63
Surprise!
The medication was taking effect, and it seemed like the headache was fading away.
I grabbed the jar of lavender-scented bath salts and dropped a generous handful into the water. Then came the shower gel, which squirted out quickly, splashing a few drops outside the bathtub. The faucet had been running for a while, filling the tub, and it was time to switch to the shower to generate the right amount of foam. When I activated the switch, the showerhead was propelled by the water pressure and sprayed some water onto the floor. I”d clean it up later.
I played with the idea while sitting on the edge of the tub. I watched my nude, blurred reflection, amusing myself with something as mundane as building a fluffy, whitish layer that would disappear as soon as I submerged myself.
With the foam just right, I turned the knob back so the water would come out of the faucet, and I began to arrange the scented candles we had bought yesterday. I would light them when I got in, to avoid slipping and burning myself. I liked to place them on the edge so that the scent would reach my nostrils first.
One of those many smiles that slipped out without permission emerged on my lips. I imagined Romeo in the room, by my side, with his hands behind his back and that imaginary surprise waiting to be delivered.
At home, spontaneous gestures were not common. The only surprises my father provided were the occasional body under the carpet, which made him run away or fail to show up at one birthday party or another.
We never lacked anything material, I must admit that. My mother loved to dress us in the best clothes and ensured that anything we desired we had. But they weren’t unexpected surprises, not the kind you don’t ask for that appear solely so that the other person knows you”re thinking of them.
A soft knock on the door interrupted my play with the candles, though not before I brought the last one to my nose for a deep sniff.
I grabbed my robe so as not to go out naked and tied a loose knot at the waist as I walked to the wooden door.
Could it be Romeo? Impossible, it hadn’t been more than half an hour.
”Yes?” I asked with a firm voice.
”Room service,” murmured the voice on the other side.
I hadn”t ordered anything, though perhaps my husband had done so for me. The voice was sociable and feminine.
I opened the door to find a smiling waitress. She had a cart with an ice bucket and a bottle of my favorite champagne. Undoubtedly, it was another detail from Romeo.
”Is this for me?” I asked, in case there had been a mistake.
”Yes. It”s a gift.” Now I knew for sure whose it was. ”Would you like me to uncork it?”
It was so considerate of him to anticipate my needs. I felt like having a glass while bathing, and he knew me so well it was almost scary.
”Please.” I extended my hand to encourage the waitress.
She closed the door and, with great professionalism, served me the glass. She was pretty, slender, with very curly hair tied up in a high ponytail.
”Thank you.” As any efficient employee would, she waited for me to taste the delight. I took a sip and smiled at her. ”Excellent.” She barely let out a small sigh of relief.
I finished the glass quickly; I was thirsty. She kindly refilled it for me.
”Should I place it somewhere?” she asked helpfully.
”In the bathroom, on the edge of the tub; I was just about to get in,” I admitted.
”Of course.” I read from her badge that her name was Elena.
She pushed the cart into a corner of the living room and took the ice bucket to the place I had indicated.
I followed her steps closely, and as I saw her bend over, I noticed she was carrying a gun strapped to her thigh.
I immediately went on alert; a waitress wouldn”t be carrying a semi-automatic for no reason. I broke the glass I was holding against the frame to fashion a weapon. The element of surprise was crucial when facing an enemy.
She turned at the sound.
”Who the hell are you?” I spat without reservation.
”Calm down,” she murmured, putting her hands in front of her in a pacifying gesture. As if that would stop me.
”Why are you carrying a gun on your thigh?” I insisted. I approached with the glass shard in hand, ready to slice her throat. She looked from side to side.
”You have to come with me and ask no questions.” I let out a laugh.
”Does that work with anyone? Because with me, you”re out of luck, darling. Who sent you? Was it Cheng? Massimo? Who?” She backed up a few steps, right where the bathtub was.
I needed to disarm her and then find out who the hell she was.
I lunged, aiming to incapacitate her hand with a deep cut; it wasn”t a good idea to go for the neck without getting information. The problem was that the seemingly harmless girl turned into a queen bee and threw a flying kick that made me lose the glass.
”Listen!” she repeated under my astonishment. That had hurt, and I wasn”t going to let it slide.
I rewarded her with a dangerous smile and lowered my gaze to her thigh.
”Explanations later, darling, or did you think we were going to chat about our lives after you kicked me?”
She reached for the weapon, but I destabilized her with a sweep that pushed her backward.
Her slender body tried to recover, which she might have managed if the soap mixed with water hadn”t turned into a trap for her feet. She slipped and got wedged on the edge of the marble bathtub ledge. I didn”t waste time and pounced, using my body weight to pin her down. I twisted that curly ponytail around my left wrist and dunked her face into the water.
”I”ve got you.”
The flailing, caused by lack of air and excess water, came quickly. She tried to break free and breathe. No fucking way. She moved so much it was hard to reach her thigh.
I lifted her face slightly to prolong her agony and immediately submerged her again.
”Confess, you curly piece of shit. Were yours the ones who tried to kidnap my sister? Because if they were your friends or coworkers, you should know they”re dead, and you won”t have a better future if you don”t tell me who the fuck you work for!”
I lifted her head so she could catch a few seconds of oxygen, just enough and necessary so she wouldn”t die yet. I wanted to push her to the limit and make it clear who was in charge.
She barely coughed and spat out some water before I submerged her head again without any remorse.
The girl”s strength was waning. Yet, adrenaline allowed her to stay afloat and muster enough push to resist. She was a fighter, I had to give her that, though quite foolish to confront me just like that.
I lowered my hand to her leg, lifted the hem of her skirt, and managed to get hold of the weapon. Good, it was now mine.
I pulled her out of the bathtub again and the muffled sound of someone aware that this could be their last breath reached my ears.
”Are you ready to talk, or do you need me to clear things up even more?”
She shook her head. Coughed. Water spewed from her mouth and nose. The bathtub was nearing its capacity, but I didn”t give a damn. If the damn villa had to flood, so be it.
I submerged her head again. One more dunk and she would be ready to talk. I mentally counted the seconds, and just as I was about to reach twenty, a dizziness hit me, causing me to lose steam.
It was just a moment, a second of nothing that she used to rise up like a wild beast and throw a headbutt that hit my nose.
I felt a crunch. And I got dizzy.
”If you”ve broken it, you”re going to pay! You’ll pay the surgeon with your damn thug blood,” I roared, dripping crimson fluid onto the light tiles. Fortunately, I hadn’t dropped the weapon. It was still in my hand, the problem was that my vision was blurring, and I felt my strength waning. ”But what the hell?” I growled. It became clear, the damn bottle, she must have injected something into it, that’s why she was nervous when she served it. Maybe she thought I could taste whatever crap she had given me.
She lunged at me, and we struggled.
I refused to die without taking her down with me. The problem was that my motor system was failing more than a cheap toy. Damn it!
I sought her foot with mine, hoping to destabilize her, maybe causing her to crack her head against the bathtub. I tried and missed. She had caught onto my technique, and it wasn’t working.
My lungs burned more from frustration than from exertion. I had to manage to shoot, to have her die before I did, even if I couldn’t get the confession I sought.
I jerked my knee sharply. I managed to hit her groin, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t a man because a knee in the kiwi turns you into fruit mush. If my leg hadn’t been so heavy, I could have caused more damage, yet she groaned in pain.
”Just a bit more, Nikita, hold on,” I spurred myself on. ”Just a little more.” I pulled from the little strength I had left, thinking of Romeo, his surprise, what would he say if he found me dead in a pool of blood?
I couldn’t do that to him; he said he liked me and was bringing me a gift.
And Adriano? Okay, he wasn’t exactly my favorite being under eighteen, but he would grow up, and I wanted to see him become the next big bastard of the family.
I twisted my arm. ”Just a bit more,” I told myself, ”just a little more.”
Using all my body weight, we twirled like dance partners. The brunette slammed against something, I wasn’t quite sure what because my eyelids sweated not wanting to open them.
”Shoot, Nikita, shoot,” I commanded myself blindly.
I remembered when Yuri and I practiced shooting blindfolded. That training had to count for something now.
I pressed a bit more on the angle. The barrel grazed something soft. What was it? A shoulder? An arm? The chest? I
had no time for guessing games, I had to risk a shot.
I let the trigger merge with my finger and knew the bullet pierced flesh, and bone by the sound. I hoped the lead had veered off into her rotten heart.
I couldn’t stand any longer. As soon as the projectile propelled forward, I fell to the floor. My body said enough, this is where we end, Koroleva.
I heard a muffled groan as my head bounced off the floor. Was it mine, hers? And the tinkling of glass breaking.
”Entry and exit wound,” I told myself. It was either that, or she had fallen backward and hit the mirror.
Consciousness was leaving me. I had no more time. I thought of Romeo and heard hurried footsteps echoing on the floor.
Was it him? ”Amore,” I wanted to call him, to stretch out an arm to caress him, but I couldn’t.
My eyelids blurred a figure in the shadows.
And then it came, that voice that broke my heart, addressing the waitress with
To be continued...