Chapter 3
NIKA
Ilook from Gabe to the dress and back to him again. I wait for him to smile and laugh like this is all some hilarious joke, but he’s only watching me carefully for any reaction. I make a noise in the back of my throat, like a surprised grunt, and pull back. He remains eerily still.
“First, you come bursting into my life like the Terminator. Come with me if you want to live.” I do a terrible German accent. I’m definitely not thinking straight. “Then my apartment explodes. And now you’re telling me that I need to marry you?!”
“That sounds right. Nice Schwarzenegger by the way.”
“No, no no no, no thank you.” I wave my hands in the air, shaking my head rapidly. “Uh uh, nope, no way, this is done. Thanks for not letting me get blown to little pieces, but that—“ I point at the singed dress. “That’s not happening.”
He sits back and doesn’t seem remotely surprised. Which I guess makes sense. Who would think I’d go along with this? He’s practically hijacking me into marrying him.
“That’s one response,” he says, nodding along thoughtfully. “But what if you said something more like, how long am I going to last without your help instead?”
A chill runs down my spine. My feet feel cold and I can taste my teeth. It’s a weird sensation. “Are you… threatening me?”
“I’m making you think through your current situation. I’m offering you my help. Clearly, based on the state of your apartment, you need it.”
“And you couldn’t just… help me? Without getting anything in return?”
He looks momentarily confused. “People don’t do that,” he says. His expression is hard. Gone is the charming stranger. He’s still so handsome it’s hard to look at him, but now there’s an edge creeping out from underneath the striking exterior.
“What do you mean, people don’t help each other? They do it all the time.”
“No. You’re wrong.” He leans forward. “Nobody does anything for free. Charity directors want recognition. Priests want power. Every time you help a friend, you expect their thanks in return. Now they owe you. No, that isn’t how people work.”
I’m too stunned to think of an answer. That’s such an ugly, terrible way to see the world. “Life isn’t… it’s not just… it can’t be just a series of transactions.”
“It’s always been that way, Nika. You just haven’t been paying attention.”
God, maybe he’s right. I hunch into myself, rubbing my forehead. Maybe all this time, everything I’ve done, there have always been hidden motives… secrets I didn’t think about…
But no, this is madness.
Except something occurs to me.
If Gabe really believes life is just a string of deals, that means he wants something from me. And I doubt it’s just the honor of being my husband.
There’s something else at play.
I look back up. He seems curious as he cocks his head to the side. I search his face, trying to figure out what his angle is, but he’s holding all the cards and I’m running for my life. I’m desperate and he’s my only safety.
But that doesn’t mean I’m powerless.
“If I help you, then you’re going to help me.”
“That’s exactly what I’m offering.”
“No, not just my safety.”
He seems surprised and then delighted. “Are we negotiating? Did you just come around to my view?”
“I want my mother.”
That quiets him down. He leans back, lifts his coffee to his lips, and considers. He hesitates, drinks, and sets the cup down. “I don’t know who she is. I don’t think Yelena does either.”
“Then you’re going to help me find her.”
“Nika, I don’t think you understand the situation here—“
I jam my pointer finger on top of the table. “You need me. I don’t really know why, but it has something to do with who I am. Otherwise, why else would you want to marry a total stranger?”
“Maybe I just find you attractive.”
I clear my throat and ignore the sudden ping of desire that rushes into my core. “No, you want something. Well, I want something too. If I’m getting wrapped up in whatever your game is, you’re going to find my mother for me.”
This has been my dream ever since I was a little girl. Aunt Yelena never spoke about my mother, and the few times I asked the men that showed up to check on me, they always ignored the question. It became obvious from a young age that my mother was a subject we simply did not speak about.
But nobody ever said she was dead. Nobody said she was missing, or that she abandoned me on purpose, or anything at all, really.
Which let me fill in the gaps with wild, mostly pathetic fantasies, usually about my mother showing up and whisking me away to a better life where I’m loved and cared about instead of kept in a tight, cozy little cage.
Now I have the chance to get the truth, and if I’m going to do something as reckless as marry this man, I might as well get something from the bargain.
Aside from not getting drone-striked to death.
He considers for a long, tense moment, before taking some money from his back pocket and splashing it across the table. “You have a deal.”
“I do?”
He gets out of the booth and picks up the dress. “Should we shake on it? Or maybe we should kiss. Get some practice in before the wedding.”
“Wait a second.” My pulse races. He looms over me. “We’re not doing this now, are we?”
“Absolutely we are.”
“Who the heck is going to marry us this late at night?!”
“I have my sources.” He’s smiling again. The mask is back on, that charm oozing from him like oil, but now I know what he is. Now I’ve gotten a glimpse of the way this strange, beautiful man sees the world.
We’re all ones and zeroes. We’re pawns on a big board.
Every word, every action, it’s all just business.
I should stay right here in the booth. I should tell him this is stupid and there’s no way in hell I’m going to marry a man I met about an hour ago. But he’s got Aunt Yelena’s necklace, he knows more about what’s going on than I do, and I believe him when he says I won’t live long without his help.
I need him. But he needs me.
I don’t believe every relationship is transactional… but maybe I can get something out of this one.
I slide from the booth and shove out my hand. “How about we just shake on it?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. His grip is strong and his fingers are surprisingly calloused. I shake once, firmly, and expect him to let go but he doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls me in. I think he’s going to kiss me and my heart goes wild with terror and excitement, but instead his mouth finds my ear.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll always treat you right.”
I really, really doubt that.