Chapter 8
EVA
Ilean back in my chair and blink. My vision is hazy after hours at the screen. Fear is a great motivator, and I have no idea how much work I’m supposed to finish by day’s end.
Outside, it’s dark except for a glow from the neighboring mansion. I can’t see the ocean now, though I can faintly hear the waves through one open window.
My stomach growls loudly, and I weigh my desire for food against the chance of running into Evgeny. I haven’t heard a single noise outside my room since breakfast this morning, the last time I ate.
At the thought, my mouth waters. I haven’t had anything that good in years, and I secretly hope to find leftovers in the fridge. I open my door, listen for any sound in the house, and hear none. I head down the hall toward the kitchen and stop short when I see Evgeny there.
He’s sitting alone at the kitchen island, papers and a small book spread out before him, next to a single plate and a bottle of beer. For the first time, I’ve caught him in an unguarded moment.
He thinks no one is around to see he’s taken off his ever-present suit coat and draped it over the back of another stool. His head is bent, his gaze on the book in front of him. His plate is still half full, and he inhales the words instead of the food.
His tie is off, draped over the coat. He’s opened his collar and rolled the sleeves of his fog-gray button-down. One hand is threaded through his hair, making it slightly wild. His head is tipped into his palm, his weight braced on his elbow.
I swallow, my pulse picking up at the sight. Not from fear. It joins the butterflies swirling in my stomach, flitting this way and that as my heart follows their skipping path.
Something about Evgeny in this unguarded moment tightens my throat and chest, heat prickling across my skin. He looks more like the gentleman I met at the club, the one I felt an instant attraction to, even a connection, though I’ve never believed in love at first sight.
He looks almost… vulnerable.
My gaze drops to his bare forearms, well muscled and corded with strength. Tattoos follow the lines from his wrist to his elbow, though I’m too far away to tell what they are.
The prickles dancing over my skin gather into a wash of heat at my core, then become a stirring pulse. A warning pulse. A pulse I can’t believe I’m feeling. And yet I am. The same pulse I felt the night we met, when I almost agreed to go home with him.
Would Evgeny have brought me here? A hotel? Somewhere else? Would I have seen that hair, sex-mussed? Followed the line of those tattoos with my lips so I could reveal the rest?
I’m staring, nearly drooling, at a man I now know is one of the most dangerous in the city. Not to mention the richest. I was sure that thought would cool the heat, but it only seems to inflame it further.
I turn to creep back the way I came. Evgeny will hate that I’ve disturbed him, and I’m not up for that kind of explosion right now. I can come out later to sneak food into my room.
“Eva?”
Shit.
I spin on my heel, swallowing my fear. “Sorry. I just came to get some dinner. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll come back later.”
Cringing at the words tumbling out of my mouth at the same time I edge backward, I almost miss his words. “Come. Eat.”
I must have misheard him. “Sorry?”
“Eat.”
Evgeny pushes upright, and I can see more color at the top of his chest in the gap of his unbuttoned shirt.
“Okay.”
I walk to the fridge, feeling his eyes on me, and rummage through the odds and ends Alona left. My stomach gives a loud grumble as I start collecting food like I haven’t eaten in days, setting dishes on the counter before I search the cabinets for a plate.
“In the second cupboard to the right of the range.” Evgeny’s voice rumbles behind me. “Silverware is in the left drawer next to the microwave.”
While the food heats, I do my best to ignore him and the thoughts about him that ran through my head only minutes ago. I place the plates of leftovers exactly where they were, nice and neat, hoping to avoid Alona’s wrath tomorrow.
Dmitri strides into the kitchen just as I take my food out of the microwave and sit opposite Evgeny. The big man greets me with a friendly hello, then leans in and pulls something from his pocket. He places it in his boss’s outstretched hand, and Evgeny gives it to me.
It’s a cell phone.
I stare at the device in my hand, wondering what I’m supposed to do with it and why Evgeny gave it to me. I meet his eyes again, afraid of what he’ll require me to do.
“It’s a burner phone to call your family,” he says.
My mind goes blank, and I can’t process the words he just said. “My family?”
“Yes.” Evgeny pushes up and walks around the island to dump his dirty dishes in the sink.
“You may call them and only them,” Dmitri adds, pinning me with a severe look. “And we’re monitoring the calls. If you try to call anyone else, or if you try to tell them what’s going on or where you are, you don’t want to know what will happen.”
I nod my assent. I don’t even need the threat, I’m just grateful to be able to speak to my family again.
Evgeny gathers his papers and book, then drapes his coat and tie over his arm before his green eyes find mine. They stay on me for a long moment before finally sliding away. “Don’t abuse this privilege, Eva. It can be taken away.”
“I understand.”
“Oh, and they think you’re working for the government and won’t be home for an extended time. Don’t get the story wrong when you talk to them.” Evgeny throws the information over his shoulder as he disappears into the hallway shadows, his footsteps receding into silence.
Dmitri follows, and then I’m alone in the silent kitchen. I dial the number I’ve known by heart since I was small enough to use a phone, listening to one ring after another. I know it’s late, but I pray someone is awake.
“Yes?”
It’s my father’s voice, gruff, tough, unfriendly. And it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard.
“Papa, it’s me. It’s Eva.”
I’m surprised at how fast the tears come, and I do my best to hold them back. I can’t tip him off that anything is wrong.
“Eva! When are you coming home from this job? Why couldn’t you tell me you were leaving? I’ve had to get Marco to help at the bookstore, and he’s busy with his studies.”
“I’m sorry, Papa. It was so last-second. They needed me, and I had to go—” My throat, thick with tears, cuts off my words, and I spend the few moments breathing the sobs back. “I promise.” I finally manage to push the tears from my voice. “I promise I’ll come back soon.”
“Is that Eva?”
I hear a voice in the background, higher and not as gravelly as my father’s. Noises at the other end of the line, an exchange of words, and then, “Eva?”
“Marco.”
I press my fist against my mouth to stem the tears. If anyone is going to hear the upset in my voice, it’s my bright, funny, sensitive brother, the oldest of my younger siblings. I switch the phone to speaker, hoping it will distort the emotion.
“Eva? Are you okay? Papa said you called him and said you’re doing this secret government job. Is that true?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, tears leaking from my eyes at the lie and the truth behind it. “Yeah. I’m so good at what I do, they came to get me personally.”
Marco laughs. “Do you know when you’re coming home? I’m doing my best to help out, but I have midterms coming up, and there’s this professor who’s really giving me a hard time—”
My brother doesn’t want to finish, doesn’t want to bother me when I clearly have something I need to do.
“Hey, I’m earning money for us, right? That takes time,” I say, trying to soothe him, more lies tumbling from my mouth.
“Eva?” It’s my father’s voice again. “Tell them you’re needed at home.
Marco needs his time to study. Jordan is asking for money again, and I need you to find him.
He’s off somewhere and hasn’t been home in days.
And Katie needs you to take her to school, she doesn’t want her Papa to embarrass her. ”
More like she wants someone far gentler to help her off to school, to help her with her homework. Dad tends to get frustrated when someone doesn’t understand a concept he thinks should be simple to grasp.
“Tell them you need to come home, Evushka. Your siblings need you.”
So do you. More than anyone else, I tell him silently, knowing he’ll never admit it, how much he’s come to rely on me. How little he’s recovered from losing my mother.
“Papa, I can’t come home. I’m doing important work.” The lie leaves my lips on a breath I force through my throat and my tears, knowing I will probably never make it home. “Just… just tell them to call me, okay? I’ll see what I can do to help from here. That’s all I can do right now.”
It’s more than I should promise, but what else can I do? I might never see them again. At least this way I get to hear their voices. The realization forces fresh tears from my eyes to track down my cheeks, and I know I will lose it if I stay on any longer.
“I have to go. I’ll call tomorrow and see what you need, okay?”
“See that you do.” It’s my father’s parting command.
“Good night, Eva.” Marco sounds sad, a counterpoint to my father. “Thanks for calling. We miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Good night.”
I end the call before the sobs erupt, and I cover my face with my hand, trying to stem the flood.
A sound interrupts my misery. I jerk my head up as Evgeny walks into the room, and I hastily wipe at the tears with my hand. He crosses the kitchen without a word and picks up his book, which I hadn’t noticed he’d forgotten.
Then he retraces his steps, and I almost sigh with relief. Instead of leaving, he looks back at me. The emotion in his eyes is unreadable, the green almost preternatural in the shadows. Shivers run under my skin, following his gaze as it traces me, and I can’t look away.
Then he’s gone, and I’m alone again.