12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
“She’s just trying to draw you out. Get a rise out of you,” Asher warned in a hard voice. Next to me, Mal’s knuckles were turning white where his fingers clenched around his coffee mug.
“I’m aware,” he gritted. I reached over to push his hand down, forcing him to set the mug on the table in front of him. Any more tension and we’d have shattered ceramic and a tepid macchiato all over our breakfast table. His fingers flexed as he watched the words scroll across the screen.
Dr. Do-Right Did Me Wrong!
Last night, Christine had uploaded the weepy, confessional-style video to social media, tagging all the major gossip sites. Adam was beside himself.
On the screen, teary-eyed and twisting her fingers, a brunette woman spewed an utterly fabricated story on a grainy cell-phone video.
“…loved him so much. But when I told him about the baby, he lost his mind. I…I still can’t believe the things he said.” Christine sobbed into the camera, dabbing at her eyes. “The stress of it all…I lost the baby. And he didn’t even care. Now, I see him in Chicago with these other women. I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to someone else.”
“Dr. Dobrev, known by his social media handle, ‘Dr. Do-Right’ has in fact been spotted with at least two women in Chicago, where he is opening a new clinic,” the anchor on the entertainment news show droned while pictures flicked across the screen: Mal and Sonia walking out of our apartment complex a few weeks ago, images of him and I at the gala, hanging all over each other. “Eyewitness reports say Dr. Dobrev was definitely getting cozy with at least one of them.”
“I mean, I hear a lot of stuff while I’m driving people around, but he was talking about taking her back home and getting her clothes off. I’m not sure what he was saying is appropriate for TV, you know? It was pretty graphic.”
I gasped, jerking forward to get a closer look at the TV. “You’re shitting me! Isn’t that our driver from the gala?”
The man on the screen turned. Once I got a look at his profile and the same black baseball hat as he’d had on that night, I knew it was. Asher tensed as he watched the man detail his interactions with us that night, including how Mal had handed over a wad of cash and asked him to keep what he’d heard quiet. Mal cursed, head dropping into his hands.
“That’s one of the contractors we used for transport on the sixteenth,” Grayson muttered. He was an intimidating guy, but now the flat, no-nonsense voice I’d become accustomed to held an icy edge that made me want to shrink away, slowly. “Track him down.”
“Already on it,” Asher bit out, hammering on his laptop keyboard.
“Call Callihan, too,” Grayson added.
“We’re on a secure chat now,” Asher nodded. “Boss says cut ties with the contracting company and make that asshole wish he’d never learned to speak.”
“Then let’s make it so,” Grayson commanded. Asher was already bringing his phone up to his ear. A perfectly oiled machine.
Sonia gave me a what the fuck look before turning her head to watch Asher pace behind the couch. I wasn’t sure what it meant to make a guy wish he’d never learned to speak, but I didn’t want to ask too many questions.
Grayson had been gone most of the morning, personally running surveillance around the building and doing whatever needed to be done outside the apartment. Asher, it seemed, was going to stay with us. He’d parked himself in the far corner of the room where he could see everyone and spent the last few hours typing a lot and talking to someone named Dex about tapping surveillance feeds.
It seemed like a lot of action, but they both had that same steady, confident presence Asher had shown when he’d picked me up at the hospital. They went out of their way to explain what they were doing, giving us updates and working to make us feel comfortable in the least comfortable situation known to man.
I liked them. Over the last twenty-four hours, I’d felt safe with them. Getting this peek into the more ruthless side of their business was chilling.
“Did you really try to bribe that guy to forget he heard you talk about…” I trailed off, fairly certain that Sonnie wouldn’t want to hear about Mal’s plans to bend me over the couch.
“I promise I was just trying to protect your virtue.” Mal sighed, still staring at the TV. “Though, I’ll admit, it sounds pretty sinister in this context.”
The entertainment reporters had moved on to some other story about an heiress and her recent divorce, but I could see him reliving the footage again and again in his brain. I cupped his neck, turning him to look at me.
“Hey. It’ll be okay.” I’d repeated it so many times it was practically a mantra this morning. “It’s like Asher said. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you so she can get to us. All this will die down soon and we’ll just go back to our lives. Walking Siggy and threatening to throw the espresso machine off the balcony.”
His smile didn’t reach his tired eyes. “For the record, I’ve never threatened to throw the espresso machine off the balcony.”
“Well, don’t be surprised if it’s missing one day. Soon. Once we can open the patio doors again, it’s game over for that thing.” I knew I was being ridiculous, but it was the only thing I could think of to wipe that pained, broody look off his face.
His hand reached for mine. His expression softened into something calmer. Fond. “Rija, I—” His phone vibrated on the table between us, Adam’s face popping up on the screen. Mal sighed. “I have to get this. He could be having an aneurysm or something.”
I watched Mal walk away to answer the call and make another coffee. Despite all the excitement from yesterday and my dragging exhaustion, both of us had woken up before the dawn, when we’d felt the air conditioning kick back on. Asher assured us they’d mounted motion sensors throughout the ducts, so it was safe to open the vents again.
Even with his reassurance, I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep. Sonnie had joined us as soon as she’d heard the coffee machine running, so we’d all had a front-row seat to the first news clip of Christine and her lies dropping on E News.
“This makes me want to throw her off the balcony,” Sonia seethed into her espresso. Her nose wrinkled in a way I recognized. She was getting emotional and trying not to be. “I can’t believe she was my friend once. I mean, she’s so…I couldn’t imagine doing something like….”
“Don’t beat yourself up.” It was Asher, not me, who offered the advice, even though almost the same words had been on the tip of my tongue. He paused on his way back to his post in the corner, flipping his phone around and around in his hands. “Of course you couldn’t imagine someone doing this. She has severe behavioral health issues and you…” His eyes flicked over Sonnie, lingering on her short cotton sleep shorts. “You don’t know what that’s like. Do you?” His mouth twisted in a smirk, teasing.
I had to applaud his attempt at distracting her. Especially when it worked.
“I’ve been told my whole dominatrix thing is more of a hobby than a diagnosis.”
Asher’s smirk vanished, eyes sharpening. “That didn’t come up in our background check.”
“I’m happy to give you a one-on-one interview, if the information is necessary.”
“Critical,” he glowered. My eyes ping-ponged between the two of them. Sonia was as much of a dominatrix as Siggy was, but apparently the truth didn’t matter when she was trying to seduce our personal security.
I would have said their flirting was weird, since it was happening right in the middle of a major crisis, but after he walked away and Sonnie’s gaze followed him, I couldn’t help but notice the tense set of her shoulders had relaxed just a smidge. When she bit into the bagel Asher had conveniently left at the table, right in front of her, I wondered if Asher was really into the flirting, or if he was just really good at knowing how to put my friend at ease. Or both.
“Maleficent alert,” Sonia warned, glaring at my phone. My mother’s name scrolled silently across the top.
I cursed, swiping the device off the table to glare at the screen. I’d called my mom last night to briefly tell her we weren’t going to make it to dinner because of the active threats. As expected, she’d had more questions about the dinner than the stalker. She’d texted and called so many times last night, no doubt hoping she could bully us into reconsidering our attendance, that I’d flipped my phone to silent.
Her name vanished from my screen, the phone helpfully informing me of the Missed call from Rosalia Sanchez . I only saw the words for a second before her name popped up again. I cursed again.
“Here, give it to me. I’ll tell her to fuck off.”
I yanked the phone away before Sonia could grab it, knowing she was dead serious about following through.
“I’m just going to answer. I don’t want to dodge her calls all day.” I tapped on the screen, bringing the phone to my ear, ignoring Sonia’s huffy sigh. “Hi, Mom.”
“Marija! Are you seeing these accusations about that man? It’s all over the news!”
I rolled my eyes. So far, we’d seen more traction on social media than the news. Christine’s story was only playing on entertainment channels and a few of the gossipier morning shows. I caught Sonnie’s gaze, watching as she threateningly took a breath, like she was about to shout a massive fuck you into my phone’s speaker. I popped up from my chair, high-tailing it to my bedroom before she could properly fill her lungs.
“Mama, that woman is the stalker I told you about. Obviously, Malachi didn’t get her pregnant, then leave her.”
“And there are pictures of you in that God-awful red dress, too,” my mother rambled on without acknowledging my comment. “I’ve already gotten three calls about it, Marija. One from Melissa Peterson.”
“Oh, God, not Melissa Peterson!” I wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, excess caffeine coursing through me, or the overall stress of everything going on, but the sarcastic exclamation popped out of me before I could regulate it. My mother’s answering hiss was enough to make me flop backwards onto the bed, covering my eyes with my forearm.
“I don’t know what makes you think this is funny, young lady—”
“It’s not funny,” I cut her off. I’d never spoken to my mother like this before, but in for a penny, in for a pound and all that. It was always easier to handle my mom over the phone, when I didn’t have to deal with her intimidating glares and blanket disapproval.
Right now, laying on the bed I shared with Malachi, knowing my best friend was safe in the next room and there was a stalker out there trying to fuck us all up, I didn’t want to deal with her at all . “Maybe you thought I was joking last night, but I’ll reiterate that there is a stalker out there making threats against my life, and Mal’s. Forgive me if I’m more concerned with that than a thirty-second news clip.”
“And I’ll repeat what I said last night, that these celebrity types always have someone coming after them. Who’s to say she’s not telling the truth?” At her casual accusation, I hissed in my own breath, but she raised her voice when I tried to correct her. “All I know is that my daughter has been traipsing around with that vulgar man, and it’s unacceptable.”
“That man—”
“He and his sister both have been nothing but trouble the second you met them. Before that girl showed up, you were on the right track—”
“I never wanted to be a doctor. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“—and now her brother is dragging you into some scandal. Enough is enough, Marija!”
“You’re right, Mom.” My arm slid off my face and I rubbed at my eyes. I was running low on sleep and energy and fucks to give. I felt like I’d hit some sort of emotional rock bottom, where I had nothing left. Listening to my mother disparage my favorite people in the world, my true family , had sucked me dry.
“Well, thank the Lord you’re seeing some sense now. Your father and I will find you a new apartment. You simply can’t be around those people anymore—”
“No. No, Mom ,” I snapped louder when she didn’t stop talking. One benefit of being my mother’s daughter: I’d learned her tricks. The scathing authority in my voice made even the great Rosalia Sanchez pause. It should have felt good or vindicating, finally, to get her attention. I just felt tired.
“I meant, enough is enough with you.” I swallowed, rushing on before she could stop me. “I already got a new apartment. With Malachi. He’s not going anywhere, Mom. And Sonnie is more family to me than our actual family is. She’s not going anywhere, either.”
“I…wh….you…” I’d never heard my mother literally sputter before. Somewhere in the back of my brain, a small part of me was cheering. Most of me, though, just felt a little sad.
I wished things could have been different. I wished my parents could just see me for me, and not what they wanted me to be. That they didn’t only pay attention to me when it suited their needs or reputation. I wished I got half the support from them that I did from Sonia and Mal.
But wishes weren’t reality. “I fail to see how that girl can be more family to you than I am.”
“ That girl held me when I cried for days when you practically disowned me just because I didn’t go to med school. And that vulgar man is the man I love. He’s my future, and I won’t allow you to drag him through the mud just because of some stupid news story.” I wasn’t sure how my voice could sound so strong when my pulse was going haywire. Even my breathing felt uneven, but this conversation was long overdue. I wouldn’t stop now.
“You have to be—”
“I understand this may be upsetting to you, but I’m done with constantly being burdened by your disappointments. Those are your failures, not mine. I won’t let you pin them on me or the people I love.”
Listening to her shocked inhale, I could envision her red face, veins bulging, probably perched on her favorite chaise in the sitting room.
When I was in therapy last year, Dr. Peterson told me if I ever wanted to set a boundary with my parents, I should be prepared for them to push back. For them to be defensive and pile blame at my feet.
Back then, even thinking about having this conversation had put a black pit in my stomach. Now, though, when my life was literally being threatened and I still couldn’t catch a break, I was ready for it.
The thought of living a life without having to nod and smile and show up at some fundraiser just because my parents told me to was freeing. Never having to go to another brutal family get-together, watching them fawn over my cousins just because they had a more advanced medical degree than I did? Bliss.
I was done with all that. With them. More than done.
“I will not allow my own daughter to speak to me like this.”
“That’s fine. It’s probably best if we let some time pass before we speak again.” I took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in my chest.
I’d practiced many, many times what I’d say to my parents when I finally confronted them. I had versions where I was crying, where they were crying, where we were angry or sad or quietly accepting of each other. Right now, I liked the calm, convicted version.
“When you’re ready to talk again without belittling me and the people I love, I’d be open to discussing ways we can still have a relationship. You, me, and Dad, if he’s willing. But I’m done with this now. I’m not interested in being your daughter, if it means feeling like shit every time we speak to each other.”
“Marija Sanchez!” She was gearing up for the mother of all lectures. I could feel it. I stared up at the ceiling. The fan spun lazily, doing nothing to cool my heated skin.
“Mom, aren’t you tired?” I whispered, willing my voice to stay steady, just for a little longer. Just until this was over and I could process it without her seething on the other end of the phone. “Because I’m so tired. I’ve never been the person you wanted me to be, and it’s taken its toll.”
“Marija…” She sighed, her voice softening by a degree. I blinked away the tears forming at the corners of my eyes. I was going to be strong, dammit. I needed space and she needed to hear this.
“It hurts so much. Every time you say something about my clothes or my job or my friends. I can’t even get a haircut without you commenting on it. Like the whole reputation of this family rests on the state of my split ends. It’s exhausting. And I’m not doing it anymore. Especially when you drag the people I love into this. I’ve taken so much from you and dad for so long, but I draw the line at them.
“Sonia and Malachi are good people. The best people. And there isn’t just someone ‘gunning for him,’ Mom. There is a person who is trying to kill us. Right now. You haven’t once asked me if I’m alright, or offered to come see me or help or do anything .”
“I…well, I’m sure the security people have it well in hand…”
“They do. Because Malachi made sure of it. He’s made sure I was okay. And he managed to do it without insulting every aspect of my life.” Alright, well, that sounded a little bitter. Maybe my calm approach had reached its limit. The anger of years and years of quiet, snide little cuts was bubbling to the surface.
“Mija, we only want what’s best for you,” she started. I interrupted again. Damn, if only past Rija could see me now. I never would have believed it. Then again, there were a lot of things happening right now I was still having trouble wrapping my mind around.
“What’s best is that I’m happy. I’ve never understood why you were so against me just…being happy…” A choked breath hitched in my throat. Hot tears rolled down my temples. The fan spun slowly on.
“Marija…” I didn’t even recognize Mom’s voice now. She had never sounded so quiet or unsure. Not that I could remember. It didn’t matter. I’d said my piece, and she’d either respect it or she wouldn’t.
“Like I said, I think we should take some time before speaking again. Tell Dad, too. If you’re ready to speak to me without tearing me down, we’ll talk.”
“Marija! Wait, just, could you please….text us with updates about the…stalker?” She whispered the last, like she couldn’t bear to say the word out loud. “I suppose I didn’t realize how serious it was.”
My heart wrenched. I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, or if going completely no contact was best right now. I had a lot going on and they’d made my life miserable for so long and…and they were still my family. What if this was the wake-up call they’d needed? We all had needed?
I sighed. No matter how strong or mean or spiteful I wanted to be, I figured there would always be a small part of me that still wanted their approval. Still wanted them .
I was going to have to call Dr. Peterson again soon.
“I’ll let you know when I’m safe. Goodbye, Mom.” I hung up before she could get another word in edgewise. I dropped my phone somewhere to the right of my head, expecting it to erupt in angry vibrations as my mother called back.
It was silent on the white cotton duvet. More tears leaked into my hairline.
“I know it’s only nine a.m., but is it too early to go back to bed?”
My head jerked up at the sound of Mal’s voice. He was standing against the closed door to our room, looking at me with velvet soft eyes. My heart sank.