Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
I’ve seen him kill a man right in front of me. Not recently–it was years ago when I was quite young–one of his men angered him, and he slit his throat in our living room. My mom had grabbed me and locked the two of us in a bathroom until my father apologized and promised he’d never let his wife or daughter see violence in their home again. I think I compartmentalized that incident because I didn’t know how to reconcile it with the man I needed in my life to survive.
But I don’t need him anymore. I honestly don’t want him anymore. If Adrian had taken the time to ask me what I wanted, I could have told him that. If he thinks sparing my father was a gift to me, he’s wrong.
He stalks to me now and fists my new coat to shake me. “What are you saying?” he shouts.
I beam up at him like I’m proud. “I kidnapped myself,” I tell him.
He releases the jacket and backhands me. I hit the floor, pain exploding in my cheek. I’m both shocked and unsurprised. He’s never hit me before, but I certainly knew he was capable of it.
Determined not to break, I cling to my indignation and scramble up to my feet. “How did it feel?” I demand.
“Leave us,” my father commands his men. “Go to the hangar.” They file out of the room, shutting the door behind them.
I can’t decide if it’s better or worse to be alone with him.
He slaps me again, this time with an open hand, and I realize my old life has finally and completely crumbled. I can never go back to being that needy unloved girl who was acting out to get her father's attention. This is it. I'm all grown up.
And I have no idea how I will come out of this.
14
Adrian
Sleep feels impossible tonight, so I pace the hotel room some more before I think to call Nadia and let her know I’m on my way.
“Hi Adrian,” she says in English. Good–she’s practicing the language. That will be a huge step in her feeling more comfortable in Chicago.
“Hey. How are you?”
“Everything’s fine here. How about you?”
“I’m heading back tomorrow.”
“So…what happened? Did you…finish it?”
I sit on the bed and rest my elbows on my knees. “Ah…no. No, I didn’t, Nadia.” I clear my throat. “I’m going to let it go.” Guilt and shame crowd me from both directions.
“What happened, Adrian?”
“No, nothing happened. Everything’s okay.”
“Adrian, can you do something for me?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Yeah, anything.”
“Stop lying. I know something happened, and I know something’s wrong. I’m not so fragile that you have to protect me. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
My heart thuds painfully against my sternum. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay…” I take a deep breath and let it out, stabbing my fingers through my hair. “I had a lead on Leon Poval. He has a daughter who is about the same age as you living in England.”
Nadia sucks in a shocked breath but says nothing.
“I, um, I kidnapped her.”
“What? Adrian! Oh my God, you are out of your mind! How could you do–”
“I didn’t hurt her, Nadia. I mean, I only planned to make Poval think she was in danger, so he’d come and rescue her, but, ah…”
“You came to your senses.”
A whisper of relief hits me at her understanding. “Yes. Exactly.”
“Where is she?” Nadia asks. “Is she with you?”
Fresh pain seeps in at me from all sides. “No. I returned her to her father.”
“Is she safe with him?”
A cold slithery snake moves through my stomach. Is she?
She’s his daughter, so of course she is. Yet memories of all the things she said about him creep back in, especially the last one–where she broke down with the realization that he’d probably killed her mother.
Is she safe with him?
The question rattles around in my head, and with every second that passes, awareness creeps over me. What if I left her in the lion's den? I thought I was doing her a favor, I thought I was returning her to safety. But ultimately, she's not safe with that man. Not emotionally. And maybe not even physically. After all, she suspects he killed her mother.
Maybe I didn't do her any favors by letting him go free.
“I don't know,” I manage to say to Nadia. My voice sounds choked. “Fuck, I hope so.”
“You care about this woman, don't you?”
I don't know how Nadia was able to read that into my words. But I admit it. “Yes.”
And because it's Nadia, who's shown so much vulnerability in the last year just telling her stories, I'm willing to say to her what I barely have admitted to myself. “I think I fell in love.”
“You think, or you know?”
“I love her, Nadia. And I fucked it up.”