4. Chapter 4
“That bitch is so damn toxic,” I hissed, feeling a surge of protective anger course through me at the look of sadness on my girl’s face.
I unclenched my fists and took Kinsley by the arm, leading her swiftly out of the room, ignoring Hannah’s tirade as Pasha took her outside. Once inside the office, I closed the door behind us, shutting out the chaos.
“What did I do wrong? Why does she hate me so much?” Kinsley whispered, her voice tight with emotion.
Her soft gray eyes filled with hurt, and she retreated into herself. Her question was heavy and filled with confusion. I instantly felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest. The crushed look on her face yanked me backward in time.
Spring, in a leotard with scuffed slippers. Huddled in a corner, crying while the Mask towered over her. Tears streamed down her face as she cowered in fear. Taunts and threats from our tormentors echoed in my ears. I was powerless then, but not anymore.
“It’s not you. It’s her own insecurities and bitterness. It drives her to act stupid. You don’t deserve this. You never did.”
Kinsley’s head whipped up. We didn’t talk too much about the past. It was enough that we processed it with Marcel.
I think in many ways we were protective of one another.
It was hard to pinpoint a part of our past that wouldn’t be triggering in one way or another. It was easier to not talk about it.
My conversation with Marcel from my last session played over and over in my head. The what-if game started. What if I had asked them to be nicer to her? Did I have enough power as the favorite to protect her? To soften it even a little.
I failed her. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision as I struggled to hold it together.
“It’s okay. I’ll be alright. There was nothing you could have done,” she whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of my heart beating in my ears.
She wasn’t talking about two minutes ago.
I wrapped my arms around her in a comforting embrace, holding her close as if to shield her.
Like I’d wanted to do years ago. A gentle knock sounded on the door.
I glanced up as it opened, and Pasha stood in the doorway, anger etched across his face.
They softened, flickering with sympathy when they took in Kinsley.
“Marcus is on his way. She’s gone, but I’d rather you both stay here until he arrives.”
I nodded in acknowledgment. Without another word, he crossed the room in a few quick strides. Kinsley, sensing he was coming toward her, let out a loud sob. He pulled her from me and into his arms.
Tremors ran through her body, and it made my anger boil. It was too damn bad the Death Squad had a code a person had to violate in order to get the summons for death. Apparently, killing someone because you didn’t like them wasn’t a good enough reason.
“It’s okay, mouse,” Pasha said.
“I’m sorry. I should have gone home with Alek, then none of this would have happened.”
Kinsley’s face was buried against his chest, so the words came out garbled and her breathing was ragged. She gasped as she struggled to contain her emotions. Pasha and I made eye contact, and he mouthed, “Marcel.”
I nodded, understanding that a heads up was in order. Kinsley was going to need him tonight. I quickly sent him a text.
BELLARUSO:
Hannah showed up today. At the studio. Kinsley is shaken. Please tell me you have time for her ASAP. I can text Nik. I think it’s his night, but she may need you on this one.
MARCEL:
I’m five minutes out. Bring her straight to me. We can let Nik know later.
BELLARUSO:
We’re at the studio. We’re waiting for Marcus. See you in twenty. Love you.
MARCEL:
Love you too. Stay with her.
BELLARUSO:
Will do.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and looked at Pasha.
I gave him a small smile as one hand rubbed circles on her back.
He was speaking to her in Russian, his voice low and steady, the cadence soothing.
Maybe it was because I had a brother, but nothing in the way he held her screamed that he wanted her for himself.
Why couldn’t Hannah see that?
Another knock sounded, and Aiden poked his head in. “Marcus is here,” he said.
“Thank you. I hate to ask, but do you—”
“I’ve got a late appointment. I’ll close up and make sure everything is ready for tomorrow,” he offered before I could finish my question.
Pasha was making his way out with Kinsley. “Thanks, I owe you one,” I said, slipping past Aiden and shutting my office door.
Marcus had the door open, and his cheek twitched in anger at the sight of Kinsley’s tear-streaked face.
The three of us climbed into the car. Kinsley was quiet the entire way home, but tears still streamed down her face as she looked out the window.
She’d pulled away from Pasha. Tonight was going to be a tough one for her.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the house. Kinsley sighed wearily. Once inside, I guided her to Marcel’s office. The look in his eyes said it all. He gave me a warm, reassuring smile. I relaxed, knowing he’d bring the calm and understanding she would need. He always did.
He took her hand and led her to the couch. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this.”
“I don’t understand why it’s bothering me so much…”
I closed the door behind them, leaving them alone. Pasha was waiting for me, concern etched on his face. He pushed off the wall, his jaw clenched with frustration. He shook.
“I swear,” he began. “I don’t know what else to do. How many times do I have to tell Hannah we’re done for her to get it?”
His words spilled out in a rush. That frustration he’d contained bubbled right to the surface now that we were alone.
“She never used to care about other women when we were together,” he continued. “What does she hope to gain by acting this way?”
“You’re asking me?”
“You’re both women, right?” Confusion lay in his brown eyes.
“Technically, I suppose,” I offered, at a loss to answer him.
Our heads were bent close, engrossed in the conversation, when a shadow fell across me. I jumped. Sebastian stood staring at us both, a puzzled expression on his face.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
I scrambled for words, heat creeping up my neck like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t. “Oh, uh, hey Sebastian,” I stammered stupidly, only making things ten times worse.
His eyebrow lifted in question, and he swung an angry gaze at Pasha.
“Hannah stopped by Isabella’s and then popped off on Kinsley,” Pasha said. With not a hint of awkwardness, he took over, leaving me relieved.
“Did tiny tot draw blood?” he asked.
“No, but I wanted to,” I exclaimed, that feeling rushing back.
“She’s in with Marcel,” Pasha said.
Sebastian’s gaze went to the closed door, and he nodded.
“Six feet,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
I blinked in confusion, momentarily taken aback by his anger. “Yeah, except Hannah has to cross a line. Right? Or have the rules changed?”
Sebastian’s glare softened and was replaced by a wiry grin as he shook his head. “No, I mean between you two.” He pointed at Pasha and me, clarifying. “Six feet at all times. Pretend it’s 2020.”
Laughter ripped from my chest. “You want us to social distance?”
My obnoxious brother nodded, his blue eyes so similar to mine it was like looking in a mirror, filled with amusement. “Exactly,” he said. “The Dancer knows you’re off limits.”
“You do realize we sit across from one another at dinner, right? And breakfast, for that matter. Not to mention, it’s movie night. With the way the seating arrangements are, that might be a bit hard,” I exclaimed.
He was being ridiculous.
“I’ve got my eye on you,” he said, ignoring me and directing his words to Pasha.
“Well, as long as you aren’t trying to stake your claim in me, look all you want,” Pasha said with a smirk, teasing him. He blew my brother a kiss as he walked away.
“I’m serious, sissy. You’re off-limits,” he threw over his shoulder.
Pasha and I exchanged a look. As soon as Bash was out of earshot, Pasha leaned in. “Do you think it’s only the Dancer who has to worry?” He grinned. “I mean, technically, he didn’t say anything about the Russian.”
“And rumor has it the Russian is brutal.” I lifted onto my tiptoes and trailed my finger across his face where I frequently placed his scar.
“A killer, a man-whore who steals women’s virtues, leaving them heartbroken.
” I moved down his cheek, loving the way his eyes dilated in the dim hallway light.
“But can he withstand the Torturer’s mighty fists? ”
Our gazes locked. “Tune in next week to find out if the Dancer listens or if the Russian takes over.”
He removed my hand from his face and kissed the back of it. He dipped into a deep bow. Then he straightened. “I’ve read the script, spoiler alert. He does, in fact, heed the warning. But not out of fear of the Torturer.”
“Really? So what is his reasoning?”
He hadn’t let my hand go, and my heart picked up speed. What the hell was happening here? Pasha’s eyes softened as he looked down at me.
“Because he would never hurt the Torturer’s sister, not in a million years.”
He pulled me in for a hug, wrapping his arms around me in a gesture of comfort and support. Without hesitating, I leaned into him. It startled me how easy it was to let go. In the quiet of the hallway, he held me. And at the moment, it was a simple hug with no strings attached.
No pressure. No expectation. Just the friendly comfort and warmth of a friend.