Dark, Dangerous, & Mine

Chapter 15

15

Nora

I’m going home. Oh my God, I’m going home.

Even now, as I look out the window of the plane at the clouds below, I can hardly believe this is happening. Only two weeks have passed since our conversation at breakfast, and here we are, on our way to Oak Lawn.

“This plane is nothing like what I’ve seen on TV,” Rosa says, gazing around the luxurious interior of the cabin. “I mean, I knew we wouldn’t be flying on a regular airline, but this is really nice, Nora.”

I grin at her. “Yes, I know. The first time I saw it, I had the same reaction.” I sneak a quick glance at Julian, who’s sitting on the couch with his laptop, seemingly ignoring our conversation. He told me he’s planning to meet with his portfolio manager while we’re in Chicago, so I’m guessing he’s going over prospective investments in preparation. It’s either that or the latest drone design modification from his engineers; that project has been taking up a lot of his time this week.

“My first time flying, and it’s on a private jet. Can you believe it? The only way this could be better is if we were going to New York,” Rosa says, bringing my attention back to her. Her brown eyes are bright with excitement, and she’s practically bouncing in her plush leather seat. She’s been like this for several days, ever since I got Julian to agree to have her come with us to America—something my friend has been dreaming about for years.

“Chicago is pretty nice too,” I say, amused at her unintentional snobbery. “It’s a cool city, you’ll see.”

“Oh, of course.” Realizing she insulted my home, Rosa flushes. “I’m sure it’s great, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful,” she says quickly, looking distraught. “I know you’re only bringing me along because you’re nice, and I’m ecstatic to be going—”

“Rosa, you’re coming along because I need you,” I interrupt, not wanting her to go into this in front of Julian. “You’re the only one Ana trusts to make my morning smoothies, and you know I need those vitamins.”

Or at least that’s what I told my obsessively protective husband when I asked to have Rosa come with us. I’m fairly certain I could’ve made the smoothies myself—or just swallowed the vitamin pills—but I wanted to make sure he’d allow my friend to join us. To this day, I’m not sure if he agreed because he believed me, or because he didn’t have any objections to begin with. Either way, I don’t want Rosa to inadvertently rock the boat… or the private jet, as the case may be.

It still doesn’t feel entirely real, the fact that we’re on our way to see my parents. The past two weeks have simply flown by. With all the exams and papers, I barely had time to think about the upcoming trip. It wasn’t until three days ago that I was able to catch my breath and realize that the trip was, in fact, happening, and Julian had already made all the necessary preparations, beefing up the security around my parents to White House levels.

“Oh, yes, the smoothies,” Rosa says, shooting a cautious look in Julian’s direction. She finally caught on. “Of course, I forgot. And I’ll be helping to unpack all the art supplies, so you don’t overtire yourself.”

“Right, exactly.” I give her a conspiratorial grin. “Can’t have me lifting heavy canvases and all that.”

At that moment, the plane shakes, and Rosa’s face turns white, her excitement evaporating. “What—what is that?”

“Just turbulence,” I say, breathing slowly to combat an immediate swell of nausea. I’m still not entirely out of the morning-sickness phase, and the plane’s jerky motion is not helpful.

“We won’t crash, will we?” Rosa asks fearfully, and I shake my head to reassure her. When I glance over at Julian, however, I see that he’s looking at me, his face unusually tense and his knuckles white as he grips the computer.

Without thinking, I unbuckle my seatbelt and get up, wanting to go over to him. If Rosa is afraid of crashing, I can only imagine how Julian must feel, having experienced a crash less than three months ago.

“What are you doing?” Julian’s voice is sharp as he stands up, dropping the computer on the couch. “Sit down, Nora. It’s not safe.”

“I just—”

Before I finish speaking, he’s already next to me, forcing me back into the seat and strapping me in. “Sit,” he barks, glaring at me. “Did you not promise to behave?”

“Yes, but I just—” At the expression on Julian’s face, I fall silent before muttering, “Never mind.”

Still glaring at me, he steps back and takes a seat across from me and Rosa. She looks uncomfortable, her hands twisting in her lap as she gazes out the window. I feel bad for her; I’m sure it’s awkward to see her friend being treated like a disobedient child.

“I don’t want you to fall if the plane hits an air pocket,” Julian says in a calmer tone when I show no further signs of trying to get up. “It’s not safe to be walking around the cabin during turbulence.”

I nod and focus on breathing slowly. It helps with both nausea and anger. Sometimes I forget the facts and start thinking that we have a normal marriage, a partnership of equals, instead of… well, whatever it is we have. On paper, I might be Julian’s wife, but in reality, I’m far closer to his s*x slave.

A s*x slave who’s desperately in love with her owner.

Closing my eyes, I find a comfortable position in the middle of the spacious leather seat and try to relax.

It’s going to be a long flight.

“Wake up, baby.” Warm lips brush against my forehead as my seatbelt is unbuckled. “We’re here.”

I open my eyes, blinking slowly. “What?”

Julian smiles at me, his blue gaze filled with amusement as he stands in front of me. “You slept the entire way. You must’ve been exhausted.”

I had been a bit tired—the aftermath of all the studying and packing—but an eight-hour nap is a new record for me. Must be those pregnancy hormones again.

Covering a yawn with my hand, I get up and see Rosa already standing by the exit, holding her backpack. “We landed,” she says brightly. “I barely felt the plane touch down. Lucas must be an amazing pilot.”

“He is good,” Julian agrees, wrapping a cashmere shawl around my shoulders. When I give him a questioning look, he explains, “It’s only sixty-eight degrees outside. I don’t want you to get cold.”

I suppress the urge to snicker. Only someone from the tropics would consider sixty-eight degrees “cold”—though, to be fair, it probably is a bit chilly for the short-sleeved dress I’m wearing. Chicago weather in late May is unpredictable, with cool spring days interspersed with summer-like heat. Julian himself is dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt.

“Thank you,” I say, looking at him. On some level, I do find his concern touching, even if he takes it too far these days. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the feel of his large hands on my shoulders makes me want to melt against him, even with Rosa standing only a few feet away.

“You’re welcome, baby,” he says huskily, holding my gaze, and I know he feels it too—this deep, inexplicable pull we have toward one another. I don’t know if it’s chemistry or something else, but it ties us together more securely than any rope.

The clanging of the plane door opening snaps me out of whatever spell I was under. Startled, I step back, grabbing the shawl so it doesn’t fall. Julian gives me a look that promises a continuation of what we started, and a shiver of anticipation runs through me.

“Is it okay for me to go down?” Rosa asks, and I turn to see her waiting impatiently by the open door.

“Sure,” Julian says. “Go ahead, Rosa. We’ll be right there.”

She disappears through the exit, and Julian steps closer to me, making my breath catch in my throat. “Are you ready?” he asks softly, and I nod, mesmerized by the warm look in his eyes.

“In that case, let’s go,” he murmurs, taking my hand. His big, masculine palm engulfs my fingers completely. “Your parents await.”

The car that takes us from the airport to my parents’ house is a long, modern-looking limo with unusually thick glass.

“Bulletproof?” I ask when we get in, and Julian nods, confirming my guess. He’s sitting in the back with me and Rosa, while Lucas is driving, as usual.

I wonder if the blond man resents this trip for taking him away from his Russian toy. The last I heard, the interpreter was still alive—and still held prisoner in Lucas’s quarters. Julian told me that Lucas assigned two guards to watch over her in his absence and make sure she’s all right. Apparently, he doesn’t want anyone else to have the privilege of torturing the girl.

That whole situation makes me sick, so I try not to think about it. The only reason I even know as much as I know is because Rosa refuses to leave it alone, constantly begging me to ask Julian for updates. Her strange obsession with Julian’s right-hand man worries me, even though I’m coming to the conclusion that Rosa was right about Lucas having zero interest in her. Still, as much as I don’t want her to get involved with him, I also don’t want her to be heartbroken—and I’m afraid things are trending in that direction.

“Are you sure your parents don’t mind us coming so late?” Rosa asks, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s almost nine in the evening.”

“No, they’re really anxious to see me.” I glance down at my phone, which pings with yet another text from Mom. Picking it up, I skim the message and tell Rosa, “My mom already has the table set.”

“And they don’t mind me tagging along?” She chews on her lower lip. “I mean, you’re their daughter, so of course they want to see you, but I’m just the maid—”

“You’re my friend.” Impulsively, I reach across the limo aisle and squeeze Rosa’s hand. “Please stop worrying about it. You’re not imposing.”

Rosa smiles, looking relieved, and I glance at Julian to see his reaction. His face is impassive, but I catch a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. My husband is clearly not worried about imposing on my parents so late in the evening. And that makes perfect sense. Why would something like that faze him when he unapologetically abducted their daughter?

This should be an interesting dinner indeed.

“Nora, honey!” As soon as my parents’ door swings open, I’m enveloped in a soft, perfumed embrace. Laughing, I hug my mom and then my dad, who’s standing right behind her. He holds me tightly for a few moments, and I feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

When he pulls back to look at me, there is a sheen of moisture in his eyes. “We are so glad to see you,” he says in a low, deep voice, and I smile up at him through my own veil of tears.

“Me too, Dad. Me too. I really missed you and Mom.”

As soon as I say that, I remember that I’m not alone. Turning, I see that my mom is looking at Rosa and Julian, her smile now stiff and unnatural.

I take a deep breath to prepare myself. “Mom, Dad, you already know Julian. And this is Rosa Martinez. She’s my best friend on the estate.” I invited Lucas to join us for dinner as well, but he refused, explaining that he’s part of the security detail tonight and needs to remain outside.

My mom nods cautiously at Julian. Then her smile warms a fraction as she looks at my friend. “It’s nice to meet you, Rosa. Nora told us all about you. Please, come in.”

She steps back to welcome them, and Rosa walks in, smiling uncertainly. She’s followed by Julian, who strolls in looking as cool and confident as ever.

“Gabriela. It’s so good to see you.” Giving my mom a dazzling smile, my former captor leans down to brush his lips against her cheek in a European gesture. When he straightens, she looks flushed, like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Leaving her to recover, Julian turns his attention to my dad. “It’s a pleasure meeting you in person, Tony,” he says, extending his hand.

“Likewise,” my dad says, his jaw tight as he takes Julian’s proffered hand in a white-knuckled handshake. “I’m glad you were finally able to make it out here.”

“Yes, so am I,” Julian says smoothly, releasing my dad’s hand. I notice red finger marks on his hand where my dad purposefully squeezed too hard, and my heart skips a beat. However, when I sneak a glance at my dad’s hand, I realize with relief that there’s no corresponding damage there.

Julian must’ve forgiven my dad this small act of aggression—or at least I’m hoping that’s the case.

As we walk toward the dining room, I steal covert looks at my husband’s handsome profile. Having my former captor in my childhood home is beyond strange. I’m used to being with him in exotic, foreign locations, not Oak Lawn, Illinois. Seeing Julian in my parents’ house is a bit like encountering a wild tiger in a suburban mall—it’s bizarre in a scary way.

“Oh, honey, you’re so thin,” my mom exclaims, eyeing me critically as we enter the dining room. “I knew you wouldn’t start rounding out with the baby yet, but you look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I know,” Julian says, placing a hand on my lower back. His touch both warms and discomfits me, coming as it does in front of my parents. “With the nausea, it’s been tough getting her to eat well. At least she stopped losing weight. You should’ve seen her four weeks ago.”

“Was it really bad, honey?” my mom asks sympathetically when we stop in front of the table. She’s keeping her eyes on my face, clearly determined to ignore Julian’s possessive gesture. My dad, however, grits his teeth so hard I can practically hear the grinding noise.

“It got better once we learned that I’m pregnant. I started eating plainer foods at regular intervals, and it seemed to help,” I explain, flushing. It’s odd to talk about my pregnancy in front of my dad. We had danced around the issue during our video chats, with Dad gruffly asking after my health and me brushing off his inquiries. I know he hates the fact that I’m pregnant at my age, and despises the whole situation with Julian. My mom probably feels the same, but she’s much more diplomatic about it.

“I hope you can eat tonight,” my mom says worriedly. “Your dad and I prepared a lot of food.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage, Mom.” Smiling, I sit down in the chair Julian pulls out for me. “Everything looks delicious.”

And it’s true. My parents have outdone themselves. The table has everything from my dad’s rosemary chicken—a recipe he only uses for special occasions—to my grandmother’s tamales and my favorite dish of roasted lamb chops. It’s a feast, and my stomach growls in appreciation at the delicious smells emanating from the glass-covered platters.

Julian takes a seat to the left of me, and Mom and Dad sit down across from us.

“Come, sit next to me on this side,” I tell Rosa, patting the empty chair to my right. I can see my friend still doesn’t feel comfortable, convinced she’s somehow imposing. Her usual bright smile is uncertain and a bit shy as she sits down next to me, smoothing her palms over the front of her blue dress.

“This table is amazing, Mrs. Leston,” she says in her softly accented voice.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” My mom beams at her. “Your English is so good. Where did you learn to speak like that? Nora told me you’ve never been to the US before.”

“No, I haven’t.” Looking pleased at the compliment, Rosa explains how Julian’s mother taught her American English when she was a child. My parents listen to her story with interest, asking a number of follow-up questions, and I use this opportunity to excuse myself to visit the restroom.

When I return a few minutes later, the atmosphere at the table is thick with tension. The only person who appears at ease is Julian, who’s leaning back in his chair and regarding my parents with an inscrutable gaze. My dad is visibly bristling, and my mom has her hand on his elbow in a classic calming gesture. Poor Rosa looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.

I sit down and debate asking what happened, but I have a feeling it would stir up the hornet’s nest even more. “How’s the new job going, Dad?” I ask brightly instead.

My dad takes a deep breath, then another, and attempts something that’s supposed to be a smile. It looks more like a grimace, but I give him credit for trying.

Before he can answer my question, Julian leans forward, placing his forearms on the table, and says, “Tony, you may not be aware of this, but your daughter is now one of the wealthiest women in the world. She will want for nothing, regardless of her choice of profession or lack thereof. I understand that having a child during college is not optimal, but I would hardly call it ‘destroying her life,’ particularly in this situation.”

My dad’s chest swells with fury. “You think the child is the only problem? You stole—”

“Tony.” My mom’s voice is soft, but the inflection in it makes Dad stop mid-sentence. She then turns toward Julian. “I apologize for my husband’s bad manners,” she says evenly. “Obviously, we’re well aware of your ability to provide for Nora financially.”

“Good.” Julian gives her a cool smile. “And are you also aware that Nora is becoming a sought-after artist?”

I pause in the middle of reaching for a lamb chop and gape at Julian. A sought-after artist? Me?

“I know that a gallery in Paris expressed some interest in her paintings,” my mom says cautiously. “Is that what you mean?”

“Yes.” Julian’s smile sharpens. “What you may not know, however, is that the owner of that gallery is one of the leading art collectors in Europe. And he’s very intrigued by Nora’s work. So intrigued, in fact, that he just sent me an offer to purchase five of her paintings for his personal collection.”

“Really?” I can’t hide the eagerness in my voice. “He wants to buy them? For how much?”

“Fifty thousand euros—ten per painting. Though I’m sure we can negotiate for more.”

I stop breathing for a moment. “Fifty thousand?” I would’ve been ecstatic to get five hundred dollars. Hell, I would’ve taken fifty bucks. Just the fact that someone wants my doodles is beyond belief. “Did you say fifty thousand euros?”

“Yes, baby.” Julian’s gaze warms as he looks at me. “Congratulations. You’re about to make your first big sale.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe out. “Oh. My. God.”

I can see the same shock reflected on my parents’ faces. They, too, are stunned by this turn of events. Only Rosa seems to take this development in stride. “Congratulations, Nora,” she exclaims, grinning. “I told you those paintings are amazing.”

“When did you get this offer?” I ask Julian when I can speak again.

“Right before we got here.” Julian reaches over to give my hand a gentle squeeze. “I was going to tell you later tonight, but I figured your parents might want to know too.”

“Yes, we definitely do,” my mom says, finally recovering from her shock. “That’s… that’s incredible, honey. We’re so proud of you.”

My dad nods, still mute, but I can see that he’s just as impressed. And possibly beginning to change his mind about the potential of my hobby.

“Dad,” I say softly, looking at him, “I don’t intend to drop out of college. Even with the baby on the way, okay? Please, don’t worry about me. Truly, I’m all right.”

My dad stares at me, then at Julian, and then at me again. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for the platter with the lamb chops and pushes them toward me. “Go ahead, honey,” he says quietly. “You must be hungry after the long trip.”

I gladly take the offering, and everyone else begins loading their plates.

The rest of the dinner goes about as well as could be expected. While there are a few tense silences, the majority of the meal is spent in relatively civil conversation. My mom asks about life on the estate, and Rosa and I show her some photos on Rosa’s phone. In the meantime, my dad gets into a political discussion with Julian. To everyone’s surprise, the two of them turn out to have the same cynical views on the situation in the Middle East, though Julian’s knowledge of geopolitics far exceeds that of my dad’s. Unlike my parents, who get their news from the media, Julian is part of the news.

He shapes the news, in fact, though few outside the intelligence community know that.

I have to give my parents their due. For people who believe that Julian belongs behind bars, they are surprisingly gracious hosts. I suspect it’s because they’re afraid of losing me if they alienate Julian. My mom would dine with the devil himself if that would ensure continued contact with her only daughter, and my dad tends to follow her lead when it comes to difficult situations.

Still, they watch Julian during the meal, eying him as warily as they would observe a savage creature. He’s smiling, his potent charm turned on full-blast, but I know they can sense his ever-present aura of danger, the shadow of violence that clings to him like a dark cloak.

When we get to coffee and dessert, Julian gets an urgent text from Lucas and excuses himself to step outside for a few minutes. “It’s nothing serious,” he tells me when I give him a worried look. “Just a small business matter that needs my attention.”

He walks out of the house, and Rosa chooses that moment to visit the restroom, leaving me alone with my parents for the first time since our arrival.

“A business matter?” my dad asks incredulously as soon as Rosa is out of earshot. “At ten-thirty at night?”

I shrug. “Julian deals with people in different timezones. It’s ten in the morning somewhere.”

I can see that my dad wants to question me further, but thankfully, my mom jumps in. “Your friend is really nice,” she says, nodding toward the hallway where Rosa went. “It’s hard to believe she grew up like that.” She lowers her voice. “With criminals, I mean.”

“Yes, I know.” I wonder what my parents would think if they knew that Rosa had killed two men. “She’s wonderful.”

“Nora, honey…” My mom casts a furtive glance around the empty room, then leans forward, lowering her voice further. “I know we don’t have much time right now, but tell us one thing. Are you truly happy with him? Because now that you’re both on US soil, the FBI might be able to—”

“Mom, I can’t live without him. If anything happened to him, I’d want to die.” The stark truth escapes my lips before I can think of a gentler way to say it. I soften my tone. “I don’t expect you to understand, but he’s everything to me now. I truly love him.”

“And does he love you back?” my dad asks quietly. He looks older in this moment, aged by the sorrowful pity I see in his eyes. “Is someone like that even capable of loving you, honey?”

I open my mouth to reassure him, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to say the words. I want to believe that in his own way Julian does love me, but there is a tiny kernel of doubt that’s always present with me.

My dad hit the nail on the head.

Is Julian capable of love?

Truthfully, I still don’t know.