20. Zora
ZORA
I'm off the couch before I've even hung up the phone, ripping the photo of me and Makar off the fridge and shoving it in the junk drawer.
I grab the framed one on the bookshelf with all four of us and slide it under my bed.
And the one in the hallway gets torn off the wall and tossed face-first into the closet behind a stack of shoeboxes.
Kazimir cannot see any trace of who I really am in this apartment or he will know.
I knew it was inevitable that he'd want to come over to my place.
He even has my address. I just never thought he'd want to drop in on such short notice, and since I've not been very forthcoming with my full identity yet, even my mail has to be stashed out of sight. He doesn’t even know I'm a Volyn.
He thinks my last name is Gorin—Mom's maiden name.
There's a Volyn family calendar pinned to the side of the fridge with everyone's birthdays and anniversaries marked in my handwriting.
I pull it down and fold it and stuff it in the same cabinet with the mail.
A group photo from my grandfather's memorial sits in a small frame on the end table by the couch, and I grab it and tuck it in the drawer, and I think that's it.
Every trace of my family is hidden from plain sight.
If he wants to see who I am, he's gonna have to snoop.
But just for safety's sake, I make one more pass through the apartment, moving room to room, checking every shelf and counter and wall for anything with my family's name or face on it. By the time I'm done, the place looks clean and my life is safely hidden.
But my pulse is pounding.
I splash water on my face, trying to make my body calm down. The last thing I need is to be all worked up from the anxiety and end up throwing up on him. That'd be an amazing welcome, wouldn’t it? "Hey, Kaz. Surprise, you're a dad."
When the knock comes, I open the door expecting a hug or a smile or a warm greeting, but Kazimir walks past me without stopping to kiss me.
His jacket's hanging open and his jaw is clenched.
He doesn't even say hello. He paces the length of my living room and turns at the window, then paces back. Something is bothering him badly.
"You okay?" I ask, shutting the door. But he doesn’t respond, so I give him a second as I go to the fridge and grab him a beer.
But fear starts to collect in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
If he figured out who I am, this would be an appropriate response, especially if he figured out what I've been doing too.
I twist the cap off a beer and step into his path so he has to stop or walk through me, but he stops. He looks at the bottle, then at me, and takes it. He drinks half in one pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Sit down, Kaz," I tell him, gesturing at my couch. "Please?"
"I can't sit down right now," he grumbles, fisting the bottle so tightly, I think he may snap the neck off.
"You're gonna wear a hole in my floor." I put my hand on his chest and push gently until he starts walking backward, albeit a bit reluctantly.
But he doesn't fight me. I take the beer bottle from him as he drops onto the couch with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp.
Then I sit beside him and put my hand on his back.
The muscles under his shirt feel tight. I rub between his shoulder blades carefully, but it's doing no good, so I climb up onto the couch beside him and really knead his muscles. His head never comes up, though, and his shoulders stay locked tight. Whatever this is, it’s got him so worked up he's refusing to relax.
"They think it's you," he says into his hands.
I continue massaging his shoulders to help him work out the tension, but my palms are growing sweaty and my chest feels like someone stabbed me. Every drop of my blood is ice cold. This isn't good.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, managing to keep my voice sounding calm even though I'm anything but.
He lifts his head and stares at the wall.
"Someone's been sending messages from my phone, feeding bad information to my bettors and contacts.
It's gotten some folks riled up and the American got attacked because of it.
They've been trying to figure out who's doing it and today they sat me down and told me they think it's you. "
"That's crazy, Kaz." My throat constricts, and I feel that tug of nausea, but this time, it's anxiety driven.
I should've gotten out when I could, before I gave him my address, before I got pregnant with his baby.
Now he knows where I live, and that means when this thing goes pear-shaped—and it will—they'll all know right where to find me.
"I know it's crazy." He picks up the beer and finishes it. "I told them they were wrong. I told them I love you and I trust you and I'm done listening to anyone who says otherwise."
"What did they say to that?" It almost brings tears to my eyes to know he'd fight his whole family for me. It's so amazing. If only they weren't right about me. I'm such a miserable excuse for a human being, comforting him while pretending I don’t know what he's talking about.
"I'm so angry, Zora." He sets the empty bottle on the coffee table. "If I had just let them vet you months ago when we first met, they'd know it isn't you." He glances at me over his shoulder as my hands go still on them.
"Vet me?" I swallow hard and try not to look guilty as fuck. "They want to run a background check on your girlfriend?"
"Stepan insisted months ago and I shut it down.
" He rubs his face with both hands. "Now they're throwing it back at me like I should've listened.
" I'm about to cry. This poor man thinks he's going crazy.
His family is turning against him and he doesn't know why.
They have good reason to fear me and he is so blind to it all because he cares about me.
I did this. I made him blind to the obvious that three other grown men can pick out easily.
"Do you think you should have?" I slide back down beside him and tuck my hands into my lap, feeling afraid of him for the first time since we met. This man could crush me with his bare hands, and given how explosive his temper is sometimes, I know if he knew who I really am, he may just do that.
He drops his hands and looks at me. "No.
I think I know who you are and I don't need a database to confirm it.
" His hand cups my cheek and he says, "Baby, without trust a relationship is nothing.
I'm not the sort of guy who needs to look through your purse or phone to find out who you are.
You say you're Zora Gorin and I believe that. "
"Then stop letting them get in your head.
" I take his other hand and hold it between both of mine.
His knuckles are still scabbed from the fight he was in, and my hands are trembling.
The guilt is eating me alive and I'm fighting tears, which I hope he thinks are fear of him rejecting me, not fear of being caught. "You really trust me?"
"I mean it… They're wrong, Z." He leans forward and kisses me softly.
"Then let me take care of you tonight."
"Yeah… you're right," he says, sighing. He lowers his hand as I stand and go to the kitchen for the second beer because I need a few seconds with my back to him to force these fucking tears to go away.
It's not fair. This man is so perfect and good.
His heart is solid gold and I'm a horrible, horrible woman.
I can't even live with myself at this point.
When he leaves, I have to get out of this.
I'm gonna need Yefim to let me stay with him, and maybe a new identity.
Alisa will never understand. I'm in so deep, it's going to kill me.
He's still coiled up when I come back with the second beer. His leg is bouncing rapidly, and his hands are still curled into fists. I set my beer on the table and swing my leg over his lap and settle onto him, straddling his thighs, putting my hands on both sides of his face.
"Look at me," I say softly, and everything in me is screaming at me to just come clean.
"What?" he says, hands resting on my hips.
It hurts.
It physically pains me to see him like this, and knowing I'm the one doing it to him is torture. It’s killing me, but I have to calm him down.
The angrier he gets with his family the worse this is for him.
Bogdan and Makar may be making me do this to him, but he doesn’t need to cut ties with his family over it.
He will need them when shit hits the fan.
"Please let me take care of you," I whisper, leaning in to kiss him. I think I need this more than him, and I have to fight back the guilt to take what I want.
He resists for half a second, and then something in him lets go and his mouth opens against mine and his hands grab my hips and pull me down onto his lap. I can feel him getting hard and I roll my hips forward. He groans into my mouth and his fingers dig into the flesh above my waistband.
"Will you let me?" I whisper against his lips. "You'll feel so good, and then you'll relax."
He nods at me and kisses me again, biting my lower lip, but I want more.
I break the kiss long enough to pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor.
His eyes drop to my chest and his hands follow, palms sliding up my stomach to my bra.
He cups both breasts and his thumbs drag across my nipples over the fabric so I arch into his hands and grind down on him.
"Off," he says, reaching behind me.
He unhooks my bra with one hand and peels the straps down my arms. His mouth is on my breast before the bra hits the floor, tongue circling my nipple, teeth grazing the peak. I grab the back of his head and hold him there as a moan rolls out of me that surprises us both.
"I need skin," I breathe, tugging at his jacket and shirt.