Chapter 19
In bed, I suddenly pause doomscrolling social media.
A nurse who worked with me at the hospital reposted a news article.
High-Profile Surgeon Murdered in New York Home.
My mouth turns dry as I read what she typed: Rest in peace, Dr. Oswald. You were a great doctor and friend, and you will forever be missed.
Great doctor? Yes.
Friend? No.
Forever be missed? Not by me.
Sorry, not sorry.
I bite my nail while reading the article about Dr. Oswald’s murder—the man who cornered me in a supply closet and stuck his hand down my scrubs. Also, the same man I kneed in the balls until he dropped to his knees, and then I called him an asshole before running out of the closet.
They found him murdered in the shower. The detective emphasized that it was a violent, bloody murder.
His safe was cleared out, so while they think the attack was personal, they ruled it as a robbery gone wrong.
They have no suspects, no fingerprints, and the home cameras were disabled an hour before the crime.
Robbery gone wrong?
They literally went out of their way to murder him.
Someone has the police on their payroll.
I peer over at where Emilio slept, but he is now gone.
Is my husband connected to Dr. Oswald’s murder?
No way. There’s no way.
Emilio’s words replay in my head. “I know everything about you.”
The more I learn about my new husband, the more it wouldn’t surprise me if he were responsible. He could’ve easily found the report I’d filed. My complaint, the board meeting I attended, my firing—all of it is on record.
Did he kill for me?
The thought shouldn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but it does.
When I told Uncle Yaroslav and Aleksy about Dr. Oswald, they did nothing. When I was growing up, my mother always said that no one would dare lay a hand on a Morozova woman out of fear of Yaroslav. Turned out, that was nothing but a lie.
I close out of the article and toss my phone on the nightstand. As I slide out of bed, I think about last night in the library. Emilio opened up about his father. From what I’d read online and rumors I’d heard, I knew Nuncio was a bad guy.
But after seeing the pain on Emilio’s face when he talked about his father, I wish he’d come back as a ghost so I could punch him in the face.
Look at me, wanting to protect the hubby I’m supposed to kill.
I shuffle to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair before stopping by my old bedroom—is that what I should call it? After changing into leggings and a red tank, I walk downstairs.
My plan today is to pick Maggie’s brain.
To learn more about my husband.
She’s in the kitchen, squeezing oranges into fresh juice when I walk in.
“Good morning, Liliya,” she greets. “What would you like for breakfast?” She offers me a hopeful smile that I’ll actually eat today.
The turkey sandwich Emilio forced me to eat is all I’ve had in days.
I know I need to eat, but my nerves find food as appetizing as maggots at the moment.
My cheeks burn red at the reminder of what he did before forcing me to eat that damn sandwich.
His facial hair against my wet thighs.
His tongue inside me.
I shudder, squeezing my legs together.
When my gaze flicks back to Maggie, she’s staring at me curiously.
I shake my head, snapping myself out of it.
Resting my elbows on the counter, I lean toward her. “Will you talk to me while I eat?”
“Of course.” She perks up, pushing the juicer aside to give me her full attention. “What would you like?”
“What’s your favorite breakfast?” I release one elbow and tap the counter. “I want you to eat with me.”
Her brown eyes soften. “If it gets you to eat, I’ll share a meal with you every day, honey.”
I grin, understanding why Emilio’s mother and sister loved her so much.
Maggie is a good person with a good heart.
I pull back. “After we eat, are we allowed to leave? Maybe have a girls’ day?”
Maggie has a car, which means she has the means to break me out of this place. Even if it’s just for a few hours.
She slowly shakes her head.
I frown.
“We can talk to Emilio about it,” she says, sounding hopeful again.
I pout my lip.
“He’s only trying to keep you safe.”
“No, he’s keeping me hostage.”
“Maybe if my hostage didn’t run, she’d get more freedom.”
My back straightens, and I slowly peek over my shoulder to find Emilio standing in the kitchen doorway.
He looks well rested even though I know he got only a few hours of sleep. There isn’t one wrinkle in his black suit. Blinking, I wonder if he irons his clothes himself.
He fixes his stony stare on me while walking deeper into the kitchen.
Not wanting to get a neck cramp, I slowly turn to face him.
“You’re spending the day with me, Liliya,” he says.
There’s no question in his tone.
It’s a demand.
I cross my arms. “What if I don’t want to?”
He inches closer until he’s nearly in my face.
My breath hitches, and I place my hand against my chest to level it. “Maggie and I were about to eat breakfast.”
He checks his watch. “It’s almost noon.”
Yes, I slept in.
Well, I slept in until ten and then spent almost two hours scrolling in bed.
Unlike him, it seems I do need my beauty sleep.
I inch back a few steps and am grateful he doesn’t follow. “Maggie was going to make us brunch.”
“We’ll brunch tomorrow, honey,” Maggie says behind me.
I rub my stomach. “I’d better eat now. I get pretty hangry when I haven’t eaten. I also have a strange urge to put on running shoes and go for a jog.”
Emilio’s eyes narrow at me.
I do the same in return, though I doubt I look nearly as intimidating. “On second thought, I’d prefer to stay in my hostage situation. I’ll return to my room now.” I start to move around him.
He snatches my wrist, jerking me back. “There’ll be food where we’re going.”
“They have food in hell?” I attempt to wrangle out of his hold.
This seems to be a common occurrence for us.
Maggie snickers behind me, and Emilio glares in her direction. She breaks into a full-blown laugh, as if wanting to push his buttons.
When he releases me, I rub at my wrist. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going so I can change?”
“L’ultima Cena.”
My jaw drops open. “The restaurant?”
“No, the fucking graveyard.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, the restaurant.”
“Then I definitely need to change.”
He checks his watch again. “You have five minutes.”
“I need ten.”
“Seven.”
“Eight.” I walk past him, and he doesn’t try to grab me this time. “You should’ve given more notice.”
He rubs at his temples. “You were sleeping.”
I pause, wasting valuable get-ready minutes in favor of arguing. “You could’ve woken me up.”
“You make less trouble when you’re sleeping.”
I wait until I’m out of the kitchen and around the corner before mimicking him. “You make less trouble when you’re sleeping.”
Wait until he learns that I sleepwalk sometimes.
That’ll really throw him off his game.
As I trek up the stairs, I decide that’ll be my next excuse if he catches me running.
I change into a black maxi dress and tan wedges before fixing my hair into a half-up, half-down hairstyle and applying winged eyeliner and black mascara. It’s simple, but with my time constraint, it’ll do.
While I’ve heard of L’ultima Cena before, I’ve never been to the Italian restaurant.
Uncle Yaroslav said it was Mafia territory that we shouldn’t intrude on. He was certain they’d poison his pasta if we were to ever set foot inside. He also called the back private rooms slaughterhouses and said L’ultima Cena translates to the last supper.
Let’s hope it won’t be mine.
Emilio is waiting for me at the base of the stairs when I come down. I hold back a grin as I watch his gaze travel down my body in appreciation. It gives me that same warm and fuzzy sensation I felt when thinking about him murdering the man who’d hurt me.
I hitch my black purse over my shoulder. “Bye, Maggie!”
“You two have fun!” she calls from the kitchen.
Emilio grunts at her last word.
I hold back the urge to mimic his grunt.
My husband wouldn’t know fun if it kicked him in the balls.
I follow him outside and block the sun from hitting me in the face as I walk toward the SUV.
Surprisingly, my hostage keeper becomes a gentleman and opens the passenger door for me.
I keep my eyes on the ground as I sink into the cool leather. He slams the door shut and slides behind the wheel.
As he turns the key in the ignition, I smooth a hand over my dress and peer over at him. “Why are we going to L’ultima Cena?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” He shifts the car and drives through the gates.
I’m finally breaking free from this place.
Though my keeper is still beside me.