A Hand to Hold

Chapter seven

~ Natalie

*

As promised, I disposed of my coffee cup as Mr. Ó Ceallaigh and I reached the car. At our approach, Harrison opened the back door of the Rolls Royce and greeted me, “Good morning, beautiful. Always a pleasure having you along for the ride.” I smiled in response. Mr. Ó Ceallaigh’s driver was among the kindest of men I’d ever met. He reminded me of Uncle Brian, which made my heart happy. “You’re a charmer, Harrison,” I told him. “I enjoy our time together, too.”

“If you two are done flirting,” the boss interjected, “we’ve got a schedule to keep.”

*

An interesting quirk about Ronan Ó Ceallaigh: if he traveled with a lady, he insisted she enter the car first and exit the car last. Although he seemed rough around the edges most of the time, habits such as this proved there was more to the man than could be seen on the surface. He had the heart of a true gentleman. He went to great lengths to conceal this fact, but I knew it to be true.

*

I climbed into the plush backseat and reached into my bag, pulling out a box of candy. “Here you are, Harrison,” I said, passing him the box. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Ah, you liked the movie then?” he asked, smiling at me in the rearview mirror.

“Very much.”

*

Harrison and I shared a love of movies and often discussed our favorites. Whenever I enjoyed a new film based on his recommendation, I’d repay him with a box of his favorite candy, and he did the same. “What movie was it this time?” our boss asked.

“Secondhand Lions,” I replied, to which Mr. Ó Ceallaigh had no response. He had no input on any movie we discussed, as he hadn’t seen most of them. His excuse being he hadn’t the time. But truthfully, due to his work addiction, he didn’t care to make the time.

*

“Thank you for the candy, Ms. Norris,” Harrison expressed. “I’ll have to remember to hide it from the littles this time.”

“Harrison,” I replied, “when are you going to start calling me Natalie?”

“Around the same time you start using my first name.”

“But I don’t know your first name.”

“Exactly.”

*

The car glided to a stop in front of our first destination of the day, and Harrison got out to open the back door. As I wrapped my scarf around my neck, my boss leaned over and whispered, “It’s Edgar.”

“What is?”

“His first name.” I smiled.

~~*~~

We were in and out of the car all day and must’ve seen at least a dozen properties. I didn’t know what exactly Mr. Ó Ceallaigh was looking for, only that he hadn’t found it yet. As we neared the last location, I opened the folder to refresh my memory of its criteria. I’d read over everything that morning, but we’d seen so many places all the information had begun to blur together. When I turned a page, I discovered a sheet I’d somehow overlooked that morning. My eyes stopped short upon the property’s current owners, and my blood ran cold.

*

“Um … Mr. Ó Ceallaigh?” I said meekly.

“What is it?” he responded, without looking up from typing on his phone.

“Did you see this?” He glanced at the folder in my hands and replied, “Yes. What about it?”

“Do you know who this is?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“I do, unfortunately.” He looked at me as though he wanted to press me further but decided against it as he said, “The current owners are irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” I repeated in astonishment. “How is getting involved with the Russian mob irrelevant?!” I failed to conceal the emotion in my voice, causing him to say, “Natalie, calm down. I’m simply considering the purchase of one of their properties. That’s all.”

“It’s not worth the risk, associating with them in any way.”

“It’s not your decision.”

*

Mr. Ó Ceallaigh peered through the window and announced, “We’re here.” I checked out our surroundings, having just realized the car had stopped. “I … I think I should stay in the car,” I said nervously.

“You can’t do your job from the car,” he pointed out, a little annoyed. “I need you with me. Let’s go.”

*

A little shaky, I followed my boss out of the car. He swiftly moved toward the entrance with me trailing behind, making my best effort to compose myself. The realtor greeted us just inside the front door. Though my purpose there was to take diligent notes, I struggled to remain focused as the two discussed the building’s attributes.

*

Shortly after our arrival, the back doors opened, revealing a trio of men. My chest grew tight at their intimidating presence. Two of the three men I’d never seen before. However, the sight of the leading man nearly made my knees buckle. It was the same man who’d visited The Golden Spoon, resulting in my sudden departure. My terror must’ve been apparent because my boss put a hand on my shoulder and, in a low voice, asked, “Are you alright?” I could only nod meekly in response. I didn’t trust my voice not to reveal fear.

*

“Mr. Ó Ceallaigh,” the realtor said, “allow me to introduce Mr. Alexeyev.” The man shook my boss’ hand and said, “Please call me Alexi; all my friends do.” His thick Russian accent was just as chilling as I remembered. I knew Mr. Ó Ceallaigh spoke many languages, but I’d forgotten that list included Russian until he replied.

*** (The following conversation is spoken in Russian.) ***

“Alexi, it’s nice to meet you,” my boss greeted. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“As does yours, Ronan Ó Ceallaigh. I sold a property to your father several years ago. I liked him. He paid full asking price,” Alexi said with a chuckle. His face became serious again as he added, “You have my condolences on his passing.”

“Thank you, Alexi, that’s very kind of you.”

*

Alexi’s gaze shifted to me, standing just behind Mr. Ó Ceallaigh. “Hello,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “Who is this beauty?”

“Forgive my lapse in manners,” my boss replied in English as he placed a hand on my back. “This is my personal assistant, Natalie Norris.” The Russian looked me up and down in an uneasy evaluation. When his sinister eyes landed on my necklace, a raw emotion I couldn’t name flashed across his face.

*

“You look very familiar,” the Russian said. “Have we met before … Natasha?” It took every ounce of willpower not to react to the sound of my birth name crossing that man’s lips. He must’ve sensed my elevated heart rate because he revealed a satisfying smirk. I ignored the rising nausea and answered, “I’m certain we have not, as my name is Natalie.” He paused for a beat before eventually replying, “My mistake, Natalie.”

*

I followed as my boss, the Russian, and the realtor toured the property. Though, I remained unable to focus on the information passed between them for the unsettling way Alexi repeatedly looked me over. Once we were safely back inside the Rolls, my boss spoke softly yet sternly, “I don’t know if I should apologize for the way Mr. Alexeyev was looking at you or demand an explanation for why you seemed unsurprised by his behavior.” I remained quiet, unable to find my voice or even look up from my knees. “I’ve never seen you like this, Natalie. Shell-shocked and subdued.” Again, I did not respond. “Take the evening to compose yourself, but come morning, I expect an answer.” I nodded in acknowledgment. I’d ridden in silence with Mr. Ó Ceallaigh more times than I could count. That was the first time it ever felt genuinely uncomfortable.

*

Once we returned to the office building and up to the top floor, Mr. Ó Ceallaigh gently took hold of my elbow and said, “Get whatever you need from your office and leave your car key on your desk. I’m driving you home. I’ll have your car delivered before morning.” Too defeated to argue, I quietly followed his instructions.

*

A moment later, an angry Irishwoman stormed out of the elevator. “I need a word, Ronan,” Brigid Ó Ceallaigh declared. Without waiting for a response, she proceeded into his office. “This will only take a minute,” he said. “Wait for me.” I nodded.

*

Mr. Ó Ceallaigh unintentionally left his door cracked. His office was soundproof, but only when the doors were properly closed. I missed the beginning of the conversation, but I did hear, “I may be nearing seventy, but I can still smack the devil out of you, buachaill!” I’d never heard his grandmother so angry. Uncomfortable with being an eavesdropper, I moved to wait in the main hall. Unfortunately, that meant walking past Tiffany.

*

“What’s the matter with you?” the receptionist asked rudely.

“I’m not in the mood, Tiffany.”

“Well, well, it seems something has finally gotten under the skin of little Ms. Polite. What happened? You finally get fired?” She smirked. Girls like her lived for attention, so I made a point never to give her any, continuing my walk toward the lobby.

*

Hardly three minutes had passed when my phone vibrated.

TEXT MESSAGE:

Boss - Where are you?

Me - Coming.

I returned to my office to find my boss waiting. “What were you doing out there?” he asked.

“You left your door open,” I explained. “I didn’t want to overhear your conversation.”

“Oh. That is… appreciated.” In all the time I’d known him, I’d never seen him look uncertain. But in that moment, he seemed mentally on edge. Whatever his grandmother had come to say really did a number on him.

*

“What does “buachaill” mean?” I asked. He sheepishly rubbed his neck and replied, “You heard that?”

“It was hard not to with the way she was yelling. You don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s fine. It just means ‘boy,’ but it’s what she calls me when I’ve disappointed her.”

“I can’t imagine you disappointing her.” He chuckled softly, saying, “It’s rare, but it happens.” He picked up my coat and held it open for me as he said, “Let’s get you home.” It almost sounded as though he truly cared.

*

Walking out of the elevator, I expected to see Harrison and the Rolls Royce in their usual spot. However, Mr. Ó Ceallaigh turned in the opposite direction and said, “This way.” He led me over to a Mercedes AMG-GTR, and I nearly swooned. What the Rolls Royce had in luxuriousness, this car had in s*x appeal. Always the gentleman, he opened the passenger door for me. Once inside, I admired the expensive interior as he made his way to the driver’s side. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises,” I told him.

“I could say the same about you.”

*

Five minutes into the drive, he broke the silence. “I’ve never known you to be so quiet.”

“That’s because you don’t really know me.”

“I know you better than you think,” he replied confidently.

“Then you’d know just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I have nothing to say.”

“I did know that, actually. You remind me of my grandmother in that aspect, and that’s one of the highest compliments I can give.”

“Thank you.”

*

We went another five minutes without speaking until it was my turn to break the silence. “What do you think your grandmother would say if she knew you were involved with people like Alexi?”

“Natalie, I’m not involved with his illegal activities. I’m only interested in buying a building from him. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re just saying that because your father did the same,” I replied under my breath.

“It’s only a—” He stopped mid-sentence and glanced at me quickly before returning his attention to the road.

*

“How did you know my father did the same?” he questioned. I hesitated to answer, and he grew impatient. “Answer me, Natalie!”

“I heard what Alexi told you,” I mumbled. Three seconds of stunned silence passed until he voiced his conclusion. “You speak Russian?!” When he spared me another glance, I softly replied, “Yes.”

“Why wasn’t that on your resumé?”

“It’s not something I like to advertise.”

“What else don’t I know about you?”

“A lot.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

*

We endured strained silence for the duration of the drive. When he parked in my lot and proceeded to unbuckle his seatbelt, I asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to walk you to your door.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I’m doing it anyway.” I knew there was no point in arguing. His gentlemanly nature wouldn’t allow me to walk to my door unaccompanied.

*

Without a word exchanged between us, we made our way through the main doors of my building and up the three flights of stairs due to the broken elevator. As we reached my floor, he uttered, “Remind me to give you a raise.” I knew his comment came from seeing the modest state of the building. “It’s not that bad,” I claimed. “It may not look like much, but at least it’s… safe?”

*

The last word fell from my lips as a question because at that moment we’d arrived at my front door, only to find it no longer on its hinges. The instant my boss saw the damage, he gripped my arm protectively, pulled me behind him, and said, “Stay in the hallway; I’ll check it out.” As soon as he uttered the words, I stopped him. “What if the intruder is still inside?”

“Good, then I’ll have the opportunity to beat the living hell out of them.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt on my account,” I pleaded.

“That’s sweet, but I’d rather be the one in danger than you. Just give me a minute. I don’t hear anything. Chances are, they’ve already gone.”

*

I stood in the hallway, holding my breath and listening for the slightest sound. After what felt like ages, my boss reappeared in the doorway and reported, “It’s empty.” I sighed in relief as I passed him and entered my apartment. I wanted to cry as I surveyed the extent of the damage. I didn’t have much, but every square inch of my apartment had been upended, and nearly all my possessions destroyed. Even a few of the floorboards were missing.

*

Mr. Ó Ceallaigh voiced my thoughts aloud, saying, “Someone was looking for something.”

“It would appear so,” I agreed.

“Did they find it?”

“I don’t have anything of value.”

“Where do you keep your money?”

“In a bank, like a normal person.” He rolled his eyes and said, “I meant like your spare cash for emergencies.”

“Oh… hang on.”

*

Over near my tiny closet, all my clothes had been strewn across the floor. I picked up one of my jackets, reached into the inside pocket, and withdrew a few hundred dollars. “It’s still here,” I stated.

“Seriously?” he voiced in bewilderment. “Your jacket pocket?”

“Where do you keep yours?”

“In a safe, obviously.”

“A safe is a red flag for thieves,” I pointed out. “Unless it’s bolted down, it’s the first thing they go for. They wouldn’t take the time to check every pocket though. Which is probably why this is still here.”

“That, or… cash wasn’t what they were after. Where do you keep your important documents? Your birth certificate, social security card, passport… stuff like that?”

“Also in the bank. I have a safety deposit box.”

“That’s not normal for someone your age.”

“What can I say? I’m cautious.”

“Cautious? Or paranoid? As if you expected something like this to happen?” He passed me a slip of paper he must have discovered while I searched for my jacket. It was a message left by the intruders.

~ Do skoroy vstrechi, Natasha~

*

My hands trembled as I read the words, ‘See you soon, Natasha,’ written in Russian. I’d nearly forgotten I wasn’t alone until I heard my boss’ voice. “I think you owe me an explanation.” He looked at me with more intensity than I’d ever seen from him. I didn’t know what to say. A part of me wanted to confide in him, the exceptionally vulnerable part of me that craved comfort. But I was hesitant. I normally trusted my instincts in times like these, but they were reticent at the moment. My instincts once told me to trust Trina, and I’d never regretted that. If only my best friend were still nearby.

*

I walked over to my upended loveseat and turned it over. Once I was seated, my boss moved to stand in front of me, arms folded across his chest, waiting for me to speak. With a sigh, I began, “Natalie Norris is my legal name… but it’s not the name I was born with.” I took a deep breath and continued, “I was born Natasha Novikov. My mother was originally from Denver, Colorado, which is where she met my dad and where I was born.”

*

“My dad’s home was Russia. When he returned, he took me and my mother with him. I spent the first four years of my life there.” Mr. Ó Ceallaigh remained motionless and unreadable as I told him my story. “I don’t have many memories from those years, but I do remember being happy. Maybe that was only because I was oblivious to what was really going on.”

*

“My dad worked for the Russian mob,” I explained as though I carried his shame. “Just before my fifth birthday, something happened. He did something to piss off his boss. What, I wish I knew, but it caused them to flee Russia. After we came to America, we moved around for a while. I remember living out of a car for days before meeting up with my aunt. She took me to her home in Texas. My parents planned to travel a while, to be sure we hadn’t been followed, then meet us in Texas. But… we never saw them again.” A tear managed to escape my eye, and I quickly brushed it away.

*

An eerie quiet had settled between us until he finally spoke, “Alexi addressed you as Natasha.” I gently nodded at his statement, and replied, “Somehow he knew the truth about my identity. Which is why I have to leave.”

“No,” he replied firmly, “you can’t leave.”

“Do you see my apartment right now? This is proof I have to leave.”

“This is proof they know exactly who you are now. You were at an advantage when they only knew you as four-year-old Natasha, but now they’ve seen you as grown-up Natalie. They can find you now, no matter where you go.” He was right. Feeling absolutely defeated, I put my face in my hands and mumbled, “I don’t have any other option.”

“Yes, you do.” I lowered my hands as he stepped forward and said, “Marry me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~