Page 126
Story: Ruined By Rhapsody
His arms encircle me, one hand cradling the back of my head. For a moment we remain locked together. Then he tilts mychin up and kisses me—not desperate or demanding, just with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.
When he pulls back his eyes are dark with emotion. "There is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you, Evelyn. Nothing."
The certainty in his voice should frighten me. Instead it feels like coming home.
I slide into the passenger seat next to Noah, my heart still racing from our brief intimacy together on the sidewalk. His profile is sharp as he scans the street one last time starting the engine. The SUV purrs to life.
"Mrs. Anderson," Noah says, meeting my mother's eyes in the rearview mirror. "I need you to call your husband."
My mother clutches her purse tighter. "Alexander? Why would I?—?"
"He might be in danger as well," Noah cuts in, his voice firm but not unkind. "Those men came for a reason. If they knew your daughters were at the house, they likely know where he is too."
I turn in my seat to face her. "Mom, please. Whatever Dad did, whatever his connection to Ivan was... he's still Dad."
Her hands tremble as she pulls out her phone. "He's at the Metropolitan Club. That's where he always goes after... after difficult situations."
Noah nods, guiding the SUV smoothly into traffic. "Call him. Tell him to stay where he is, somewhere public. We'll come get him."
"You want to help him?" I ask, surprised by Noah's willingness to rescue my father after everything.
Noah's eyes remain fixed on the road but his jaw tightens. "I want to keep you safe. That means making sure no one uses your father as leverage against you."
My mother dials, her fingers hesitating over the screen. "What do I tell him about what happened? About you?"
"Just tell him to stay put," Noah instructs. "Tell him it's not safe to come home. Nothing more."
While my mother makes the call I reach for Noah's hand resting on the gearshift. He turns his palm up, interlacing our fingers without taking his eyes off the road.
"Alexander? It's me," my mother says, her voice steadier than I expected. "Are you at the club? Listen to me carefully. Don't come home. It's not safe."
I realize from my mother’s tone that Dad didn’t pick up and she’s speaking to voicemail.
"The girls are with me," she continues. "We're safe, but there were men at the house. Russian men.Just stay there," my mother finishes. "In public. We're coming to get you."
She ends the call and meets my eyes. "Let’s hope he picks up the message”"
Noah squeezes my hand once before releasing it to make a turn.
CHAPTER 37
Igrip the steering wheel tight as we speed toward the Metropolitan Club.
"How much longer?" Evelyn asks from beside me, her voice tight with worry.
"Five minutes."
Jessica sits in the back with her mother, both of them pale and quiet. Mrs. Anderson clutches her phone, waiting for her husband to answer. She’s called him multiple times. He hasn't picked up any of her calls.
"He always answers," she says, more to herself than to us. "Always."
I catch Evelyn's gaze. We're thinking the same thing—if the Russians found their house, they could have found Alexander too.
As we turn onto the street where the Metropolitan Club sits I immediately spot the flashing lights. Flashes of red and blue bounce off the buildings, illuminating the night. Police cruisers block the entrance and yellow tape cordons off the area.
"No," Mrs. Anderson gasps.
Before I can stop her she's fumbling with her seatbelt, throwing open the door.
When he pulls back his eyes are dark with emotion. "There is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you, Evelyn. Nothing."
The certainty in his voice should frighten me. Instead it feels like coming home.
I slide into the passenger seat next to Noah, my heart still racing from our brief intimacy together on the sidewalk. His profile is sharp as he scans the street one last time starting the engine. The SUV purrs to life.
"Mrs. Anderson," Noah says, meeting my mother's eyes in the rearview mirror. "I need you to call your husband."
My mother clutches her purse tighter. "Alexander? Why would I?—?"
"He might be in danger as well," Noah cuts in, his voice firm but not unkind. "Those men came for a reason. If they knew your daughters were at the house, they likely know where he is too."
I turn in my seat to face her. "Mom, please. Whatever Dad did, whatever his connection to Ivan was... he's still Dad."
Her hands tremble as she pulls out her phone. "He's at the Metropolitan Club. That's where he always goes after... after difficult situations."
Noah nods, guiding the SUV smoothly into traffic. "Call him. Tell him to stay where he is, somewhere public. We'll come get him."
"You want to help him?" I ask, surprised by Noah's willingness to rescue my father after everything.
Noah's eyes remain fixed on the road but his jaw tightens. "I want to keep you safe. That means making sure no one uses your father as leverage against you."
My mother dials, her fingers hesitating over the screen. "What do I tell him about what happened? About you?"
"Just tell him to stay put," Noah instructs. "Tell him it's not safe to come home. Nothing more."
While my mother makes the call I reach for Noah's hand resting on the gearshift. He turns his palm up, interlacing our fingers without taking his eyes off the road.
"Alexander? It's me," my mother says, her voice steadier than I expected. "Are you at the club? Listen to me carefully. Don't come home. It's not safe."
I realize from my mother’s tone that Dad didn’t pick up and she’s speaking to voicemail.
"The girls are with me," she continues. "We're safe, but there were men at the house. Russian men.Just stay there," my mother finishes. "In public. We're coming to get you."
She ends the call and meets my eyes. "Let’s hope he picks up the message”"
Noah squeezes my hand once before releasing it to make a turn.
CHAPTER 37
Igrip the steering wheel tight as we speed toward the Metropolitan Club.
"How much longer?" Evelyn asks from beside me, her voice tight with worry.
"Five minutes."
Jessica sits in the back with her mother, both of them pale and quiet. Mrs. Anderson clutches her phone, waiting for her husband to answer. She’s called him multiple times. He hasn't picked up any of her calls.
"He always answers," she says, more to herself than to us. "Always."
I catch Evelyn's gaze. We're thinking the same thing—if the Russians found their house, they could have found Alexander too.
As we turn onto the street where the Metropolitan Club sits I immediately spot the flashing lights. Flashes of red and blue bounce off the buildings, illuminating the night. Police cruisers block the entrance and yellow tape cordons off the area.
"No," Mrs. Anderson gasps.
Before I can stop her she's fumbling with her seatbelt, throwing open the door.
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