Page 110 of Gamble with Me

“She’ll be fine.” Alice smiled encouragingly, leading me to the indoor swimming pool. “But right now, you have more pressing matters to take care of.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, thinking about what I could have forgotten.

“How do you plan to explain your bruised legs?” She pointed at my still purple calf, and my heart clenched. “Zyon will notice them. You can’t cover Chester’s ass forever.”

“I’m not covering his ass.” I lowered my voice because Zara and Bluff, who already followed her everywhere, were close to us. “I’m protecting Zyon from himself. He’s very protective of me. He would do something stupid. I don’t want him to get in trouble because of something he can’t change.”

“I understand, but he won’t.” Alice shrugged, stirring her drink. “You’ll need one hell of a story to explain those without revealing Chester’s deeds.”

She was right, and her words completely ruined my mood. Zyon wasn’t blind or stupid. One look at my bruises, and he would instantly know what caused them.

I jumped into the pool, playing with Zara and Bluff, but my mind often wandered away. Thankfully, my girl was a great swimmer and didn’t need my help or support to have fun. She spent almost the entire day around the pool or inside the house while I tried to devise a plan of action.

But, no matter how hard I tried to come up with something, nothing was sufficient and credible. If I didn’t want to tell Zyon total bullshit, I had to tell him the truth, yet it scared me to the core.

George Harrow only threatened me, and he ended up dead. I couldn’t imagine what Zyon would do with Chester for beating me.

Around dinner, I eventually managed to get Zara out of the water. It required tremendous effort and a promise of her favorite spaghetti. According to Malin, Zyon employed a lady who took care of the house and kitchen but had a day off, so it was up to me to cook and serve dinner.

While Zara was upstairs changing, I danced in the spacious kitchen, enjoying the modern equipment. The water on the stove with pasta bubbled, giving me time to study different buttons on the remote controller I found on the counter.

One was for lights, another for air conditioning, and the third turned on the flat TV on the opposite wall, almost giving me a heart attack. The voice of a moderator boomed from the speakers, hurting my poor ears, but I couldn’t find the button to turn the volume down.

Groaning in frustration, I headed to the back door to call the bodyguard to help me, but then the screen flicked to thebreaking news. I stared at the TV, unable to tear my gaze from it. My body froze, and the world around me stopped existing.

The headline said:

Zyon Zhumagulov is dead.

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Valeria

The woman on the news reported about the shooting, but I didn’t hear one word she said. Her mouth moved, yet nothing reached my ears. I was momentarily blind and deaf. The blood froze in my veins, and my heart stopped beating. The only thing my brain comprehended was death, but it wasn’t possible.

Zyon couldn’t be dead. He promised to be careful and return for dinner, and he always kept his promises. It had to be a mistake. He wouldn’t do that to me.

“Valeria!”

The feminine voice came to me from far away, but my senses and body were paralyzed.

“Valeria!”

A pair of gentle hands grasped my shoulders and shook me.

“Valeria, react, for God’s sake!”

My head turned to the side like I was a programmed robot. My eyes connected with my best friend, but my vision was blurred. She placed her hands on my cheeks, her face reflecting worries.

“Valeria, please,” she pleaded, her thumbs brushing my skin soothingly. “Stand up and sit on the chair. Zara can’t see you like this.”

The mention of my daughter stirred me to life. I blinked, realizing my eyes and face were wet, and I sat on the cold floor. The voice from the TV boomed from the speakers, repeating the dreadful news all over again, but I managed to push it to the side. Zara couldn’t find me crying on the floor. It would mess up her fragile mental state.

“Find some guards,” I whispered, hardly standing on wobbly legs. “Ask them about Zyon.”

“What exactly do you want me to ask?” Alice whined, supporting me on my way to the dining table. “Is your boss dead?”

“Yes,” I snapped, plopping on the chair. “That’s exactly what I need to know right now.”