“It helps to know that Maria was a genuinely awful person herself,” I say quietly. “I’m almost positive she had a hand in trafficking, because she threatened to turn my mom into a stripper andput her to workmore than once. She was truly, truly evil—she and her husband were an excellent match.” I purse my lips. “This is awful of me, but I’m glad she’s gone. The world is a bit less evil without her. I’m not happy about the things Clyde did to her, the atrocities she experienced that no woman ever should, but…”
“I get it,” Dorian assures me, kissing my forehead. “It’s okay, baby. It’s alright.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, relief chasing away my anxiety.
He strokes his thumb over my jaw. “Do you want to try calling Clyde now to get it over with, or do it later?”
The sooner it’s over, the better. I don’t want to give my stepfather a second’s more thought than I have to. He doesn’t deserve to take up space in my brain.
“I’ll do it now,” I say. “Should I use my phone?” Dorian presented me with a brand-new phone that has a new number and better encryption yesterday.
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t want him knowing your new number. Use the old one.”
I slowly get off his lap, taking deep breaths to try to prepare myself. I throw on shorts and a camisole, then fish out my old phone from the bedside stand’s drawer. Ironically, it’s lying right next to a few sex toys—items that I figure Dorian will be using on me tonight. At least there’s something to look forward to in my near future.
I pull out my phone, take a seat on the side of the bed, and unlock it. My finger hovers over Clyde’s number in my recent contacts, and I feel my heart start to race. My chest tightens and beads of sweat break out over my body. A fine tremor settles in my limbs, and I feel the urge to dissociate sweep over me. It's almost an instinctual reaction when it comes to Clyde.
Then, Dorian takes a seat beside me and wraps his arm around my waist, and the worst edge of my anxiety melts away. I’m still wound tight, still anxious, but the wish to zone out disappears. I know I can handle this with Dorian next to me.
“Give me a date,” I request. “A date for the meeting.”
“November 7th,” Dorian replies. “9 p.m., at the brewery in town.”
Either he or Sergei have done their research. The brewery in my home town has a basement that’s often utilized for gang meetings.
I hit Clyde’s number. The phone rings only twice before he picks up. The sound of his heavy breathing is enough to make me curl intomyself; I draw my knees up to my chest and rest the side of my face against them, trying to remain grounded.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls,” Clyde says darkly. “That’s not very nice of you.”
Breathe, Mira. Just get through this. “I was doing what you asked,” I reply, my voice admirably firm. “It wasn’t simple, but I managed to get you a meeting with Novikov. He’ll be in your neck of the woods on November 7th; he’ll meet you at the brewery at 9 p.m. He’ll bring some of his underlings.”
A long pause ensues, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. “Good. I’ll pass it along.”
“We’re done now,” I tell him. “I did what you asked, that’s it. Ask anything else of me ever again, and I’ll tell Carver what you did.”
“The fuck you will, bitch, because I’ll make sure you burn for it if you do,” Clyde snaps, raising his voice. Dorian’s arm tightens around me, silently showing his support. “Besides, Carver wants to see you again. He’s curious how you grew up, what you’ve made of yourself. You remember that he always liked you, don’t you?”
The words are spoken in a sinister tone, and the threat is clear. I only met Carver a handful of times, and each time I did, he gave me looks that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. His energy was teeming with darkness and malice—it’s not surprising to know that he’s into some darker shit.
“I’m never going back to that shithole again,” I tell Clyde, not bothering to keep the derision from my tone. “You and I are done.”
“We’re done when I say we’re done,” Clyde responds harshly, losing his patience. “And I say we’re not done yet. Drop the uppity cunt act; I know you’re still just a scared little girl who needs a man to tell her what to do and correct her when she fucks up. You and the guy you’re whoring yourself out to will both attend the meeting.”
“The fuck I will,” I hiss. “The answer is no, Clyde.”
“Then the meeting is off, and your boy will need to explain to his boss exactly what happened to make it fall through. We have a good operation running here; I’m sure Sergei will want in on it. He’ll probably be disappointed if it falls through because of his underling.”
I look to Dorian with wide eyes. He watches me with a harsh expression, his anger evident in the bulging veins and tendons on his neck. He subtly shakes his head, silently communicating that I should push back against Clyde, but I don’t see how. Sergei ordered Dorian to have me set this up; my failure to do so could result in Dorian getting reprimanded, maybe even cut off. He already went out on a limb for me with Sergei, I can’t let him down now.
The operation Carver’s running has to be shut down; for that, this meeting needs to take place. If that requires me to come along, then I’ll do what I have to do. I squeeze Dorian’s hand, snuggling close to him. The heat radiating from his body is almost enough to penetrate the cold settling in my bones.
“Fine,” I say. Dorian’s grip turns to steel and he shakes his head, but I ignore him. “If your blackened heart is really set on having me there, so be it. But theboyyou keep referring to is actually aman, and he happens to bemy man, so I hope you’re not planning on attempting to pull anything with me.”
“Are you fuckingthreateningme with the little boy you’re selling yourself to?” Clyde all but shouts.
“No. I’m guaranteeing that if you put a finger on me, he will cut it off. Then your wrist, your arm, and finally, your empty head. Sergei doesn’t want you; he wants Carver.” I pause, letting my threat settle. “Don’t contact me again,ever. And should any harm befall me at the meeting, know that there are dozens of copies of the photo with yourhandwriting that’ll get sent to your precious boss.” I hang up, resisting the urge to throw my old phone at the wall and break it.
Without any preamble, Dorian pulls me onto his lap. “Why the fuck would you agree to that?” he asks, his voice a furious whisper. “I don’t want you anywhere near that piece of shit—”
