11. Emil
EMIL
“Your wife cancelled at the last second,” says the receptionist when I go to check in for the ultrasound.
Frustrating, but hardly surprising.
“Did she give a reason as to why?”
“No, I’m sorry Mr. Volkov. But she looked like she had somewhere she needed to be.”
“Okay, thank you.”
The receptionist continues grinning as I bid my goodbye, flying out of the hospital and back out onto the street.
I was hoping to catch Fia at the ultrasound this afternoon, but my little spitfire is always finding ways to run away, even when it comes at a cost to our babies.
I click on my phone, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the pouring rain.
Calling her is pointless. I usually have more luck checking our shared bank account, but the only transaction she made was slightly over an hour ago at a café, which she’s no longer in.
I already did a sweep of the area.
The rain falls heavy, cars splashing up puddles. I’m tucking my phone into my pocket when it starts ringing.
“Luka,” I begin, standing under shelter, away from the flow of pedestrians. “Did you find the Judas? Please tell me who I need to murder.”
A few pedestrians look up in passing, overhearing the conversation. It’s a figure of speech in their world.
“I’m still working on the Judas, but I found Fia wandering around the dockyard.”
“What the fuck is she doing there?” My chest tenses, silence filling my body.
“Trying to jog her memory, apparently…” Luka pauses for a moment. “It appears your wife has found her way back to the start line.”
“How does she know about Harbor Island? I never told her.”
“Perhaps more memories are starting to return.”
“Impossible.”
“Maybe not,” says Luka.
“That’s where she was almost killed by the Kuzmins,” I grow, kicking my foot up onto the wall.
“Exactly, so this could be a positive.”
“Or a negative,” I add, “depending on what she has remembered. Fia has visited the docks a few times. Where is she now?”
“Safe, there’s no need to fret. She’s in the operations room with a blanket wrapped around her, sipping a mug of cocoa.”
“She’s not sick, bratan.”
“Perhaps not, but she is cold,” says Luka. “I’ll bring her back to yours. Meet us there.”
The line dies before I can say any more.
I huff, shoving the device into my pocket.
Fia wandering around the city is one thing.
Walking through a danger zone is another, where the Kuzmins could be lurking.
Not to mention, Fia walking through restricted access zones, investigating my business, is how she came to be on my radar in the first place.
I slide into the car, slamming the door, speeding through the city.
Thank fuck she was found by Luka. I could have lost her today, and the blame would be on me for not locking all the windows.
The ones upstairs should have been safe.
Fia jumping out one of them earlier means I need to tighten my forces and enforce some punishment.
I park up in the driveway, Luka arriving minutes later, guiding a very aggravated Fia out of the car.
“I’ll take it from here,” I say, flashing him a look as he puts his arm around her.
He’ll have no left arm by the end of today if he keeps placing it like that around my wife like that.
“Of course. I’m just glad she’s safe,” he says. “Walking around restricted access zones where there are live stackers is a recipe for disaster.”
“I know how to protect myself,” mutters Fia.
“That is unfortunately not true.”
“Cut her some slack, man,” mutters Luka so only I can hear. “Your wife has been through hell and back.”
“Yes, and she might not return from hell next time if she keeps running away from me.” I flash Fia a glare, guiding her inside while bidding Luka goodbye.
Fia shoves me off, walking down the corridor, straight upstairs. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To sleep. I’m exhausted.”
“Of course you are, carrying twins while trying to snoop around my dockyard.”
“Yours?” Fia spins around, searching my eyes. “You own Harbor Island.”
I inwardly kick myself for revealing too much. “Yes, sweetheart.”
“Suddenly everything makes so much sense as to why you have all the money in the world.”
Indeed, I do have all the money in the world, and somehow, I’m still the unhappiest I’ve ever been.
Money is meant to solve all your problems, which is why I continued the legacy after my father passed, hoping everything else would naturally fall into place.
You can buy silence, get away with murder and wrangle your way out of court cases by affording the most expensive lawyers in town, but you can’t make the woman you love, love you back.
I only got one shot at that, and Fia blew it by carelessly crossing the road, ending up in a coma.
“You missed your ultrasound and almost got yourself killed.”
“Yeah, well, I was lucky to survive another hit after being knocked unconscious again.”
I stop in my tracks. “What did you say?”
“I saw a dark figure running my way. I was dead to the world before I could see a face.”
“You have no idea who it was?”
“No, but Luka was there when I woke up, watching me.”
I swipe a finger over my lip. “He never mentioned that part.”
“Can you blame him?” scoffs Fia from the staircase, leaning into the banister. “He’s walking on eggshells around you at the moment. Take a look at your reflection in the mirror and you might see steam coming out of your ears.” Fia frowns. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I just need you to stay under my roof, away from trouble.”
“I could be staring trouble in the eye,” she says, tipping her chin, challenging me. “I don’t trust you.”
“Perhaps not,” I say, walking toward the staircase.
“But your body does. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?
” I flash her a grin. “It’s easy to point the blame at me, but you lack trust in your own biology.
Every time we’re close, you lose trust in yourself, which is why you’re risking everything to stay away.
You’re afraid of what will happen if we spend too much time together. ”
“You’re wrong,” she grits.
“I know you more than you know yourself, spitfire. It’s always been that way. Even before the amnesia, I could predict your steps long before you took them. You try so hard to be a closed book, but that just makes it easier for me to read the pages.”
Fia keeps staring at me, leaning into the banister to keep herself stable.
“You’ll regret defying me, sweetheart. The next time you beg for a fuck, I’ll walk away and see how you like it.”
“I don’t beg,” snaps Fia, anger quaking her jaw.
“Oh, but you do, sweetheart.” I flash her a smile.
“It might take a while for your mouth to warm up, but your pussy is already begging.” I swipe a finger through her inner thighs, finding her through her jeans.
“I know you’re nice and wet for me down there.
” I keep looking at her. “Before you run along and make yourself come in the bedroom, let me warn you—if I catch you rubbing your pussy again, I’ll force you to use your mouth and beg for me. ”
Fia’s cheeks turn red, her lips parting to release a small gasp. For once, she’s speechless.
But then she sighs, turning her back to me and hastily climbing the stairs. She can be pissed until the sky falls down, but it still won’t change how she feels about me.
Feeling better than when I first walked in, I head to my study and continue investigating the person inside of my Bratva who is leaking private information.
Could that be the same person who knocked Fia unconscious earlier?
I curl my hand into a fist, the knuckles crackling.
I log into the portal, flicking between different live feeds of the docks.
Unloading seems to be in working order. I switch between cameras, viewing footage of the operations room, the trucks, ensuring they’re parked in the right places; the rail lines; the two huge cargo ships sailing into the bay are both scheduled to dock in the next few minutes.
Everything seems ordinary…
Until I rewind the footage, covering the hour where Fia was there. After aggressively clicking through different feeds, I finally find her, tugging her suede jacket close, frowning, like my dockyard is one big puzzle to her.
Before she can solve the puzzle, the black figure appears in the corner of the frame, looking left and right before charging. By the time Fia realizes, it’s too late. One hit to her temple sends her crashing to the ground, her back hitting solid concrete.
Anger courses through my veins as I watch the man drag her away, out of frame.
I slam the keyboard, the footage turning static. Bylat.
I should have placed more cameras in the dockyard. Left no stone unturned. I’d have more answers if I went heavier on CCTV, but I never saw the point in having cameras spread everywhere. I put them in important locations only, where enemies are most likely to strike.
Leaning forward, I click through the different feeds, searching for movement. All sixteen cameras give me nothing, apart from the operations room where Luka is handing Fia the hot cocoa.
I sit back in the chair, the leathers squeaking. Every inch of that man’s skin was covered, his face hidden behind a mask, his fingers concealed by black gloves.
This isn’t the work of the Kuzmin’s, since they love to show their face. The only person coward enough to cover up and take a hit at my wife is one of my own.