Chapter 29 Episode 29
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I can practically feel the memory of Elise pressed against myside, her small body shaking. It’s like I’m thirteen again.
“Mom’s friend,” I gritted out, trying my best to sound normal.“He’ll leave soon.”
“And then we’ll get out of here?” she asked.
I looked around the small, dark room. It smelled like footsweat and dust. The only light came through the crack at thebottom of the door. Sometimes, Mom slid a towel in front of itto muffle our voices so her friends wouldn’t hear us scream.But she left it uncovered today. She was in a hurry.
“Yeah, we’ll get out,” I tell her. “We always do. We just haveto wait.”
Wait and stay quiet. Not usually a four-year-old’s strengths,but Elise tried her best. She was too young to face thepunishment for being too loud, for interrupting Mom’s“personal time.” But I was in the closet alone night after nightbefore Elise was born. I sat in the dark by myself while Momjabbed herself with needles, inhaled from glass pipes, anddanced to too-loud music until the radio went off-air.
At least Elise had me to teach her right from wrong.
I had to learn the rules the hard way.
Now, trapped once again in the dark, I don’t even have thecomfort of Elise’s small body beside mine. The shadows pressin on all sides, consuming and oppressive.
“I’m in a restaurant in New York City,” I whisper to myself,my voice wavering as the panic grabs hold. “I’m not in thetrailer. I’m not a frightened child. I’m an adult.”
The calmly spoken facts are a shitty defense against thecountless hours I spent sitting in a dark closet with my littlesister’s tears soaking into my shirt. It happened several times aweek when things were bad. Less often when Mom made oneof her half-hearted attempts to clean up.
But none of those ever lasted long.
She would shut us away before her dealer showed up, afraidwe’d bring down her high, I guess. Or, more likely, so shecould sleep with her dealer to make up for what she couldn’tpay in cash.
Elise would cry, and I’d shush her, reminding her of thepunishment for making too much noise.
No food. No going outside. A coat-hanger spanking, if wereally ruined things.
Be quiet. Be good. That ingrained training is the only reason Ididn’t scream at the top of my lungs the moment Nikolaislammed the door shut. It’s the reason I’m now curled in thefetal position on a dirty floor, breathing through the pent-uptrauma that’s trying to drown me.
“I’m okay,” I murmur to myself. “I’ll get out of here. The doorwill open. I’ll be fine.”
I don’t know if any of this is true. I don’t know why Nikolailocked me in here in the first place. All I know is that I’m farfrom home and not a soul on earth who cares knows where Iam.
A sob lodges in my throat just as I hear a bang on the otherside of the door. A moment later, it opens.
Harsh light slices across the narrow space, and all I can makeout is his silhouette. But that’s enough.
“You asshole!” I launch myself towards the door, but Nikolaiflips a switch, blinding me further.
I clamp my hands over my eyes, hissing like a movie vampiredoused with holy water.
“I told you to wait at the table,” he says simply.
My eyes are damp, and I try to convince myself it’s justbecause of the bright light. But I know the truth: I’m relieved.
Nikolai is the one who locked me in here, and yet I’mbizarrely happy to see him again. Grateful to be out of thedark.
I shove past him into the hallway. When I’m out, I take a deepbreath of the fresh air and a bit more of the unease slips awayfrom me. Anger flows through in its place.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“Really?” he asks, eyebrow raised. “You can’t believe it?”
“You’re right—I should’ve seen this coming. I guess I’m justthe i***t who tries to see the best in people.”
He nods. “There’s your mistake.”
I glare at him, wishing his gorgeous outsides would match hisnasty, twisted insides. I want him to look as cruel anddespicable as he truly is.
But Nikolai turns towards the kitchen, checking to see if we’rebeing watched, and he’s as chiseled and flawless as ever.Except…
“Is that blood?” I reach towards a speck of something on hiscollar. It’s a little rust-red stain I don’t remember seeingbefore. But before I can touch it, Nikolai twists away from me.
“It’s wine.” He tugs at his collar, adjusting it so the stain is lessvisible.
Then I notice his knuckles. They’re bruised and there’ssomething red dried into the creases.
He follows my gaze to his fingers and then shoves his hand inhis pocket. “Let’s go.”
“Hell no,” I hiss. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
I gasp. “You’re telling me not to make a scene? You justlocked me in the closet in the middle of our—”
I stop, swallowing the word. But Nikolai is too observant tomiss my almost-slip. “Our what?”
He steps closer, looking down his nose at me. “If this was adate, you’d know it, Belle.”
My stomach flutters nervously, but I crush those butterfliesbefore they can take flight. “I don’t want to date you. I don’twant to talk to you. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”
“That’s not what you said when my fingers were inside ofyou.”
My face flushes, but I cross my arms. “f**k this. I’m leaving.”
I move to walk down the hallway, but Nikolai grabs my arm.“Yes, you are. But I’ll call for a car.”
“I already said I’m not going anywhere with you!”
“Which is why I’m calling you a driver,” he snaps. “Justbecause you’re naive enough to storm away from me and putyourself in danger by walking home alone doesn’t mean I’mgoing to sit by and let you.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”
“Clearly not,” he says, gesturing to me as if my existencealone is proof of what he’s saying. “There are bad people outthere.”
Are you one of them? The question is on the tip of my tongue,but I don’t voice it.
“Why do you even care?” I say instead. “It seems like it wouldbe one less thing for you to worry about if I disappeared.”
“The police would come knocking if one of my employeesdidn’t show up for work.”
“I am not your employee,” I say, jabbing a finger in hisdirection.
He arches a dark brow dangerously. “Even worse. I can’t forgedocuments claiming you quit suddenly and joined the circus.”
I frown. “You sound familiar with the process.”
“I’m a man of many talents,” he says with a smirk I don’tquite understand.
The stain on his collar suddenly takes on a more menacingundertone. I shudder. The sooner I can get away from him, thebetter.
“You act like you had a choice in the matter,” he says, pointingfor me to walk ahead of him back through the kitchen. “Ialready did.”
We’re walking through the dining room towards the frontdoors when our waitress stops us. “Is something wrong withyour meal, Mr. Zhukova?”
“Everything was perfect,” Nikolai says easily. He reaches intohis wallet and pulls out a thick stack of bills. The waitressdoesn’t hesitate as she takes them from him. He really must bea regular here. “But we’re leaving early.”
“But… but…” The waitress shakes her head. “The vodka andcaviar tasting is very expensive. Are you sure—”
“Send it to the Schneiders,” he says, gesturing to the oldcouple in the corner. “My treat. Or throw it all away—I don’tgive a damn.”
The waitress looks at Nikolai like he’s God’s gift to Earth. Ifshe would even spare me a passing glance, I’d disabuse her ofthat notion. But she keeps her eyes fixed on him as wenavigate through the elaborately decorated dining room andout of the gilded front doors.
Just like Nikolai said, an unmarked black car is waiting at thecurb. He opens the back door for me, tosses me in, and thenleans in to speak to the driver.
“Take her straight back to the hotel. Nowhere else.”
“I’m not your prisoner,” I argue. “You can’t control where I—”
Before I can finish, Nikolai shuts the back door and stepsaway from the curb.
I glare at him through the tinted glass. “Asshole.”
He just stands like a statue on the curb as the car pulls away.
I’m livid for a while. But by the time the driver drops me off atthe hotel, the adrenaline has worn off, and I’m starting topanic.
Nikolai trapped me in a closet and then reappeared with abloodstain on his collar and bruises on his knuckles. Did heget in a fight? I saw it happen at the club the other night. Itwouldn’t be so surprising. But then why lock me away so Icouldn’t see?
The obvious answer: because I would have been a witness.
A witness to what, I don’t know. But I know it’s not good.
- Writer
