Chapter 49
CHAPTER 49
ELLIE
I must have slept for hours, or my limbs ache due to the extreme workout Arman put me through last night.
I reach for him and connect with the cold sheets instead and as my eyes snap open, I stare at the brilliant sunlight filtering through the drapes.
The clock beside the bed tells me it’s lunchtime already, and then I spy the hastily written note on the table beside the bed.
I’m sorry to leave you, but business called. Order some breakfast, I won’t be long.
X
As notes go, it’s practical, much like the man himself, but I am heartened by the kiss at least.
Breakfast. Come to think of it, I’m starving but the fact it’s more like lunch time now, worries me.
He said he wouldn’t be long. Is he waiting in his den, or am I still alone?
I head to the shower to clean up, and my heart flutters when I revisit what we did last night. It was the most magical evening of my life because every doubt I had is gone. I am lucky to be facing a life with Arman for as long as it lasts. I’m not deluded enough to believe this is happily ever after for us. We have just met and the sparkle may rust over time.
It’s why I opted to work with him. To gain a skill while spending as much time with him as possible. I’m intrigued by him and this life. It causes my head to spin and my heart to flutter. I am living the dream, or some may call it a nightmare, but we have been given a chance that I am seizing with both hands.
I pull on a sweater with jeans and tie my hair in a messy bun and head off to find him.
I reach the dining room and it’s empty and with a sigh I decide instead to explore this amazing penthouse. There must a kitchen here and rather than order food, I could make something instead. More than anything I could murder a coffee and as I move through the luxury apartment, I can’t believe my luck.
I wonder what Mr. Reese would say if he could see me now. It would be worth dressing in the designer clothes Arman provided and to swing by there like Pretty Woman. I laugh as I imagine storming into his office dressed like a supermodel and dismissing him with a haughty put down as I report him to upper management for gross misconduct.
I am so engrossed in plotting delicious revenge against Mr. Reese, I don’t hear Arman over the kettle boiling until he wraps his arms around me from behind, causing me to jump.
He kisses me softly on the neck and I say softly, “I hope that’s you, Arman.”
“It will always be me,” he whispers, his husky drawl melting me inside and then he spins me around and wraps his arms around me and says with a deep sigh, “I’m sorry, Ellie.”
The alarm bells start ringing and so I pull back and peer up at him and the turbulent darkness in his eyes tells me something is very wrong indeed.
“What’s happened?”
He runs his fingers across the frown lines on my face and says simply, “Marsha’s dead.”
It says something when it takes me a minute to realize who he’s speaking of and then, as it hits home, I say with no emotion. “How?”
The kettle boils and on autopilot, I turn and lift two mugs from the cupboard and heap some coffee grains into them and set about making coffee as if it’s the cure for everything.
He says nothing as I digest his words and then ask. “How do you take it?”
“Black.”
I smile. Of course he does.
As I set about finishing my task, my mind is racing.
My mother is dead.
Did he kill her?
I don’t even care if he did. She probably deserved it anyway.
As I stir in my creamer, I compare how I’m feeling to when my grandmother died and there is no comparison. I loved her, whereas Marsha was just a name for a very long time, until recently.
I owe her nothing, not even my grief and so I take a deep breath and turn to face him.
“Okay. Tell me.”
He nods to two stools resting against the center island, and as we sit, I prepare to hear the details as if we are catching up over coffee. I suppose we are really and I swallow the hysterical giggle that isn’t far away, and he studies me with concern.
“Are you okay, malysh?”
“Of course.” I take a sip before saying evenly, “She was a stranger, Arman. She didn’t want me when she was alive, so why should I care that she’s dead now?”
He nods and reaches out, tangling his fingers in mine, and tells me what happened.
I listen intently and when he finishes, I say simply, “She was mugged?”
He shakes his head. “No. If only it were that simple.”
“Then what? Murdered. By who?”
He sighs and I notice how weary he looks and I feel bad that he handled this on his own.
“The cops were called by the cab driver, who found her. We gave our statements and later they will call around to formally notify you as her next of kin.”
“I suppose I am.” I didn’t even think of that and shrug. “That’s fine. Maybe they will shed some light on what happened.”
“I already know.”
Arman’s eyes are dark and dangerous and I catch my breath. “Tell me.”
“Luka witnessed the whole thing as we approached. He saw the man running away from her body and gave chase with a few of my men.”
“So she was mugged.”
“At first, that was the story because the assailant stole her purse. When Luka and my men caught up with him, they persuaded him to talk. He confessed it was set up and was an ordered hit and he was to take her purse to Roden Demain.”
“Who?”
“The owner of a strip club that coincidentally, our friend Nikolai Barinov visited when he was in town.”
“He ordered the hit?” I can’t believe I’m discussing this at all. I don’t say sentences that include the words ‘ordered a hit.’ I order take out and dresses. Not murder.
“It looks that way.”
Arman’s expression is grave, and I’m confused.
“But he’s a hitman. An assassin for want of another name. He was also her, well, customer. He could have done the deed himself. Why involve anyone else?”
I am rambling as my mind attempts to work things out with words and Arman shrugs. “It was obviously the reason he was here, but he wanted it to look like an accident. He must have set up the hit using the man he trusts to keep quiet about his involvement and be back in Russia when it takes place. I’m guessing the purse will be forwarded to him there.”
“So something of interest is in the purse. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I don’t know for sure, which is why Luka made sure to relieve him of it.”
“You have her purse?” For some reason, I’m more excited about the mystery it may reveal than the woman’s demise who was carrying it.
“But won’t the man tell Nikolai’s accomplice that you have the evidence? He may come after you next.”
That worries me more than anything, and Arman shakes his head. “He won’t be speaking to anyone again.”
My blood runs cold as his meaning sinks in and I stare at him in horror as he says huskily, “We are monsters, Ellie. We don’t live by the rules and we stop at nothing to get what we want. You must understand this is the life you signed up for.”
“What if I change my mind? Will you deal with me too?”
I don’t know why I’m asking because I really don’t want to hear the answer and his gaze softens as he grips my fingers in his and whispers, “I will never hurt you, malysh and it’s my job to make sure you never want to leave me.”
“I don’t.” I lean closer and stare him straight in the eye and say fiercely. “If that day ever came, I would welcome death because what’s the point of living if it’s not beside you?”