Page 17

Valeria

M y head felt like it was stuck in a vise. Groaning, I pressed my hands against the sides of my skull, massaging my temples to ease the ache. Weird, blurred images danced before my closed eyes, and I slowly opened them, staring out the window at the dark street before my apartment building.

Confused, I looked around, seeing nothing but an empty sidewalk and the closed gate to my home. I sat behind the steering wheel of my car, parked before the front door like I never left. A shiver ran down my spine, my body freezing on an October night without a coat.

Focusing my muddled mind on how I got here, my phone buzzed on the passenger seat.

I snapped my head toward it, instantly regretting the sudden move.

The striking pain in the bruise intensified, and I felt slightly dizzy.

A few memories of a tall man dressed in black with a skull mask popped up, but there wasn’t any order in them.

It was like he was a dream slowly fading away.

Rubbing my eyes to clear my vision, I took the phone, whining when the piercing, bright light cut through my skull. It almost burned my irises. Colorful dots danced everywhere, and it took me a few moments to see clearly again.

Sighing in annoyance, I glared at the incoming text from an unknown number. My brows furrowed, and a boulder settled in my stomach when another round of recollections with a tall mystery guy circled my mind. I clicked on the green icon, gasping for air when my eyes landed on the letters.

Unknown Number : You should really get your head checked out, mon c?ur. You were out for too long. You could have a concussion.

Pure anger fueled my senses. I felt like I was about to explode. Everything came back with full force: the kidnapping, the warehouse, the chair, and the chains! The motherfucker chained me!

Me : How dare you, you punk! You tied me to a chair, probably drugged me, and now act like you care? Go fuck yourself!

I hit the send button and exited the car, slamming the door excessively.

Stomping into the building, I ignored the incoming text and climbed the stairs to my apartment.

The throbbing in my head worsened, and even when I didn’t want to admit it, my stalker was probably right.

My injury could be nastier than it looked.

Kicking off my shoes, I stretched out on the empty bed, thinking momentarily of where my husband was. Not that I cared; I would only like to know how much time I had before he showed up.

Another message broke me from musing about Chester’s whereabouts, and I looked at the phone. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with a psychopath, yet the curiosity got the best out of me. The drugs were probably still poisoning my system; otherwise, there wasn’t any explanation for my interest in him.

Unknown Number : I would rather fuck you, mon c?ur, but my desires must wait. However, your accusation saddens me. I would never drug you. What I used was a move from the Chinese martial arts called Dim Mak, and a minor concussion could cause prolonged unconsciousness. Please, be serious about it.

I stared at the screen in bewilderment, feeling a strange heat spreading from my chest. It had been a long time since someone cared for me, and my stalker’s interest made my heart flutter. He found my weakness, even when I didn’t want to admit it.

It was attention. I was starved of it. Chester hadn’t shown me anything honest in years.

His gestures were based on how much money he won or lost, and he just did what he wanted.

He completely ignored my needs and wishes.

When I wanted to spend summer vacation in Cuba, he laughed at my face and took me and Zara to Vegas.

It was an extraordinary trip, but Chester wasn’t with us at all.

After two weeks, we returned to New York without him.

He showed up four days later with a busted lip and black eye and never explained anything.

The number of issues I’d tolerated made me sick.

Every time I replayed some trip, party, or family gathering we attended, all I could think about was the time I invested in a relationship that didn’t have a future.

And now, the stalker tried to take advantage of me with his worries about my well-being, trying to mask the fact that he kidnapped me.

I opened another text, skimming the words and rolling my eyes. He was good. I had to give it to him.

Unknown Number : At least drink lots of water and rest. You don’t want to pass out and hurt yourself more.

I glowered at the phone, trying to ignore the quivering in my stomach when I scanned the messages again. He wanted to get under my skin. I challenged him, and this was his tactic, to sweet talk me with a gentle approach. Very clever.

Me : I don’t need your advice or interest. Return to your psychopathic life and leave me alone. Bye!

His response was sharp and on point, crushing all my hopes for a peaceful night.

Unknown Number : Don’t test my patience, mon c?ur. Or I will barge into your home and snatch you away. I’m sure no one would take better care of you than me.

Me : That’s enough. I’m calling the police!

It wasn’t an empty threat. I had 911 dialed and ready to go. All I had to do was start the call, but some inexplicable force stopped me. I hesitated with my finger hovering above the green button and winced when his reply came.

Unknown Number : Be my guest. You’ll be long gone by the time they show up .

My breath stuck in my throat, and I exited the bed, peeking from behind the curtain at the street.

My suspicion was confirmed with only one quick look outside.

He was there, leaning against the street lamp with his arms crossed over his chest. Even from a distance, I could feel his scorching look burning my skin.

Unknown Number : Go see a doctor, Valeria. I’ll check up on you later.

I looked up from the screen, glancing at the dark emptiness spreading before me. He was gone, like a ghost, like he had never been here.

Returning to bed, my mind swirled with thoughts, but I was too tired to focus. I fell asleep, imagining the dark silhouette standing in the corner of my bedroom, scaring me—or guarding me?

The next day, I woke up with a jerk when the doorbell rang.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I got up, realizing I wore the same clothes as the previous day.

Everything I went through had taken its toll on me, and I slept for more than twelve hours.

The clock on the nightstand showed 2:07 pm, and I mentally thanked the heavens that I hadn’t slept through Zara’s pickup time.

Another buzz of the doorbell stirred me from my musing, and with a groan, I dragged myself to the door. I opened it with a swing, and my eyes widened in shock when I saw Zyon’s massive figure dressed in a black suit with a black coat, and in his right hand, he held an axe.

“What the hell!” I yelled, gaping at him.

“You tell me, Valeria!” he shouted, his face showing concern. “I’ve been banging on your door for fifteen minutes!”

“Why do you have an axe?” I blinked in disbelief, giving him a quick once-over, trying to locate other hidden weapons. My heart was seconds from collapsing. The situation with men in my life was utterly absurd.

“I was about to demolish it,” he replied matter-of-factly, pushing me inside the apartment. I slammed the door behind him, overlooking his audacity to invade my home with a roll of my eyes. Nothing could stop the all-mighty Zyon Zhumagulov from doing what he wanted.

“The janitor has a key,” I pointed out, following him to the living room. “And how do you even know that I’m at home? Usually, an apartment is empty when no one answers the door.”

Zyon’s brows furrowed, and he scanned my frame as if searching for something.

“That mobile coffin you call a car is parked outside,” he replied, his dark eyes stopping on my hairline, and I squirmed. The pain had lessened to the point I forgot about it. “What’s on your forehead, Valeria?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, blinking innocently and folding my arms over my chest to hide my nervousness. This conversation reminded me of the encounter with my stalker, but I wasn’t sure that Zyon could be fooled as quickly as him.

To my surprise, he abruptly closed the distance between us. His hand gently moved my hair away, uncovering the remainder of the argument with my husband.

“Who did this to you, Valeria?” he asked softly, staring at me like I was a broken doll.

Usually, that look would infuriate me, but from him, it melted my heart.

The concern written on his face looked so genuine.

The tenderness of his touch made my knees tremble.

I almost blurted out the truth right into his handsome face.

“I hit my head against the shelf in the bathroom,” I answered instead, hoping he didn’t hear my heart thundering. “I slipped on the wet floor.”

“Have you seen the doctor?” he continued in that deep, sexy voice of his, again bringing memories from last night to life.

However, there were too many differences between him and my stalker: different cologne, accent, raspier voice, and different eye color.

And most importantly, a man like Zyon would not make an effort to commit a crime just to get the woman’s attention.

“I’m fine, Mr. Zhumagulov.” I stepped away from him, and his arm fell beside his body. “Why are you here? Your brother already paid me.”

“Yeah, about that.” He cupped his chin with his hand, tracing his jawline while he stared at me. “Do you have it? I believe Malin gave you too much.”

My heart jumped into my throat, and my stomach cramped. I dug my nails into my biceps, looking at him wide-eyed. He took me completely by surprise .

“Is there a problem, Valeria?” Zyon inquired, plopping on the yellow couch. He stretched his arm on the backrest, spreading his legs like he was at home, expecting me to serve him popcorn before the movie night.