Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lauren
My stomach rumbles but I have no appetite.
I get up anyway, deciding to head out for some lunch. The thought of eating makes me feel sick, but I can’t pass on food. I need all of the strength I can get, especially now that my father knows I stole from him.
Besides, the baby needs food. I need to make sure I’m in top shape for the little soul growing under my heart.
I take the elevator down to the ground floor and wait for the glass doors to slide open. The sun in Atlanta carries some heat today, soothing my skin. I take off my jacket and tie it around my shoulders, reveling in the warm air. I need some after staring into my father’s cold eyes this morning.
The streets around my workplace get busy around noon. People fill the sidewalk, rushing to grab a quick bite before they head back to work.
I walk in my ballet flats, part of me still wishing I wore heels so that I’d have a weapon with me. The wedge on Louboutins should not be underestimated.
I slip into a busy café and order a black Americano, looking over my shoulder every time I get the urge. Which is often enough for me to look out of place.
I force my shoulders to relax, reassuring myself that I’m safe as long as I stay in crowded areas. But despite all of my efforts to undo the knot in my stomach, there’s still a feeling in me, screaming at me to be on guard.
After the parking lot attack, there’s no such thing as being overly cautious.
It occurs to me that the only place I feel safe these days is Nikolai’s penthouse or with him by my side.
With him watching over me, I can finally relax my muscles, but when he’s gone, there’s always a chance that something bad could happen.
“Jesus, Lau, take a chill pill.” I murmur to myself, sighing out all of the tension. “You’re only making matters worse. Nothing bad is going to happen with all these people around.”
I sit down with my coffee and grilled cheese sandwich, focusing intently on the crunch of the toasted bread as I bite into it to distract my mind. Washing the bites down with warm coffee, I scan my surroundings for any suspicious behavior.
There’s a man opposite me wearing a suit.
He gets up to greet his wife, so I drop my gaze.
Another one enters the coffee shop, meeting my eyes for just one passing moment.
The next moment he looks away, busying himself with something else entirely.
Coworkers enjoy lunch together, relaying work gossip.
Next to me, an elderly couple tuck into avocado on toast. The woman bursts the poached egg with the edge of her fork, bright yellow yolk spilling out.
I concentrate as it spills over like lava from a volcano.
Just like blood from a person’s neck.
Seriously, Lauren?
When did you become such a scaredy-cat?
I find myself thinking about Nikolai and something occurs to me. I haven’t heard from him all morning. I wonder what he’s up to.
What if he’s…
I have never reached for my phone more quickly.
There are three unopened messages and two missed calls. All from him, the first one delivered half an hour ago.
Shit.
He only ever sends one text. But I silenced my phone earlier because I didn’t want my father to question who I was texting. He still doesn’t know about Nikolai and me, as far as I know.
Dammit, Lauren!
I guess I should have checked my messages earlier. My fingers tremble slightly as I tap the text icon on my screen.
“Where are you?”
“Lauren, pick up. It’s not safe.”
“Lauren, answer me! I’m headed your way.”
My heart jumps into my throat as I type out my reply.
“Sorry. I’m on my lunch break. My phone has been on silent all morning.”
The response comes almost immediately.
“Location. Now. I’m coming to get you.”
My eyes scan my surroundings again before I shoot him a live location.
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
Okay. So, he’s coming.
I pocket my phone and take a sip of coffee, taking the opportunity to take a good look around with my face shielded. Nothing seems out of the ordinary apart from my racing heart and churning stomach.
I take another bite of grilled cheese, but the cheddar has a sickening taste to it now. I wash it down with coffee, but the taste is far too bitter for my liking.
Stop stressing, Lau!
Think about the baby!
I force the rest of the grilled cheese down and head out of the café to assess the road.
No shady-looking vehicles drive by. All of the cars have legitimate registration plates, letters and numbers arranged as they should be.
I turn around to the on-street parking beside the coffee shop, glancing through the windows to see if any suspicious-looking drivers are sitting behind their wheels watching me.
Nothing.
All of my surroundings seem normal. Maybe too normal. The only thing that doesn’t sit right with me is the nagging feeling in my chest, pinching me like it’s trying to tell me something.
The same feeling I had in the parking lot the day I got attacked—that primal warning I’d ignored once before.
I turn over my shoulder. Still nothing. The café I just left is still full of people, servers whipping by with trays as they clear tables, customers enjoying their lunch. Nothing is different. But I feel a chill, my body temperature plummeting.
Realizing that I’m in the shade, I punch the pedestrian crossing button, crossing the road to wait for Nikolai in the sun where he can see me.
I sit myself down on a bench after double-checking my surroundings, facing the highway.
My fingers drum on my thigh as I wait. Cars fly by in a variety of directions, networks of roads leading off into all kinds of places.
I wonder what Father’s going to think when I don’t return to the office.
The chilling shivers running up and down my body refuse to ease. Goosebumps prickle all over my bare arms even though I’m in the sun. I check over my shoulder again back to the road I just crossed over, but there’s nothing there.
Anxiety is a symptom of pregnancy, isn’t it?
I really need to relax.
I shake out my shoulders and bask in the sunlight for a moment, forcing my nerves to settle into a more relaxed state. It doesn’t work.
“Jesus, Lau,” I mutter, untying my jacket from around my shoulders to throw it back on.
I can’t.
Something is tugging it. Maybe it got caught on a splinter sticking out from the bench. I pull at the jacket, but the tug hardens.
In a moment, everything changes.
I don’t see the face of the figure emerging from behind me, but I can tell it’s not Nikolai.
I open my mouth to scream for help, but a pair of leather-gloved hands clamp over my mouth before I can even catch my breath.
My scream comes out muffled, vibrations from my failed effort buzzing against my lips.
It all happens in less than a second.
My feet leave the ground, swinging in the air as I'm tugged backward into the person's grasp. Panic floods my system as I kick wildly, my ballet flats useless against my attacker’s solid frame. The world tilts dangerously as I’m dragged away from the safety of the busy street, away from witnesses, away from help.
My heart pounds so violently I can feel it in my throat, and all I can think about is my baby—our baby—and how I might never get to hold her.
My jacket hits the ground, the lapels blowing in the passing wind like a final goodbye.
I’m about to try another scream.
That’s when the darkness consumes me.