Chapter 19
Nineteen
THE CALLER
The night is slowly falling, and we are standing in front of a tent, waiting for the woman Dasha wanted me to find four months ago. She is an older Russian lady who runs The Morozov Traveling Circus.
Masha Morozov lives a double life.
Most days, she is a mother and grandmother in a respected family. But for four nights at the end of each month, she travels across the states with her circus family, painting her face so no one recognizes her.
I have to see her because I left her the insurance documents Daniel and Aurelia’s father signed, the same ones she needed to look through and figure out how we can make them answer for fraud, how William Grant can finally go to jail, and how Aurelia can get her life back, and the memories of her parents that were taken with it.
A short man with a long beard invites us inside. The deeper we go into the tent, the more the lights fade. And when we reach the mid way I spot her at the table, sitting beneath a low hanging light, flipping through the papers I brought her.
Before we can get any closer, the man steps in front of us.
“Just you,” he says. “She has to wait here.”
Aurelia looks at me, confused. I haven’t told her a word of this yet. I need her to remember a little more if this ever goes to court. I can’t let her lose because the Grants decided to paint her as delusional and crazy.
I lean down and kiss her forehead before lowering her into the chair.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I turn and walk toward Masha.
I promised I would give her everything I know about Dasha, not knowing Dasha had asked the same of her. I wanted to give them the ending I never got to have. But now that I know I might still have mine, I need something in return.
The second she hands me those documents and we step out of this tent, Victor will bring Dasha to her. She doesn’t know it. She thinks she is coming to see Aurelia.
I move closer to the table and sit down across from her, watching her eyes travel over the papers.
“Is Dasha here?”
I nod.
“Good,” she says, placing the document down. “These documents are all fake. Bring them to the police and you have a strong case against them.”
“The girl,” she adds, pointing toward Aurelia, “is she the daughter of the man from the contact?”
“Yes.”
She moves past me, quiet, almost gliding. “We found something else. She has a death certificate.” A pause. “She is very much alive?”
I blink at her. “What do you mean?”
She slides her glasses down her nose and looks back at the paper. “Here it says she died when she was six years old.”
“How did she die?” My voice comes out low, my eyes fixed on the paper in her hands.
“She drowned,” she says. “Maybe you should ask her what happened before you take this to the police.”
I turn my head, looking back at Aurelia. She is still sitting where I left her, hands folded in her lap, unaware that she might not be who she is.
“Thanks,” I say, straightening as I reach for the papers. But before I take them, a thought stops me. “Were there adoption papers?”
“No,” she says. “From what I see, it is only her mother’s signature. The father didn’t sign.”
I give her another nod and finally take the papers into my hands. Then I turn and make my way back to the middle of the tent, where Aurelia is waiting for me. Masha follows behind, too impatient to hide it, wanting to know when she will see Dasha.
I reach my hand out to Aurelia, and she gently places hers in mine, her fingers slipping between mine as we walk out of the tent.
The second we step into the fresh air, I see Dasha standing there with her arms crossed, tapping her foot against the ground while Victor eats ice cream beside her like he doesn’t give two shits about the world.
Aurelia lets go of my hand the moment she sees Dasha, she rushes into her arms. I watch every movement between them, trying to read it, trying to see whether Dasha is holding Aurelia like Aurelia or like someone else. Her eyes lift over Aurelia’s shoulder and land behind me.
On Masha.
She goes still.
Slowly, she pulls back and cups Aurelia’s cheek, her hand gliding over her skin before she steps past her and moves toward Masha.
Masha cries out. “Dasha.”
Their sobs break behind me, one folding into the other, while I make my way to Aurelia. But instead of looking confused, she has tears in her eyes, her finger resting against the tip of her mouth.
“She found her,” she whispers to me. “Her love.”
I turn toward them and find them wrapped in each other’s arms. I step beside Victor and shove his shoulder while he keeps eating his ice cream like an animal.
“So, have you been a good boy and gotten yourself some ice cream?” I mock.
He lifts a brow. “You don’t pay me enough to answer that.”
“Fair enough,” I say, lowering my gaze to Aurelia.
“Meet us at the house,” I tell him. “Bring Dasha later.”
He nods, and I take Aurelia’s hand, pulling her closer to my side as we head back to the fair.
I stop her in the middle of the road leading to the parking lot.
Everyone rushes past us, but all I can do is look at her.
Everything around her blurs. The cotton candy stands, the ice cream carts, the toy booths, they all melt into a streak of color at the edges of my vision the second I meet her eyes.
Her red hair falls over the shoulders of a denim jacket that is probably one size too small, and the dress she is wearing is shorter too.
And when she smiles at me with those full lips, with that light in her eyes I haven’t seen in years, I know it.
I know I am deeply, hopelessly in love with her.
I step closer, cup her cheeks in my hands, and press my mouth to hers. I pull her into a kiss while everything else falls away.
Maybe it’s true that you can rewrite your own stars.
I was meant to be miserable until I found her.
I lost so many people, and grief took me apart piece by piece, then built me back into something ugly.
Something that hid in the dark and exploded the second patience ran out. But she made me want to be better.
I wanted to be a better man for her.
Let’s ignore the fact that her fiancé is dying in a basement, along with a few other details.
Still, I’m a good guy.
Yeah, I am.
“You are beautiful,” I say, looking at her. “Never forget that.”
She smiles, and two dimples press into her cheeks as her lips fold together.
I’m getting wrecked, too.
I clear my throat, then step over to the ice cream stand and ask for a strawberry one and a mint chocolate chip one. I hand the guy more money than it actually costs, then turn back and give her the strawberry while I keep the mint.
“How did you know?” She asks.
“I know everything about you,” I say, dragging my tongue across the mint before sucking the rest into my mouth.
She chokes.
Memories, I guess.
“Who eats ice cream like that?” She asks, smiling.
“Someone with a lot of experience,” I say with a chuckle.
“Hmmm,” she hums as we walk toward the car.
We drive back to the house in silence. Gravel crunches under the tires as I pull in. The engine dies, and for a second neither of us moves.
As soon as we step inside, she turns to me. “Wait here, I have something for you.”
Before I can ask anything, she is already gone, disappearing toward the staff kitchen.
I stay in the middle of the hallway, hands in my pockets, listening to the faint sounds of drawers opening.
It hasn’t even been a minute when she appears in front of me again, a little out of breath.
She bites her lip and holds out a folded piece of paper, pinched between her fingers like it matters.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“I started writing them when I didn’t know you,” she says. “And I finished them when I was in the middle of remembering you.” She presses her lips together for a second. “So I have five ways how to kill you, but also five ways how I would kill you if you ever leave me.”
A laugh slips out of me. I take the paper and unfold it.
I swallow, my eyes lifting slowly from the paper to her face.
“Wow.” My brows rise as I scan her face, the softness of her expression, the way she stands there like she just handed me a love letter. “You really thought about this?”
She nods, her lips pressed tight, almost shy.
“I’m afraid, Kitten,” I say quietly, stepping closer until there is barely any space left between us. “And remind me to never let you cook.”
I don’t want rat poison in my food if I ever make her mad.
I let out a long breath. “I’m speechless.”
I’m trying very hard not to say the wrong thing.
Damn.
She steps closer and places a tiny box in my hands. I open the lid, and all the color drains from my face. A bone is inside with a wedding ring on it, and if I recognize it right, it belonged to Lilibeth.
I snap the box shut and drag both hands down my face, like maybe that will wake me up.
Then I look at her again, because this is real. This is very real. She dug up my dead wife’s grave, took her finger, and brought it to me the same way I gave her Daniel’s hand bones.
My heart pounds as I search for the right words, but all that comes out is, “What’s this, Kitten?” I give her a strained smile. “Are you proposing?”
She shrugs. “I thought it would be a nice touch, considering we both had unresolved issues with our exes.”
“Right,” I say with a smile, slipping the box into my back pocket.
“You need a nice bath to cool you off, Kitten.” I reach for her hand, but she darts toward the front door.
I go after her.
She is laughing by the time she reaches the yard, already running toward the cliffs. This time I barely caught up to her. She flies down the stairs like she already knows the way, and I follow right behind.
I haven’t been here in a while.
The beach below stretches out with the brightest sand in California, all belonging to my family. No one ever comes down here. I can’t even remember the last time I did.
I watch her step onto the sand, slipping out of her shoes and tossing them to the side. I pick up my pace until I catch her hand.
It’s dark. Completely dark. But the moon hangs low and bright above us, casting enough light for me to see every detail of her face.
“What now, Kitten?” I ask, turning her toward me, my hands settling on her cheeks.
“Now we wait for the dawn.” She bites her lower lip as she shrugs off her jacket.
Then she steps back.
She pulls the red dress over her head, her eyes locked on mine, and moves backward toward the ocean.
I pull off my white shirt, then my trousers, and walk toward her. The water curls around our feet, then our ankles, rising higher as we move deeper.
“You aren’t afraid of sharks?” I ask, glancing at her as we start to swim.
“Do they even come this close?” She lifts a brow. “You can still stand, Nathaniel.”
I notice she is standing in the water, her hands moving slightly as she tries to keep her balance against the soft pull of the tide.
“No,” I shake my head. “I don’t know what’s under there. I don’t want anything grabbing my feet.”
She laughs. “Relax, Nathaniel. The only thing down there is sand… and yes, it’s going to touch you.”
“Okay, smartass.” I move closer, pushing through the water until I reach her. My feet find the bottom, steadying me as I rise up.
Only then do I realize just how small she is compared to me. The top of her head barely reaches the middle of my chest.
She tilts her face up to look at me.
I pull her closer, her leg lifting over my hip as I guide her into me.
Even with the cold, my body burns for her.
She feels it, the way I’m already hard, and instead of pulling back she presses closer.
Her other leg wraps around me, her body lowering slowly until full length of my hard cock fills her completely.
A breath leaves her lips, her hand sliding around my neck as she leans in. I catch her lower lip between my teeth, dragging it gently before sealing my mouth over hers. My tongue moves against hers, then deeper when she answers me.
She moves on top of me, each motion pulling a low sound from her throat. I slide my hand up her spine, feeling every curve until my fingers wrap around the back of her neck, holding her steady as I push deeper.
Her head tilts back for a second, her voice breaking as she says my name, and I pick up the rougher pace. I move us through the water, my cock still buried inside her. Her lips find mine again. Her hands cup my face, holding me there like she needs to feel every second of it.
When we reach the shore, I lower her onto the sand. The waves still reach us, slipping over her skin as I push her legs wider, lifting them onto my shoulders. I don’t stop moving inside her, not even for a second.
One hand presses against her stomach, feeling how deep my cock is inside her. I lean over her, my weight covering hers, pushing her deeper into the sand until her thighs press close to her chest.
She gasps, her body tightening under me, and I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head. I hold her there as I drive into her again, slower for a moment, then harder, not letting her slip away from me.
Her wet pussy tightens around me like this, pulling a rough sound from my chest. Her moans spill out louder now, her eyes searching until they lock on mine. The second they do, I press her deeper into the sand, stealing her breath with a kiss as I move faster inside her.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
I don’t ease up. I keep her there, stretched under me, every muscle in her body tightening as she holds on for too long. Then I shift, my hands sliding down to her thighs as I lean back, spreading her wider, watching the way her body reacts to me.
I spit at her clit, my thumb circling slowly while I keep thrusting inside her. Her back arches instantly, her mouth falling open, eyes slipping shut as her fingers claw into the sand like she needs something to hold onto.
Her breaths come in short, broken sounds.
Her throbbing pussy tightens so much I feel it stop me for a second, sucking me in, holding me there.
Her thighs begin to shake, her voice breaking as she cries out my name, and I push through it, even when her body resists, even when she trembles around me.
Her eyes snap open, her hand flying to her mouth as another scream leaves her mouth.
I feel it building, the pressure turning heavier, deeper, like I’m stretching her further with every movement. One last thrust and I let go, my body giving in as I stay pressed against her, not pulling away.
When she takes every single drop I give her, I pull out of her and drop beside her on the sand, both of us breathless.