Page 17

ARSENI

S he must be hungry.

It’s been twenty-four hours since Fox and I picked her up, and in my experience, that’s about how long it takes for hunger to become painful.

It isn’t a coincidence that I waited until now to feed her, but she seems almost disinterested in the idea as she stares off, legs tucked beneath her on the kitchen floor.

I finish plating the leftover turkey and green beans, then stick the plate in the microwave. When I peek at Margot, she still hasn’t moved. Not an inch. She’s all dead eyes and wounded shoulders.

I’m not sure why the sight unsettles me.

After the microwave beeps, I take out the food and hold a hand out for Margot. “Come.”

She blinks slowly, looking half asleep as she meets my eyes.

Sad. She looks sad.

“Come.”

Breaking her gaze away from me, she climbs to her feet without taking my hand. I lead her to the tiny, two-person table meant for the help—God forbid they eat at the same monstrous dining table as Nikita—and sit.

When she goes for the other chair, I take her arm and guide her to my lap instead. She blushes as she stares down at her thighs.

There’s no protest from her as I run my hand up the back of her neck and tug her frizzed hair loose from her ponytail. It spills over her back in mocha brown locks, soft beneath my touch. I push hair back to tuck behind her ear.

“I never liked your hair pulled back,” I say, eyeing the knotted mess.

It strikes me that I never saw it like this when I lived with her.

It would be a Sunday when she had no intention of leaving home, and still, she presented herself as a woman without physical flaws.

It feels ironic that I find her so much more beautiful now, more … real .

“Pleasing you was never my goal.”

She turns her head away from me, like she can’t stand for me to see her face. Her tone is overly defensive. You’d think I’d accused her of dressing up for me.

She was sensitive back then about these things too. Always denying her attraction, even when I was only poking fun. There wasn’t a time I seriously thought she’d fuck me, but my god, it was fun prodding. Any time I’d catch her looking at me, she’d blush. Any time I got too close, she’d shiver.

Now, it’s as if nothing has changed. And it’s strange. I can’t tell how much of her feels violated and how much is still bothered by her attraction toward me. Not because I’m a monster but because I’m young. My age seems so irrelevant at this point.

I caress her cheek but don’t bring her to face me when I notice her staring at the food. She looks even sadder now.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” she says.

I don’t know if she wants me to confirm, but I don’t. I turn her, her eyes shining with something I can’t make out. Then, I pick up a piece of turkey and bring it to her lips. When she goes to lift her arms, I hold them down.

Slowly, her lips part, and with the innocent way she eyes me, the situation almost feels erotic. The goal was to demean her, but the feel of her lips on my fingers makes my cock stir.

I pick up another piece of turkey, my mind taking me to places I command it not to go. “Did you have big plans?”

She shakes her head after cinching the food with her teeth. Once she’s swallowed, she doesn’t immediately take the next bite.

“I was just thinking how pathetic it is that this is the first Thanksgiving I’ve shared with another person.”

Glancing at me, she quickly takes the next bite and turns her head away to chew.

“You mean as an adult?”

She swallows. “No. My dad was an anti-patriotic drunk. One time my mother put a paper turkey I made on the fridge, and he broke her arm for it… We didn’t do Thanksgiving.”

I nod, though I don’t at all understand.

I’ve sat through so many awkward dinners with families of fosters I hardly knew that it seems impossible to have been alone thirty-five years in a row.

I desperately wanted to be. There is nothing that says, ‘you have no family’ more bitterly than recognizing two faces among a crowd with everyone referring to you as a stranger’s son.

“What about your adoptive parents?”

“They were the over-the-top volunteer type. They took me along when I was a kid, but…” She shrugs. “I never counted it before, but it’s obviously better than this.”

I stare at the plate, picking at a green bean. It’s a nice reprieve from her talking when I take it to her mouth.

I don’t know why I’m asking questions. I don’t want to know this shit. Boo fucking who, you missed out on a holiday. So what?

“Do you live here?” she asks, glancing around.

It’s strange. Very fucking strange. But my knee-jerk reaction is to say yes, just to impress her. My second reaction is shame.

“No, this is my boss’s place. I’m staying here to be close to you.”

“He let you bring your dog?” She scrunches her forehead like that’s confusing for her. Even she thinks a dog doesn’t fit in a place this nice. Nikita is seriously going to kill me.

“Someone broke into my house today and poisoned Roscoe. He’s just here until the guy who did it is taken care of.”

Her face blanches. When I bring another bite of turkey to her lips, she doesn’t take it.

“What?” I ask, lowering the food.

She swallows. “Do you know who did it?”

“Some dick my roommate pissed off. Why?”

Her knee jabs my thigh as she curls her body into me. “Are you sure?”

I narrow my eyes and take my time answering.

“How bad was the damage? Did they steal anything?” she goes on, her voice growing impatient.

“ Why ?”

With a deep breath, she closes her eyes. “Five years ago, my stalker burned a cat in my backyard as a threat. He isn’t above hurting animals.”

Jesus Christ, he burned a cat ?

“The guy was there to trash the place. Roscoe was probably just in the way. If he wanted him dead, there are more efficient ways to kill?—”

“It could’ve been a warning.”

Her eyes hold so much anxiety in them, they twitch. She’s rigid in my lap, and for once, I don’t think it has to do with me.

Just how traumatized is she?

“Margot… Your stalker did not break into my house. How would he even know who I am, let alone that I have you?”

“He was at the park the night you took me. He would’ve seen everything. And he?—”

“If he’d followed me, I would’ve noticed the tail.”

She shakes her head, flustered. “He wouldn’t have had to follow you. Arseni, please just listen to me… He is dangerous . What happened today is nothing compared to what he’ll do tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day. Or the next.”

Her worried expression is dead serious. I look over it for a moment, searching for some sign that she’s exaggerating. She sounds like a fucking nut.

“Okay,” I say in an attempt to appease her. “What do you suggest I do about this oh-so-dangerous man?”

More dangerous than me, apparently.

Still with a straight face… “You have to let me go.”

My eyes pop as a laugh launches from my chest. I hold her in place when she tries to climb from my lap.

“You are fucking adorable ,” I say, tears filling my eyes from laughing so hard.

She got me. She really got me.

What an incredible actress.

“I’m serious , Arseni. He’s insane. He won’t see this as you kidnapping me; he’ll see this as betrayal. He will ruin me, and he’ll do the same to you.”

“Okay, Margot.” I nod and wipe moisture from beneath my eyes. “I know I haven’t explicitly told you this, but… My boss is the former Pakhan of the Petrov Bratva, and technically, you belong to him. Do you think he’s going to be afraid of some freak who forgot to take his meds?”

“It’s you who should be afraid.” She doesn’t even blink. She looks as crazed as the man she’s describing.

I open my mouth to argue some more, but I can see in her eyes, she doesn’t want to hear it. She’s delusional, but I’m certain she’s not actually crazy. Just plagued with the psychosis that comes with prolonged periods of fear.

“Why don’t you tell me who he is so I can be on guard then? Who knows, maybe I’ll even be able to use my mediocre skills to defend myself.”

I don’t think for a second he broke into my place. I don’t even think he knows who I am. I’m not even sure he exists.

But if he does, I’ll kill him. For no other reason than to put an end to this nonsense.

She bites her lip and looks away. “I don’t know his name.”

That’s a lie. An obvious one.

“Do you know what he looks like?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve only seen vague silhouettes at night.”

I blink at her, annoyance brewing. At first, this was funny, but I’m quickly getting over it.

“How long has he been stalking you?” I ask, now pretty fucking sure she’s making this up. I can’t believe she’d think something like this could work. It’s insulting, and the longer we sit here, the more I want to push her off of me.

She shrugs like she can’t remember.

For God sakes.

Rolling my eyes, I shove Margot off me. She yelps as her ass slams on the kitchen tile. “Well, this has been fun, but I think that’s enough bullshit for one night.”

Her jaw is dropped in shock as she peers up at me. “Arseni, please .”

“Get up. I’m taking you back downstairs.” I wave impatiently toward the kitchen entrance, my neck feeling tight. I roll it before meeting her tearful eyes.

“ Now , whore,” I snap, making her wince.

She turns away with a cry, and all it does is annoy me more.

She’s fucking playing me. This whole night, I’ve let her spin bullshit and found myself believing it. I felt sorry for her. I felt…

I don’t know what I felt. But now I feel like a goddamn fool.

My jaw is clenched when she finally stands, my arms tense at my sides. I shove her when she trudges from the kitchen and yank her back by her shirt when she almost falls.

“ Walk. Faster. ”

“Arseni, please, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring her.

Now, I’m scaring her.

She whines as I take her by the back of the neck and stride toward the basement, regretting the idiotic decision to ever bring her up here. She wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready.

This was a mistake.

She stumbles down the last few steps of the basement, crashing hard on the concrete floor. She pulls her mangled body into a ball and cries without any indication of getting back up. I don’t even care. I storm back up the stairs and slam the door behind me, leaving her ankle unchained.

A minute passes while I pant, my forehead against the door, my eyes closed. I can still hear her cries. They’ve turned to wails, and the sound makes my skin crawl.

Shoving off the door, I head for the backyard for another smoke, but my feet glue to the tile as I pass a storage closet containing the cleaning products. I stare at it with narrowed eyes.

Something tugs at my chest, something that makes me nauseous. I don’t think about it long. I push thoughts from my mind before they can settle and force myself to walk away.

I don’t make it outside before I turn around and go back to the closet.

There’re gallons of cleaning shit, so it takes me multiple trips to pour it all down the drain.

When the last of it is gone, I slam the bottles in the trash and head outside, telling myself all my thoughts are settled. Knowing it’s a lie.