I yank myself away from him and shove the sheet aside, standing on legs that still tremble from what we did. “You can’t hold me here like a prisoner. My job, my things, my grandmother’s facility will call me when she wakes up. If I don’t pick up—”
“They’ll call me,” he interrupts.
My entire body goes still. “What do you mean, they’ll call you?”
“I told you already,” he says simply. “A better place. Better care. More eyes on her.” He rises from the bed, every inch of him once again the Bratva Fixer. Composed, calculating, terrifyingly sure of himself. “She is safe. You are safe. As soon as she is settled, I’ll take you there myself.”
My head spins. “You actually moved her? Without asking me?”
“You’ll see her today,” he says again, sitting up and scrubbing his hands over his face. “But you will not go anywhere alone. Ever again.”
My breath catches, trapped between fury and confusion and a fear I can’t name. “What do you mean I can’t go anywhere alone?”
He doesn’t answer, just looks at me like I already know the truth, and then it clicks.
“You don’t trust me not to run. Not to tell someone what I saw.” The thought hits me like a slap. “After everything we did…” A gurgle of hysterical laughter pops from me. “Oh my God, I’m so stupid,” I mutter, mostly to myself, as I snatch open his wardrobe and steal another pair of sweatpants and another T-shirt.
Embarrassment flares in my chest and I can feel the blush creep hot over my face.
“You’re not leaving this penthouse, Callie. They will call once she is settled and ready to receive visitors. Then we will take you to your place to get what you need, and then head there.
I push my hands through my tangled hair. “I had to sell my car to help pay for that place, I have no way of reaching her if you put her in literally any other care facility in Las Vegas.” I try to take a breath, to calm down, but panic has me firmly in its grip. I stride through to the bathroom and splash my face with cold water several times before looking at my reflection and finding he is standing behind me, naked and statuesque as he leans against the door frame.
I turn to face him. “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, not even wanting an answer, because the damage is done. “If you’re not going to trust me, you should have just killed me.” The words tear from me with a desperation I have never felt. Not even then grandma got her diagnosis. I always felt like if I just kept moving, kept working, kept trying, everything would turn out okay. I never thought I’ find myself in a situation like this one.
My heart, which was beating wildly for this man just hours ago, now feels like it’s shutting down under the sadness of how lonely I actually am. A grandmother who raised me, slowly forgetting me. A man who made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered, not trusting me.
My life doesn’t make any kind of sense anymore.
At some point during this moment of clarity, he has stepped into the bathroom, and his hands are either side of my face. He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek, his touch gentler than his voice. “Eat because you need sustenance. Shower because you shouldn’t visit your grandmother smelling like you were up all night fucking me. And as soon as they call, I’ll take you to her. That’s all you need to focus on right now.”
The promise lands like a weight in my chest, relieving and suffocating all at once.
Because that doesn’t change the fact that nothing has really changed between us. We’re still strangers in a situation neither of us asked for. Sex didn’t change that, and I was stupid to think it would.
Dariy
She is angry, but underneath it, she is hurt. And I don’t think it’s because I took the liberty of having her grandmother moved to a better care facility with nurses and doctors who give a shit.
I’d rang the facility in front of her last night, but didn’t notice I was speaking Russian so she had no idea. Then, after she fell asleep, I did a quick search of York Bridgeway Care Facility and found less than favourable information. They are lucky I don’t move all the patients out and lock the staff in before setting it on fire.
One short call later, and I confirmed everything was in motion. Juliet was being moved first thing this morning. I was hoping Callie would sleep through the time, but she must be hardwired to visiting times.
Now she is eating in silence, her shoulders rigid, and her eyes fixed on the food like if she looks at me too long, she’ll either shatter or explode. And I hate that I put that look there, that aching mixture of betrayal and need. I had her things sent up, so she is at least in her own clothes now, but that doesn’t make me feel any better, because she is right about one thing.
I don’t trust her.
Not yet.
When my phone rings, her head snaps up so fast I see the panic flash, like she thinks I’m about to announce her death sentence. I answer without looking away from her.
“Da?”
A pause.
Then: “She’s settled?” Relief slides under my sternum with a heat I almost don’t recognize. “Good. Keep eyes on her at all times until I arrive.”
I end the call.
