Chapter 27 - Jillian #2
Then I return to the living room and wait for her. It’s not long before I hear the shower cut off. A few minutes later, Rae shuffles into the living room in the sweats I picked out and an oversized t-shirt, her wet hair twisted into a messy knot. The wine glass I filled up is already empty.
She hasn’t eaten. I can tell by the way the alcohol changes her eyes almost immediately. They’re a little glassy, a little too loose. I add “force-feed Rae a sandwich” to my mental to-do list.
“Talk,” I order.
So she does.
It’s a story and a half, to say the least. The short version is that, like me, Rae’s life has leaped from out of the frying pan and into the fire.
She thought working for Kir was tough, but now that she’s in the elder Lazarev’s clutches, she’s learning just how much hotter things can get.
This spontaneous trip to Bordeaux was the culmination of almost a month of things happening, one after the next.
I thought she was just entangled with an obsessive, powerful man who had taken a liking to her, but as she fills me in on all the gory details, I realize this rabbit hole goes much, much deeper than I ever suspected.
I’m talking heated, forbidden kisses in gothic French wine cellars.
Candlelit dinners and midnight pawing in the kitchen.
It’s a little on the nose, but you gotta give Lukas lots and lots of style points: The man knows how to cultivate an intimidating atmosphere.
He’s the huge, cryptic, silver fox, billionaire boss zaddy that haunts every twenty-something girl’s most lurid fantasies.
Both the good parts and the ever-present threat of imminent murder.
“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “He just watched you almost drown? He stood there and did nothing?!”
“For a minute, yeah.” She takes a long sip of wine like she’s steeling herself. “Then he pulled me out and told me he didn’t kill Elena. Not like I think he did, anyway.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“No idea. He didn’t exactly elaborate.” She stares into her glass. “He was too busy grinding me against a tree.”
The wine I’m sipping goes down the wrong pipe and leaves me hacking and spluttering into my fist like an idiot. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah.” The blush is crawling up her neck. “It got a little wild.”
I set my wine down before I drop it and take her hands, pulling them into my lap. “Sunshine, this is all getting a little wild. I’m worried for you.”
She pulls her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself. The sweats I picked out for her are her favorites, but they’re not armor. Nothing is, not against whatever Lukas Lazarev is doing to her head.
We talk about her life and the mess it’s become for a little while longer before Rae turns the spotlight on me. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Anyway, enough about me and my terrible life choices. What’s going on with you? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
I shrug. “Oh, you know. The usual. Chasing leads, pissing off powerful people, dodging weirdos.”
I shouldn’t have said that last part. It slipped out before I could catch it. Maybe, unconsciously, I want Rae to tell me that everything I’m doing with Kir is a very bad idea.
Not that I don’t know that. I mean, duh—one peek at my life from anything resembling an objective perspective is proof that I’m in way over my head. But I feel like I’m just teetering the line, and a push from Rae would convince me to abandon ship.
So the fact that I’m hiding things… does that mean part of me likes what Kir is doing? Does that mean I’m—God help me—falling into his darkness?
“Weirdos?” Rae’s eyes narrow.
I wave her off nonchalantly, but my hand drifts to my neck to tug my collar up.
It’s a reflex I’ve developed recently. This need to cover myself, to close up the gaps.
“It’s probably nothing. I’ve just had this feeling lately, like…
someone’s watching me?” I laugh, a little too high-pitched to be convincing “I’m sure it’s just paranoia.
Sort of comes with the territory in my line of work. ”
It’s not paranoia. I know it’s not. The thing I fear has a shape and a name and a voice and wears a black mask—and I keep inviting it to crawl through my window and fuck me senseless anyway.
But Rae doesn’t need to know that. Not tonight. She’s already carrying so much.
Since she’s a caring soul, though, she presses anyway. “Jill, that doesn’t sound like nothing. Do you think it’s related to this story you’ve been working on?”
I bob a shoulder. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Have you considered backing off a little bit?”
“Absolutely not!” My jaw sets. Because I’m close.
I’m so close to cracking this thing wide open, and I am not going to let Kir fucking Lazarev scare me off.
“I’m close to something big, Rae. I can feel it.
” I pause, then add quieter, “Some stories you can’t walk away from. Even when you probably should.”
“But if someone’s following you—”
“Then I’ll be careful.” I fix her with a pointed look. “Besides, you’re hardly in a position to lecture me about self-preservation. You quit your job yet?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’m not quitting mine.”
That settles that. We talk for a little while longer, but when we both yawn, I forcibly drag her to bed. She convinces me to stay the night, so I borrow a toothbrush and some pajamas and snuggle in next to her.
“Hey, Rae?” I whisper into the dark.
“Yeah?”
“Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’ll be careful,” she promises.
She won’t. I know she won’t. And I know I won’t, either—because the thing I’m chasing is getting bigger and darker the closer I get.
And I can feel it starting to chase me back.
Rae passes out quickly, but now that I don’t have her to fuss over, my own problems are hissing in my ear and keeping me wide awake.
The hypocrisy of what I’m doing isn’t lost on me.
I’m on my high horse, telling Rae to be careful around a Lazarev, while I’m literally sleeping with one.
It’s the same blood on very closely related hands.
If Rae knew the full extent of what I’d done or let him do to me, she’d kill me. She’d be right to.
I glance over at her. She’s out cold, mouth open, one arm flung across the pillow above her head. She always falls asleep fast. I’ve never understood how she does that—just decides to stop being conscious and then boom, does it, like flipping a light switch.
I’m not so lucky. I lie on my back and look at the ceiling and think about the fact that it’s almost midnight. Kir is probably sitting at my kitchen table right now, Mask on, legs crossed, frowning while he waits for me.
He’s going to find an empty room tonight.
Good. Let him wait.