22. Rose
Rose
"I’m telling you, I need to speak to Ilya right the fuck now!”
I hold my phone up, glaring at the guard on the bedroom door.
Didn’t Ilya tell them that I had a direct line to him from here on out, that he wasn’t going to keep his distance if there was something I needed to tell him?
Well, this seems pretty goddamn important.
And I am not going to just slink off and pretend I don’t need to speak to him when I might have something that could shed some more light on whatever the hell has been going on with Petar.
The guard tenses his jaw slightly, clearly not appreciative of my tone. I glare at him, tapping the phone screen once more.
"I just got a call from my— " I start, but think better of it, reminding myself that I don’t have to lay any of this out for him. Ilya is the only one who needs to hear this, and I’m not going to back off until he does.
"He must have told you that I’m meant to have access to him whenever I need it," I remind the guard. "So let me see him. Unless you want to be the one who went against his orders, hmm?"
At last, the guard seems to think better of pushing me aside. He sighs, jerking his head towards the end of the corridor.
"Come on," he grunts.
I stride out in front of him, ignoring my aching feet and the slight swell of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me at any moment. It’s still early, and I haven’t had anything to eat yet, but when I got the call from Becky a half hour ago, I knew I needed to take action as soon as I got the chance.
Ilya is just stepping into his office when I arrive, and he casts a surprised look at me.
"What is it?"
"We need to talk," I tell him, shooting a look at the guard, who falls back.
Ilya nods, pushing open the door and gesturing for me to come inside. "What is it?"
"It’s Becky," I blurt out, breathless. “I just got a call from her. She—she was at the store, you know, the one I used to work at... looks like it’s opened up again... and Lisa turned up.”
His eyes flash with interest as soon as I say her name, and he takes a seat, gesturing for me to do the same.
“Lisa?”
“Petar’s affair partner, Lisa,” I explain. “The fiancée. I thought that she was locked up, but..."
"They made bail," he mutters. "He took off. I thought she went with him, but..."
"Seems like she’s still in the city," I reply. "And she’s at the store right now, demanding to see me. She thinks that he’s come back to find me or something, that I know where he is. And she says she’s not going to leave until she sees me."
His eyes narrow for a moment. And then, abruptly, he rises to his feet.
"Come with me," he insists. "We’re going down there."
I spring to my feet to follow him, more than a little surprised that he’s even considering letting me out of the house.
"What do you...?"
"I need to know what’s going on with that bastard nephew of mine," he says as he grabs his keys, motioning for the nearest guard to pull his car around as he tosses them to him. "And she’s not going to talk unless you’re there.
Come with me, we’ll get to the store. Tell your friend to keep her there.
It doesn’t matter what it takes, just don’t let her leave. "
"Uh, I—I guess I could—"
"Now, Rose."
I do as I am told, firing off a text to Becky.
I have no idea what I’m going to say to her, or how she is going to react to my presence there at all, but I guess that’s a matter that I can handle when the time comes.
Ilya seems set on getting out of here, and I wonder if it has anything to do with what I told him about Sergei the other day.
There are moving parts here that I can’t see, I am sure of that, and the best I can do is try to keep up as this mess unfolds before me.
He leads me to the waiting car, pulling open the door for me. The guard gets out, and Ilya takes the wheel himself. My phone buzzes where I have it in my lap, and his gaze darts over to it.
"What’s she saying?"
I look down at the messages, grimacing when I see the cavalcade of panic she is sending in my direction right now.
"That I need to get there right now," I reply. "And Lisa is freaking out. Threatening to call the cops unless she sets eyes on me. God, she really thinks I would have anything to do with Petar, after everything he pulled?"
The thought is enough to turn my stomach—or maybe that’s just the morning sickness.
Honestly, part of me is glad to hear that Petar seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.
I don’t want that fucker anywhere near me, not after everything he has done, all the ways that he hurt and humiliated me in front of the entire world.
And besides, what good would it do, anyway?
Lisa might think he’s some amazing catch, but I know that he’s a cheat, a liar, and a thief.
Hardly the kind of man I want around my child, even if it does turn out to be his.
We arrive at the store a few minutes later. Becky is standing in the doorway, trying to block Lisa from getting out before we’ve had a chance to talk to her. Lisa cranes her neck to get a look at me as I step out of the car, her finger stabbing in my direction in barely restrained fury.
"There you are!" she yells as she storms over towards the car. "You finally got the nerve to show your face around here, huh?”
"Lisa," I implore her, lifting my hands, trying my best to contain the fury that seems to be coming off her in waves. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Oh, come on," she laughs, though there is no amusement in her voice. "I know that you have something to do with it. He makes bail and just vanishes—where else could he be? You really took him back, knowing that he’s in love with me?”
I exchange a look with Becky, who already looks frayed. I wonder how long she has had to put up with this hysteria. I pull an apologetic face at her, hoping that she can forgive me for this.
"Let’s go inside," I insist, glancing back at Ilya, who is standing by the car, absorbing the proceedings with obvious intrigue. "We don’t need to make any more of a scene out here, do we?"
"Oh, you don’t get to tell me what to do," she snarls back, pushing her face close to mine, but then Ilya steps forward, and she reels back in an instant. She might not be entirely aware of who he is, but she’s not blind to the aura surrounding him, the strength that oozes off him at every turn.
"Fine," she mutters, stalking back into the store. "But don’t think that you can just talk your way out of this, Rose."
I follow her in, Ilya’s hand on my waist, steering me.
He seems willing to let me take the lead here, probably sensing that she’s only interested in talking to me.
I don’t know what the fuck she has got into her head about me and Petar, but if it means that we can make some sense of where Petar is and what he’s been up to, maybe we can get some explanation for the note that was left in my room.
There are no other customers inside, much to my relief. With the store changing hands, it’s probably not been the best time for business. Lisa rounds on me as soon as the door swings shut, her lip curled and her eyes flashing with such hatred, I feel like they might punch straight through me.
"So, are you going to tell me where he is?” she demands.
"Lisa, I have no idea where Petar went," I tell her. It’s the truth, of course, but not exactly what she wants to hear from me. She tosses her head back, her slightly overgrown mane of blond hair flying in every direction as she makes a point of showing how ridiculous she finds that answer.
"Oh, yeah, very good," she snorts. "I know he went crawling back to you. Probably worried that I would sell him out, huh? Since I know where all the bodies are buried."
"Lisa, you have to believe me, I have no idea where Petar is," I reply. "And if I did, I would tell you. Or the cops. I don’t give a damn about him anymore, because he didn’t give a damn about me. And it seems like he doesn’t care about you, either, for that matter."
She bristles, but I can tell I’m starting to get through to her.
"Well, you wouldn’t know anything about our relationship," she replies haughtily. "He told me what kind of girlfriend you were when you were together. God, no wonder he cheated on you. It sounds like you were nothing more than a thorn in his side.”
I wait for the hurt to follow her jab, but to my surprise, it doesn’t.
Because I truly don’t give a damn what that man has to say about me.
He can spin whatever stories he wants to the women he’s with, tell them that I’m the worst girlfriend on earth and that he practically had no choice but to cheat on me, but I don’t care.
I see him for who he is now, and nothing will undo the contempt I feel for him now.
Lisa seems to sense that she’s not achieved her goal of causing me pain because her eyes are beginning to fill with tears. She shakes her head, a few drops falling down her cheeks.
"I don’t know where he is," she whines. "He—he was meant to come find me after he was out, but that was ten days ago now, and—"
"Ten days ago?" Ilya cuts in.
She glances at him, frowning. "What’s it got to do with you?
” she demands, and, for a moment, I have the same question.
But then, it hits me. If Petar was gone ten days ago, there’s no way he could have been the one to leave the note under my pillow.
He might have had something to do with it, sure, but he wouldn’t have been able to get in to do it directly.
Which means that someone else must have been responsible for slipping it into my room.
Ilya is not stupid; he understands now, too, that Petar wasn’t the one who left the note. And he is not going to let Lisa go until he shakes loose every last bit of information he can from her.
"Ten days," he growls. "That’s how long it’s been since you heard from him? You’re sure of it?”
She nods, swiping the tears away from her face. "Yes, but—"
"Ten fucking days," he growls.