Page 52 of Broken Promises
It earns him a whack to the back of the head.
“Better safe than sorry, jackass. I packed Bianca and shipped her off to my mother’s house last night. Luna flew out to see her brother. We’ve got a shitload to do. It’ll be better if the girls aren’t here for it. They won’t get in the way, and we won’t worry.”
I press the phone to my ear again, ignoring Spades, who nudges Cai, pointing his chin at me.
“You won’t, but he’s nowhere near done overreacting.”
“Hey,” Layla answers softly
“Finally.” I exhale, no longer brimming with tension, when I step out of the kitchen onto the terrace, sliding the door shut behind me. “You landed forty-five minutes ago, Star. What took so long? How was the flight?”
“It was okay,” she sniffs. “I slept through most of it.”
My palms ball into fists on their own accord. It’s a fucking reflex by now. A tic. My tell of sorts. I hang my head low because thousands of miles away, on the back seat of some Russian car, Layla’s plastering her tear-stained cheek to the window. The image of her sad face flashing in my head feels like a punch to the gut. “You promised not to cry.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Somehow, it just sunk in that I’m alone, and you’re so far away.”
I still can’t believe I dared to entrust the safety of everything I hold dear to a man I know so fucking little about. Well, I know he’ll put his life on the line to protect her, and that’s all I can ask for in the grand scheme of things.
“It won’t take long, Star.”
A cloud of smoke surrounds me when I light another cigarette, giving her a moment to pull herself together. As always, she doesn’t fail me, rising above her anxiety.
“The security guy was an ass. He didn’t speak English, so I’m not sure what the problem was, but Anatolij took care of it. It took a while, though. Do you know how cold it is here? It’seightdegrees outside!Eight! My breath freezes as it comes out of my lips.”
I chuckle at her irritated tone. She’s okay. She’s got this, and she’s going to be just fine. Not that I have any reason to think otherwise, but I can’t help the protectiveness squeezing my heart as if it’s a sponge. God, I’m so fucking whipped.
“You’ll find another manilla envelope in your bag. A bank card is in there, the pin number saved in your phone under your new name. I opened a Swiss account for you. There’s more than enough to pay for a few furs so you can stay nice and warm.”
“You said I won’t be here too long. I think I’ll manage for now without wearing dead animals.”
“You won’t stay there any longer than necessary. Tell Julij to call me when he has a moment.”
“I love you,” she says, and the line goes dead.
I shove the phone into my pocket, throwing the cigarette butt over the railing.
Time to face the fucking music...
I have no sense of right and wrong left in me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Layla
Five days.
It feels like I’ve been in Moscow for five weeks, but no. Just five long days. Other than being thousands of miles away from Dante and missing him like crazy, I have no reason to complain. Anatolij is a true gentleman. The kind most women consider extinct. Impeccable, aristocratic manners, IQ north of one-fifty for sure, and one of the most pleasant-to-talk-to people I’ve ever encountered.
We only spend time together in the evenings because, during the day, Anatolij is either away or locked in his office on the third floor, nearby my bedroom. Still, even those few hours every evening are enough for me to like him.
He’s nothing like his brother, Nikolaj. No, Anatolij is polite, well-organized, and infernally intelligent. There isn’t a topic he can’t hold a conversation on. His intelligence doesn’t impress me half as much as his impeccable manners.
When we arrived in Moscow, he took the time to show me around the castle and personally accommodated me in a large bedroom overlooking the rose garden. He said it looks beautiful when the flowers are in full bloom, but I enjoy how it looks covered in snow too.
The first evening when we sat down to dinner, he gathered his men, ordering them to speak English in front of me or remain silent if they couldn’t. My protests were dismissed. Anatolij wants me to feel comfortable in his home. And I do. All it took were a few hours spent alone with him after Julij called it a day, heading off to bed early on the first night. Now, I feel almost right at home.
Nikolaj and Anatolij are like two ends of a spectrum. One was ostentatious, obnoxious, and loud, while the other is an oasis of calmness. It’s all the more surprising because Anatolij is only thirty-eight. I would’ve considered a man his age to be more like Dante—eager, impatient, always rushing, but Anatolij has all the time in the world.
