Chapter 19
2817words
I wake up thinking about the nursery.
Pulling my blanket over my head, I hold my breath, trying to push the thoughts away. Why is that room abandoned? There's no other way to look at it. The layer of dust on every surface screamed neglect. Why would Asher have a place like that in his home? Layla doesn't let her staff leave smudges on the drinking glasses. For her to ignore?—
Layla!
Throwing the blanket off me, I jump to my feet. Flush with purpose, I quickly dress myself and then hurry out into the hallway. If anyone knows something, it's her. Whether she'll tell me anything is up in the air, but I'm too curious not to try.
Searching the mansion up and down, I finally spot her through a window near the front door. She's bent over, looking at something in the lush grass near the garden. Jogging to the entrance, I turn the knob and open the door without hesitation.
A thick man with a shaved head is waiting on the top step. He's playing on his phone. When he notices me, he goes rigid in surprise. 'Where are you off to?" he demands.
'Just over there." I point past his shoulder. 'There's something I need to do."
'Oh, no, you don't. Asher gave us strict instructions to make sure you don't leave." He crosses his arms over his textured brown shirt. One of his hands, the left, is wrapped in tight bandages across most of his fingers. He sees me staring; his arms tighten, as do his eyes. 'Go back inside before I carry you to your room myself."
I recognize him. Sickening waves swing through my guts. He's the guy who grabbed me in front of Topher's. I kicked him in the ankle! 'What happened to your hand?" I ask.
'Inside." The man curls back his lips furiously. 'Now."
For some reason, this guy really dislikes me. But too bad for him; he doesn't intimidate me. Not now.
'You're one of his soldiers, right? A boeviki?"
'Boevik," he corrects me. 'Boeviki is plural."
'Whatever." I roll my eyes. 'But it means you have to obey Asher. And he said I have free rein of his home."
'I know exactly what he told you. But Asher Volkov was very clear in his instructions to me." Leaning toward me, the man braces his good hand on the frame of the door above my head. His voice comes out crunchy, like he's chewing on pebbles. 'You're not allowed to leave the house. If you think I'm stupid enough to let you trick me into letting that happen, you've underestimated me. I learn from my mistakes."
I glance at his bandaged hand again. He follows my eyes, the muscles in his shoulders bunching before his whole face shifts to a shade of maroon. Whatever happened to his hand must be embarrassing.
'All I want to do is talk to Layla," I explain. 'She's right over there."
'Then I'll tell her you're looking for her."
'But—"
He slams the door in my face with such speed the wind of it throws my hair from my face. The impact hurts my ears and makes me clench my teeth. Or maybe I'm just biting down because I'm pissed off at being treated poorly.
For a second, I forgot I was a prisoner. What a silly mistake.
Taking long steps, I walk around the room. I'm feeling pent up, like a caged animal. I should have kicked him in the ankle again. It's very tempting to open the door and do it now. It might make me feel better. After so many losses, I'll take my wins where I can get them. No. Pissing him off is reckless. He definitely hates me already. It's weird though. Could my desperate attempt to defend myself from him have caused him to look at me with pure loathing?
Sulking at how helpless I am, I decide not to make more enemies. Or … to not make my current enemies have more reasons to want to get revenge on me.
Before I make it into the hallway, the front door opens again. Layla enters with a basket slung over her right elbow. Pure white roses spill over the edges. There's a pair of pruning shears on her hip in a small apron she's slung around her usual dress. 'Camila," she says when she sees me. 'Are you all right? You look upset."
I point accusingly at the door behind her. 'That dickhead out there wouldn't let me go talk to you."
'Dickhead? You mean Kostya?" She scans over her shoulder before eyeing me thoughtfully. 'You know you can't leave the house."
'I wasn't planning to try and run off! You were less than twenty yards away; what's the big deal?"
'I'm here now. What do you need?"
Her question cools the anger boiling in me. 'I had something I wanted to ask about, but I'm worried it might be a little … sensitive."
'You've got my attention. Let me put these in some water. Come along." Layla strolls into the kitchen. I follow her closely, observing how she sets the basket on the counter, then fills a large fishbowl-shaped vase in the sink.
'Those roses are very pretty."
'Aren't they?" Her smile makes her blue eyes soften. 'Asher likes to have a fresh arrangement like this set out every week." Using the shears, she trims the thorns with expertise, settling the stems in the water. 'They're lovely like this, but in the garden, they're a masterpiece."
'I'd love to see them up close."
Her smile twitches, as if she's evaluating if I'm still looking for a way out. 'What's this sensitive topic of yours?"
Sucking in a long breath, I look up at the ceiling, visualizing the room up above. 'Don't be mad. But I might have broken a rule."
Layla sets the shears down loudly, sighing. 'You went to the third floor, didn't you?"
'I did," I admit. 'And what I saw there … I need help understanding it."
'Camila, you were told not to do that."
It's strange. Her voice is sharp, but she doesn't sound or look upset.
'What was that place?" I ask. 'It was full of old nursery things."
Her eyes slide away from mine. 'It's a room to house the ghosts of Asher's past."
Unease creeps in until my arms stiffen. 'What kinds of ghosts?"
'It's not for me to tell you." She starts to turn away. 'In fact, I've already told you too much."
Worried she'll leave the kitchen before I get any closer to an answer, I round on her, blocking her path. 'Come on, there's no harm in sharing this info with me."
Layla draws herself upward. If she's trying to intimidate me, it doesn't work. With a light sigh, she wipes her hands on her apron.
'Old memories have a way of acting like weapons, Camila."
Tucking my chin to my neck, I let out a short, sarcastic laugh. 'You think I'd use anything you tell me to hurt Asher?"
'You might." A familiar deep voice rumbles nearby.
With a start, I look over and catch Asher leaning on the frame of the door, his arms belted across his chest. His eyes are fixed on me with sharp interest, his body like that of a lion—relaxed, yet able to pounce at will. His midnight black short-sleeved shirt and matching slacks add to the effect.
Freezing up, I dart a look at Layla. She's fiddling with the bowl of roses on the granite island in the middle of the kitchen. I will her to speak first, to say anything, but she remains silent.
Asher sways forward, entering the kitchen fully. He surveys us both with a serious frown. 'Leave us, Layla." He focuses on me intensely. 'Camila and I need to talk alone."
Sweat beads along my spine. Again, I try to indicate with my panicked eyes that Layla should say something. But just like before, she holds her tongue. With a tiny dip of her head at Asher, she slips around him and exits the kitchen.
Holding all the air I have in my rib cage, I stay where I am, not even blinking. I've gone into survival mode, remaining still the way a deer would in the hopes that the predator doesn't see it.
But Asher has no problem noticing me. I'm all he sees right now.
'Camila," he says firmly.
I shudder.
'What did you want to talk about?"
He can't know I went up to the third floor. Not unless he overheard the whole conversation. Maybe it's something else he's pissed off about.
'Because if this is about me trying to go outside earlier, it's not a big deal. I don't know what Kostya told you?—"
'Kostya?" His face darkens like a thundercloud. 'Did something happen with him?"
Confused by his reaction, I shake my head quickly. 'No."
Asher closes the distance, stopping on the opposite side of the kitchen island. His large hands grip the edge, squeezing tight as he scrutinizes me. He's searching for something. Whatever he sees in my face causes him to loosen his hold on the granite.
'You went upstairs, didn't you?"
I'm picking at the inner skin of my thumb so roughly it begins to bleed. 'Yes." Cringing, I wait for him to lash out at me. He can leap over the counter, snatch me up, and break me in half if he wants to. Asher isn't a man you want furious with you.
But the assault doesn't come.
I stop picking at my fingers, paying closer attention to the shape of his eyebrows. The slack in his muscles. He's not angry. I was sure he'd throttle me for breaking his one rule.
'You're not mad at me … Why?"
Asher spreads his arms, his head drifting lower between them. His voice is hushed. 'A long time ago, I was a brigadier for Yannick."
I cover my mouth to mute my gasp. 'What?"
His smirk cuts me to the core. 'Yes, long ago he was my pakhan. I obeyed his every single command without a fraction of hesitation." His eyes drop to the bowl of roses. 'Until the day he betrayed me."
There's dread budding in my veins. I clutch my hands to my middle, rubbing my forearms as the chilly anxiety grows. He's going to tell me something awful. I just know it.
Asher traces the petals around the inner swirl of a white rose. He looks at it instead of me. 'I had a wife once."
My pulse ricochets wildly.
He had a WHAT?
'Her name was Kristina," he whispers before finally gazing at me again. 'We were going to build a family. We'd been planning every detail down to the littlest thing. I'd never imagined myself as a father, but with her, it was hard not to imagine myself as one." He crushes the rose, causing petals to shiver free, drifting to the counter in broken fragments. 'Yannick robbed me of that future when he killed her."
'Oh my God, no," I groan. Staggering backward, I shake my head in horror. They were going to start a family someday. That's why they were preparing a nursery! 'How could he do something so awful?"
'Because monsters like him don't care what tragedies they create." His pupils flick to the floor, looking at everything but seeing nothing. 'That's why I don't let anyone go up to that room. I don't have the strength to throw those things in the trash, but neither do I want to see it. No one should look on my dead dreams."
'Asher, I'm so sorry. I didn't … I didn't know." Imagining Asher grieving his dead wife does something to the wall I've built around my heart. He's distraught from telling me this story. The agony he carries with him from day to day has to be debilitating. When my father died, I stayed in bed for a week. I know what it's like to lose a loved one.
He continues to watch the tiles. 'I don't want your sympathy."
No ... I'm sure he doesn't. 'I know." Gingerly, I inch toward him. 'But now I get why you want to kill him." There—he looks at me, his head slung low, brows drawn lower. 'Asher, thank you for sharing this with me." The urge to comfort him compels me to reach out until my palm is on his shoulder.
He goes taut. His hand hooks my wrist, holding it firmly, guiding me closer to him. 'You're bleeding. Did a thorn get you? Layla is usually a perfectionist."
His touch is warm … It radiates an aura of protectiveness that seeps through my skin, heating me from the inside out. There's a tingling on the roof of my mouth. It makes my voice quake. 'N-no, that's just from me picking at my nail."
'What? Why would you do that?"
'I was nervous that you were upset with me."
Asher's eyes are glued to my face. 'Because you see me as a monster like Yannick?"
'No!" He's still clutching my wrist, but his grip is getting looser. I want him to hold on. I don't want him to ever let go. It's a crazy feeling, whatever this is. But I'm too fuzzy to make sense of it. 'I don't think that about you. I mean—I did, but not anymore. How could I?" After what you told me about your past. I don't say it out loud. I don't have to. Things have suddenly changed between us. I can feel it, and I know he can feel it too.
But will they keep changing?
'Camila." My name rolls off his tongue like a blessing. 'Do you hate me?"
'Of course not!"
He pulls me against him, ending my ability to utter a single sound.
'Because you might." His voice is thick, heavy. 'After this."
Smooth lips skid across mine like a stone on a pond. And like a stone, once tossed, it's freed from his control. It creates ripples through me from my tongue to my throat to the bottom of my heart.
I seize up as Asher kisses me. He's still holding onto my wrist as my pulse quickens against his warm touch. The fingers on my opposite hand curl inward, nails making half-moons in my palms. Pressure builds as the moment goes on. My lips part to allow him in further. Asher's teeth graze my bottom lip. The scent of aftershave fills my nose, tempting me to lean in closer to him.
I've been kissed before. But never like this.
A light moan slips out of me. His actions are stirring awake my eagerness, inspiring me to get on my toes. I want to climb the tower that is Asher Volkov. My fervor catches me by surprise; I've never been overcome by such carnality. My skin is vibrating. Each swish of his tongue against mine is cruel, because I fear he might stop at any moment.
And I never want this moment to end.
My breath hitches hard in my chest, sending me forward. That motion presses my ribs out, and my breasts press against his firm torso. Hot air shudders from Asher's mouth before he gently guides me away from him, but not before his lips nip at mine in one last, reluctant parting. The kiss is over, the gap between us a mere foot, but it feels like a mile.
He's done. I don't want to be done.
'We should stop," he says solemnly.
'Why?" I ask, sounding like a petulant child robbed of a sweet treat.
He smirks openly. 'My future wife is a greedy one."
Shrugging from his grasp, I rub my arm gently, feeling where his hand just was. 'If you're already regretting kissing me?—"
'No. I'd never."
I jump from how harshly he says it. 'Then why?"
He glances at the kitchen door meaningfully. 'Because we have an eavesdropper. I'm not the type who performs for a crowd."
Wondering who he means, I stare over my shoulder. 'I don't see anyone."
'Stay here, Camila." He walks by me, letting me enjoy another whiff of his delicious scent. I'm giddy with the rush of what we just did. Kissing Asher is like kissing a landmine. He can destroy me in a blink, but the danger of it brings a low-burning excitement that turns my inner thighs slick. But with each step he takes away from me, the burning excitement smolders until only wisps of shame remain curling up into the air like the dying memories of a fire.
I'm not supposed to kiss him, I remind myself. This isn't supposed to be real.
But as I watch his broad back vanish through the door, I can't help but wonder when he'll kiss me again.
