Chapter 54
2465words
'Asher Volkov!"
My eyes shoot up to see Nikolai rushing in my direction. I was about to get into my car because I'd heard rumblings about strange men being spotted near Camila's dance studio. My plan was to check it out, if only to distract myself.
'What is it?" I ask as Nikolai draws near.
He keeps his voice low as he pulls out his phone. 'I was reviewing security camera footage. This is from yesterday, around ten in the morning."
Curious, I watch the video. In it, I spot a white van rolling through the gates. It parks close to the side of my mansion by the door that leads to the storage rooms in the kitchen. Two people climb out, open the back of the van, and start unloading boxes, including a large one that seems unusually heavy.
'What am I looking at?" I ask. 'Danil always gets deliveries like this."
'He gets them on Tuesdays," Nikolai says flatly.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Yesterday was Thursday. Gripping the phone, I put it closer to my face, squinting with fresh interest. The van remains where it is long after the boxes are gone. I fast forward. About forty minutes later … two people return to the van.
Carrying the same large box.
'Why would they bring anything back to the van?" I ask skeptically.
'I think they were transporting something from inside the house."
My eyes narrow at this suggestion. 'Like what?"
'Here, there's more." He takes the phone, clicks some icons, then shows me a new video. This one is the camera that covers my home's entryway. The time syncs up fifteen minutes before the van first arrives.
When I spot Camila creeping down the stairs, glancing around, then hurrying out of view toward the kitchen, my pulse goes haywire.
Forty minutes later, right around when the van departs, Camila scampers back into view. She takes the stairs two at a time toward the second level. I only get a single frame of her expression, but she looks nervous.
I rewind the video to the van again. I scrub through the timeline twice, until I get a good look at the faces of the people. One of them is indeed my chef, who I'd expect to oversee any deliveries, but the other, hovering nearby, furtively peering around, is Layla.
She never assists with this task.
I shove the phone back into Nikolai's chest hard enough that he stumbles. 'Bring Layla to my office. Now." I don't wait for him; I stride immediately in the direction of my mansion. The guards I pass give me interested looks. Probably wondering what Nikolai told me that pulled me off course from my planned trip.
What was Layla doing? I've always trusted her. That's starting to change.
Entering my office, I settle myself in my chair. The leather creaks under my weight, the sound increasing as I shift from side to side. I want to get comfortable, but it's impossible. My attention wanders to the floor. I picture the shards of glass that littered it after my drunken spiral. Layla swept the broken horses into the bin. With the evidence gone, no one but she and I know about my breakdown. I'd never let anyone else see me the way she did.
Layla was the single person I was sure would have my best interests at heart. I remember the video Nikolai just showed me and grimace. Is there anyone in the world not keeping secrets from me?
She better have a good explanation. Crushing the arms of my chair, I focus on my door. It's not long before I hear footsteps, then a hard knock.
'Pakhan," Nikolai says through the barrier.
'Come in," I reply.
Layla enters first. She doesn't look at her feet or hunch like she's scared. She was born with a backbone made of iron. Staring right into my eyes, she waits quietly for me to speak first. I motion for Nikolai to leave. He shuts the door, leaving us alone.
Leaning sideways in my chair, I rest my cheek on my fist. 'Tell me what you've done."
'You must be more specific," she replies.
I grit my teeth until my jaw hurts. 'I saw the videos, Layla. What were you delivering in the van?"
Her shrug is cold. 'You didn't see me open anything, or you wouldn't be asking."
'Then you won't tell me?"
'I do a lot of work in your home, Asher. Remembering every little item that gets delivered is a big request."
'Fine." Shoving myself out of my chair, I start to walk by her. 'I'll ask Camila."
Layla snatches my elbow with talon-like fingers. 'Why?"
I stare down at her while my voice simmers with threatening energy. 'It's curious how she wandered in the exact direction where the deliveries were being made, then left as you were returning to the parked van with that same box." I yank out of her grip. 'I doubt she'll be as good at keeping secrets as you are."
My hand touches the brass knob of my office door.
'Don't," Layla whispers.
I don't let go of my door, but I do look at her. 'Last chance, Layla. Tell me what's going on."
She moves away from me. I don't know what she's doing until she bends down into my bar cart. Pouring two glasses full of whiskey, she brings them back to me. 'Here, you'll need this."
'I hate whiskey," I warn her.
'You shouldn't drink something you like when getting the kind of news I'm about to give you."
Releasing the door, I grab the glass with enough force that droplets of it slosh over the side. 'I'm not in the mood for games."
Tapping her glass to mine, she downs the entire thing in one go. That's the moment I know what she's going to tell me is terrible.
'Camila is leaving you."
'Like hell she is!" I move toward the exit, ignoring how she grabs at my shirt.
'Asher, no! You have to hear this! Stop!"
Leave me? I'll never allow it. I can't ...
I can't lose her.
Layla wrenches at me with all her might. Whiskey spills from my glass, but I hardly notice. I've forgotten about the drink entirely. My focus is on getting to Camila. Sprinting in front of me, Layla jams her hands into my chest, feet braced on the floor.
'Out of my way," I snarl.
'If you do this, she'll never forgive you!"
'Out of my way."
'You can't force her to stay, Asher."
'Of course I can," I laugh.
She hesitates, then pushes again, sending me back a step. 'Listen to yourself. If you get in the way of her escape?—"
'Her escape?"
'She will never forgive you."
'What does that matter? I don't need her permission to keep her here. My home is where she's safe!"
'She's scared of you!"
That stops me in my tracks. 'Why would she be …"
Layla is breathing heavily from her efforts to keep me in the hallway. I've never seen her work so hard to shield someone else. And it hits me then that Layla is protecting Camila.
Protecting her from me.
As a cold chill washes up my back, I stop trying to shove my way around Layla. She backs away, watching me closely, trying to read my face. I don't think she can. Nobody could. 'You were helping her get away from me? That's what was happening with the van?" I ask.
'She begged me for help."
The wound that's begun to open in me spreads apart further. Soon, I'll be rotting down to my marrow. 'You'd risk her life by letting her out into the open, where that bastard Yannick can reach her?"
Layla's eyes spark with accusation. 'You're worried this will be a repeat of Kristina."
That hits too close to the mark. Visions of Kristina coated in blood merge with the nightmares about Camila lying limply in my arms. Her pale face and blue lips haunt me while I'm wide awake.
Unable to deny what Layla has said, I quit trying. 'Of course I am!" I growl, running my fingers through my hair. 'If Yannick discovers that she's pregnant, he's sure to use it against me. She needs to stay here, Layla! I'll lock every door—no, I'll chain her to her bed if it keeps her and that baby alive."
'You can force her to stay," she says slowly, 'but you must know you can't force her to love you."
I draw myself up, bristling with offense. 'I'm not trying to do that."
'You are. And the harder you work to keep her from leaving, the more she'll fight you. At every turn, Camila will battle with you until her heart hardens over with scars. Then she will be lost to you forever, even if she's trapped under your roof."
Heat laces my words. 'But she'd be alive!"
She points a thin finger under my nose. 'Your theories and fears aren't enough to justify keeping her a prisoner any longer."
I start to argue, but whatever I want to say dissolves on my tongue. The idea of Camila hating me … It saps the last of my energy. My arm is heavy.
I notice the whiskey glass. Tilting it to my lips, I drain it until the last drops burn my taste buds.
'Asher?"
'I hate this," I mutter.
She tilts her head. 'The whiskey, or having to let Camila go?"
'What do you think?" I ask callously. Spinning, I stalk back into my office. Layla follows, but she remains at a distance. Setting the empty glass on the cart, I debate refilling it. Brushing my thumb over the cork, I carefully consider my options. Make her stay ... or let her go. Is that really what this boils down to?
Without looking at Layla, I begin to speak in a low tone. 'You didn't tell me how the van was involved in all of this."
'Camila has a friend. Someone with connections who can place Camila and her mother in witness protection. I helped get that friend onto the property so they could talk and make their plans."
'Chyort vozmi," I whisper. 'She's serious about this."
Layla nods sagely. 'Yes."
A grim smirk passes across my lips. 'I guess she had to be, to convince you to help."
'Please don't take it personally."
'How can I not?" I ask, biting the words in two while glaring at Layla.
Her hand rises, plucking at the sapphire on her right ear.
'What I'm learning," I say, 'is that the woman I …" trailing off, I work to make myself say what I want, 'the woman I love hates me."
Layla's smile is the definition of compassion. 'No. She loves you. You must believe that."
'Impossible," I chuckle morbidly.
'It's true."
'What proof is there?" I ask, slamming my fist onto the cart, making the bottles rattle.
She doesn't react. My anger has never scared her. 'The proof will be when she finds her way back to you." I curl my lip in disgust, but she presses on. 'You must believe it, Asher. Even if it feels impossible right now, if her heart beats for you, you will meet again."
Ruminating over her advice, I lean my weight against the cart. The urge to ignore Layla and storm through my home, board up the doors, and lock Camila in her room is immense. My eyes swing upward to see Layla watching me closely. She has a hopeful smile plastered on her face. It dissolves when I make a purposeful path toward the exit.
'Asher!" she calls.
'Don't interfere," I warn her.
'Have you heard nothing I've said?" She tries to prevent me from passing her, but I square up, easily shoving her aside. She begins to give chase but stops short, hovering in the doorway behind me. 'Please … don't try and stop her. She needs to be free."
My voice comes out as thick as black tar. 'So do I."
When I open her bedroom door, Camila is facing away from it on her knees, her upper body under her bed. The sound of the door startles her; she jerks backward, banging her head on the wooden edge of the bedframe with a gasp. 'Asher!" Her eyes are wild with paranoia.
She's terrified I found out about her plans. She thinks I'm going to stop her.
'It's okay," I say, though I hear the constrained emotion in my voice that says it's anything but okay. 'I know what's going on. I'm not here to stop you."
'You're not?" She shifts from foot to foot. Her eyebrows scrunch together over the bridge of her nose. The doubt comes off her in waves. In that moment, I grasp how damaged our relationship has become. It doesn't matter that I've only just realized how powerful my love for her is. My immense desire for her runs parallel to the distrust fomenting between us.
Maybe one can't exist without the other. It's an awful thought. I squash it down so I can speak. 'The last thing I want is for you to run away from me. But if that's your choice, then I won't get in your way. But I have a request."
'What is it?" she asks softly.
Holding out my hand, I open it with my palm face up. 'Take these."
Camila doesn't move. 'Asher …"
Moving as slowly as possible, like I can stop time itself from marching forward if I don't let this moment end, I cup my hands around hers. When I open them again, my prayer beads are sitting on her palm.
'You can't," she says weakly. 'Kristina gave these to you. You swore you wouldn't remove them until Yannick was dead."
I made that promise. But along the way, my urge to devote myself to Kristina has morphed into something bigger. I'm no longer chasing pure vengeance for the dead. I'm fighting for the living. I need to prove to Camila that her happiness takes precedence over all other events in my life.
Our eyes lock. 'Yes. I did promise that. But things have changed." My voice is as solid as the diamond on her finger. 'But you are what matters to me now."
Camila's lips tremble. I don't wait to see what she'll do next. If I hesitate here, all my efforts to do the right thing will be in vain. The greedy part of me that wants to make Camila stay at all costs isn't easy to control.
Turning my back on the woman I love, I walk away without knowing if I'll ever see her again.
