25. Lila
Lila
My ass hurts where he spanked me. I feel like I should hate it. I’m a little embarrassed that I loved it.
I want more.
He burned down a club, and I know it was revenge for what the Albanians have been pulling. Revenge is something I can get behind. I only wish I could be with him while he’s doing all this shit. I’d love to burn shit down.
“Lila!”
I look up from the screen of the iPad Maksim gave me last week.
It’s my connection to the outside world.
I’ve been spending too much time window shopping for clothes I’ll never wear.
But I won’t lie, I liked the dress. I liked feeling feminine.
I’ll never give up jeans and boots, but maybe I can do the sexy, glamorous thing now and then.
One of the guards comes into the room. “Gus says it’s time.”
“It’s time!”
I jump up, toss the expensive iPad on the couch, and rush out.
Gus has been watching Willow for days, but I’m the one standing in the stall when her water breaks. I’ve foaled plenty of horses in the past. I assured Gus I could handle this and that he didn’t need to call the vet.
“Easy, girl.” I keep my voice low and calm. “I’m here. You’re okay.”
“Could be a while,” Gus says.
“I know. I’m good. Go ahead and take care of what you need to. I’ll call you when it’s time.”
I stay near her head. She’s trembling but strong. I press my forehead against her cheek and breathe slowly and steadily until she starts to match me. It’s the oldest trick I know. Horses mirror you if you’re patient enough. Let them feel your calm, and they’ll borrow it.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Just breathe.”
An hour and a half passes. There are times I forget to breathe. Gus returns, ready to jump in if I need him. When the foal finally comes, I stare down at the impossibly fragile thing in the straw. Willow turns to look at it like she can’t believe it, either.
“Good job,” I breathe.
The foal is dark. Almost black, with a white blaze down her nose. I check her over and then step back to let nature take over.
“She’s perfect,” I manage.
“Strong.” Gus sounds pleased. “She did well.”
Willow noses the foal, nudging her in a way that says, “Get up.” This is the worrisome part that I both dread and look forward to. She tries. Her legs splay out in four directions with zero coordination.
“Come on,” I whisper. “You’ve got it.”
She finally gets her feet under her. Gus and I sigh with relief.
I stay until she nurses for the first time. Then, we move mother and daughter to a fresh stall with clean hay. It’s after two in the morning, but I don’t want to leave. I know Maksim is probably still at the club.
“You going inside?” Gus asks.
“Soon. Go ahead. I’ll check on her before I head inside.”
He nods and walks away.
The stables have been mostly repaired, but I swear I can still smell the smoke in the wood. I can’t help but think about what could have happened. That little foal might not be here because someone was trying to get revenge on Maksim.
Outlaw puts her head over the stall door and looks down at me.
“Feeling neglected?” I rub her neck.
I don’t remind the horse that she was pretty standoffish a couple of weeks ago.
I hear footsteps and turn to see Maksim strolling through the low light of the stables. He’s in dark jeans and a grey button-up.
“I hear we’ve got some news,” he says.
I smile. “We do. She’s healthy, and Mom is doing great.”
I lead him to the stall. The foal is now sleeping against Willow’s legs. Her shiny black coat is the picture of health.
Maksim is quiet.
Then he smiles, and I see a weight come off his shoulders. There was some concern after the fire about how much smoke Willow inhaled, and whether it affected the baby.
We lean against the stall door and watch the new mom.
“You’re always out here,” he says.
“Better company.”
“Than?”
I give him a look.
He almost smiles. “Fair. It’s more than just liking them.”
I nod. “It’s all I know.”
“You’ve spent a lot of time with horses?”
“Yes. A few years.”
I watch Willow shift her weight, lowering her head to nose at her foal. The baby doesn’t stir. She’s dead asleep and trusting the world. I envy her.
“My mom and I lived on a ranch in East Texas,” I say. “About forty minutes outside of nowhere. The kind of place where the nearest grocery store is a thirty-minute drive, and everybody minds their business.”
Maksim leans against the stall door with his arms folded on the top rail, looking at the horses.
That helps. It’s easier to talk without him watching me.
My heart beats a little faster. I’ve been able to separate Texas from Florida.
Life before and life after. I don’t want to think about the before.
It’s easier to pretend that my life started here a month ago.
“My mom was down on her luck. We’d just gotten kicked out of our last apartment.
The owner of the ranch was old and took pity on us.
His wife had died, and his kids were in Houston.
He didn’t give a damn about our history.
He needed help, and we needed somewhere to disappear. ” I pause. “It worked for everybody.”
“How old were you when you moved there?”
“Fourteen.” My heart skips a beat. “We’d been moving around for a couple of years before that. Texas was the first place that felt like we might stay.”
Maksim glances at me but doesn’t push. I lick my lips, pushing through the feelings that are bubbling up.
“I was terrible in school.” That doesn’t embarrass me the way it used to. It was hard to study when my mother was puking in the kitchen sink or bringing home men who were too loud. “Just terrible. I couldn’t sit still. Teachers didn’t want to bother with me. Mom didn’t care enough to ask.”
“But the horses were different.”
“Everything made sense with horses.” I look at Outlaw, who’s lost interest in us and retreated to the back of her stall.
“Mr. Hadley had twelve of them when we first got there. Quarter horses, mostly. A couple of rescues he’d taken in over the years.
He showed me the basics that first summer, and then just sort of stepped back and let me figure the rest out on my own.
” I remember when I felt like I was finally in the right place.
“I belonged with the horses. I was built for hard labor. One of the hands told me that once. Said I was never meant to be a princess.”
“Did you want to be a princess?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I got good at taking care of the horses. Really good. Mr. Hadley started trusting me with the harder ones. The ones that came in damaged.” I smile, remembering those first few months. “Said I was better with them than I was with people.”
“He wasn’t wrong.”
“No,” I agree. “He really wasn’t.”
The foal shifts in the straw, and Willow nuzzles her. She was already an excellent mother.
Mama wasn’t like that. I know she loved me, but love and tenderness aren’t the same thing, and she only had so much of either to give.
Some nights, I’d come in from the barn smelling like horses and sweat.
She was at the kitchen table, nursing a beer and a cigarette, and she’d look at me with sadness. I thought she was just sad in general.
I knew better now.
I don’t want to cry. I can’t open that door. I’m still figuring out how I feel about her and the lies I’ve been told my whole life.
“Come on.” I push off the door. “I’m starving.”
“It’s three in the morning,” he says.
“So. It’s not like we have to be up in the morning.”
“What do you want?” He falls into step beside me as we walk out of the stables and into the night air.
“Something with lots of carbs.” I tilt my face toward the sky and smile at the stars. Out here on the property, with the lights low, there are more than I expect.
We make sandwiches that are stacked with enough meat, cheese, and condiments to feed twenty people. Back home, I was lucky if I had cheese and lunch meat to put on the sandwich at the same time.
But that’s not my life anymore.
“I want to get out of here,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”
“Get out?” he asks.
“Get a coffee or take a walk. Go to the beach. You have a beautiful home, but I’m starting to feel claustrophobic.”
“Can you give me two days?”
“Two days?”
“I’d like to take you out, but I need to make sure it’s safe.”
It’s not a request, and that pisses me off. I hate that I don’t have a choice.
But I also like to breathe. I inhale and fight against my knee-jerk refusal. My need to argue and reject his request.
“Fine. We both know I don’t have a choice.”
We finish our sandwiches and walk past the guards. When we get to the top of the stairs, I have a choice to go to my room or his.
I take his hand and walk to his room. Where I belong.
And that scares the hell out of me. Since when did I belong with him?
Maksim Sokolov. Easily one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met, not counting the assholes who kidnapped me and murdered my mother.
I think Maksim might be even more dangerous than they are because he’s smart.
He gives no fucks. Those guys are told what to do. Maksim is the guy who just does shit.
“I need to tell you something,” he says when we’re lying in bed with him cuddled against me.
“What?”
“Briar started the fire.”
I go still against him. “What?”
“Briar.” He says it again. “I think she’s the one who disabled the sprinklers and started the fire.”
I turn over so I can see his face in the low light. “You think, or you know?”
“Pretty likely, but I’ll know for sure soon.”
I process that. I’d noticed her watching me a few times, but I’d chalked that up to the same resentment I got from most of the women here. I’m the new wife nobody asked for.
“Why?” I ask.
“She’s been seeing one of Arlind’s men.” He lets out a long sigh. “Or was. We don’t know for how long.”
“She could have been coerced.” I don’t know why I’m defending her.
“She could have been,” he agrees.
“She could have killed those horses,” I say.
“I think she was trying to kill you.”
I keep forgetting that “safe” isn’t real.
“Who can I trust?” I ask. “In this house. Right now. Who?”
He turns his head to look at me. “Ava.”
“And?”
“Cinder.”
I almost laugh. “You’re telling me one of the only people I can trust is someone who actively dislikes me.”
“She doesn’t dislike you.”
“Maksim.”
“She’s adjusting,” he says, “but she’s loyal. Whatever else she is, she’s loyal.”
Yeah, right.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I settle back against him and pull his arm tighter around me. I've never been able to trust anyone.
So why do I trust him?