Chapter 27 #2
“I don’t have time for this, Jorge. Daniil is my husband now, and my husband is waiting for me upstairs,” I lie, turning towards the stairs.
I don’t get very far before he tugs me back against him. I try to jerk myself free, but his grip is like a vice. Holding me against his chest, he whispers softly in my ear, “Husband. Such a deceiving word. Your place is back in Colombia with your family. With me.”
Blood roars in my ears as venom clouds my vision. If he thinks for one second I’ll ever be with him again, he’s delusional. “Let me go, right now,” I demand, and he does, but not before spinning me around to face him.
“You’re mad, carina. I understand,” he says in a conciliatory tone. “I regret my actions, not only the night of the poker game, but before that. I didn’t fully appreciate what I had.”
My arms wrap around my body, hugging myself in a protective gesture. “Why are you telling me this now, Jorge? It’s too late for us.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve quit drinking, I’m a better man.
Come back to Colombia with me. Come home to your uncle, your birthright.
Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.” When he looks down at me, his expression is somber, earnest even.
And that’s the scariest thing of all, because this is not the real Jorge, not The Madman I know who’s lurking beneath the surface.
His scarred hands flex, reaching out for me to take his palm. Slowly, I shake my head. “I can’t” is all I say, taking a step back and glancing up the stairs. “I have to go.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it. Call anytime, and I’ll come for you, bring you back to your uncle’s compound in Colombia. You’ll be safe there. I’ll make sure of it.”
My stomach is in knots, but my desperate need to escape his presence has me nodding. “I’ll think about it,” I mutter, and then turn for the stairs.
“I still love you” is the last thing he says.
Fuck me, what was that about?
His retreating footsteps echo off the cement walls as he takes his exit. I take a moment to catch my breath and pull myself together, but I can’t let anyone catch me like this. How would I explain what I’m doing in the back stairwell alone with no guard?
There is no plausible explanation. No one can ever know about this. Even Daniil.
Especially Daniil.
No matter what Jorge’s true intention is, it doesn’t matter. If I’m successful tonight, Jorge will be in federal custody before he can do more damage. And that’s why I must pull myself together and see my plan through.
I take a deep breath and continue up the stairs. When I get to the third floor, I move through the hallways on autopilot, a left and then a right, until I get to Daniil’s office. Yuri is standing sentry outside the door. He takes one look at me, and his features fall.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Kozlov?” he asks, his gaze full of concern.
“I had a dizzy spell,” I croak. “I just feel a little sick and I need to lie down. Is my husband here?”
“He’s not, but I’ll call him. You go in and lie down.” He opens the door for me, and I enter the room. Without thought, I head towards the leather couch I fell asleep on my first time here.
Yuri is distracted; this is my chance. I reach into my purse, removing the bug covered in a tissue.
Yuri looks up from his phone, frowning. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Just grabbing a tissue.” I dab at my nose and lie back down, rolling the hard nub between my fingers.
My brain screams at me to open my hand and slip the device between the couch cushions, but my hand has other ideas.
As if it’s incapable of letting go. I’m gripping the bug so tightly I think I may break it.
Every fiber of my being tells me to shove it between the cushions and be done with it. Be done with all this shit.
For Mama, Daddy, and Celeste.
That’s all that matters.
Even if it destroys me to betray the one person in the world who cares for me.
So I do it. I release the bug between the couch cushion, snaking it down with my fingers and then I curl into a ball and cry my eyes out.
There’s nothing I can do to stop the tears.
They fall freely, of their own accord; rage mixing with sadness mixing with regret and all the feelings that have been brewing inside me for years.
Being betrayed by a family member is awful but betraying someone you don’t want to hurt … well, it turns out, that’s torture.
What feels like an eternity—but in reality is only seconds later—the door bursts open, and Daniil races towards me. His face is a mask of worry as he kneels over me, grabbing my chin in his hand. “What’s wrong?” His hands track over my body, touching everywhere, looking for signs of injury.
“It’s not like that,” I sob. “I just don’t feel well. I feel light-headed.”
“What can I do, baby?” He picks me up in his arms, cradling me like a child. “I’ll do anything for you. You know that, Bianca,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.
His words destroy me. They kick-start a fresh round of tears. It would have been preferable if he ripped out my heart from my chest and stomped on it until it was flat.
“I just want to go home,” I say, my face pressed tight into his neck.
“I’ll take you home.” His voice is an anguished whisper. He kisses my head and gently carries me down the stairs and into a waiting car where I pretend to be asleep because I can’t bear his tenderness for one more minute.