Chapter Forty-One
Maron
I wake up with the mother of all hungovers.
It takes a few minutes to realize that I’m still alive, still breathing. I grunt as I drag myself off the ruined couch and slump into the remains of my chair. The throbbing headache hits me with a fucking vengeance.
“Where the hell is Mindy?” is my first thought. But I quickly realize that she bailed on me, only leaving a crappy note. My second thought is, “Is she shacked up with Maurice?" My anger surges again. I quickly remember why I drank myself to oblivion earlier today.
Blyad!
I rub my eyes and stare out the window. Darkness stares back at me. It’s fucking nighttime, which means I must have been out for hours. On a whim, pull up the screen and check my half-brother on the CCTV. Maurice is still at his desk, making a phone call. I turn on the volume. "Yes, Mr. Shirkov," he says. "Glad to hear she’s doing well."
Good. At least the Shirkov shit is getting fixed up.
Blinking away the fog, I glance at my desk and see the fake marriage contract lying there. “Fuck,” I mutter, my head pounding like a jackhammer. Impulsively, I reach across, snatch the folder, and tear the contract into tiny shreds. When I'm done, I scatter the pieces across the floor of my office.
Then something hits me with the force of a train.
Mindy's got a tracker on her phone.
How the hell did I forget about that? I fumble for my phone, my fingers clumsy as I dial Pavel's number. "Pavel," I bark, my words slurring together. "Send me the history of Mindy's whereabouts. Now."
There's a pause on the other end of the line. "You okay, boss?" Pavel asks. "You sound irritated."
I let out a humorless laugh. "Not irritated. Hungover. Just get me what I asked for."
Without waiting for a response, I end the call and toss my phone onto the couch. I force myself to my feet, swaying slightly as I make my way to the bathroom, and into the shower.
The ice-cold water hits me like a slap to the face, but it does little to numb the pain that's eating away at my insides. Images of Mindy flash through my mind. Her soft skin, her gentle touch. My body and my mind ache for her. It’s a physical need no amount of alcohol can dull.
I try to take matters into my own hands again by jerking off to her thought but it’s fucking pointless. It will never bring me the relief I crave. It's her I want, her I need, like a fucking drug I can't quit.
In a last-ditch effort to clear my head, I decide to go to my home gym. I attack the weights with a vengeance, pushing my body to its limits. The burn in my muscles, the sweat pouring down my face, are all a welcome distraction from the chaos plaguing my mind. By the time I finish my workout, I'm exhausted, and the pain has dulled to a manageable throb.
I’m still in the gym when a notification pings on my phone. Pavel's message with Mindy's location history. Good. But I'm not going to look at it just yet. First, I’m going to pay a short visit to my mother. It's been days since I last saw her, which is out of the ordinary for me.
I head downstairs where her apartment is located and pop my head into her room. “Mama?”
"Maron, my dear boy," she greets me, invitingly. Her eyes light up as I enter the room. "Have you seen Cordelia? I've been looking all over for her."
Fuck.
Here we go again.
I swallow my frustration and force a smile. "Not yet, Mom. But I'm sure she'll be back soon."
"Oh, I hope so," she sighs, her brow furrowing. "I miss her so much. Where could she be?"
"I don't know, Mom. But I promise I'll find her, okay? Don't you worry."
She nods, her gaze starting to drift. "Maron, have you seen Cordelia?" she repeats the question. "I've been looking all over for her."
I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Not yet, Mom. But she'll be back soon, I'm sure."
We repeat this same routine about five more times. Same question, same fucking answer. It's a pattern I am all too familiar with but fuck me if it doesn’t break my goddamn heart every time.
I kiss my mother’s temple. " Do svidaniya, Mama. Timofey will bring you tea and your favorite cookies. I'll see you tomorrow."
I head back to my office and prepare myself for the task at hand. I must know where Mindy has been these past few days. A part of me wonders if this is a good idea at all. Will it only make me miss her more? Will it only make me more pissed? I push aside my doubts and decide to proceed.
But just as I'm about to open Pavel’s message, my phone buzzes with a new message, coming from an untraceable number. It is an unwelcome interruption but my instinct tells me it could be important.
And it fucking is.
What comes into view makes me want to smash my office all over again. It causes my blood to boil and my knuckles to turn white from clenching my phone too tightly.
The images show Mindy and Maurice sitting in a café. They're close to each other, holding hands, looking intimate. Hands intertwined, smiling at each other, all that shit. There are four photos like this, showing the same fucking thing. It’s like a punch to my gut that ignites a fiery rage within me. I can barely contain the urge to exact revenge as I scroll through the damning images.
Ublyudok!
I jab at the speed dial, my voice low and commanding. "Pavel," I growl into the phone. "Get your ass down here, mudak! "
In less than five minutes, my second-in-command is standing in front of me with a questioning look on his face. "What's the rush, boss?"
Without answering, I bring up the pictures on my screen. Pavel leans in, studying them intently with a crease forming between his eyes.
"What do you make of this shit?" I ask, my tone dripping with anger and disdain.
After a pause, he meets my gaze with a serious expression. "You want to know what I think? I think these are doctored, boss. Photoshopped."
Photoshopped?
“You mean like fake?” I ask like a dumbass.
“Look more closely.” Pavel points out with a smug smirk on his face. "Looks like someone is trying to fuck you over with these photos. Have you seen the data I sent you?” he asks.
I gape at him. “Not yet.”
“Then take a look. It’ll tell you everything you need to know. Those manipulated pictures are nothing but a load of horseshit. Need anything else, boss?"
“ Nyet. Spasibo, Pavel. ” I shake my head, still looking like a dumbass.
Pavel nods and saunters out of my office, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the incriminating evidence in front of me.
As I take a seat at my desk, I quickly scan through the list of addresses Pavel had sent over. The only notable places are a chemist's shop, a grocery store, and New York High - meaning she still has gigs at the club. I guess she still needs the money.
But it’s her last hospital visit that sticks out like a sore thumb. She was there almost all day. Why the fuck was she there for so long? Is she sick? Injured? Did something happen to her that I don't know about?
Then it hits me. Of course! Her mother.
The realization hits me like a freight train. I don't even know anything about what’s going on in her life right now. I've been so caught up in my own jealousy and anger that I completely lost sight of what really matters.
My fingers hover over my phone, itching to call her, but I stop myself. Again. If something serious is going on with her, barging in like a fucking caveman and demanding answers isn't going to help the situation.
Instead of being an impulsive idiot, I decide to check the photos again. I scroll through the photos in pure disgust when I notice there's a video too. How the fuck did I miss that before?
I press play and squint at the phone as I try to make out the grainy footage. I see Maurice leaning in towards Mindy, his hand reaching for hers across the table. Envy stabs me like a knife, but after turning up the volume to maximum, I manage to catch the audio. The recording is rough, but the words are unmistakable: "No, Maurice," Mindy's voice rings out. "Too much has changed. I've changed too."
I gape at my phone, trying to make sense of this.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is she turning him down? What if I've been barking up the wrong fucking tree with this whole Maurice thing? What if my fucked-up, possessive brain is playing tricks on me, making me see shit that's not even there? If Mindy was really sneaking around with Maurice, wouldn't there be more to it? More secret little rendezvous points or something? Restaurants, parks, his place, her place?
I must admit, fucking Pavel's got a point again. Maybe those photos are a crock of shit, and my jealous thoughts are just making matters worse. At least Pavel is always there for me when I lose my shit. I need him to keep me level-headed when I can’t think straight. Like now.
I take a deep breath and push down my doubts. I know I can’t keep doing this to myself. My focus is all over the place. If this continues, it will start affecting other areas of my life and I can’t afford that. Especially not with the Tramoxine launch in the pipeline.
Time to focus on what's real. And what's real is this: Mindy Williams is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I'll be damned to let my own bullshit fuck that up. Every second I spend without her is like a knife twisted in my chest. I can't take it anymore. I need her by my side. Now.
Fueled by a newfound resolve, I snatch up my phone and furiously punch in Kevin's number. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I listen to the ringing, praying for him to pick up.
“Mr. Korolev?” His voice finally comes through the line. “What can I do for you?”
“Is Mindy Williams performing tonight?” I snarl into the receiver, skipping formalities and cutting through the small talk.
Kevin's voice crackles through the phone, barely audible amidst the chaotic cacophony of the club. "She's halfway through her set," he says, and I feel a surge of desperate hope flood its way through me.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” I reply with urgency. “Don’t let her leave before I get there.”
I hang up before Kevin can respond, unable to waste another precious second. My heart pounds as I imagine Mindy on stage, pouring her heart out through her music. I storm out of my office and head to my clothes wardrobe with one singular purpose in mind: to see Mindy Williams.
My cock stiffens in my slacks, throbbing with an insatiable hunger for her. Right now, I don’t give a damn why she fled. That's irrelevant to me now. All that matters is finding her and claiming her as mine. Every fiber, every fucking cell in my being is consumed by the desire to be near her, to hear her voice and feel her presence. Nothing else matters.
I come to a sudden halt as something occurs to me. When I ordered the sex toys, I didn't send everything to her; I kept one item for myself.
The gag ball.
Perfect. Just in case things go terribly right.
I quickly retrieve it from the drawer I hid it in and slip it into my pocket. After throwing on a white t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket, I rush off to New York High, eager to put my plan into action.
It’s already late and there are fewer cars on the road now. Ignoring all traffic laws, I speed down the streets without a care for the consequences. The blaring horns and flashing lights blur together as I weave through the half-empty streets. I know I'm probably racking up a fortune in speeding tickets and risking my license. Hell, I might even end up in cuffs if a cop decides to chase me down. But none of that matters right now. I've got lawyers to handle that shit. Right now, all that matters is getting to New York High as fast as I can.
Mindy Williams is worth any price I'll have to pay.