31. Chapter Thirty-One #2
Noticing my stare, Anton glances down at his necklace.
“Sergei was so mesmerized by you, he didn’t even notice it,” he says.
“He saw it every day for months, yet… he was blind. People like him have ambition, but it’s limited—by laws, by rules.
I like to, how do you Americans say, think outside the box. ”
“You made it look like a robbery. You took her jewelry, her phone.”
Confusion flashes across his face before he says, “I took her ring and her phone, but… you already knew that.” His perfect white teeth flash.
“I bet you found the phone earlier today, just like I planned. After Pavel told me he caught you in Shef’s office, I knew it was a matter of time before you would come snooping again.
I didn’t even need to wait that long. Women are so predictable.
The moment I saw that terrified face of yours this afternoon, I knew you found it.
But you didn’t do what I thought you would, you silly goose.
” He taps my nose with his finger, and I flinch.
“You were supposed to call your buddy, so the police would reopen the case.” His nostrils flare as he yanks me by the arm.
“You running away to a place this secluded… This is even better. Instead of just a phone connecting him to Alessia’s murder, there will be another body.
” He runs his tongue slowly over his lips.
Body? Terror pulsates through me the moment Anton’s plan sinks in.
“I’m sorry.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I’m not sorry—not even a little bit—but I need time. I need to figure out how not to die here.
Oh God. I don’t want to die.
“Such a good girl you are.” His gloved finger brushes against my lips as he leans in closer.
I feel his warm breath against my skin. “I can see why Sergei fell for you. Did you let him fuck you already?” I struggle to keep my neutrality when he mentions Sergei, but whatever he reads on my face makes him shake his head in disapproval. “Women. All whores.”
“Please,” I beg, my voice trembling.
“It will be over soon,” Anton promises, his tone thick with dark satisfaction.
“You die. Sergei takes the blame, and this time it will stick. And then… the real fun begins.” He drags me back toward the pool and shoves me to the ground, dangerously close to the edge.
“I think, though, he’ll feel the impact of losing you even more than he did with Alessia. ”
He steps toward me, forcing me to scoot closer to the water. “Undress,” he commands.
My limbs shiver, though not only from the cold. “Please don’t do this,” I beg.
Anton doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls a gun from the back of his waistband and levels it at me. “Undress.”
With shaking hands, I begin to comply. “What does killing me get you?” I ask, throwing my jacket and sweater to the ground beside me.
“Alessia dying was an accident, but once it happened, I saw it as the opportunity I was waiting for. You see—” He pauses, his gaze dropping to my chest, the tank top clinging tightly to my body.
When his eyes lift back to mine, the undeniable desire makes my skin crawl.
I quickly realize there’s something worse than dying.
A distant car alarm beeps, momentarily pulling Anton’s attention away. I seize the chance to crawl away, scrambling to move, but I barely make it a few inches before he swings the gun in my direction, eyes narrowing. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Anton, please. I don’t want to die.” Tears pool in my eyes.
“I know.” His tone turns almost sympathetic.
“But we all have to do things we don’t like.
I had to be Sergei’s errand boy for years—running his mundane tasks, driving his annoying kid everywhere.
” Disdain etches his face. “I’m destined for greatness.
I thought he’d get us there, but nyet.” His face twists with frustration, words tumbling out in a heated rush, as if he’s caught in a trance.
“The moment Alessia got pregnant, he decided to go all up and up. Do you have any idea how much time and effort I put into the illegal side of his business?” He lifts the gun to my head, gripping it tighter.
A whimper escapes my lips, and I instinctively curl my body, as if making myself smaller will somehow cause him to miss.
But there’s no missing me from this distance.
“And it’s not fair,” he continues, spitting as he speaks. “I put so much into it, and he—what did he do?”
The panicked ringing in my ears drowns out his words, making them come out all muffled. My temples throb, pounding me to act, to do something, anything, before it’s too late. I can’t just stay here and wait for the end.
Think. What would Olivia Benson do?
“I get it. It’s not fair,” I say through shaking teeth. I imagine him as a lost child needing guidance, because if I treat him as an angry man with a gun pointed at my head, I might completely lose it. “You worked hard, and he didn’t appreciate it. I understand that.”
Anton’s eyes flicker with anger. I hold my breath, hoping my empathy will make him reconsider.
“He cut me off. Cut everything off. He doesn’t know—” A sly smile curls on his lips.
“I rebuilt all those connections. I swooped in, and soon, I’ll do the same with his precious hotel.
It will serve as a wonderful front to all that I’ve planned.
Everyone will know the Black King,” he says proudly as he squats in front of me.
“You already have what you want. You don’t need to hurt me,” I plead.
“Oh, but I do.” His tone darkens. “I need him completely out of the way—ideally dead, but prison will do. Custode came in after him too hot, and the police didn’t want to touch him after that.
But now, with another woman in his life turning up—” He draws a finger across his neck with a menacing gesture. “They’ll have to pay attention.”
Anton’s hand trails along my arm to my shoulders, his touch releasing a wave of nausea.
He leans in closer, and I squeeze my eyes shut, terrified of what he might do next.
A metal click sounds behind me, followed by a faint rustling.
Turning my head slowly, I notice he’s loosened the plastic cover over the pool, revealing a glimpse of the water beneath.
I glance back at him, the puzzle pieces connecting. “Anton, please,” I beg. “Please, I don’t want to die.”
His grip on my neck tightens, and he pulls my face closer to his, sniffing my skin as though he’s savoring the moment. The pressure of his fingers digging into my throat is unbearable. “Sad, we didn’t get the chance to play,” he says, a predatory spark lighting up in his eyes as he licks his lips.
“Have I not told you not to touch what is mine?” Sergei’s voice cuts through the air as he steps into the backyard.