He slips his arm around me and kisses my forehead. “I’ve got to run, little pixie. Call me later. And send me photos of the things you find for the gremlin,” he chuckles.
After coffee, I head straight to the mall. I was lying awake last night thinking about how happy the gift made Anton, and I realized that I haven’t given my brother a gift in years. He was always buying me things and spoiling me. And if I can think of a gift that is very personal, very specific to him, that lets him know I was thinking about him…
I’m not saying it will fix every problem, but it will be a nice icebreaker to start the conversation.
So, yes, I am going to the mall to look at baby things, but I also plan to keep an eye out for something my brother would like, too.
Step one in my master plan to fix everything and make it right.
I want to be totally free to live my life with Anton, and this is the last hurdle to overcome.
It’s still early when I arrive at the mall, so it’s not too busy yet, which makes my bodyguard happy. He seems to be on edge. I guess I would be, too, considering everything going on.
He follows me around from art galleries to baby stores and maternity wear stores. I take photos of baby things and send them to Anton, who comments and gives his opinion of colors and vibes. It’s fun, going back and forth on the phone like this with him. I look at the different maternity clothes and don’t find anything that catches my eye. I might have to have some custom-made, or just make do with floaty dresses and sleeping in one of Anton’s oversized T-shirts. Not that they are oversized on him.
My heart is happy as I browse gift shops and bookshops and search for the perfect gift for Illyin. But nothing is jumping out. Nothing seems right.
I start second-guessing the idea, wondering if he will think I’m trying to buy his approval. That’s what I always moaned at him about. Ugh. Why does this have to be so complicated?
It’s almost lunchtime when I decide to call it a day and go home.
The guard follows me back out to the parking lot, carrying my shopping bags even though I insisted I could carry them myself. He told me Anton would have his skin if his pregnant wife had to carry heavy things.
The bags aren’t even heavy.
I pull out my phone to message Anton and let him know we are on our way home when a man steps out in front of me.
I look up, and every cell in my body wants to scream.
“Starke,” I blurt out, horrified to see him.
“Hello, Izabel. Miss me?” he muses as several more men step out from behind cars and pillars in the parking area.
“Izabel,” the guard says nervously from behind me.
“Listen, man. You can walk away now, and no one will blame you. But I assure you, you can’t take on five of us and win,” Starke tells the man.
But the guard has dropped the shopping bags and has his weapon drawn.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” he says sternly.
Starke rolls his eyes and gestures for the men to seize the guard.
“Wait!” I scream in panic. “Don’t you dare hurt him. I swear I will never talk to Illyin again if you hurt him,” I demand.
Starke sneers and clenches his jaw. “You always make life so much more complicated than it needs to be, Izabel,” he huffs.
“And I can make it more complicated,” I warn him, pressing my hands to my hips and glaring back at him.
Starke looks up at his men. “Restrain him, gag him, toss him into a storeroom or some shit, I don’t care. But leave him alive.”
“Alive and unharmed!” I shout.
“…and unharmed,” Starke grumbles.
The guard kicks and fights as they drag him away, but I am at least grateful I won’t have his death on my hands.
“Now, are you going to come with us willingly, or am I going to have to force you?”
