8. Rose
Rose
I stare at the ceiling as I lie there in bed, sleep refusing to come for me. This is ridiculous. I have been lying here for the better part of an hour now, phone plugged into the charger at my bedside just like Ilya promised, trying to make sense of everything he’s told me.
I can’t prove that he’s telling the truth about Petar, but something about it seems to match with the way Petar reacted to the news of the pregnancy: telling me that he was going to need assurance before he believed me, acting like it was downright impossible.
I guess, to him, it is—if he knows he can never have children.
But the thought of having Ilya’s child...
that’s a weight I ‘m still trying to make sense of. I never thought I would be facing down the reality of having a family so soon in my life, let alone with a man I barely know. And what I do know about him is hardly the most convincing thing in the world: he’s willing to purchase my place of work to force my hand, and he is keeping me locked away here like a damn prisoner when I have done nothing wrong.
That he kisses me like he wants me, but treats me like he hates me, and I don’t know what to believe.
I curl my fists around the covers, squeezing tight as I try to focus my energy on something else.
I could try to make a break for it again, leave this place behind, but I have no doubt his guards would be quick to step in and keep me from it.
This place is locked down like Alcatraz, except I am not some hardened criminal who needs to be kept under wraps; I’m just a pregnant woman trying to make sense of how I went from a doctor’s appointment to confirm my pregnancy to being trapped in the home of a man I barely know, beyond what we shared on the night we brought this child into being.
Suddenly, my phone goes off next to me, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin. I answer it, only to hear Becky’s breathless voice waiting for me on the other end of the line.
"Rose, where are you? Are you okay?"
"I—I'm fine," I lie quickly. "I’m just staying with Ilya for a while until we, uh, until I get the results back on the pregnancy blood test."
Wishful thinking. I have no idea how long Ilya intends to keep me here, and frankly, I don’t want to know. I get the feeling that the doors are well and truly closed to me now, and the only way I’m getting out is by the grace of God or at least some kind of divine intervention.
"Well, then, why the hell are the police at our apartment looking for you?"
My heart skips a beat. The cops? Did someone already call to report that I was missing?
Or did they see what happened at the store and realize that I was being dragged out of there against my will?
Whatever the reason, I can use this if I act quickly.
I don’t intend to let this slip through my fingers.
"Did you tell them where I was?"
"No, I didn’t have a clue where you were, and I told them that," she replies, sounding concerned. "Rose, why are the cops looking for you? Are you in some kind of danger?"
I hesitate before I respond. I don’t want to worry her any more than I already have, but I get the feeling that ship has sailed.
She saw what happened today at the store, she knows how alien all of this is.
But that doesn’t mean that I have to worry her any more than I already have, especially if there’s a chance that the cops are already on the lookout for me.
"No, I’m fine," I promise her. "I’ll be back soon, okay? I just need a little more time."
"What’s going on with the store?" she asks, sounding confused. "Do I go in tomorrow? I tried calling Tina, but she said that the guy who came to pick you up today is calling the shots now and she doesn’t know where that leaves her..."
"I’m not sure," I reply vaguely, mind already racing. "I’ll give you a call back when I can, okay? I need to go right now. Get this shit sorted."
"Yeah, of course," she murmurs. "But you know where I am if you need anything, right? Or if you get an update on the work schedule?"
"I do. Speak to you soon, Becky."
I hang up the phone before she can say another word, not wanting to get any deeper into this conversation with her right now.
No, if the cops are looking for me, that means I have leverage, and I intend to make the very most of it.
I toss the phone on the bed and stride over to the door, pushing a hand through my hair and pulling myself to my full height.
"Hello!”
I bang on the inside of the door, trying to attract the attention of whoever might be on the other side.
I know that the guards must be standing around to keep an eye on me, and I don’t intend to make their lives any easier than I have to.
If Ilya wants to keep me locked up in here, he’ll have to accept that I am not the type to roll over and just allow him to do whatever he wants.
"Hello, I need to talk to Ilya! It’s urgent!”
I hear lowered voices on the other side of the door. Invoking his name, it seems, is all it takes to get them to take me a little more seriously. I shift my weight from foot to foot, trying to will them to pull this door open once and for all.
"Trust me, he’s going to want to know about this!" I call threateningly.
Finally, I hear a key turning in the lock. The door opens to reveal two men standing on the other side. I raise my eyebrows pointedly, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Whatever it is, you can tell us first," one of the guards replies, his voice even. "We don’t disturb the pakhan without good reason."
I grit my teeth. "The cops are on the way," I shoot back. "Is that reason enough for you?”
They exchange a glance; that seems to be enough to get under their skin. One of them nods slightly and turns his attention back to me.
"This way," he tells me. "Quickly."
So, that seems to be an easy way to get them to do what I want.
A good thing to have in my back pocket. The guard leads me through the corridors, and I feel a twist in my chest as we draw closer and closer to Ilya’s office, not sure exactly what I’m going to say to him, but certain that I will not let this opportunity slide.
The guard knocks on the door, and a voice barks from within.
"What is it?"
"Rose wants to speak with you."
"Tell her it can wait."
"She says it’s urgent. And that the police are on their way."
I hear movement from inside the room, and a moment later, the door opens.
Ilya is standing on the other side, mouth set in a hard line.
He glances to the guard and jerks his head down the corridor, indicating that he should go.
The guard takes off. Turning his attention to me, Ilya’s eyes sweep up and down me, like he is just realizing that I’m wearing the clothes that he picked out for me.
"Come in," he tells me, pushing open the door.
I brush past him, holding my head high, trying to remind myself that I have every right to be here.
I have information he’s going to need if he hopes to deal with the cops without landing in too much trouble.
I don’t know much about his line of business, but I am pretty certain that he would rather keep law enforcement as far removed from it as possible.
"You called the cops?" he asks as he takes a seat behind his desk. I stay standing, raising my eyebrows as I play at incredulity.
"I didn’t need to," I reply. "Becky called me. Told me that they had been by my apartment, looking for me. Someone must have seen what you did at the store and realized I didn’t want to be stuck with you, so they sent someone."
"You sound pretty certain of that."
I stop in my tracks, suddenly surprised by his confidence. He doesn’t seem shaken at all, as though he is already completely aware of what is going on here. But there’s no way he can be, right? No way he can actually mean this.
"Why else would they be looking for me?" I shoot back. "I mean, it’s not like I’ve done anything."
"Because your ex pointed to you as the reason he’s been embezzling funds from his business for the last four years," he replies, not missing a beat. "And they think you might have an explanation for it."
I stand there, feet rooted to the ground, heart sinking like a weight into my guts.
What the fuck? I search his face for something that will make sense of this, something that will admit to this being some kind of joke, but it doesn’t seem to come.
He just stares back at me, not breaking my gaze for a moment, letting the news sink in.
"You... what are you talking about?"
He rises to his feet and pours himself a drink, seemingly utterly unbothered by my complete shock.
"I got a call from a friend in the police department a few hours ago," he replies. "After I dropped off your charger. Petar and his fiancée were arrested this morning on suspicion of embezzling funds from their business. And Petar said that you were the reason it had started at all. Said that you seduced him into providing a certain lifestyle for you, and he had to start stealing money just to pay for it. As far as they’re concerned, you’re the mastermind behind all of this, and if they get their hands on you... "
He shrugs.
"Who knows who they’ll believe, huh?"
My mouth is dry as my mind races, trying to make sense of everything he said to me.
It can’t be real. It can’t be. Petar might be a cheating shithead, but embezzlement?
And trying to point the finger at me as the reason behind it?
Anyone who knows me knows that’s crazy. I am perfectly capable of providing for myself, and I would never look to a man to support me.
Let alone manipulate someone into stealing money to take care of me.
I think back to Lisa coming into the store, flashing that enormous ring right in my face. Did he pay for that with funds that he stole? Is she the one behind all of this?
"So, if you want, tell the police where you are," Ilya says, taking a sip of the drink in his hand, letting the glass play against his lips. "But you might not like what they have to say when they get their hands on you."
I feel like I am going to throw up. Would Petar do something like that?
I grope back in my mind to find some logic to it, but there’s nothing.
I’ve always known Petar to just say or do whatever it takes to get him out of a problem there in the moment, but this, even for him, is crazy.
I can’t believe that he would pull something this stupid.
Doesn’t he realize how it makes him look, pointing at me?
If I had known that he was involved with something like this while we were together, I would have dumped his ass in a second.
And now, even though we are ancient history, he’s still trying to drag me back into his life. Throw me under the bus to save his new fiancée.
God, now that I think about it, it sounds just like him.
But before I can get another word out, the door opens, and I glance around to see a man I don’t recognize standing there.
He looks to be a little older than Ilya, with a scar that runs from just above his right eyebrow down to his neck.
He hardly even acknowledges my presence there in the room, focused entirely on Ilya.
"Report?” Ilya asks him, lifting his chin expectantly.
"Nothing to report here," the man replies curtly. "The footage from the store has been scrubbed. No sign that you were there at all."
"Good, Sergei," Ilya replies. "Anything else?"
The man shakes his head. I am surprised that Ilya is willing to have this conversation in front of me, but then, who am I going to tell?
Whatever they are involved in, whatever his business truly looks like, I doubt that I have any overlap with it.
If he can buy the store I work at out of the blue, there’s no reason to think he couldn’t buy my silence, too.
And what did he say earlier, about having a friend in the police department?
That sounds way too close to a threat to me...
"Nothing," Sergei replies. And, out of the corner of his eye, I notice him looking at me. It’s just for a moment, just a glimpse, but it’s clear he’s evaluating me. Perhaps trying to make sense of what kind of threat I pose, if any at all.
I avert my eyes quickly, not wanting to draw anyone else’s attention if I can avoid it. God knows I’ve had enough of that lately to last a lifetime.
Sergei’s almost academic gaze moves back to Ilya within seconds, and I wonder if I imagined his attention on me at all.
Whatever the reason, he bows his head, and Ilya dismisses him.
I watch as he leaves, wondering if I should keep an eye on him.
Perhaps he would be on my door later, keeping watch over me, and I could get a better feel for the lay of the land.
But right now, there is a rather more pressing matter at hand. A matter that I am not going to just brush aside like it’s nothing. The matter of my child, Petar, and the bullshit that he has just accused me of.
And just how far I’m going to take Ilya’s word in believing such a thing.