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42

LUCIA

“ I thought you might like to have dinner with us.”

“I can’t.” Roman cuts me off before I’ve barely finished speaking. “We’re flat out here. Some other time.” He hangs up before I have a chance to argue.

What the fuck?

I stare at the blank phone screen in frustration. It’s been like this since we got back to Malaga. Correction: it’s been like this since the day Roman and Mickey went to Hale Tech together.

I have no idea what happened between them, but something clearly did. For starters, Mickey’s now doing three days a week at school instead of five and spending the other two cloistered somewhere with Roman, not that either of them have bothered to explain to me why or what they’re doing.

Far more upsetting is that in the two weeks since we got back, I’ve gone from spending every night in Roman’s bed to sleeping alone. The nights he joins the kids for dinner, he mostly gives me the evening off. On the odd occasion when our paths actually cross, he’s polite but incredibly distant.

Every bit of the intimacy we shared at the finca is gone. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to breach the gap.

I open the oven and put a tray of cookies inside. Baking always calms me. I’ve baked enough lately that Chef has begun complaining that I’ve made him redundant. I’ve just finished a tray of alfajores , not least because they remind me of Roman. Part of me is hoping he’ll smell them from the elevator again and come in, like he did the first day I made them.

Maybe he just got tired of me.

I haven’t wanted to face this particular option, but it’s kind of an inescapable logic. One moment Roman was taking me for dinner, saying that he wanted it to be my choice to stay with him and making love to me like I was a precious ornament.

The moment I made it clear that I actually wanted to be with him, he disappeared.

Classic emotional avoidance.

I was a challenge, nothing more. Roman got what he wanted and then lost interest.

I pull out the bowl of bread dough I’ve left rising on the windowsill and tip it onto the flour-covered countertop. I need to pummel something.

Is he seeing someone else?

I punch the dough with a lot more force than is required. Even imagining some other woman putting her hands on Roman makes me want to tear them both apart.

Which is dangerous. Roman isn’t mine, no matter what we were before we came back to Malaga. In the end, what have we really had? A fuckton of amazing sex and a few cozy family moments. It’s hardly the love affair of the century.

Even if it felt that way. Even if that week, it finally felt like I had a family.

Because whatever he was playing at when he handed me back that contract, I’m still technically just an employee.

Turning the dough over, I slap it into shape, biting down on the tears that keep threatening to spill. Abby’s been calling daily, but I really can’t confide in her. Papa keeps asking where Roman is. And he’s recently started to watch me with a concerned look that doesn’t bode well, so I’ve been avoiding him, too. Which is hard, since Masha has become so attached to him that she’s constantly bugging me to visit. Worst of all, Ofelia is far too perceptive for her own good. She, however, doesn’t ask me questions. She just watches me when she thinks I’m not looking, with wary, worried eyes that break my heart. I know she’s afraid I’m going to leave. The worst thing is, I can’t reassure her that I won’t. I don’t want to lie to her. And the way Roman’s been behaving, I’m not entirely sure I won’t be evicted at any moment.

Damn it. I toss the bread dough this way and that, kneading it into oblivion. This is what happens when you open up, Darya. I brush impatiently at my eyes. You never should have let your emotions become involved. You shouldn’t have agreed to this craziness in the first place.

I’m almost glad when Abby calls. “You and I are hanging out tomorrow night,” she announces. “No arguments. I know it’s your night off, and I never get to see you anymore.”

“That’s probably because you’re spending most nights underneath the tasty bodyguard.” My voice is cheery, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of envy. The irony is that the more distant Roman and I become, the closer Abby and Dimitry seem to be getting. From what I can tell, they’re basically head over heels in love.

I should be happy for Abby.

I am happy for her.

But it hurts that barely two weeks ago, I was in exactly the same place, or I thought I was. Now I just feel lonely and confused.

“Well, there is that.” Abby chuckles dirtily. “But I miss you, Luce. I want to catch up. Hear all the goss on CEO Man.”

“You may as well call him Roman. You did spend an entire week dunking him in his pool.”

“Nah.” Her Australian accent toughens up. “He might be putty in your hands, but I gotta say, he’s always gonna be CEO Man to me. That bastard is one tough nut to crack.”

Curiosity gets the better of me. “What makes you say that?”

“Just that he’s been riding Dimitry at work night and day ever since that week in the mountains. And by the multiple black eyes I’ve dressed, he’s been taking Dimitry apart in the boxing ring on a regular basis, too. If I hadn’t seen how hot he is for you when we were up at the farm, I’d have been worried for your safety, girl. But I do wonder how on earth you put up with him. He’s so... grim.”

I might have declined her invitation to go out. I’m not much one for partying, at all. But if I’m honest, the opportunity to pump Abby for information about Roman is too tempting to pass by.

“So,” I say, keeping my tone deliberately light, “what have you got in mind for tomorrow night?”

“You mean Rapunzel’s actually going to leave her tower?” Abby squeals. “That’s fucking incredible. Okay. I know you hate going out, so what about a girl’s night in? I’m thinking cocktails, get a meal delivered.”

“Fine,” I say, laughing. “But we’re not going out. And definitely not to Pillars nightclub, okay?”

“Not a chance,” she says scornfully. “I don’t ever want to see that prick Miguel again. Did you know he was actually seeing two other girls at the same time he was seeing me? Unbelievable.”

“Actually, I can. You know I never liked him. Dimitry is a hundred times better.”

“I know, right?” Abby sighs. “I’m in real trouble with that one, Luce. Anyhow. I can’t wait to tell you all about it tomorrow night. Come over in the afternoon, as soon as you can get away.”

“Sure.” I think of the Orlovs hunting me, the journalist who tracked me down at the parade, and what Roman might make of me heading out without security.

Then I remind myself that I’m not doing anything wrong. A night at Abby’s is hardly hitting the town. I’ve done okay at looking out for myself for six years. And besides, Roman hasn’t even remotely concerned himself with my whereabouts for over two weeks, and I’ve been just fine.

To hell with him.

He probably won’t even notice I’m gone.

“ Y ou look amaaazing!” Abby kisses me on the cheek and drags me upstairs into her apartment. I’ve always loved her little walk-up. It’s a cozy, bohemian space with a black-and-white-tiled floor, doors that open onto a tiny wrought iron balcony, and Abby’s art equipment strewn around everywhere. It smells of paint and turpentine, with secondhand furniture and a sagging old couch that’s perfect for curling up on.

“So.” She opens a bottle of wine and pours us both enormous glasses. “Tell me everything.”

“I’d rather hear about you and Dimitry.” I clink glasses with her. “How’s it all going?”

She tucks her legs underneath her. “Well, the sex is fucking amazing.” I laugh and settle back to listen. Abby barely draws breath for the next hour, telling me all about how she and Dimitry gradually got to know one another. “And I mean, it’s good now,” she says, “but he keeps so many secrets, you know? Like, I honestly don’t know anything about what he does, really, other than that he works for Roman and is his regular punching bag.”

She eyes me over her glass. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking you about it,” she says half hopefully.

“No, I’m afraid.” I shake my head, avoiding her eyes. “I know about as much as you do. I’m the au pair, and that’s about as far into Roman’s business as I go.”

“Bullshit.” Abby sits back, staring at me with rather less humor than a moment ago. “I get that you won’t tell me the truth about your life, Luce. But at least be honest about what Roman is. Because I might be a lot of things, but I’m not an idiot. You two are a lot more than work associates, or at least you were two weeks ago. And Roman isn’t just the CEO of Hale, any more than you’re just a waitress from Argentina.”

I swallow my wine, unsure what to say. Abby and I have always avoided the topic of my past. Hers too, for that matter. The last thing I was expecting was a full frontal assault.

“Look.” She puts her glass on the rickety coffee table. “I have Google, Lucia. I know all about the Stevanovskys. I know Roman is the head of their organization, and so I’m guessing Dimitry is one of his...” She waves her hand in the air. “I don’t know. What do they call it in the Russian bratva?”

“ Vor .” After so long, the word tastes strange on my lips. “They call them vor . Warrior.”

“There you go.” Abby picks up her glass again with a smug look. “And now we’re actually talking.”

“I can’t talk about any of this, Abby.” I turn my glass in my hand, feeling deeply unsettled. “If you’ve been googling Russian bratva, you know how dangerous their world is. So if you invited me here tonight to try to find out about Dimitry, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to leave again.”

“Their world, Luce? Or yours?” She leans forward, taking my hand. “I didn’t invite you here to cross-examine you. But I’m frustrated. I feel like I’m living in the middle of something I don’t understand. I’m falling in love with a man I barely know. And I’ve been screwed over so many times...” She shakes her head. “I’m just scared, I guess.”

I’m just scared.

Heat rushes through my body. For a moment I think I might actually throw up. Then suddenly I’m freezing, so cold I’m actually shivering.

I burst into tears.

It takes me completely by surprise.

One moment I’m sitting on the couch, the tight knot of tension I’ve lived with for years a hard ball in my belly, trying to work out how best to answer Abby. The next moment, I’m crying. Red-faced, can’t catch my breath, ugly crying. The kind of tear storm I haven’t had since I was a small child.

I cover my face, unable to look at Abby. I will myself to stop, but I can’t. The tears come thick and fast, shaking my whole body.

“Oh, baby.” She scoots up the sofa and wraps her arms around me, rocking me soothingly. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” I sob. “Mine.”

“No,” Abby says, holding me. “It isn’t your fault at all. Whatever this is, it isn’t your fault.”

I can’t answer her. All I can do is cry.

“Let them come,” she murmurs. “Just let it all out.”

I don’t know how long I stay like that, Abby saying soothing things, my tears completely soaking her shoulder. Finally the storm begins to subside. “It’s going to be okay, Luce,” she says, still holding me.

It’s her use of my name that finally turns the tears off.

“Lucia isn’t my name.” I pull away from her, meeting her eyes briefly. Abby just hands me a tissue. I blow my nose, not looking at her.

“Well, that’s not exactly news.” She gives me a wry smile.

“I know you suspected. It’s not because I don’t trust you that I haven’t told you. It’s just not safe.” I shake my head. “Not for anyone. I guess for a while, I thought... I was. Safe. With Roman.” I take a deep, shuddering breath that hurts my throat. “I think I got used to that feeling. But now...” My voice trails off.

“Now what, Luce?” Abby frowns at me. “By the way Roman was all over you at the farm, I’d say you were better than just safe .”

“He hasn’t touched me since we left the finca,” I whisper. “He barely looks at me, Abby. I think he regrets ever getting involved with me at all. And I have no idea why, or what I did.” My voice breaks on the words.

“Oh, darling.” She pulls me fiercely close as the tears come again, this time slowly, just steady weeping that won’t quit.

“It was what you said about being scared.” I breathe deeply, trying to still the sobs catching in my throat. “I’ve been scared for so fucking long, Abby. And I thought I wasn’t anymore. That I didn’t have to be.” I shake my head, the tears slipping silently down my face. “Now I just can’t face it,” I say brokenly. “I can’t face running again. Being scared all the time.”

“Then don’t,” she says, rubbing my back. “I can help you, Luce. You don’t have to run.”

“You don’t understand.” I pull back, wiping my eyes tiredly and shaking my head. “This isn’t something you can help with. I appreciate you offering, more than I can say. But I mean it. There’s no way I can involve you in this.” I grip her hand, suddenly afraid. “And you can’t tell Dimitry. About any of it. Promise me, Abby.”

“Of course I won’t tell him.” She is frowning worriedly at me. “But I don’t like this, Luce. Does Roman actually know the truth? About... whatever it is that you can’t tell me?”

“No.” I shake my head, sniffing back the tears. “Well, some of it he does. But not my real name. Not who I am. Not because I don’t trust him. I do, Abby. I trust him more than anyone else I’ve ever met. But there are other people at risk. People I love. And their secrets aren’t mine to tell, no matter how much I might want to.”

She hands me the wineglass, and I take a deep gulp, then another. Right now, the thought of being lost in an alcoholic mist is incredibly appealing.

“For the record,” Abby says thoughtfully, “I think you’re wrong about Roman. I know assholes, Luce. And much and all as I think CEO Man is as grim as fucking winter, I don’t think even he could fake the way I saw him looking at you. Which means that what you really need to do is talk to him.”

“Ha.” I swallow more wine. “He’d have to actually be around for me to do that.”

“Well, then.” She gets a calculating look on her face. “Maybe we just have to make him be around.”

“No games, Abby.” Even the thought of it makes me feel tired. “Whatever Roman’s problem with me is, he isn’t a man who takes kindly to being played.”

I shake my head tiredly. I feel exhausted. Wrung out, completely emotionally drained.

“Let’s just hang out here and drink wine.” I reach for the bottle and top up my glass. “To be honest, all I really want to do tonight is get toasted enough to forget about the whole damn thing. Just for one night, I don’t even want to think about Roman Stevanovsky. I just want to be Luce and Abs.”

“Okay.” Abby nods, giving me an understanding smile. “Then let’s find that junky Spanish radio station you love, open another bottle, and do really bad dance moves in my kitchen.”

We clink glasses, and I give her a watery smile. “That sounds amazing.”

“ O h my goodness,” I gasp, straightening up and rubbing my burning thighs. “Forget the gym. I should just drink and dance like this more often.”

“Like nobody’s watching, babyyyy,” Abby says, waving her hands dreamily in the air. “Who needs a nightclub? This radio station is ridiculous. It’s the bomb.”

“I know.” I dump more wine into my glass. “How is it that Spain can have an entire radio station dedicated to obscure ’80s music the rest of the world has forgotten about? It actually makes Spotify redundant.”

“One of the many reasons I straight-up love this country.” She waves an empty bottle in the air. “That, and the fact that the vino is cheap. Which is lucky, since we’ve run out.”

“Nooooo!” I flop onto the sofa. “This was poor planning on our part, Abs.”

“We could go out dancing?” she says doubtfully.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Even if I was sober that would be a bad idea.”

“Fine. There’s a shop on the corner. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Abby reaches for her bag.

“No.” I grab her hand. “I don’t mean to be overprotective, Abs. But it isn’t just me who’s in danger right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, man. You’re as bad as Dimitry. He insists on picking me up from work every night. He even got all the locks on the apartment changed.”

“I’m glad, Abs.” I squeeze her hand. “Dimitry’s a good man. I’m glad he’s looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” She shoots me a shy smile. “Me, too. Ha!” Her eyes gleam suddenly. “Talking of that, maybe now is a good time to test his instructions that I should call, no matter the time, if I am, quote, even thinking about going outside on my own at night.”

“You’re shameless.” I shake my head, laughing, as Abby takes out her phone. “Do you mind not mentioning that I’m here?”

“My lips are sealed.” She punches out a text message. “Or rather my thumbs are. Oh, look, my experiment worked!” She beams at me. “Liquor delivery on the way.”