Chapter Twelve – Maria
The ‘bubble pop’ message notification pricked the silence in the air, and the man in the driver’s seat raised suspicious eyes to the rearview mirror.
His name was Vasili.
He had hard eyes, a chiseled jawline, and tattooed fingers, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was later revealed that this man was an ex-convict from a high maximum-security prison who had been a terror to the wardens.
Probably wrong for me to judge a book by its cover but I couldn’t help it; one glance at the man could send anyone running to the hills.
Sadly, I wasn’t the only one judging a book by its cover. Like all the others in Roman’s household, Vasili didn’t like me very much. Their trust in me was below nothing, probably a solid minus-zero.
If their boss hadn’t given explicit instructions to protect me, they might have as well been the enemies I prayed against.
Often, they watched closely and monitored my every move, as he did even now when I picked up my phone and tapped on the screen.
It was a message from Polly’s actual school. Phoenix Martial Arts Academy had only been a productive extracurricular for the young girl, and after her father had her pulled out of the Academy, she focused full-time on school and music lessons at home.
I read through the message and felt uncomfortably irritated after a glance through every line.
Dear Parents/Guardians,
We are excited to inform u that our students have been working hard to prepare for a Book Exhibition, which is now live! To allow ample time for our students 2 showcase their work n explore their peers’ projects, we will be delaying dismissal by a couple of hours today.
New dismissal time: [5:00 pm]
We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause n appreciate ur understanding in supporting our students’ learning experiences.
Thank you for your continued support.
Best regards,
[Mgt.]
I stared at the time on the top left of the screen and dropped the phone with a groan. Two in the fucking afternoon. What stopped them from sending the memo seven hours ago?
Combing my fingers through my hair, I leaned against the headrest and watched through the window as the buildings went by in a blur.
It wasn’t their fault I was irritated and sleep-deprived. If anything, I had the big boss himself to blame. One week after having unbelievable sex, he’d left an imprint that was beginning to seem a little more permanent than I’d ever admit to.
The constant aching between my legs. The craving to feel his enormous hands on the curve of my back. The feverish need for his kisses.
One time this past week, I’d dared touch myself. I stroked and rubbed, imagining his thick finger inside me instead. But it didn’t work. I’d left the shower more dissatisfied and was grumpy throughout breakfast.
Roman Varkov robbed me of sleep. Just one night with him, and my skin was set on fire, singing in anticipation of the day I would feel that intense burn again.
Inclining against the seat, I directed my gaze to the rearview mirror and wasn’t a bit surprised to find Vasili staring at me.
He asked, his voice a fearsome mix of bass and gruff, “Is there a problem?”
“No.” I tore my eyes away. “We just have to wait a little while longer; that’s all. Polly’s school won’t be closing today until five. So, you should probably turn the car around.”
I needed some good sleep.
“Sure.”
He shifted the gear, plunging the car deeper down the road to a junction with a curve. I peeled my gaze off the road, already almost nodding off to the imaginary tunes of sleep, when a sketchy detail resurfaced in the most vivid form at the back of my head.
It was a memory from my days in PMAA. Polly was practicing some horse-power air kicks while talking animatedly about the book exhibition coming up in her school. Her excitement was palpable, and it made her remember every single detail, down to the exact number of weeks she had to wait before the live participation.
I counted down the past days with my fingers, getting more agitated as realization unveiled like the break of dawn.
Polly had two full months and some weeks left until live participation. Why would the school suddenly change that?
I knew the answer but had to be certain.
Alarmed, I tapped on the message again to read through it, and a hollowness sank in my stomach. The words became clearer, and the unprofessional script more pronounced.
U. 2. Ur. Mgt.
Shit.
The book exhibition was not today.
Whatever was going on was fucking shady, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
With my heart pounding, I tapped Vasili’s shoulder from behind—no time to call his name. With guarded eyes, he met mine through the rearview mirror. No questions asked. He saw my fear and sensed there was trouble.
“Take us back. I have to get to Polly’s school. Something smells really fishy, but I have to make confirmations before we inform the boss.”
I made sure to add that part about confirming things before informing Roman because everyone was well acquainted with how he got, especially where Polly was concerned. If it turned out to be a false alarm, maybe a mistake on the part of the school, Roman would have my head for wasting his time.
Vasili understood with a short nod. He swerved the car around and stepped on the gas.
We pulled up to Polly’s school, expecting to quickly swing by, rush inside, and make confirmations. But as Vasili approached the entrance, I was surprised to see a long line of cars snaking around the block.
I groaned in frustration.
Vasili inched the car forward, slowly making his way toward the entrance. As we waited, I tapped my fingers against the glass and checked the time on my screen for what felt like the hundredth time.
Outside, a Barbie-like mom with wavy ginger hair and a sunshine smile held her son by the hand as they descended the steps. She dressed expensive and pretty, the type of pretty that got everyone’s attention.
During my short trips to Polly’s school, I’d noticed her a couple of times. She greeted everyone passing them by and giggled between interactions with her son.
I rolled my eyes. Must have been a Beverly Hills Housewife who’d moved to New York to shoot another season. Not that I was judging or anything.
Faking a smile, I wound down the window and waved to her. “Hey…hi!”
She paused, drew closer to the car, and flashed another of her cheery smiles.
“Oh, hi!” She had a Southern drawl. Maybe a rising Texas Housewife, then?
I went straight to it, asking her about the school’s book exhibition, and showed her the funny message informing parents and guardians of the shift and new dismissal time.
Miss Sunshine, who turned out to be Mrs. Jane Sebastian, an actual rising Texas Housewife star, laughed, beat her hand across the air elegantly, and said, “It must have been a mistake.”
The book exhibition, which was scheduled for two and a half months, hadn’t changed.
Gone was my admiration of the Southern belle and relaxation in the car.
Polina was in danger.
Vasili pulled up on the curb, and I hopped onto the steps. With trembling fingers, I sent Roman an SOS, tucked my phone into my pocket, and started toward the children’s waiting area.
I found her seated alone in the indoor-outdoor playground, on the Acacia wooden-iron carved bench she talked about sometimes. Her hands were clasped between her thighs, and her legs were swinging underneath the bench. She always said she liked sitting there, enjoying the quiet.
Relief instantly flooded through me, and I placed a hand on my chest to calm my beating heart. She was safe, and that was all that mattered.
I moved toward her, ready to scoop her in my arms and pepper senseless kisses on her cheeks for all the scare I’d been put through. But someone moved faster.
Someone taller, skinny, and brisk.
A man.
A bearded man with dark, soulless eyes.
As quickly as the relief came, it turned to smoke. A mixture of confusion and angst wracked me to the core, and I suddenly felt dizzy, like the ground had given way as I hurried my steps to her.
Dressed in an all-black suit, he resembled the Grim Reaper, and I’d recognize that stupid puff adder tattoo anywhere, at any time.
Finn Jameson.
“Get the fuck away from her!” I shoved him as hard as I could, with all the strength I could muster, when I got to her.
He staggered to the side, visibly pissed that I’d thwarted his efforts.
Scared, Polly jumped to her feet and was behind me in seconds. She clenched her bag to her chest, peeking to watch what was going on.
I pointed at him, seething with rage. “If you bloody think that I’m going to stand by and watch you take her, you’ve got another thing coming, you bastard.”
If I hadn’t trained hard to not give a shit in times like these, I might have melted from the intensity of his radiating anger. He swept his gaze from my face to Polly’s and back to mine. The confusion I felt sifted through his eyes, and his mouth formed an ugly snarl.
“What the fuck? Why the fuck are you here? What’s your relationship with the girl?”
I should have asked him that, as well. What was he doing there? How did he know Polina? Did I have anything to do with his mysterious appearance?
That was the conundrum. But I needed to get Polina to safety. The questions and answers could come later.
I yelled, “Stay the fuck away,” and picked a slim stick lying helplessly beside the bench.
He laughed, and it was deep and scornful, reechoing like the bellow of a lunatic. We both knew that the stick would be as harmless as the whack of a feather, but it didn’t deter me. I would put up a good fight if it meant shielding Polly from him.
I scanned the area. No people were in sight: no security, children, teachers, or parents. Of all days, why did Polly have to be the last student to leave school today?
Finn jeered. He wiped his finger across his nose with a long sniff, like a bloodthirsty Viking ready to draw blood. “Don’t tell me you’re scared now, hot stuff. You’ve always been bolder than I could give other women credit for. There’s no security, sweetheart. No one’s going to come save you or the little one. I have my men surrounding this building, and you know what that means. Today, you’re all mine.”
The air between us was electric with tension as we circled each other, one hand holding Polly steady to keep her from falling and the other gripping the stick.
He wore a fierce stare and a menacing grin. The type that promised the end of the battle in his favor.
I ignored my pounding heart and focused instead on marking his weak points for when the time to strike arrived.
He paused. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he charged at me with folded fists.
“Polly, get down!”
The little girl slipped from behind me and crawled to safety behind an aesthetic tree. But Finn didn’t go after her. His arms swung at me.
“It was them, wasn’t it? The Varkovs, that debt you paid—the mysterious deposit of a hundred grand and a warning letter to stay away from you…. It was them . What, did you fuck the entire clan to get that large sum?”
Ignoring him, I dodged, weaved, lifted the stick, and struck. Against his strength, the measly twig snapped.
I had to think fast. I couldn’t let Finn have the advantage. I threw a punch, but he dodged it with ease, and before I could react, he countered with a powerful blow that sent me crashing to the ground.
I gasped, coughed, and tried to reinitiate my plan to survive. From behind his long, skinny legs, I spotted Polly. She looked at me, crying and wondering whether or not to come to my rescue.
I shook my head, and a firm stay right there and don’t move was sent to her.
I scrambled to my feet, determined to take him down. But he was too strong and too fast. I tried to defend myself with some techniques, but he was relentless.
He dealt a blow to my jaw and slapped me across the cheek. Once, twice… again, and again.
“Fucking bitch!” he growled into my ear. “You think you’re a match for me, huh?”
I managed a smirk— or what looked like it.
My face stung. My lungs wheezed. My eyes swelled. And a metallic taste filled my lips. But I’d be damned before going down like a timid cat.
“I’m not your match, Finn. I’m above you.”
He slid his fingers through my scalp, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and pinned me against the wall, his hand closing around my throat like a vice.
“Above me, huh?” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “If only we had the chance to make that practical.”
I gurgled, gasping for air, kicking wildly, and cursing in gibberish, but he lifted me off the ground with ease.
With a cruel smile, he slammed me into the wall once, twice, three times, knocking the breath out of my burning lungs.
My vision blurred. My head spun. Wheezing, I tried to land a kick, but he caught my leg and twisted it.
“Ah!” I screamed.
God, I screamed.
And hot tears stung the back of my eyes.
But he wouldn’t let me breathe.
His chokehold grew tighter by the second, and a wave of dizziness washed the ground away from under me. I felt myself slipping further and further down into the stream of unconsciousness until I thought that Finn Jameson would officially be the end of me.
But my final draw of breath never came.
Heavy footsteps and angry voices barking in Russian reechoed down the hallway, and Finn’s hand loosened around my neck.
Trepidation replaced the bloodthirstiness in his eyes when he let me go. He fumbled through his pocket for his phone and growled, “Fall back” over the line.
In a flash, he was gone.
I collapsed to the ground, teary-eyed. I rubbed my neck and winced at the sharp sting of Finn’s hand imprinted on my skin, all the while coughing my lungs out as I tried to catch my breath.
The men in black moved, surrounding the perimeter. Through blurry eyes, I spotted Vasili, standing a row back behind Lev and the man I’d yearned after for a week.
He scooped a crying Polly into his arms and whispered something into her ears before handing her over to Lev.
Then, he came to me—crouched to my level and raised my chin with a nudge of his index finger. He assessed me and dragged his gaze over the imprints and bruises.
“He dared to touch you…” he mused, speaking more to himself than me in his cool, composed tone.
With a gentle brush of his fingers across my neck, he tilted my head to the side.
When he arrived at a decision, it was with a jaw tick. He spoke just five words—five words that weren’t an ordinary threat but a vow.
“I will slit his throat.”
I looked past his dark designer suit and hard-set jaw and into his eyes, and I suddenly wished I didn’t because in them roared destructive storms, glowing embers, and flames of hell. Promises of death—painful, torturous death.
And hidden in the midst of all that darkness was care.
Care for me .