safe out there,” he grumbles. “Any sign of danger, and you call me. You understand?”
“I don’t even have my phone,” I reply, “much less your number. I’m not sure I want it, either.”
He shoots me a vicious look, like he doesn’t even like me. I suppose he doesn’t have any reason to, since I’ve turned down every attempt he’s made to keep me around since our tumble in the sheets last night.
I’m old news, I guess. No need to be nice anymore.
“Get another phone, and take my number,” he growls, grabbing a pen from his pocket and digging around for a napkin. He scribbles down some numbers once he finds something to write them on, and hands the napkin to me. “Don’t hesitate. Any danger, and I’m a minute away.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the napkin from him sheepishly. I tuck it into my jacket pocket, feeling the blue ink smear on my fingertips. I plan on throwing it away the second he’s out of view.
I open the door, about the step out, but Ivan’s firm hand on my arm stops me. “Wait a second.”
I turn to face him, ready to defy him one last time, but then he pulls a wad of cash from his coat pocket, handing it to me. “Should be enough for a phone.”
I take it, feeling the thickness of the bills in my hand. They’re all hundreds, meaning that there’s at least a few thousand dollars here.
“This is way too much,” I say, trying to give it back to him.
He holds up his hand. “Take it, darling. It’s nothing to me, and if it helps you get back on your feet, I want you to have it.”
I feel less guilty when I remember how rich he is. This probably is nothing to him. It would take me months to save up this kind of money, but he tosses it around like pocket change. I don’t know whether I find that attractive of infuriating.
Maybe both.
“Thank you for everything,” I say as I climb out of his car. This time, he doesn’t try to stop me.
12
Lily
Tears flood my vision as I walk to my car. I’m overcome by emotion, blinded by it in a way I’ve never been before. Everything hits me at once, a dreadful tidal wave of sorrow, and I break down into ugly sobs as I take a seat behind the wheel of my car.
It’s such a stark contrast to what I just left. The air smells like stale French fries and old car oil, and it’s so humid that my face is already covered in a layer of sweat.
My car starts with a long shudder, and the fuel tank indicates I’m down to my last gallon. I’ll have to fill up on the way home. I could probably make it back, but then I’d just have to go and get gas later.
I sigh, wiping the tears from my eyes as I try to ignore Ivan’s car idling beside me. He’s just going to sit there until I leave.
If he’s smart, he won’t try to follow me. I don’t want to call the police on him, but I’m not beyond reporting him if he starts acting like a stalker. I had one of those before in high school when I worked late nights at a fast-food joint.
It was a creepy old man who came through the drive-through every single night that I worked. He followed me home one night and I turned into the police station on the way there. Never saw him again after that.
Granted, Ivan is a lot more attractive than that guy was, but that doesn’t mean he can get away with inserting himself into my life where he isn’t wanted. I’m starting fresh today, and that means wiping my tears and continuing what I would’ve done had there not been a shooting at Dimitri’s funeral.
My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles feel like they’re about to split as I turn out of the parking lot and drive away. Ivan’s car disappears in my rearview mirror, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding once I’m certain he’s not following me.
“What a day,” I say to myself, shaking my head as I join traffic on the highway.
After being shot at, isolated from the rest of the free world, and screwed in a dozen different positions, it feels weird to be part of the free flow of traffic again. Nobody out here knows what I’ve gone through, and nobody cares.
