Chapter Thirty-Five
In which everything sucks but at least there's pie.
Ava…
"Mrs. Morozova? Dr. Singh is here to see you."
Priya is looking over Matvey's shoulder, eyes wide. I'm sure I look like shit. I didn't sleep last night, tossing and turning, back on the bed in the guest room, cycling between fury and heartbreak.
"Thank you," I manage to force out the words before reaching around him, taking Priya by the wrist, and pulling her into the room.
"Careful!" She turns to show me the heavy backpack she's carrying. "I brought over your textbooks and notes from the hospital."
I give Matvey a quick, uncomfortable smile before shutting the door in his face. Priya spins me around, hugging me tight enough to crack a rib.
"And here I was beginning to like that fucking bastard," she whispers in my ear.
"Come sit down," I say, unwrapping myself from her grip with a slight wince. "Have you been lifting weights again? You've got a grip like an anaconda."
The big sectional by the window is deep and comfortable. We both pick a corner and layer pillows up around us like a fort and she looks at me expectantly.
Focus.
There's only so much I can say to her without risking her safety. I don't know what Dmitri would do if I spilled the story of last night.
"Tell me," she commands, her expression is hard and uncompromising. "It's bad, because you really look like shit."
"When he married me in St. Petersburg, he told me, he promised me that this was temporary. That I could walk away. That this was for my safety." I laugh bitterly. "My safety."
"Go on," she says.
"On the flight home I overheard him talking to Roman. Roman asked him why he let me think that this wasn't a lifetime commitment and Dmitri had the fucking gall to say that he knows that I love him even though I won't say it, and that eventually, I'll be fine with it."
My voice is rising, and I dig my fingernails into my thighs, forcing myself to calm down.
"On the way home from the airport something bad happened.
" I'm still staring at my fingers, flexing against my leggings.
"Don't ask me what. It was horrible. But the worst part was what Dmitri said to the bad guy and how happy he was.
His eyes were gleaming. He had a look of joy I've never seen. "
"I'm assuming you had it out when you got home and you're on lockdown," she asks. "Since the only way we're allowed to see each other is by me coming here,"
"I'm not sure what he thinks I could do. This is just so…" I put my hands over my face, hiding my wet eyes.
Priya puts the backpack she brought on her lap, pulling out a small briefcase. Her fingers drum on the leather.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Her voice is barely over a whisper.
Wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand, I say, "I don't see how. Even if I could get away, it's likely the traffickers will find me and kill me."
"Maybe not," she says, putting my hand on the briefcase.
The leather is cool under my fingers. Leaning closer, she whispers in my ear.
"This is called a bye-bye briefcase. Kabir's work in cybersecurity puts him in contact with a lot of shady people.
Far shadier than I knew, in fact." She doesn't look pleased by that revelation.
"This briefcase is an instant do-over kit.
ID, passports, there's a bank account with a small starter fund of money and disguises until you can make the physical changes that match the pictures on the ID.
You can slip out of the city and be on a plane anywhere within hours. "
She puts the case on my lap, opening the lid. There's a neat row of documents, a wig, a bag full of what I'm guessing is makeup and prosthetics, glasses, and contact lenses in two different colors.
"You have got to be kidding me," I whisper. "How did he pull this off?"
She shrugs. "A coworker owed him a favor."
"I can't." I shut the lid and try to push it back to her. "Priya. This is insane. This must've been so expensive."
"We are way past money now," she whispers sharply. "And this isn't just about you anymore."
My stomach contracts as the realization hits me, because she's right.
"I guess it's good that you ignored my advice about telling Dmitri about the baby, after all."
"There would be no way he'd let me go," I agree numbly.
"If you think that there is not a chance in hell that Dmitri is the man you thought he was, then you need to consider running. But from the beginning, he had no reason to protect you, and he did. Look, don't make a decision right now," Priya says. "You're not in the right mind."
My fingers are tapping against the briefcase, tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap, some manic Morse code signaling my desperation and fear. "I can't tell if I'm angrier, more heartbroken, or more afraid of him," I say.
"Well, the order is going to be important," she says. "If it's fear, you need to get the hell out of here right away. If it's heartbreak or just being pissed off, you need to think this through."
"I was so angry," I bury my face in my hands. "He told me I was perfectly comfortable with violence when I was being protected, that I was selfish and a hypocrite. He told me I was a coward. That he despises cowards."
"Pissed off is definitely the winning emotion for me here," she says dryly.
"But is he right?" I ask, staring out the window.
There's a woman in the building across from us on her stair climber, her ponytail is bouncing behind her and she's singing along to something.
Giving the bounciness of that ponytail, probably Taylor Swift.
That's an expensive stair climber. They had one at the last gym I joined for the free introductory month.
I should work on my core strength before this pregnancy goes any further so I have a better… Oh, fuck.
Focus, damnit!
"I'm so sorry," I say. "Our friendship has been unequal for so long, you've done everything to support me. I don't feel like I've given anything back."
"You're apparently forgetting The Great New Year's Eve Blowout," she says, "when you held me down in the kitchen so I didn't stab my mother-in-law for telling me my ass was too big for that dress."
"Oh yeah, that sucked." I agree. "She gets mean when she's had too much to drink, though."
"Which is why we can't keep wine in the house anymore," she sighs.
"And when I was up for a board review and you stayed up all night helping me study?
I'm not that noble, honey. Look, there's no rush.
This is a decision you cannot make today.
" She glances at my stomach. "It's not just about you.
It's not even about just you and the baby. "
We find a hiding place for the little briefcase, tucking it into a box of extra linens on the top shelf of the closet. "When was the last time you ate?" she asks.
"Yesterday, I think." I say. "Come on. Let's go to the pantry and bust out some of that gourmet herbal tea that was made by Himalayan monks. There's a bakery down the street that delivers and we can have pie."
"An entire pie," Priya agrees as we head down the hall.
"I want a big ass Dutch apple pie," I say to Matvey, who's shadowing us.
He raises a polite brow. "Did you mean, at this very minute, Mrs. Morozova?"
"Yes, please, the Pastry Palace down the street delivers."
There's a very slight quirk of his lips, but he remains composed.
So glad I could entertain you, pal.
"Will there be anything else?"
"See if they have any of those chocolate eclairs," Priya chimes in.
"Yeah, I love those," I agree.
"I'll send someone down right now," Matvey nods, stepping out of the living room as we make ourselves comfortable.
A few hours later, we're sprawled on the couch, stomachs swollen from our pastry binge with pieces of piecrust covering us both. There's a subtle change in the penthouse, movement that tells me Dmitri must be on his way. The arrival of the Bratva Lord is always a big deal.
"I'd better go," Priya sighs.
"I'm only agreeing because I'm pretty sure you're going to try to stab him," I whisper, hugging her tight. "And that's my job."
"There's the viperous friend I know and love." She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves, carrying her backpack and the other half of the pie in its pink box, glaring at Rurik as if daring him to take it away from her.
Waving goodbye as the elevator doors close, I head back into the guest room, locking the door.
A few minutes later, there's low voices and I know Dmitri's home.
I hear the rumble of Rurik's voice, no doubt updating him on Priya's visit and our pastry massacre.
Footsteps echo down the hall. They pause outside the room for a moment.
Do I want him to knock on the door? Do I want him to slam it open and take me in his arms and apologize for telling me that I'm nothing to him?
Do I want to apologize for being disgusted and horrified when I knew all along that this was his life?
As I wrestle with my inner demons, the steps continue down the hall to the master bedroom and the door shuts with heartbreaking finality.