Page 66 of Bedazzled
“At 10pm, there will be a car waiting for you, one block down from your home. I’m sure you can find a way to slip out unnoticed by your bodyguard and the lovely Ella.” This man sounded sosmug.“Your driver’s name is Marcus, he will take you to a private airport and put you on my jet.”
“Where am I going?”
“Is it really important, dear?” O’Rourke chided me, “I will have you home before your husband returns.”
“It sounds like you don’t want me telling Yuri about my favor coming due,” I said.
“Your husband and the Morozov Bratva have a full schedule for these next couple of days. You wouldn’t want to distract him, would you? Distracted men become dead men.”
“Are you threatening Yuri?” I hissed.
“No.” I could practically hear him shrug. “I can have you do your part and be safely back home in no time. Then, you’re welcome to speak all you like about it to him afterward.”
Rubbing my forehead, I thought about how stupid this was. How risky. “All right. I’ll be there.”
“Excellent!” He sounded genuinely delighted, like we were about to go play polo or something. And then hung up without saying goodbye, as if that last extra word was beneath him.
At nine-thirty, Ella and I were sitting in the library, saying nothing useful because we were both thinking about what was about to happen in Dublin. I pleaded exhaustion and said goodnight.
“Are you sure?” she asked, “We can binge-watch something. I know where Anya’s hiding the rest of theMedovikhoney cake from dinner.”
“No…” I could barely look at her, I felt so guilty. “It’s been a week of long days and sleepless nights. If I can sleep tonight, I’ll be functional again, you know?”
“I do,” she sighed. “Okay. Come find me later if you can’t sleep, okay?”
“Will do,” I hugged her before standing up.
Yes,I thought, cringing, I so am going to hell for lying to Ella.
The helpful part about living in a crime lord’s lair is that there are multiple ways to get out of it. I’d been briefed early on about the Panic Room on the third floor, the escape door through the wine cellar, and a nearly invisible panel in the garden wall that could open directly into a hidden section of the massive garage behind the house. The wine cellar option seemed like the best one.
What do you take for a stealth assignment by a mysterious and probably unhinged billionaire?I thought, packing my laptop, a change of clothes, my passport, and a fistful of cash in my messenger bag.
It was almost too easy, sneaking down the servant’s stairway, hiding in a bathroom on the first floor till the guard walked by, and then down to the basement and through the wine cellar. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I speed-walked to the corner where, sure enough, there was a ubiquitous SUV with blacked-out windows waiting for me.
The biggest man I had ever seen stepped out of the car, wearing a proper black suit with his giant, mutton-like fists folded in front of him, his dark face expressionless. He was so large that the streetlight behind him made him cast a shadow that stretched halfway down the block.
“Mrs. Morozov, may I take your bag for you?” He had a well-bred English accent and a voice so deep that it was a wonder the cobblestones didn’t rattle when he spoke.
“Nope, I’m good,” I grinned nervously.
I wonder what Yuri calls my stupid nervous grin?
“Very well,” he opened the back door and as my stomach twisted inside out, I got in.
We were almost at the airport when I called Ella.
“Hey girl, you could have just come over to my wing,” she chuckled.
“The wings…” I shook my head. “These men and their wings. Who else has a house with their own wing?”
“Accept that we will never understand it,” she counseled, “you want to come over and watch something?”
“Here’s the thing…” my skin was prickling and I was pretty sure I was going to projectile vomit from anxiety the minute the car door opened. “I’m not in the house.”
Ella was instantly sober. “What did you just say?”
“O’Rourke called in his favor,” I gulped. “I’m flying out on his jet, we’re just pulling up to it.”
