Chapter 28
Half way through the meal, Valentin receives a call and his irritated expression tells me he won’t be ignoring it. He answers with an abrupt, “Yes.”
As he listens, the thunderous rage that lies permanently in his eyes deepens, causing me to stop breathing.
“And you’re certain about that?” He says gruffly and from the anger in his eyes I can tell that whatever it is concerns him a lot.
“Make the arrangements.” He says simply and cuts the call, drumming his fingers on the starched tablecloth.
“Is everything okay?” I ask hesitantly, and he shakes his head, a murderous glint in his eye that terrifies my soul. His earlier good humor has been replaced with a man who is scaring the panties off me because, at this moment, I see exactly what Valentin Romanov is capable of.
Now I understand why he commands a small army of obvious assassins. The men who work for him mirror the same emotionless expression that he wears so well. Something has happened that has changed everything in a split second and now my perfect evening is not so perfect after all.
“Your neighbor, Samantha Burrows.”
Fuck! This concerns me and now I’m really afraid.
“What about her?”
I’m nervous to ask and he says in a low whisper, “Her maid, Justine.”
“The one you think had something to do with the break in?”
He nods. “Artem put a man on her to observe her movements. As soon as I saw her expression when she was questioned about the keys, I knew she would act.”
“How?”
I’m shocked and he hisses, “That is why we had to leave so quickly. I realized we had little time, and I was right. My man was waiting outside Carrington house and followed her when she left for the day. We already had her address, but she didn’t go there.”
“Where did she go?”
I’m intrigued and Valentin leans forward and whispers in my ear, “To a private club in Oxford. My men observed her meeting with a man who is known only too well by my family. She was anxious, agitated even, and it didn’t end well for her.”
“What happened?”
I hold my breath because things like this don’t happen in my world and Valentin says darkly, “Whatever she said was not taken well and she was escorted from the premises.”
“Then what happened?”
Obviously something did from the flicker of distaste in his expression and he says with a deep sigh, “She left via the rooftop terrace.”
“What did you say?”
I feel sick and he snarls, “It was made to look as if she jumped, but she was definitely pushed. Suicide to the authorities, murder to those who know him.”
“Who is he?”
I’m almost afraid to ask and Valentin whispers in my ear, “Nikolai Barinov. A known Russian assassin who works for the government.”
I say nothing and stare at him in shock as he adds, in a voice laden with animosity, “This changes everything.”
“How?” My heart is beating like a drum announcing danger and any good humor we shared has vanished down the end of the phone line.
Valentin has a gleam in his eye that scares the shit out of me, and I wonder what is going to happen now.
The waiter appears with our starter and yet my appetite has deserted me, but Valentin merely points to the food and says firmly, “Eat.”
He lifts his fork and spears one of the scallops and as he eats, I almost hear his mind working. I can already tell he’s in no mood for easy conversation and I concentrate on my own burrata, not really feeling it now.
Our meal is conducted in silence as Valentin works out his plan. I can tell he is brooding on the call and I’m wondering if I should tell him about my meeting tomorrow. He has a lot to think about and it seems so trivial now, but something is telling me he needs to be told.
Once the main course is cleared away, I’m a little more courageous and say tentatively, “Um, I was going to tell you later but?—”
His eyes flicker with interest and a shred of anger as I command his full attention now.
“You were going to tell me what, exactly?”
His tone is even but I detect the animosity in it and I realize he’s a man who doesn’t react well to information being withheld from him and so I say defiantly, “I had a call earlier when I was unpacking the delivery.”
He says nothing and I swallow hard.
“Um, it was Marsha Steele wanting to arrange a meeting tomorrow.”
Still, he says nothing, and that makes me speak even faster.
“Selfridges. The roof top restaurant. Apparently, she has a proposition for me.”
His eyes flash and the anger deepens, but all he says is, “What time?”
“Um, two-thirty, I think. I’ve got her number and she told me to call her when I get there.”
“And you were going to tell me when, exactly?”
“Tonight, I guess.”
I shrug as if it’s no consequence, but it is to him. I’ve known him for such a short time but I already realize he’s a man who likes all the information. I should have told him immediately but then again, why should I? I’m my own person and he is a stranger who will leave soon and I make the decisions in my life, not him, so I glare at him with a defiance that obviously doesn’t escape him.
For a moment, he stares at me as if waiting for the rest and then, after a tense while, he leans forward and whispers firmly, “I will say this only once. I need to be informed of anything relating to the reason I am here immediately it happens. That way you stand a chance of surviving the storm that has broken at your door. This is not a game, not a trivial matter, and not anything you are used to. I am here to protect you, to guide you through and to stack the odds in our favor. So, word of advice, don’t hold anything back, no matter how trivial, because we are not dealing with men with any fucks to give.”
I sense the blood draining from my face and my mind is racing. What started off as a fun game isn’t quite so appealing now.
The waiter appears with the dessert menus that Valentin waves away with a gruff, “The check, please.”
His expression leaves no room for argument and the waiter scurries away with a respectful nod.
I’m surprised when his expression relaxes and he reaches for my hand and raises it to his lips and whispers, “I’ve got you, Polly. I won’t leave you to face this alone. We will work it out together, but you must trust me because I’m all you’ve got.”
All I’ve got. Ain’t that the truth? I’ve been alone for some time now, but have never felt more alone than I do now. I have nobody to turn to, to talk things through with, who won’t judge or has my best interests at heart. All I have is a man who is probably extremely bad for my heart, who will do what he can but will inevitably leave me in the end.
As I stare into turbulent eyes that threaten an immeasurable storm, I feel vulnerable, weak and so alone the best place for me would be to run back to Sussex, bolt the door and lie under my covers until the world ends.