In that moment, I decide to leave her a note. I want to talk to her face to face, but she might wake up still hellbent on leaving. I need to convince her to at least wait for me to return.
I go back into the study, grab a notepad and paper, and start writing.
Isabella,
This isn’t an ideal situation for either of us. I know you find it hard to believe this, but I am more of your comrade than I am your enemy right now. This marriage is about more than just you or me. This is about my family and yours. I need you to realize that if you do leave, you will be putting everyone’s life at risk, even your own.
I don’t expect you to read this and change your mind, but I implore you to consider that before you pack your bags. And if you do still decide you have to go, then I ask that you stay just long enough until I return.
—Alexei
I look over my words,hoping they strike the right tone with her. Then I take the notepad and bring it out to the coffee table where she’s sure to see it. I hope she listens.
I getto the restaurant a little before four in the morning. The moment I pull up, I get the feeling that something is off.
The restaurant is closed, as expected at this hour. The little outdoor patio in front has all the chairs turned upside down and placed on the tables. The door has a little cardboard sign that’s been turned around to say CLOSED in big, white letters. The large glass windows are dark except for a distant warm light somewhere way in the back.
I’ve never been to this restaurant before, but it looks like it would be a nice place to have lunch on some sunny day. There’s a striped awning that goes from one side of the restaurant, over the door, and finally, over the patio. Printed on the curved edges is the restaurant’s name in bold lettering —The Black Olive.
I’ve never been much for Italian food. I wonder what Father wants to do with this place once he has ownership of it. He’s never been much into Italian food either. But if he wants it, then it must be making a lot of money and that would be worth it to him.
I get out of the car and make my way across the street to the front door. Maybe it’s the cool early morning air or the way the streetlights are flickering around me. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t even see Pavel’s car yet. Whatever it is, something still just doesn’t feel right about this.
I don’t bother to try the door. I peer through the glass to spot any movement. I don’t see any. I see the shadows of tables withchairs on top and the outline of the bar on the far side of the room, but no people. No sign of life.
I’m early. That’s all. Pavel will probably be here any minute. I step away from the door and pull out my phone. I’d better get an ETA?—
Sparks light around me and my nostrils are suddenly filled with the scent of gunpowder. A hard punch to my shoulder nearly sends me off my feet. I catch myself, leaning against the railing around the patio.
Another shot sounds from somewhere in the darkness, sending sparks flying over my head and hitting the concrete behind me. I scramble back to the doorway, pulling my gun out of my belt.
Shit. My instincts were trying to tell me something was up. I should have waited for Pavel in my car. I look out into the night. There’s a building across the street from me. Somebody must be taking a shot at me from there.
Fuck. I’ve got to get back to my car and get the hell out of here. I scan the area for any movement at all, ready to take my shot. When there is none, I try to stand.
My shoulder is on fire. I glance down to see the bullet hole through my shirt, surrounded by a slowly increasing pool of wetness soaking through. I’ve been hit. And judging by how dizzy I’m getting, if I don’t get help soon…
I go to move from the safety of the doorway, only for the gunpowder laden sparks to spray all around me again. I duck back into the darkness and as I slide down the wall, I feel the world start to turn. Shit… I’m about to pass out.
I try to pull out my phone to call Pavel… but it’s too late… everything is going dark.
13
ISABELLA
The sunlight of dawn wakes me up. I turn over in the bed, half expecting to find Alexei there, but surprise, surprise. I’m alone. Yet again.
I don’t know why I thought that he would actually just appear next to me. Maybe it’s some kind of sick longing for him. Can a person get Stockholm syndrome after a week of barely talking to one another?
I sit up in bed and run my hand over my face. I slept pretty soundly, though I didn’t actually get to sleep until late last night. I grab my phone in the hopes of seeing a text response from Annie. No such luck.
Out of bed and into the bathroom. I don’t smell any coffee or anything brewing and I have no idea how Alexei is planning on feeding me now that I’m a prisoner in his bedroom. Maybe…
Wait. Is the door… open?
The image of the bedroom door being ajar hits me just as I close the bathroom door. I open it again and poke my head out. Sure enough, the bedroom door’s open.
Holy shit. Was he in here during the night? Did he leave it open and forget to close it back?
