Page 53 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

Fucking Luka being fucking careless.

“You. Told. Him.” Each word landed a crunching punch. I punched him until his face turned bloody. “You were supposed to be on my side,bro.”

“Get off him! Stop! Victor!” Daniel grabbed my arm, then ate his own words when I punched him hard enough for blood to spray from his mouth.

Someone else tried to hold me down, and at that point, the faces blurred together. Two men were on the ground next to Luka and Daniel before the unmistakable click of a gun froze my muscles.

“Go home, Vitya.”

Irina pointed her gun at me. Not at my head, but at my gut - much more painful - much slower death.

“Can’t. In case you didn’t notice, I don’t have a car.”

She tossed a key at me and I caught it mid-air. A silver Mercedes star winked at me from my palm.

“It’s the dark blue GLS in the driveway. Don’t worry, it’s not stolen. I won it in a bet.”

I spat on the ground, a hint of blood coming out. One of these guys must have landed a punch, but I didn’t know which one. I just looked at the bloody pulp that was my cousin. “He owes me more than a car.”

My eyes found uncle Petya standing on the edge of the gawking crowd, a huge shit-eating grin on his face. He didn’t give a fuck about his unconscious son, or his bleeding son-in-law. I’d given him the exact show he’d wanted.

Prize steed.

Comeback officially announced.

I stepped around Irina and shouldered my way through the people, only stopping before Natalia, who looked about as unimpressed as if I’d just knocked out her accountant, not her new husband.

“Congratulations,” I grit out, “I hope it’s worth it.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“One last questionand then we’ll wrap all of this up.” Silas clicked around on his camera.

“Complete wrap?” We’d been doing this for a week and the gleam of the black lens didn’t send my pulse racing anymore. Mostly thanks to Silas. I may have judged him unfairly before.

Yes, he was completely calculated. In some ways, he seemed like my exact opposite. Everything he did had purpose, including his appearance. He presented this image of someone who looked just careless enough for people to trust him, but he was a control freak. Me, on the other hand? I tried to make people believe I was in control, when I felt like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole more often than not.

Once I figured that out about Silas, I knew how to work with him.

“Yes, very last question,” he confirmed with an encouraging smile. That smile told me that he wasn’t about to ask about the business side of the foundation. That was hisI need a candid answersmile. “The foundation was named after your late mother. Can you tell us something about her life? Is there a memory you’re particularly fond of?”

“I’m fond of every memory I have of my mother. I wish I had the chance to create more with her.” My fingers itched to dig into my cheeks to keep me focused, to stop spiraling down a ramble of memories. I’d anticipated a question like this though, so I smiled and gave him the answer I’d prepared:

“My mom was an artist. She painted. Every painting you see in this house is one of hers. Every Saturday, she would take me to her studio and we’d paint together. For an hour or two, she’d show me her big coffee table books full of masterpieces, talk to me about light and composition and color, and every week without fail, she said ‘Now forget everything I just told you and have fun making something. It just has to be yours.’ - god, I sucked. I went through a few months when I just dumped so much glitter onto the wet paint, you couldn’t even see the colors underneath. But we had so much fun. She went along with every crazy idea. I mean, she kept restocking the glitter. And she never said a bad word about my paintings. She just asked me if I enjoyed making them.” My voice cracked. All the interview prep in the world couldn’t stop the pain. “Sorry.”

“Thank you for sharing that, Cordelia.”

I shut my eyes to refocus, but her blood stain waited for me behind closed lids. Bright red soaking into white canvas. My breath rattled in my lungs as I pushed out of my chair. “I need a minute.”

“Of course.”

I unclipped the microphone from my collar and handed it to Silas as I slipped past him and out into the hallway.

“Come here.” A hand wrapped around my wrist and I was pulled to the side, coming face-to-face with Victor’s collar.

“I just need a minute please,” I repeated the same futile words, throat burning as I stared at the ink on his neck.

“Take all the time you need. You’re alright.” He pulled me against his chest and folded up my arms between our bodies. Once I was positioned, Victor wrapped me in a tight embrace. His muscles flexed and locked around me. His large hand splayed over the back of my head, keeping my face buried against his shoulder. A quiet voice in the back of my mind reminded me that we weren’t supposed to be touching like this, but then everything stilled - even that voice. Even the constant buzzing in my bones. Victor held me together when my body was on the verge of coming apart.