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Everything tells me to run. Everything tells me I’m in trouble. But still, I’m paralysed. I barely manage to swallow down my panic when he towers over me.
Christopher’s here. He’ll protect you.
It’s that thought that keeps me from ruining everything. The crux of the situation. I want to protect him, and myself too.
Narrowed stare focused on me, he pays no mind to the girl scurrying past us on the floor.
“Are you stupid or brave?” Stroking the cold gun over my cheek, a taunting smile cuts his face. He rattles something else in Russian, and his bodyguard is quick to act.
The music comes to an abrupt stop. The already thick air congeals, and I daren’t look away from him. Not even when my lungs start to hurt and my head starts to spin.
Purposefully fumbling on my feet, I grab hold of his black shirt. He’s drunk—he’ll probably think I am too.
That’s what I’m hoping as I force a laugh past my lips. It’s high-pitched, and in the silence it sounds shrill.
“Come, devushka.” Fuck, his hand tightens around mine, pulling me behind him toward the abandoned grand piano. “Sit.”
I do exactly as I’m ordered. Falling to my arse on the piano bench, I swivel to face the keys. I’m hoping this is all he wants as his hand closes around the nape of my neck.
Squeezing, he says, “Play.”
My mind goes blank of all the songs I’ve memorised over the years. My fingers trip over themselves on the keys.
Fuck.
“Play,” he repeats, pressing the muzzle of the gun between my shoulder blades.
I can remember every single note to the music I’ve heard tonight. They seem to be the only ones I can recall right now, but I know it’d be beyond stupid to play any of those. I don’t know what he suspects or what he knows. Maybe this is a trap. A test to see how much I’ve witnessed.
Holy shit, Arabella, come on!
Shaking my head, I focus on the pale line on my finger. The one belonging to my engagement ring. The absence of it is heavy with that of my wedding ring, and I really wish that I hadn’t been so hasty in my decision to leave them.
But it was the only way I could think to hit Christopher hard enough that he would be staggered for what to do. Nothing else would’ve worked.
My fingers tinker the familiar notes until I’m hammering keys so hard that my wrists and arms begin to protest. My knuckles hurt like they’re about to pop or bend backwards.
When Tomasz sits beside me, it doesn’t faze me. All I can think right now is all the things I want to scream at everyone. Every person that I have ever met and ever known.
All the things I want to say and can’t ball up in my chest, burning through me, and the more I think them, the harder my fingers work the keys. And I hope to God that it’s loud enough for the one person I truly care about to hear.
The only person that matters. The one I’m doing this for.
Christopher might hate me, but I’d rather have him do so than live my life knowing that I destroyed him and all the things he can be.
This is my choice.
It doesn’t matter that I’m another pawn in the hands of the people who brought us to this. All that matters is that in the end, I can look back and say that I at least tried to make things right. That I’ve tried to make up for my failings and sins.
“I think you are brave.” Leaning into me, Tomasz murmurs in my ear, his hot breath soaking into my hair and clinging to my skin all wrong. “Brave, beautiful, and very, very stupid.”
My fingers fumble over the keys as he runs the gun from my knee, up my thigh, to the bottom of my belly.
Oh God.
This feels different to all the other times he’s sat beside me, and not because of the weapon he’s holding. He’s finally making his i
ntentions known as he crosses his arm around my back, settling his free hand snug to my arse. He’s breathing me in like I’m a fine wine he’s about to drink, and just the thought repulses me.
