Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Leah
Trent stood in front of me, wearing that old leather jacket I knew too well.
The one I'd given him.
Last Christmas, I'd saved three months of tips to buy it. Back then, I was naive enough to think a gift like that would make him take me seriously, take us seriously.
Now, looking at that jacket made me sick.
"Look who it is." Trent's mouth twisted into a fake smile. "Our small-town girl's doing pretty well for herself these days."
His gaze crawled over me, up and down, followed by a low whistle.
"Yeah." My voice was ice. "Way better than when I was stuck with a piece of shit like you."
Trent snorted. He lunged forward, closing the distance in two quick strides, and his hand shot out, clamping around my throat.
Using the momentum, he slammed me back against the rough brick wall.
Too fast. I had no time to react. Pain exploded through my spine the instant my back hit the wall, spreading through my entire body.
"Don't get too cocky, Leah!"
Trent's face twisted with rage, looming close to mine.
"You think you're some high-and-mighty mafia wife now?"
He tightened his grip, nails digging into the skin on either side of my neck.
"You're just Roman's toy! That Russian bastard only thinks you're interesting because you're new. You really think he gives a damn about some nobody like you?"
I fought back, grabbing his wrist with both hands, trying to dig my nails into his flesh hard enough to make him let go.
But Trent didn't even flinch.
"Once he gets bored of you, he'll toss you out like trash. You'll be worse off than you were with this piece of shit! You'll come crawling back, begging me to take you in!"
I struggled to pull in what little air I could, glaring at this man I knew and didn't know anymore.
Trent had changed.
The old Trent was a piece of shit, but he'd never laid hands on me. He'd just played pathetic—kneeling on the floor after losing all his money, clutching my legs, sobbing promises that he'd change, feeding me lines that used to work on the girl I was back then.
But this Trent had dropped the act completely.
Ever since he thought he'd hooked up with some underground big shot, he'd been drowning in delusion, like he actually had deadly power in his hands.
His grip kept tightening. My lungs burned. Black spots crept into my vision.
Shit.
I couldn't let something happen here. I had a baby inside me.
I released his wrists, forced myself to go soft, gave up the physical fight.
"Trent... let go..." I forced the words through my crushed throat. "I can't breathe..."
Trent snorted, but his grip loosened slightly.
"Why should I?" He stared into my eyes, voice dripping with mockery. "You abandoned me, you bitch. Why would I go easy on you?"
"You need to calm down." I gasped for air. "I've done enough for you, Trent."
I tried to dig up whatever shred of guilt might still exist in him using our past.
Trent stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly let go.
I clutched my throat, coughing violently, tears streaming down my face without control. Every breath burned like fire.
"Of course, baby." Trent's voice went soft suddenly, his hand reaching up to stroke my cheek.
My skin crawled.
This sudden tenderness scared me more than his violence.
"I know you've done a lot for me." He kept talking, his hand sliding down from my cheek to rest on my slightly swollen belly. "I remember everything. Now, I'm going to pay you back."
I cursed him silently.
I didn't need any payback from this lunatic. I just needed him gone, out of my sight forever, taking his disgusting presence as far away as possible.
I swallowed the urge to spit in his face, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
"Now, our good days are coming." Trent pulled me into a tight embrace. "I hooked up with a big player, Leah. Someone way more powerful than Roman Volkov."
Dread twisted in my gut.
"Who? Who did you hook up with?"
"You'll find out soon enough." Trent smiled mysteriously. "Now's not the time."
"Just play along with me, and if you and that little one in your belly work hard enough, we can bring Roman down together."
He leaned close to my ear, voice turning seductive.
"Think about it, baby. What's the point of being some cold-blooded gangster's side piece, or fake wife? He could dump you anytime. Kill you anytime. But if you come with me, you'll have way more than you do now."
I stared at him, barely believing what I was hearing.
"Just say yes and work with me." Trent kept going, his lips nearly touching mine. "You'll have more than you ever imagined. I'll make you my queen. This time, I'll treasure you, love you, just like we used to."
I looked at this maniac, one thought running through my head.
How could someone be this shameless, expecting me to trust or help him after hurting me over and over again?
God, how did I ever love this psycho?
"Of course, Trent, I've always believed in you..." I nodded, pretending to go along.
But all I could think was how to get out of here fast.
Play along? At least I could leave sooner?
But if I agreed, would he drag me somewhere else? Then escape would be even harder.
Just then, I caught a glimpse of a dark figure at the mouth of the alley to my right.
That tall, solid silhouette moved toward us, quick and silent. Light caught his profile. I recognized that face.
Sergei.
Relief flooded through me.
I shoved myself out of that revolting embrace.
"I've always believed you're an idiot, and I'll never help you with something this stupid."
"Your plan's a joke." I looked him dead in the eye. "I won't betray my child's father for some asshole who's hurt me again and again."
Trent's face went dark.
"What did you say?"
"I said you're worthless," I spoke slowly, clearly. "You don't even come close to Roman in my eyes."
"You actually fell for him?" Trent stared at me in disbelief. "You think he actually cares about you? Leah, you think he loves you?"
I didn't respond. Just watched him lose it.
"He shot and killed his own kid's mother!" Trent yelled. "Blew her brains out! You think you'll end up any better?"
I froze.
Roman killed Irina?
No. That couldn't be possible.
"Why would I believe you?" I forced myself to stay calm. "What makes anything you say credible?"
"Roman killed his wife. Everyone knows it. He's a cold-blooded monster!" Trent sneered. "The whole New York underground knows. Only a fool like you is in the dark."
Those words hit me like a blow to the chest.
My breathing turned shallow and rapid, chest heaving.
"I don't care who he killed." I clenched my jaw. "I won't work with you."
Trent let out a contemptuous laugh.
"Fine." He shrugged, patience gone. "Since you won't come willingly, don't blame me for getting rough."
Trent waved his hand.
"Get her in the car! Watch her belly—the boss still has use for her!"
Two hulking men stepped out from behind the car, moving to grab my arms and drag me away.
"Sergei!" I screamed.
Just as the thugs' hands were about to touch my clothes—
Bang!
Muzzle flash lit up the darkness.
The man in front didn't even scream. Blood bloomed from between his eyes and he dropped.
Blood spread quickly across the wet asphalt, the thick metallic smell drowning out the stench of garbage.
I stood frozen.
I watched the man lying there, blood pouring from his skull, dark red in the moonlight.
I saw his eyes, wide open, empty of life.
For the first time in my life, I'd watched someone die right in front of me.
Sergei stepped out of the shadows. Both hands gripped a suppressed pistol, face blank, barrel trained on Trent and the remaining thug.
"Ma'am, step back." His voice was calm.
I snapped out of it.
I shoved away the other thug's reaching arm—he'd frozen at the gunshot—and spun around.
I ran with everything I had toward the crowded street.
Cold wind tore at my throat. My lungs screamed with each step, every breath tasting of rust and blood.
I didn't dare look back. I just ran, legs pumping mechanically.
I don't know how long I ran before I collapsed.
Steady footsteps caught up behind me.
Sergei appeared at my side, catching my arm, holding me upright.
"Ma'am, this way."
Sergei's voice had that same machine-like calm, completely devoid of emotion.
He showed no reaction to the bloody killing that had just happened in that alley.
That's when it really hit me what the mafia was.
I'd never really understood before. I thought it was all Hollywood exaggeration, thought that violence was far away from me.
But now I understood what these people really were.
So... did Roman really kill Irina? The woman he loved, who'd given him a child?
I moved in a daze. By the time I came back to myself, Sergei had gotten me into the car.
The door slammed shut, sealing off the outside world.
I sank into the soft leather seat. I gasped for air, both hands pressed to my belly, making sure the baby was okay.
I turned to look at Sergei in the passenger seat.
"Thank you." My voice came out quiet.
"Of course, ma'am." Sergei's response was polite.
Even though Sergei had saved me, I realized this probably wasn't a coincidence.
I'd likely been followed from the moment I left.
But I couldn't think about that now.
"Irina," I took a deep breath, "was she killed by Roman?"
Sergei stared straight ahead at the road, saying nothing, as if he hadn't heard the question at all.
But this question mattered. It mattered to me.
"Please tell me," I begged. "Please."
"Ma'am," Sergei finally spoke. "You can ask him yourself."
Then he went silent.
I sat in the car, mind racing.
Even though Irina had been planted as a spy, she'd spent so much time with Roman.
And she'd given him Mira.
I couldn't accept that Roman had really killed his own lover.
I pressed my hand against the car window. The cold glass cleared my head slightly, but couldn't drive away the chill in my chest.
Every night I slept next to a man who'd killed his own wife.
And I wore the title of his wife now.
And I was hiding a secret too.
I returned to the Long Island estate with this crushing unease and burning questions.
The car finally stopped at the front steps of the main house.
I took a deep breath, forced myself to straighten my messy hair and clothes, and pushed open the heavy manor door.
The entrance hall was dead silent.
No servants came to greet me. None of the usual warm lighting. This unusual quiet pressed down on me immediately, the air thick with suffocating pressure.
I looked up and froze.
Roman sat in the center of the hall on that dark leather sofa, like he'd been waiting for me for hours.