“The point is,” he continues, “that your being in close proximity to me, both last night and in the park earlier, has made you a target for them. You’re a civilian with too much knowledge.”
“Seems to me you’d be in bigger trouble than me,” I say. “I didn’t kill one of their people.”
His eyebrows lift a little. “You know more about this than you’re letting on.”
I look down at my plate, not really wanting to meet his eyes. “I heard some things,” I say.
“Hmm. Well, I suppose, since you’re neck-deep in this now, I should lay things out a little more clearly for you.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Bratva operate under a code of silence. All of us do. If the law comes after one of us, we are all in danger. Outside of that…” He hesitates, then, “Outside of that, Natalya, you are a threat because of who I am and who your father is. Strategically speaking, his involvement in this war could tip the scales for either Bratva.”
Now my already nauseated stomach is tightening. “And you just kidnapped the daughter of one of those Pakhans. Oh, boy.”
“You said you can’t go back to him,” he says. “Have you changed your mind? I’ll happily return you to him. It would probably be better?—”
“No,” I say quickly. “You were right. This is the safest place I could be.”
He tilts his head, a question in his eyes, but he doesn’t ask it. Instead, he says, “Things must be pretty bad if you would choose to be here in the line of fire instead of under the umbrella of your father’s men.”
If only he knew, I think as I take another bite of food.
“So, it seems that for now, we are stuck together,” he says.
“Yeah. I guess we are.”
He regards me silently, then, “I know that it probably doesn’t need to be said, but I want to be clear. I think while you’re here, we should continue to keep things platonic between us.”
I look up at him. Was that on the table? With everything going on, I guess we haven’t even had time to think of that. Now that he’s brought it up, I don’t really know how I feel about it.
“The Amur will more than likely attempt to bring your father’s Bratva into this once they find out you’re with me,” he goes on. “Or your father will just insert himself into this war for the sake of his honor. When the smoke clears, it would be better if it were known that my intentions were pure with you.”
“No disrespect, but will anyone even believe that? We’re alone together in this big house?—”
“I intend to come out on top in this war, Natalya. They’ll believe whatever I tell them and I don’t intend on lying to my men. Not about this.”
I don’t respond. I’m strangely hurt by his assessment of this situation, but at the same time, I understand. He’s trying to do right by me and by his Bratva. It’s kind of noble when you think about it.
I hope it all works out in his favor. And I hope that when this is all over, I get the chance to have a life. I subtly touch my stomach under the table. I hope thatweget a life.
The storm outsidehas really kicked up. I’ve been lying in bed for hours, listening to it howl outside these old windows, watching the lightning flash from beyond the drawn curtains. Every time it does, a million foreign shadows jump out at me in the darkness.
It’s almost comical. I’m sleeping in a big, Dracula castle during a thunderstorm. The only thing missing is for me to be wearing a flowy white nightgown and sleeping in one of those canopy beds with the white, willowy curtains hanging from the posts.
I sit up and listen to the rain beat against the window. There’s no way I’m getting any sleep in here. The wind is howling like a banshee just outside and it’s starting to freak me out. I can’t do this.
I turn on the light and get out of bed. No shimmering nightgown for me. Just an old dress shirt of Anton’s that practically swallows me whole. It’s funny how you never consider howmuch bigger a guy is than you until you try wearing his clothes. I catch sight of myself in the mirror—the long sleeves cover my hands and the hem of this thing almost comes to my knees.
I go to the door and peek out into the hallway. It’s dark except for a warm amber light coming from under Anton’s bedroom door. He’s up. Maybe he’d like a little company.
I hesitate as that thought ruminates in my mind. He said not more than a few hours ago that he wants to keep things platonic between us. He’s trying to hold onto his noble self. I should not tempt him out of it.
I look back at my cold bed and the darting shadows of my room. That’s my alternative. Maybe if I go into his room, nothing will happen. Maybe we’ll just talk. We’re adults, right? We have self-control, for Pete’s sake.
Yeah. It’ll be fine. I’m just going to talk. That’s it.
16
