Chapter 18
Kaylee
I knew I was in trouble the second he went to leave the room, and I had to fight the urge to beg him to stay.
I didn't consider myself unsafe until the moment I wanted to cling to him just for his company and not because of what happened earlier today.
I didn't doubt him when he said there wasn't a person here who would lay a hand on me, and although he meant it in a mean, victimizing way, that's not exactly where my head went.
I shouldn't crave his hands on my skin, his lips pressed to my throat, but wishing something wasn't true and it actually not being are two very different things.
That's where the trouble I'm in stems from.
I managed to stay in the bedroom, the scent of his cologne swarming all around me, for half an hour before I had to escape. That's how I found myself standing here, looking through the windows of the walkout basement, knowing that I've never stayed at a hotel as nice as this house.
Praying that the heat of the day has mostly burned off with the disappearance of the sun, I step outside and pull in a deep fortifying breath. It's still warm enough outside, but the oppressiveness from the day is gone.
My phone chimes in my pocket, and before I pull it out, I feel guilty. Morgan is the only one who messages me, and I realize I haven't spoken to her in days.
Morgan: Just checking in!
Me: I'm such a crappy friend.
Morgan: I bet you've just been busy.
I huff a humorless laugh because we both know better, but she's just too damn nice to call me on my shitty friend behavior.
Morgan: Anything new in your world?
I take a look around, seeing the sparkling clean pool and the mini golf course to the right of it. Making a hasty decision, I snap a picture of the waterfall feeding the pool and send it to her.
I'm unsurprised by the FaceTime request that comes a second later.
"Where are you?" she asks the second the video connects.
"At a friend's house," I say, because technically Ellis is my husband, and that means he should be a friend too, right?
"A friend?" she asks in a skeptical tone. I grow a little offended by it, but realistically she should be surprised.
I've been a borderline hermit since we met, and she knows me better than anyone else in my life. She knows just how out of character it would be for me to be hanging out with anyone else.
I look up from my phone, letting my eyes roam over the property, wondering if I should tell her everything.
When I decide not to get into my last couple of days, I have to wonder why I wouldn't share such important news with her. I can't seem to come up with a reason not to, but I still don't speak up about the warehouse, the marriage, or the Mafia-like goons that seem to be keeping tabs on me for some reason.
"I apologize for not reaching out to you," I say, trying to change the subject.
"With your new friend?"
I smile at the inference in her tone. I should've guessed that she would assume correctly that it was a guy.
"What's new with you?" I ask.
She chuckles. "Avoiding the topic, huh?"
"Not much to talk about," I assure her.
"So secretive."
"It's new."
"And you don't want to jinx it?"
I shrug as I spot a bench off to the side of the putt-putt green.
I can't tell her that whatever this is with Ellis is destined to end, sooner rather than later. I can't explain to my friend what's going on when I don't fully understand myself. Everything I've done in the last seventy-two hours has been completely out of character for me, and there's no telling how many more life-altering decisions I'll make before I snap back to reality.
"This is weird," Morgan mutters. "But I guess you'll fill me in when you can."
I fight the wave of guilt because, honestly, I've made my decision to keep quiet, and I know it won't change.
"Anything weird going on in your life?" I ask, wondering if the goons from the warehouse have contacted her.
I hate that I've possibly put her in danger, and I can't help but wonder if Ellis bringing us here, where Dima and his men can't find us, somehow breaks some part of the contract that would lead them to her doorstep.
"I went on a blind date," she says with little enthusiasm.
"Yeah? How did that go?" I ask, although I already anticipate the answer.
"The blind date was a dud, but I got the number of a super-hot guy who was waiting for his car at the valet stand."
"While on your date?" I ask with a chuckle.
"Yeah. Why waste an opportunity, you know? I knew I'd never talk to the blind date guy again, so there was no point in wasting a full face of makeup and a wax session."
"If you're mentioning getting waxed, that means you got more than his number, Morgan."
Her laughter tells me all I need to know.
"The sex was so hot, but then he got a little weird."
I sit down on the bench and stare into her face on my phone. "Weird how?"
She shrugs, looking away as if she's too embarrassed to speak. That says a lot because this woman can talk about everything and it doesn't even make her cheeks pink.
"Was he a huge Russian guy?"
It's her turn to give me all of her attention. "Kaylee, please tell me what's going on."
I swallow as I consider all my options, quickly coming to the conclusion that hiding what's happened to me could put her in danger.
"So remember when I told you about that group of Russian women that come into the store?"
"Yes. The ones you said all look like supermodels?"
"That's them," I say and then spill everything. I tell her about going to the warehouse, and after she chastises me for putting myself in such danger for five minutes, I manage to tell her about Ellis, the marriage, and the scary interaction at my house earlier that landed us at this extravagant property.
"Hold on," she says, her hand coming into view of the camera. "Let me get this straight. Some guy you met once marries you and tells you he did it to protect you. Then he takes you to a property that costs a bazillion dollars, and you believe that he isn't involved in some sort of criminal underworld."
"When you put it like that, it sounds really bad," I mutter, my eyes lifting from the phone to scan over the backyard that seems more lavish than pictures I've seen of highly sought-after vacation destinations.
"At any point in this two-day hiatus, did you hit your head? Of course, it sounds bad, because it is. Give me the address and let me come get you."
My head shakes, immediately rejecting her offer.
"Are you kidding me? Kaylee, you could be in real danger."
"I'm fine. I'm safe here."
"Because he said you are? Come on. You're usually more diligent than this. Does he have a monster cock or something? Are you dickmatized?"
"Am I what? No, Morgan. We haven't even, you know... done that."
"Is he ugly?"
"Not even close. That's the damn problem."
"Hotness is not a problem," she quickly argues. "Why haven't you hooked up? What happened on your wedding night?"
I shake my head, feeling ridiculous having this conversation with her.
"We can't. We have to have the wedding annulled, and if we—"
"You can both lie, Kaylee. You can tell them the marriage wasn't consummated. It's not like several hundred years ago where they freaking check for your hymen."
I make a gagging sound, drawing another chuckle from her lips.
"You haven't because you want to," she guesses, and although I shake my head vigorously, I can't keep the smile from my lips.
"So he's hot-hot then?"
"Melt the sun hot," I confirm.
"I say go for it."
"You would," I say, hearing a noise that makes me look over my shoulder.
Seeing nothing, I turn my attention back to my phone.
"I only told you all of this because the goons at the warehouse somehow knew you were my friend, and they not so gently threatened you if I didn't comply with their rules."
"I'll be fine," she says, as if she has mob guys threatening her every other day of her life.
"This is serious," I mutter, but I feel more at ease now that she knows and can be aware to keep an eye out for trouble.
"Speaking of serious," she begins. "You better not bail on my party."
Silence fills the line because how can I even think about a party when there's so much else going on in my life right now.
"Kaylee," Morgan says, her tone full of warning.
"I don't know."
"Kaylee," she repeats.
"I'll have to ask my husband," I mutter.
"That sounds so weird," she says, despite the wide smile on her face.
"Tell me about it."
"Tell me more about him," she urges.
"What is there to say? He's handsome."
"Hotter than the sun, you said."
"He's cocky, and he flirts relentlessly. I think he'd be a better fit for you."
"Send him my way," she teases, and it strikes a chord with me, making my chest tighten with some unnamed emotion.
"I wouldn't wish his annoying self on anyone else. He's—"
"Is that him?"
I freeze when I see a man approaching.
"No," I say. "I'll talk to you soon."
I end the call and spin on the bench to watch the man approach. Although just as handsome as Ellis, he's definitely not my husband.