Chapter 30 #2
I leave him in the driver’s seat and walk inside, resisting an almost painful urge to turn around, then run back to the car and throw myself into his arms.
For the next several hours, despite being on the premises, Luke doesn’t contact me at all. I should be grateful for his distance.
Instead I hate every fucking minute of silence and find it almost impossible to concentrate.
The sooner this whole thing is done with, the better.
I’d go home, but the final stage show of the night is about to start, and we have a full enough house that I’m reluctant to leave until it’s done. I’m still trying to convince myself I’m right to back things off with Luke when my phone lights up with his name.
Oh, thank God.
I snatch the phone up off the table and answer it immediately. “Luke, I’m so sorry—”
“Look at the security cameras.” He cuts me off before I can begin to explain myself, and something in his voice makes me turn immediately to see what he’s talking about.
It only takes one glance at the screen to understand his tension.
Lars Andersson’s unmistakable tall, gangly figure is walking through the balcony seats of the Quartier, toward one of the premium private booths.
Clinging to his hand, still dressed in midnight silk from her performance but having clearly consumed something more intoxicating than rich desserts, a slightly disheveled Ofelia stares around the club with wide, fascinated eyes.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter into the phone.
“No shit.” Luke sounds ready to kill something.
“The new guy didn’t check with Anatoly or me when he let them in, which isn’t that surprising, since Lars not only has a membership, but also has his face splattered over the internet every other day.
And Nadja didn’t recognize Ofelia when he signed her in as his guest.”
“Clearly we have to get her out of there.”
“Fucking clearly,” Luke snarls. “But how the fuck do we do that, exactly? Does she even know this place belongs to you?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, shaking my head in frustration. “I’m pretty certain that if she did, she wouldn’t have come here, so I imagine the answer is no. But Lars certainly does. I’ve no idea what the hell he was thinking.”
“Lars doesn’t bloody think, that’s the problem.
” Luke sounds as frustrated as I feel. “I’ve met the guy a dozen times.
Friendly as they come, but eccentric as hell, too.
I doubt he understands how much danger he’s just put himself in by bringing Ofelia into a place like this. Roman’s going to fucking murder him.”
“Then we need to get them out of here before they’re noticed.” My mind is racing. “The royal box is empty tonight. Have Shelby take them there so at least they won’t be spotted by anyone. Then I’ll go and talk to them.”
Something moves on the screen, and I frown, enlarging it at the same time that Luke says, “Fuck,” flatly in my ear. “Too late.”
I stare at Alexei Petrovsky’s furious face with adrenaline surging through me. Luke is still talking to someone in the background. “Who the hell let him in?”
I cut through the background conversation, still watching the screen. The top button of Alexei’s tux is unbuttoned, his bow tie hanging about his neck. He’s clearly spent most of the past few hours deep in a bottle.
“Unfortunately,” Luke says in my ear, “Alexei also has a membership. And he’s got half a dozen men who clearly mean business right outside the door. I can end it, but it won’t be pretty.”
“Ending it will start a fucking war,” I say grimly.
“We need to take this incredibly carefully. I’m coming down to the floor now.
” I keep the phone to my ear as I leave my office and step out into the corridor, then move rapidly downstairs to the top tier balcony row, where Luke, Anatoly, and several members of the security team are waiting.
“We’re not going in there with guns blazing,” I order them. “And I don’t want any visible security in there to scare the guests. Luke and I can handle this ourselves.”
“I don’t like dis.” Anatoly shakes his head, his face darker than night. “Dis can go bad. Very bad.”
“We won’t let it,” I say tightly. “Luke?”
He nods, his face hard and set, and we open the door and start moving toward the small gathering in the booth. As we near them, Alexei’s voice, a low, furious snarl, cuts through the murmur of the other guests. “What the fuck were you thinking, Lars, bringing her here?”
“I asked him to bring me here.” Ofelia’s voice, high and tense as strung wire, sounds defiant.
“I read about this place online, and Lars said he had a membership. It serves you right, anyway, for making Lars and Mickey take me to a dessert bar to celebrate. I’m twenty, for God’s sake, not twelve.
You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t do. ”
“Where the hell are Luis and Mickey?” Ignoring Ofelia’s outburst completely, Alexei doesn’t so much as look at her when he speaks, glaring at Lars instead.
“Don’t blame them.” Lars is sprawled across the booth, one arm loosely stretched along the back behind Ofelia.
Despite his careless attitude and wide grin, there’s a sharp glimmer in his eyes that tells me he not only knew precisely what he was doing by bringing Ofelia here, but anticipated this exact scene.
“Luis dropped us all back at the hotel after the dessert bar, then knocked off for the night. We had a drink, then jet lag got the better of Mickey. Ofelia and I felt like having a bit of fun, and I have more than enough security of my own, so . . .” The shrug he gives Alexei has an insolent edge to it, and again, I get the impression Lars knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Here we are,” he finishes. Picking up the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket beside him, he waves it in Alexei’s face. “Drink?”
Oh, that is more than enough, I think, seeing the dangerous set to Alexei’s shoulders.
Luke glances at me and nods in understanding.
“Lex,” he says calmly, touching the other man on the shoulder.
Alexei spins around, and the savagery on his face makes even me take a step back.
“Why don’t we take this party up to the private box and out of public view?
” Luke keeps his voice low, but somehow it breaks through Alexei’s rage, because he looks around the theater, and his eyes narrow as he realizes that people are beginning to notice them.
“Ofelia,” I say as Luke tilts his head toward the royal box and the party of men begin to make their way toward it. “Why don’t you come with me?”
She stares between Luke and me, the color draining from her face. “Did you two follow me?”
Despite the tension of the situation, my mouth twists into a smile. “It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. The Quartier belongs to me.”
“It belongs—?” Ofelia looks between Luke and me with growing dismay. “I didn’t know—I mean, I just wanted to have some fun—”
“Fun?” Alexei snarls, wrenching his arm out of Luke’s grasp.
“You have no idea of the kind of fun people have in places like this, nor should you. Ever. And you.” He gives Lars a look that would send most men running for the nearest exit.
“It would serve you right if I fucking told Roman and Mickey what you did tonight,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.
“But you won’t, brother, will you?” The silken smile Lars gives Alexei is almost as dangerous, albeit in a different way, as the other man’s death stare. “And we both know exactly why.”
For a moment, watched by almost every set of eyes in the place, the two men stare each other down, while Luke and I exchange a look which tells me he understands that this situation is about to be brought to a halt, no matter the cost in blood.
Then, as if a dozen security guards hadn’t just been waiting with bated breath and trigger fingers poised to pull, Lars suddenly throws his arm around Alexei’s shoulders and beams at Luke and me.
“I’m guessing you two can manage things from here,” he says cheerfully.
“We’ll get out of your way.” Pulling Alexei down the stairs, he tugs his old friend close.
“Come on, brother. I’ve got a penthouse suite and enough booze and hookers lined up to keep us messy for days.
Let’s leave these good people to get the kid home and go have some fun, huh? ”
For a tense moment, Alexei stares at Ofelia, and I think he’s about to tell Lars to go to hell.
Ofelia stiffens beside me, and I can sense her tremulous mix of humiliation and desperate hope.
Then Alexei’s lone eye darkens, and he nods curtly at his friend. “Get me the fuck out of here,” he says quietly. He meets Luke’s eyes. “Take care of her.”
A moment later, the two of them are gone.
“Stop saying sorry.” I hand Ofelia another tissue and top up her glass of wine.
Given the evening’s events, I figure that Ofelia getting a little messily drunk is the least dangerous option facing us both right now.
“Nobody need know. Luke has left a message on Mickey’s phone saying we called after you got home and invited you out for a drink, and that you’re staying with me for the night.
He’s also let Lars and Alexei know that is the story we’re going with, and I sincerely doubt either of them are about to contradict it.
I’ve texted Darya with the same information. You’re in the clear, at least for now.”
Wrapped in one of my robes, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and curled into the sofa in my Lowndes Square apartment, Ofelia looks both terribly young and utterly heartbroken.
“What about Papa?” she whispers, her eyes on mine. “Will you and Luke tell him the truth?”
Gah.
This is where it gets tricky.
“I guess that depends on you, Ofelia,” I say gently. “How about you tell me what that was all about tonight?”
“I don’t even know.” She takes a deep, juddering breath and wipes a hand over her face, turning the wineglass in her hands and staring blankly into its contents. “I don’t know why I thought tonight would be any different.”