Chapter 15 Bella #3
I glance at the dress again. “And that is for…what, exactly?”
She turns back to me, studying my face. “Irina wants you downstairs. Cleaned up. Presentable.”
“Like what?” I say. “A guest or a prop?”
Selene’s mouth twitches. “Honestly? Bit of both.”
Lily tucks her face into my neck, little hands stroking my collar. I rub her back automatically, trying to process all of this.
“I don’t want to go,” I say, quieter now.
Selene sighs, pushes off the window. “I know. But you should.” She pulls the curtains a little tighter, like she’s trying to keep the night and all its people at arm’s length. “Okay,” she says, clapping her hands once. “Off with the hostage clothes.”
I look down at myself, at my stretched-out T-shirt, leggings that have seen better days, a smear of something that’s probably baby food on the hem.
“Hey,” I mutter. “These have sentimental value.”
“Yeah,” she says. “They say ‘please underestimate me’ in four languages.”
I almost smile.
I set Lily down on the bed. She immediately flops on her belly and starts smacking the duvet with her palms, humming to herself. She’s bounced back faster than I have.
“Stay where I can see you, okay?” I tell her.
“Okay, Mama,” she parrots.
I change in the bathroom with the door half-open so I can still see my daughter.
The dress slips on easier than I expect.
It’s soft, a deep green that brings out the color in my eyes, with a neckline that’s flattering without making me feel exposed.
When I come out, Selene is sitting cross-legged on the floor, letting Lily wrap a sock around her wrist like a bracelet.
“Ta-da,” Selene says when she sees me. “See? Not a prop. A problem. There’s a difference.”
I smooth my hands down the fabric, feeling strange. “It’s…nice.”
Selene stands and steps close, reaching for my hair. “You mind?”
I shake my head.
She gathers my hair up, twists it, lets it fall again. “Let’s not overdo it. They already know you’re here. No point making you look like you tried.”
In the mirror, I watch her work quickly—fingers deft, pulling a few strands loose around my face. She gives me a light touch of makeup from a small pouch she’s smuggled in—a little concealer under my eyes, a bit of color on my lips, nothing that makes me feel like a stranger.
When she’s done, she steps back and studies me. “Good. You look like yourself, just…harder to ignore.”
I pick Lily up again. She pats my shoulder, then plays with the fabric of the dress like it’s a new toy.
“I’m still locked in a house with people who broke my door down,” I say.
“Yeah,” Selene sighs. “Unfortunately even the best dress can’t fix that.”
A knock on the door makes both of us stiffen.
“It’s time,” a male voice says from the hall.
Selene rolls her eyes. “They’re very big on timing,” she mutters. Then, to me, more quietly, “Stay near me when we go down. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, squeeze my hand. I know who’s safe to snarl at.”
“That a real category?” I ask.
“In this place?” She shrugs. “Safe-ish.”
We step out together. The same suited man from earlier is waiting. His gaze flicks over me, then to Lily, then to Selene. He doesn’t comment. He just turns and leads.
The walk feels longer this time. The house is awake now, voices drifting from below, the faint clink of glass, distant music. As we reach the top of a wide staircase, I see the glow from the main hall spread out beneath us—chandeliers, polished floors, people in dark suits and glittering dresses.
It looks like every glossy magazine photo of old money I’ve ever seen.
Selene leans in. “Keep your head up,” she murmurs. “They smell fear.”
“I don’t have to pretend I’m not afraid,” I whisper back. “I just have to walk down these stairs without falling.”
“That too,” she says.
Conversations don’t exactly stop when we appear, but they stutter. A few heads turn. Curious eyes track us—me with a child on my hip, Selene at my side, the unknowns in a room where everyone knows everyone.
At the bottom of the stairs, Irina is waiting.
Of course she is.
She’s in black, simple and severe, a thin necklace at her throat. She looks like a judge about to call court to order. Her gaze sweeps over me, then Lily, then back up to my face.
“Good,” she says. “You clean up well.”
I bite back the first response that comes to mind.
“Why am I here?” I ask instead.
Irina looks me over. “Because people need to see you.”
“See me for what?”
“A reminder,” she says. “That choices have consequences.”
“A reminder for who?”
“For everyone watching,” she replies. “Some of them forget fast. I’m correcting that.”
I hold Lily tighter. “You’re using us.”
“I’m keeping you alive,” she says. “And making a point. Both can be true.”
“I don’t belong here.”
She nods once. “Maybe. But you’re here. That’s what matters.”
Selene touches my arm. “Stay with me,” she says quietly.
Irina steps aside. “Go in,” she orders. “Keep your head up.”
I walk forward with Lily, past the doors and into the room. Conversations dip. People look. No one smiles.
Selene sticks close as we cross into the main room, her eyes always moving, never quite settling on any one face for long. She keeps her voice low.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Not really,” I say. “What’s Irina’s problem with all this? Why is she holding us here?”
Selene hesitates, glancing around like someone might be listening. “It’s…complicated. She has a lot of history with certain people. That’s all I can say.”
I catch her meaning. “You mean with Aleksander?”
Selene gives the smallest nod, cautious. “Yeah. She’s got a grudge, that’s for sure. She doesn’t talk about it with anyone she doesn’t have to.”
I glance at Irina on the far side of the room, talking to a group of men in dark suits. She doesn’t look back.
I shake my head, almost laughing. “She thinks he’s going to come storming in here for me? She’s crazy. I’m not that important to him. I doubt he even knows where I am, or cares.”
Selene shrugs, careful with her words. “You’d be surprised what people will do when they feel like something’s been taken from them. Especially here.”
I roll my eyes. “If she’s waiting for a rescue, she’ll be waiting a long time.”
Selene steers me toward the edge of the room, away from the center, her hand light but firm at my elbow. I notice the people watching us as we move.
They don’t look like what I expected. No obvious bodyguards, no leather jackets or crude intimidation. These people are polished. Expensive watches. Tailored suits.
But I know now. Looks can be deceiving.
My stomach knots tighter with every step.
Who the hell has Aleksander pissed off enough to field this kind of opposition?
Irina leads the party into the main sitting room—a cavernous space with soaring windows, velvet drapes, and a marble fireplace big enough to stand in. A dozen of the staff are already assembled, standing in loose formation like they’ve been drilled for this moment. They turn toward her as one.
Irina stops in the center of the room, her back straight, voice carrying without effort.
“Listen carefully,” she says in crisp, accented English. “When Aleksander Antonov walks through those doors—and he will walk through those doors—anyone who puts him in the ground earns my personal favor.”
A ripple goes through the room.
“My protection,” she continues, cool and calm. “My gratitude. A clean slate, no matter your history. And a transfer of ten million euros by morning.”
The words hit me like ice water.
I feel the blood drain from my face. My grip on Lily’s hand tightens so hard she whimpers.
They’re not protecting us.
They’re baiting him.
I’m the bait.
Irina knew he’d come the second he realized we were taken. She’s counting on it. She wants him dead, and she’s willing to use a woman and child as bait to do it.
One of the men near the window gives a small, satisfied nod. The woman with the roses sets the vase down gently, then slips her hand inside her blazer—checking a weapon, I realize.
Lily looks up at me, confused. “Mama? Why is everyone quiet?”
I can’t answer her. My throat is frozen.
Irina turns then, catching my expression. Her eyes meet mine—cold, calculating, and for the first time, almost gentle in their cruelty.
“Don’t look so shocked, Isabella,” she says softly.
My knees buckle. I have to lock them to stay upright.
Lily stirs at the sudden tension in my arms, but I can’t comfort her—my throat has closed completely. The air feels too thick to breathe.
I look around wildly, searching the faces for some sign this is a bluff, a test, anything but the truth. But no one flinches. No one looks surprised. They just adjust positions, check sight lines, wait for orders.
Irina turns to me, as if sensing the moment my heart stops.
“You understand now,” she says quietly, almost kindly. “He is coming for you and the child. He will not stop. He will not negotiate. And he is far more dangerous than any of you realize.” Her gaze sweeps the room again. “Do not hesitate. Do not underestimate him.”
My vision narrows to a pinprick, the marble floor rushing up to meet me. Lily’s weight suddenly feels too much, like I might drop her. A roaring fills my ears—blood, panic, disbelief.
Strong hands catch me before I hit the ground.
“Hey—easy, easy.” Selene’s voice cuts through the haze, low and urgent. She’s there in an instant, sliding an arm around my waist, taking Lily from me with practiced gentleness. My daughter murmurs in her sleep but doesn’t wake, nestling instinctively against Selene’s shoulder.
Louder, Selene says, “I’ll take the child to the kitchen. She shouldn’t be here for this. And the mother needs air—smelling salts, maybe. She’s about to go down.”
Irina glances at us, cool and assessing. For a moment I think she’ll refuse. Then she gives the smallest nod. “Go. Keep the girl close.”