Chapter 18 – Eduard
I brought my gun out and shot the man’s right knee. He cried out in pain, falling to the concrete floor.
“Who bought it from you?!” I yelled, my eyes meeting Ivan’s surprised ones.
“I don’t know them. I just spread the word on a low-key basis and asked the buyer to pay first. I just drop the goods in different locations, and they retrieve them. I’ve never met a buyer,” the man rushed.
“Well, they are goods you stole from me. And the same person has been buying them from you and your crew, making them available in markets where they shouldn’t. So, if you don’t want me to blow your fucking head off, tell me every single thing you know about this buyer.”
“I don’t know them! I just—”
The sound of another gunshot filled the isolated warehouse, and blood poured out from the man’s stomach.
“The name they used when talking to you, the account name when you got payments…tell me!” I demanded.
“I…don’t…” the man responded between huffs.
I pointed my gun at him again. Ivan all but shouted, “Boss, he’s the only link to them. We can’t kill him.”
Directing the gun to a corner of the empty hall, I shot again.
“Have the information ready for me tonight,” I told Ivan as I stepped out.
The sounds of my gunshot didn’t make me less aggravated.
“Where to, Boss?” Leonid asked as he sat behind the steering wheel.
“Where else would I go this early in the afternoon?” I lashed out.
“Sorry, Boss.”
Ignoring him, I looked out the window.
I was off my game; I knew it. I had been since the day before.
Marielle had resisted me, for the first time.
She tore my hands off her. Her anger was shocking; it was like none other.
I didn’t need a dictionary to know what she meant when she called me unstable.
I was very well aware that she referred to my push and pull.
But she never resisted whenever I pulled her in.
Until that night. And it hurt like hell.
I had expected things to be better between us the next morning, but I woke up silent with anger. She hadn’t shown any sign of knowing I was beside her when she woke up. She just walked into the bathroom and then went downstairs. I sat there, stunned and confused.
I had found her eating in the dining room. She took the farthest seat from mine—the one opposite—as if she had envisaged my coming and didn’t want to risk being near me. Like she couldn’t stand me.
Instead of getting dressed and heading to the warehouse, I had sat across from her, my gaze on her even though she didn’t return it. She wore no frown or scowl. Then she left the room, her plate half-empty.
I hadn’t found her in the bedroom later that night. Going into my home office, I saw through the monitor screen that she was in the study. When she eventually joined me in bed, she wordlessly lay with her back to me, making me feel like the world was suddenly closed up against me.
This morning was no better. I woke up before her, but I decided to stay in bed again.
Just to be there when she woke up. Hoping her anger might have lessened or even disappeared.
But she went straight out of the room when she saw me beside her.
I didn’t know which was worse: the way she looked up at me when I distanced myself from her or how she seemed to look through me now that she was angry.
Once we arrived at the warehouse, I went to the second store.
“Oh, Boss. They are counting already,” Harry said, walking up to me.
I looked at the guys counting the packets of white powder.
“And what the fuck have you all been doing since?!”
Harry’s mouth seemed to slacken before he could form an answer.
“We’ll have the numbers soon, Boss. Sorry, Boss.”
“I’m asking you why you don’t have them now,” I clarified, glaring daggers at him.
He bowed his head slightly, knowing better than making an excuse.
“I leave by six. Those numbers should be in today’s reports by then,” I instructed.
“We’ll have them documented before six, Boss,” he promised.
As I headed toward my office, I told Leonid, “I’m not seeing anyone today. If you show up in my office, I’ll drill holes in your head.”
“Yes, Boss,” he replied, nodding repeatedly.
I went ahead of him, shutting my office door.
I poured myself a drink and went to the couch. I needed the alcohol in my system; I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t kill one of my men for coughing without it.
As the heat spread down my throat, I sighed.
I wasn’t just upset because of Marielle’s anger or hurt.
At the foundation of all my unpleasant feelings about the situation was guilt. A heavy load of it.
I never really stopped to think of how confusing my push and pull was.
I always felt her unease around me whenever I pushed her away, but I never thought of the effects in the long run.
I only thought of how hard it was not to pull her in whenever she reached out to me.
I didn’t think of how it must feel to be the one being pushed away and pulled in, only to be pushed away again.
It must have been hell for her.
And I was angry at myself for inflicting such pain on her.
When I got home that evening, I lingered in the dining room just to see if she was in the kitchen. I didn’t hear her voice. She wasn’t in the study either. Hope filled me at the thought of her being in our bedroom.
I didn’t see her when I opened the bedroom door, and then I saw her pulling a fabric out of the wardrobe in the closet.
Her surprised eyes met mine and dropped instantly.
I swallowed.
She looked toward the closet entrance where I stood as if she was wondering when I would leave.
I stepped into the closet, and she dropped what she was holding, her eyes on the closet door as she walked away.
I grabbed her from behind just as she took a step past me.
She tried to yank my arms away, but I tightened my hold, pulling her into my chest.
“Eduard!” she cautioned.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Still pushing against my arms, she answered, “Wonder whose fault that is.”
“I’m not letting you go until you hear me out,” I disclosed, my voice level.
“Leave me alone!” she yelled.
“Please, baby.”
“Let go!” she insisted, her voice shaky. “You can’t call me that and then….”
Her hands weakened against mine, and I came in front of her.
Her eyes were teary.
It gutted me.
I took her hands in mine as I blurted, “I’m sorry.”
Her eyelids lifted, and her eyes met mine.
“First, I have absolutely nothing to do with Hanna. We once had a sexual encounter, but we’re nothing to each other.”
She sighed, looking away from me.
“I’m sorry for pushing you away repeatedly. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her eyes met mine again.
“I’m not a simple man, Marielle.”
“I noticed,” she muttered, a glint of amusement in her expression.
What I wouldn’t do to have the playful Marielle again.
“Just so you know, I feel every bit of what you feel toward me.”
“I don’t feel anything for you,” she argued, chuckling.
Instead of responding, I pulled her into me, and she hugged me back.
I held her there for a while, our hearts beating in sync without words.
“What do you say to another movie date? And then dinner,” I uttered.
“Okay.”
I led her to the bed, handing her the remote control as I settled beside her.
“You liked The Martian, right?” she inquired.
“What’s that?”
“The movie we watched the other time,” she explained.
“Yes, I did.”
While that wasn’t false, I enjoyed the feel of her body on mine better. I liked the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingers. I cherished the moment she told me about her parents and what she was like as a teenager.
“Should we watch romance this time?” she asked, squinting her eyes at me.
“As long as you’re not thinking of setting the mood for something else,” I remarked, my cool voice contrasting the heat from the direction of my thought.
“What? Oh, I had nothing in mind,” she laughed before her voice dropped, and she threw me a soft smile. “What if we, you know…?”
“Baby, I’m not going to make love to you today. We just made up; I’m glad to have my arms around you today.”
“Alright, caveman,” she remarked.
I brought my lips to her ear.
“When it’s time to claim you, there’ll be nowhere for you to run to.”
She let out a soft breath, and I smirked in pride.
We eventually had dinner in the bedroom halfway through the movie.
That night, I slept with Marielle’s head on my chest.
I wasn’t sure I even knew how to let someone in anymore, but I would try.
***
This morning’s Bratva meeting was held at my warehouse.
I had so much work on my table that I worried about where to start. It was the middle of the year, the time when Bratva pressure often threatened to choke me.
“Any personal business?” I asked Danil, who stayed behind as the other brothers drove off.
I noticed he now had a brown envelope in his hand.
“Let’s go to your office.”
I nodded once, leading the way back into the warehouse.
I had barely taken a seat behind my desk when he tossed glossy pictures onto my desk.
Marielle’s face stood out.
Alarms sounded in my head.
I picked them up.
“I know we concluded that she isn’t a threat,” he started, his tone clipped. “But I couldn’t bring myself to trust her. I thought to do some digging, just in case. I pulled the CCTV records of the last Bratva event. Found that.”
My eyes scanned each of the photographs, but I held one. The one that zoomed in on the text on her phone that read:
“We need to talk. -L.”
“And you didn’t disclose this at the meeting because…?”
He shrugged.
“You should know I trust your judgment. I’m disclosing it to you so you can look into it.”
I nodded, gathering the pictures.
“Brother,” he called, making me look up at him. “Your wife might be playing you,” he divulged, raising a brow.
Something in me shouted a solid ‘no.’
But I said nothing as Danil walked out of my office.
I hadn’t been with her for the most part of that night; she might have exchanged as many texts with whoever she wanted. And I knew who exactly could send a text signed with an L.
Fucking Lucien Navarro.
Was I wrong all along?
But I knew how happy she looked whenever we were cool. I knew how her hurt radiated whenever we weren’t talking. I knew how my touch made her want more; how she looked at me like she was happy to be mine.
But pictures don’t lie.
Was that why she got uncomfortable when Drew’s uncle mentioned his name?
Should I confront her?
Confronting her seemed like the least tenable option. As much as I didn’t condone betrayal, the thought of Lucien hurting her because she shared their plan or whatever didn’t sit well with me. Also, maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. There would be reason to confront her over a single text.
So, I decided to investigate.
I asked my men to get me the surveillance video of that night.
I could feel my whole body tighten in anticipation as I watched it on the laptop in my office.
Then I saw her move away from the women who were talking to her. I zoomed in as she brought out her phone. She looked over her shoulder before typing a text. Then she returned the phone to her purse, her face expressionless.
Could it really be Lucien?
If it’s not him, why did she act so jittery?
I picked up my phone and dialed a number.
“Get Marielle’s phone and track the sender of the text in the footage you sent me. Check every text exchanged with the sender and send them to me.”
Although I was shocked by all I was finding out, I was also wounded that she didn’t come to me. I wished she had told me about the text. I would have been sure we were in the same boat.
As I settled in bed beside her, her sleepy eyes fluttered open, and she gave me a small smile. She reached out to me, and I almost let her hand land on my upper arm. But I shifted away.
The hurt and confusion in her eyes pained me. She sighed, and I turned around.
I can’t risk weakness.
I had come so far to be here. I couldn’t risk softening toward a woman who might be leading me to my enemy. I would never let that happen. I couldn’t.
My eyes were wide open as I heard her breathing get even again. My hands itched to pull her into me and ask her about the text.
But I was investigating already. I would get my answers soon.
Unable to relax enough to sleep, I got out of bed and went to my home office.
I watched the surveillance video a second time.
I folded my arms as I paused the video on her unreadable face.
Am I married to a ghost from Lucien’s past?
It wouldn’t be the first time I was betrayed by a woman I had allowed to be important to me. It had happened before. And I had told myself that I wouldn’t let it happen to me ever again. That was why I struggled with letting Marielle in.
Although the woman who betrayed me was long gone, I couldn’t help but think if Marielle was another version of her. I didn’t know if I could mete out the same punishment to Marielle if she turned out to be a betrayer.