20. Fia #2
“So, let me out of your house so I can crack it again. Staring at the same four walls everyday won’t get me closer to answers.”
“I’m not losing you again, Fia.”
“Then come with me. We could do this together, you know, as husband and wife. Teamwork and all.” I fold my arms over my chest, waiting for him to agree. “That shipping manifest I found tied to Vancouver with Luka’s name on it?—”
“Could be of use to us,” Emil finishes.
“What if Luka is the person leaking information to Alexander?”
“It’s important to leave no stone unturned,” says Emil, “but Luka lacks gumption. He’s a lifelong friend of mine.
Unless I light a fire up his ass and tell him to do something, he moves like a tortoise.
” Emil peers over his shoulder, searching for his friend through the crowd.
He’s easy to point out, since he’s the only drunk one here, roaring with laughter by the bar.
“He doesn’t know his ass from his head, even sober. ”
“Perhaps not,” I say, observing him, “but his priorities are in order when it comes to human decency.” I look at Emil pointedly. “Luka strikes me as someone who would excel in the classroom, teaching kids good morals, not working in the Bratva.”
“Which is what I like about him,” says Emil.
“He keeps us grounded.” Emil turns outward, watching the crowds with me.
“We thought Ivan was guilty, and while he showed his true colors to an extent, we got the wrong end of the stick. This person is watching, hiding under the water like a shark, waiting for the perfect moment to bite.” Emil glances at me sidelong, those lines returning to his brow.
“If this city finds out who I really am, our family gets torn apart.”
Which is what I initially wanted, right?
My throat dries up, my head spinning as I evaluate what I want most in this world.
“I need another drink,” I say, sliding a hand through my hair.
“Stay here, I’ll fetch us another, and then we need to mingle.”
That word makes me want to barf. Socializing has never been my strong point. Isolating myself from society, solving complicated cases on the other hand…
“Psst!”
I turn around, locating the noise, searching my surroundings. Chloe appears out of thin air, stalking toward me wearing six-inch heels.
I bat my lashes, seeing her in a totally different light. She blends in well, like she would be besties with the other girls here.
“Chloe?” I frown, walking toward her.
She wears a red gown, the skirts floating around her like red mist. Her lips are puckered the same color as the dress, her hair cascading down her shoulders in soft curls, different from how she usually styles it.
“What happened to the flannel shirts and high ponytails?” I say, grabbing her wrist, dragging her to the stone walls, away from the function. “I barely recognized you.”
“I had to act the part.”
“Why?” I say, batting my lashes repeatedly, still confused as to why she’s here.
“I heard about the charity gala tonight, and that you would be attending with Emil.”
“No offence, Chloe, but this place is invite-only. How the hell did you get in?”
“I have my ways,” she says, winking. “Bodyguards are still men at the end of the day.”
I screw up my face, moving on. “Whatever. Tell me why you’re here.”
“I thought I’d shoot my shot while you’re in the city and help you get out of here,” says Chloe, tugging on my arm, leading me back toward the lobby.
I press my heels into the ground, yanking back my arm.
Fear gapes in Chloe’s eyes. “I’m saving you from?—”
“Emil, I get it,” I hiss. “But like I told you on the phone, things are complicated. Emil isn’t the monster I thought he was.”
“I’m saving you from yourself, dumbass. You said it yourself on the phone—marrying him could have been strategy, a way for you to get closer to answers.”
I bite my lip anxiously, knowing this could very well be the case.
“I know you, Fia, better than you know yourself. Freedom and making your own money were the two goals you wrote down in your graduation book after college. I’m saving you from your own demons,” says Chloe, an underlying desperation to her voice.
She yanks on my arm again, causing me to stumble forward into her.
“Careful, ladies,” says Emil, joining us. He flashes Chloe a look, startled by her sudden appearance. “How might you have made it onto the guest list, Chloe?”
Chloe folds her arms over her chest, returning my husband’s glare. This is the first time they’re meeting and neither of them look impressed, sharing tense eye contact as I stand between them, waiting for them to drop their grudges already.
In the end, I’m forced to clear my throat. “Brilliant weather we’re having.”
“Hmph,” says Chloe, flashing me one final glare before turning on her heel. “And it’s about to get worse.”
Emil and I share a look before we’re interrupted by a group of college entrepreneurs who congratulate me on my pregnancy and Emil on his success with the docks.
I break from the hall, finding somewhere quiet where I can be alone with my thoughts. My throat, quite like these walls, is starting to close in, breathing becoming increasingly difficult.