Chapter 28
CLARA
The mall smells like a manufactured holiday.
The scents of toasted almond, cinnamon, cloves, vanilla, warm pretzels, and expensive perfume fill the air.
Kids scream and laugh in the indoor playground while the mall Santa holds court nearby, with his elves and fake reindeer, giant ornaments, and presents lining the pathway to him.
Flashes go off repeatedly for pictures, an odd accompaniment to the twinkle lights.
The mall is decorated for the Christmas holiday everywhere you look.
I can’t help but watch the kids, their parents waving at them while they sit on Santa’s lap, elves shaking a toy so the babies will smile.
“Do you think that’s going to be me someday?” I ask Emily.
She’s looking at her perfectly manicured nails, a bit bored.
“Are you kidding? You think a billionaire is going to bring his kid to see some mall Santa with fake plastic reindeer and creepy-looking elves? He’s going to hire some guy who could very well be Santa himself, have live reindeer brought in, a real sleigh, and probably order a snow machine to create snow if there isn’t any.
Never mind the couture outfits you guys are going to wear for the pictures. ”
I frown at her. “You know what I mean.”
Em huffs a laugh and peers over the railing, taking in the scene. “I don’t know, C. You don’t seem the perfect-family-photo type. And what are you going to say on the Christmas card? ‘Happy Holidays from the Mob Family?’”
“Oh my God, Em!” I whip around and shush her, hoping no one nearby heard what just came out of her mouth.
But she only grins. “Oh, come on. Everyone’s too wrapped up in themselves to listen, much less care. And who’s going to believe it, anyway?” Emily shrugs and waves a hand to dismiss my worries, then tugs on my arm.
“Come on. We’re here for me. I’m the bride, not you. Not yet, anyway.”
I let her drag me away, holding the large Victoria’s Secret bag and thinking about the irony of the name, because nothing about my life right now is a secret; everything feels exposed. “Is that why you made me buy all this lingerie?”
“You need it for your maid of honor dress,” she says over her shoulder. “That, and if you’re going to be with you-know-who, you might as well wear something you’ll both enjoy.”
I watch Emily as she walks a few steps ahead of me. She’s wearing a loose, olive-green silk blouse that hides the white bandage on her shoulder. Whenever I see the slightest hesitation in her movement, the relentless, suffocating guilt tightens around my chest like a vise.
“Are you sure you need seven swimsuits for eight days?” I ask, a playful tone to my voice.
Emily spins around and walks backward, flashing me that blindingly perfect smile that lands her pretty much whatever she wants, including Michael.
“It’s Bali, Clara. Of course I need seven bathing suits.
” She checks her watch, then gestures to a brightly lit sunglass kiosk, the bags on her arms waving.
“Come on, I need some new sunglasses, too.”
We laugh as we drift toward the kiosk, but I don’t miss the way her eyes flicker to the people around us, a new habit since the incident. She tries to hide it just like I do, but it’s only a thin veneer covering the anxiety.
“What about these?” I ask, examining a pair of oversized black frames. They hide half my face when I put them on, and I consider buying them just for the anonymity they’ll provide.
“They look like they should be a gag gift,” she snorts.
“Hey!” It’s a good-natured protest, but I realize she’s right, as I give myself another glance in the mirror.
Emily buys two pairs because, she says, “It’s my honeymoon.”
I walk away with none.
We stop at two more stores before finding a café. All I care about is a warm coffee that doesn’t taste like someone melted a candy cane in it, and getting off my feet.
Although I’m barely showing, I definitely feel pregnant with the crazy roller coaster of hormones, exhaustion, and all of the other fun things. Sitting down is a profound relief.
At least the morning sickness has finally stopped. Now I only feel nauseous, and even that is starting to wane.
Emily comes back and pushes a cup at me, raising her own to her lips, which come away covered in white foam before she rubs it off with a napkin.
“Okay, you’re quiet. What’s going on?”
“I’m pregnant, tired, and my feet hurt. What else do you think is going on?” I mumble, sipping at my coffee.
“Hit me with it, Clara.” Emily’s gaze is serious, the smile gone. She’s back in best friend mode, ready to listen or drag it out of me.
“There’s nothing to hit you with.”
“Come on. Your life’s been a roller coaster and not a regular one, either. It’s more like one of those monsters engineered to go zero G's in crazy directions and flip people over.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Seriously, though.” Em taps my leg with her foot under the table. “You doing okay?”
I think about the answer longer than I should, but she’s right—my life is extremely complicated right now.
“Yeah,” I tell her.
“Really?”
“Really. You know me. I’m a lawyer. I live for logic, control, and the law's boundaries. I believe in structure. For as controlled as he is on the outside, Dmitri is chaos on the inside. He is raw, unbridled power. He moves on instinct. And his devotion to protecting me is, well, unflinching.”
I sip at my coffee before continuing.
“But even so, maybe that’s what I need. Maybe I need someone to pull me out of my obsession with perfection and limitations.
And maybe he needs me as an anchor, someone to ground him and remind him that he is human.
I give him a sense of normalcy, and he gives me a sense of protection and security I didn’t know I wanted. ”
“Do you love him?”
“Maybe.”
“Clara.” Emily’s eyes fill with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “I saw the way he looked at you that night. The way he was such a beast when he thought you had betrayed him, the way he lost his mind when the guys in the car shot at us. It was something primal, something terrifyingly real.”
“I get that. But he’s more than just some cartoon villain, Em. He’s an actual person whom I’ve gotten to know.”
“He may be, but you can’t expect to fix him, Clara.
You thought that would work with Dean, but instead, he only dragged you down with him.
This isn’t some romantic comedy. This is real life, and in his real life, people get shot at.
People get killed. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, this doesn’t turn into a happy ending with a white picket fence. ”
“If you recall, I never wanted a white picket fence,” I mutter, annoyed at the direction this conversation is taking, and worried because the same thoughts have gone through my own head a million times. “I’m fully aware of the statistics, Em. I met Dean when I was interning in the DA’s office.”
“Clara, just listen, okay? I’m your best friend. We’ve always been like sisters. I’m worried about you. Michael is worried about you.”
I don’t say anything, I just play with the festive napkin beneath my coffee cup.
“Michael spoke to his supervisor. If you feel like your life, or the baby’s life, is ever in danger again, if Dmitri loses control, or if one of his rivals gets too close, or anything else, you call me or call Michael.
” Her voice drops to a whisper that I can barely hear.
“They can extract you discreetly and quickly. You and the baby can disappear. You’re not trapped, Clara. ”
I stare at my best friend, my smile feeling forced.
“You forgot one important point—if I disappear, you’ll miss out on all your auntie duties. Do you really want to give up dirty diaper duty? What about buying loud toys you can dump on us and then leave?”
Emily grins, but from the way she licks her lips and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, she’s not exactly happy with my response.
“Just promise me you’ll remember the offer, okay? Promise me.”
“I promise,” I tell her, meeting her eyes. We’re both going to have to be okay with that as the answer for now. “So, were you able to get a reservation at that restaurant?”
We get back to discussing the wedding and honeymoon, allowing me to concentrate on something else for a little while, instead of carrying the world on my shoulders. That is, until the feeling of being watched skitters across the back of my neck.
I pick up my nearly-empty cup, my eyes scanning the crowded mall courtyard, looking at the faces around us. A young couple arguing; a kid with headphones, typing furiously on a computer; a group of teens giggling at their phones. But no one stands out to me.
“Clara?”
Emily is watching me, concerned, and I shake my head.
“It’s nothing. Just Pavel watching me. Sometimes it feels creepy, but I know he’s just there to keep me safe.”
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to knowing he’s there; even if I can’t see him, I always have that feeling of eyes on me without any actual evidence.
He’s too well trained, and it should give me solace knowing that someone is watching out for the threats against me.
But it still feels like a confirmation of captivity.
“At least there’s that,” Em sighs, then holds out her phone to me. “What do you think about this for a beach cover-up? They didn’t have it in the store, but they said they could order it for me.”
On the screen is a light coral dress with a playful diagonal ruffle.
“Perfect,” I reply, then look at her, forcing a bright smile.
I can still feel the prickle on the back of my neck from wherever he is, and I wish it weren’t quite so chilling.