Chapter 29
THEA
Two weeks pass in a strange, calm quiet.
No word from the Bratva. No threats from Kolya. No emergency council meetings or midnight phone calls that send Gabriel’s men scrambling.
Just silence. It should be comforting. It’s anything but.
Gabriel spends long hours in his office on phone calls, coordinating with men in his organization.
I’ve overheard some of the calls—they’re about subjects I don’t understand and likely don’t want to.
He comes to bed late, leaves early, and moves through the house like a man who knows that all of this is likely to end any day now.
And will likely end with a bang.
“What’s the status with Kolya?” Liza and I are folding linens in one of the guest bedrooms, late morning sunlight streaming in through the windows. “I mean, is he screwed? He has to be. Gabriel outed him for what he did.”
I shift in my seat. I’d like to think it’s that simple.
“Nothing. I mean, we haven’t heard anything. Gabriel hasn’t said a word about him.”
And I’ve been too afraid to ask. What if it all fizzles out? What if the council doesn’t believe the evidence, or even worse, doesn’t care? What if Kolya’s got me in his sights and is ready to finish the job he started decades ago? After all, he knows who I am, where I am.
Liza narrows her eyes skeptically.
“You need to know what’s going on. You need to be kept in the loop. God, it would drive me crazy to be in the position that you’re in now.”
I let her words hang in the air. What the hell am I supposed to do, barge into Gabriel’s office and demand answers? Maybe I should.
“How’s Sissy?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
Liza smiles weakly. “Good. She’s in LA, believe it or not. Working for some talent agency.”
“And she doesn’t know where you are? What’s happening?”
She looks away for a long moment, as if trying to decide how much to tell me. Then she sighs.
“The truth is, we barely talk these days. She’s so busy with work. And any time I manage to get her on the phone, she’s always too busy to talk for more than a few minutes. Lots of one-word answers.”
“Sorry to hear that. You two always seemed so close. Or at least, you always seemed to be on the same team against me.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she says. “It was… look, we both dealt with the situation in our own way.”
“Sure seemed like the same way to me—making my life a living hell. Calling me fat in every way you both could think of.”
She glances out the window for a long moment, then turns her eyes back to me.
“Thea, I know you don’t believe me when I say I’m sorry. But I am. I really am. You can do with that what you want. I feel terrible about the way I treated you, and I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you that I did it because I was scared.”
“That’s why you abandoned me? Because you were scared?”
“Because I wanted to be safe,” she says.
“I wanted my daughter to be safe. And yes, I was scared—scared of looking you in the eye and telling you I wanted you gone. So, I did the cowardly thing. I left you alone. And I don’t expect forgiveness.
But if it’s any consolation to you, I did get punished. ”
I cock my head to the side. “How do you mean?”
“Sissy. She didn’t want to leave you alone.
I had to talk her into it. She thought it was cruel.
And she was right. Looking back, all I cared about was trying to return to normal, whatever normal looked like.
I finally convinced her to go along with the plan, telling her it was the only way she’d be safe.
And when we went through with it, she didn’t stay with me afterward. That’s when she left for California.”
I say nothing, letting her go on.
“I think that was her way of getting as far away from me as possible. And I figure it was a just punishment for what I did to you. I ended up losing both of my daughters.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t say anything at all.
Thankfully, there’s a knock at the door.
“Yes?” I ask, turning around.
Oscar pokes his head into the room, his expression tensing as he puts together that he just walked in on a serious conversation.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Liza says, “we were just chatting.”
He nods. “Well, then. You have a visitor, Miss Thea. Miss Amanda Reed.”
“Huh?” I turn my body around fully. “Amanda? She wants to see me?”
“Indeed. Specifically asked for you. Shall I tell her you’re indisposed?”
Part of me wants to say yes. The last time I spoke with Amanda, she wasn’t exactly kind to me.
But curiosity wins.
“Go ahead. I’ll finish up here,” Liza says.
“Okay,” I say to Oscar. “I’ll see her. The sitting room?”
He nods. “I’ll have tea brought in.”
Amanda is already seated when I arrive. She’s perfectly composed in a cream blouse and tailored slacks, her hair in a chic and effortless-looking chignon. She stands when I enter, offering me a professional prim smile.
“Thea. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Amanda.” I scan the room quickly, as if I might be walking into a trap. “This is unexpected.”
I take the chair across from her, keeping both my expression and my posture neutral.
She sits back down. “I’m sure it is. Listen. I wanted to apologize for my behavior a few weeks ago. I was out of line.”
The words sound rehearsed. Then again, it’s likely that a lawyer like her doesn’t say anything she hasn’t carefully planned out.
“You were,” I agree.
She glances aside for a moment before turning her attention back to me.
“I let my personal feelings interfere with my professionalism. That’s not acceptable.
” She pauses. “Gabriel and I have a history, as I’m sure you know.
And seeing him with someone new—seeing him care about someone in the way he clearly cares about you—it brought up some complicated emotions. ”
I study her, looking for the catch. Because there’s always a catch with women like her.
“Not to mention, it wasn’t just unprofessional, it was rude. Rude and insulting. I had no right to speak to you that way. So I wanted to say that I’m sorry. In person.”
Before I can respond, Oscar steps into the room and pours two cups of tea. As he pours, he gives me a private little look, one that says, Would you like me to cut this short? I quickly shake my head, and he nods discreetly.
The steam from the tea drifts up to my nose, and I get a little queasy. It’s just a tinge of nausea, but strong enough to make me shift in my seat. I put it out of my head as Oscar departs, leaving Amanda and me alone again.
“I appreciate the apology,” I say.
She clears her throat. “I also wanted to say that I respect what you’re doing, coming forward and standing up to Kolya. It takes courage.” Amanda leans forward slightly. “And I want you to know that I’m on your side. Whatever you need—local support, documentation, anything—I’m here.”
There’s something slightly off in her tone.
But before I can identify it, the nausea returns. This time it’s sudden and overwhelming. My stomach lurches and cold sweat breaks out across my forehead.
Amanda notices and cocks her head to the side. “Thea? Are you alright?”
I stand abruptly, bumping the table and causing the tea to spill just a bit. The room spins. I blink hard, trying to regain my balance.
“Excuse me. I need—”
I can’t even finish the sentence. I bolt for the bathroom down the hall, barely making it before I’m retching into the toilet.
When it finally stops, I’m shaking and soaked in sweat. My hands are gripping the porcelain like it’s the only thing in the world preventing me from flying off into space.
There’s a soft knock at the door.
“Thea? Do you need help?”
“I’m fine,” I manage. “Just give me a minute.”
I flush then stand, taking a pause for things to stop spinning. I rinse my mouth at the sink and splash cold water on my face. By the time I’m done, I feel a little bit better. But my throat still burns, my stomach still tight.
My reflection is pale, and on some level, I have been ignoring it, pretending it isn’t true.
Oh God.
The nausea, the exhaustion, the way my breasts have been tender for over a week.
No.
I press my hand to my stomach.
Please, no.
But I know.
Shit.