Chapter 45
LEONORE
Larissa is sound asleep. She’s on her side with her little fingers curled into the pillow.
But I won’t get any sleep tonight.
Instead, I stare at the ceiling in the dark and let the guilt eat me alive as I bounce one knee, fighting to keep the raging bitch inside me alive.
Nessa has always been like a sister to me. Things have been strained lately, but our bond is strong, and I shouldn’t have turned my back on her because I was frustrated and pissed off.
She lied. She hid things. And she chose Ben knowing exactly the kind of man he is. That wasn’t nothing.
She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a sister since I lost my real one, and I pulled away from her because I didn’t trust the choices she was making, or the way she was shutting me out while pretending everything was fine.
I told myself I was protecting myself from watching her make a mess I didn’t want to be a part of.
But now she’s gone.
None of the shit she did stops being true, but it just doesn’t matter more than finding her alive.
The guilt is suffocating. I never should have let the distance between Nessa and me grow.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Hoping it’s Silas, I grab it. But the number on the screen isn’t Silas’s, and I don’t recognize it.
I open the message, and my blood freezes.
It’s a video, and the thumbnail alone is enough to make my heart stop. It’s a dimly lit room with concrete walls and a single overhead lightbulb casting a ribbon of white light over a figure in a chair.
Nessa.
With a shaking finger, I press play.
The video is grainy but clear enough for me to see my best friend is bound to a chair. There’s a gag in her mouth, and her face is streaked with mascara and tears.
A hand removes the gag from her mouth.
“Say something to the camera,” a voice says off-screen. It’s male and Russian, and I know exactly who it is.
Konstantin Lomonov.
Nessa glares in the direction of the voice.
“Go fuck yourself.” She spits the words like venom.
There’s a pause, and then the sound of a sharp and brutal slap. Nessa’s head snaps to the side. My hand flies to my mouth.
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to find him and blow his head off.
I force myself to keep watching.
Nessa straightens defiantly. She turns back to the camera. Blood drips from her lip, and her eyes blaze with anger.
The voice speaks again. “Tell Antonia she has twenty-four hours.”
Nessa swallows hard, and suddenly, the video ends.
I stare at the screen, and my pulse roars in my ears.
Konstantin has found me. And he’s taken Nessa to force me to come to him.
My phone vibrates with another message.
Come alone, or this ends badly for your friend.
A violent wave of fear crashes over me from the top of my head right down to my toes.
They’re going to kill her.
No, if you tell Silas, they will kill her and him.
But if you give him what he wants, Nessa might have a chance.
This is nothing about trusting Silas, but having known all along that I need to fight this battle on my own. Silas has become part of my family as well, and I can’t endanger those who he cares about most either.
I lean over and press my lips to Larissa’s forehead.
“I’m going to bring your mommy home,” I whisper. “I promise.”
I pull the bedroom door closed behind me and walk quietly down the hallway so none of the security team hears me.
From the landing, I see the kitchen light is on and hear someone moving around in there. As I get closer, I smell the comforting aroma of baking, and when I round the corner into the kitchen, I find an older woman pulling a tray of something golden and fragrant out of the oven.
She looks up and smiles when she sees me.
This has to be Lotti, Silas’s housekeeper.
It’s good she’s here. She can watch Larissa while I…
“You must be Leonore,” she says.
She looks kind and grandmotherly with wise eyes and a steadiness about her that tells me she’s no fool.
“And you must be Lotti.”
“The one and only.” She points at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “Now sit and let me fix you a tea for your nerves. Silas filled me in about your friend missing, and I suspect you’re feeling anxious.”
The ease with which she speaks about the matter unnerves me. Then again, if she’s been serving his family for some time now, I imagine she’s quite used to situations such as these. That makes one of us.
“Oh, I was—”
“Just about to sit down,” she says with a stern smile and gives me a knowing glance.
Part of me wonders if she sees through me, as if she knew exactly what I was about to do.
Run out of here with the gun Silas left me with the determination of pressing it to Konstantin’s head and pulling the trigger.
But before I can do any of that, I need to make sure Larissa is being left in safe hands, so I sit down at the kitchen island.
“Gia is with Alexis in the guest room at the moment. I think when Larissa wakes up, she and Alexis will become good friends.” I know she means it in a soothing manner, but nothing right now will soften the edges of my nerves.
“I’m sorry, I’m a bit of a wreck,” I say when she places a cup of tea in front of me. It smells like flowers and honey, and when I take a sip, I welcome the warmth that bridles with my boiling blood.
“To be expected.” She breaks open a steaming scone and lathers it with big dollops of butter, then slides it toward me. “Eat something. You’ll feel better with food in you.”
I don’t have an appetite, but I also suspect it will be more difficult to slide past this woman, so I break off a piece and put it in my mouth.
It’s delicious but might as well feel like sandpaper going down my throat as I force myself to feign a peaceful existence, just so I can escape her watchful gaze.
“I’ll have breakfast ready for Larissa in the morning. Pancakes, I think. Children always feel better after pancakes.”
“She likes blueberries in hers,” I say quickly, thinking about the Sundays when the three of us would sit around Nessa’s tiny kitchen counter making blueberry pancakes and laughing. My heart twists. “It’s her favorite.”
“Blueberry pancakes it is then,” Lotti says.
The kindness in her voice makes me want to cry, but I refuse to turn into that scared version of myself, so I take another bite of the scone.
“Would you mind sitting with Larissa for a bit?” I say, finishing my scone. “I think I’ll go lie down. Try to get some sleep.”
Lotti looks up from placing the rest of the scones on a drying rack. “Of course I’ll sit with her,” she says, that motherly warmth and kindness touching her gaze. “Try to get some rest.”
“Thank you.”
She nods. But she doesn’t look away, and the weight of her gaze holds me to the barstool.
“You know, I’ve worked for Silas for a long while, and in that time I’ve seen a lot. You get used to reading people. Can tell when they say one thing but might mean another.”
My chest tightens, and my eyes dart to hers. She knows.
“I’m not going to ask you what you’re planning,” she continues.
“That’s between you and whatever is taking place inside that head of yours right now.
But I will say this. You can trust Silas to fix this.
There is not a rock or a mountain that man can’t move.
And whatever it is you have in your mind to do, you need to put that aside and let Silas do what he’s going to do. ”
“She’s my best friend,” I whisper.
“That’s why you need to trust Silas.”
Easier said than done. I’ve spent six years trusting only myself, and although I do trust him, I don’t want him to be hurt because of me.
The video of Nessa tied to that chair is burning a hole in my sensibility. I know giving Konstantin what he wants is a death sentence, but how can I not try when Nessa’s life is at stake?
My head and my heart are at war.
My head tells me to stay.
But my heart tells me I need to take care of this myself.
“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I assure Lotti quietly.
She knows it’s a lie. But she doesn’t let on.
“But if I’m still sleeping when she wakes up.” My voice breaks a fraction. “Tell Larissa Auntie Leo loves her,” I whisper.
Lotti’s wise gaze is a silent warning. “You tell her yourself when she wakes up.”
After all of this is said and done, we both seem to be saying.
I slide off the barstool. “Thanks for the scone and tea. It was exactly what I needed.”
I pull on a jacket from the hook by the door. It’s one of Silas’s, and it smells like him, and the scent makes me wish things didn’t have to turn out this way.
I’m sorry.
As quiet as a mouse, I ease open the door, ready to sneak away.
But waiting on the other side of the door is a six-foot wall of muscle in an Armani suit and a pissed-off expression.
Silas.
Now it dawns on me why Lotti seemed to let me move around with ease, because she knew Silas was close to being home.
“Going somewhere?” His voice has a dark edge.