Page 21 of The Fixer

Gingerly, my phone slipped up along my fingers. The metal burned my fingertips, drawing my darkening gaze I dropped my phone carelessly onto the carpeted floor. Sascha wordlessly grabbed me. I couldn’t see his face— everything was black even as the smell of him sharpened in my nose. Struggling wasn’t something I had the energy to attempt.

Not that it really mattered when Sascha sat down to fold me against his chest with his legs and arms. Bundled up so small and safe, my brain finally puttered intently enough to expand my lungs. The scent of him flooded my system, my hard gasps and slight gags floating high above our heads. Shivering violently, I only managed not to black out by focusing on him softly kneading my scalp to ease the pressure on my skull.

I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up bleeding out of every hole in my face if the throbbing was any indication.

14

Sascha

“So… this is a private jet, huh? It’s just a fancy plane…” My stupid joke earned me a forced laugh, but I took my win for what it was.

Ophelia acknowledged me for the first time in hours. Her brown eyes flickered across the aisle as the plane shook from its descent, clouded over from all the intense thinking she’d been doing. “That plot wasn’t the only thing I found on my dad’s computer. My brother got a girl pregnant.”

My brows rose in surprise.

Ophelia sighed heavily. Bags hung dark and heavy under her eyes, their spark dull when they captured mine. “According to my dad’s fuming emails, Martin was going to run away with her to Germany, where she’s from. I kept looking around after getting a little tipsy.”

“If he was going to do that, why’d he plot to kill Vyachaslav? That’s a risk I wouldn’t take.”

It seemed Ophelia already thought of that question, but she shrugged a slender shoulder tiredly.

Worry replaced the blood in my veins, dragging down the corners of my mouth. “Why didn’t you bring this up before?”

“Because I was stupid enough to think I’d have some quality time with you, and I didn’t want to spoil it.”

My brows drew tightly at the rasp in her tone. Ophelia certainly knew she wasn’t a genius or anything, but she’d never called herself ‘stupid’. This had always been a title she’d reserved for her family.

“I don’t know what’s going on— I hate it. I always react and now, I can’t get ahead of anything that’s happening.”

“Who was your dad emailing? People make mistakes sometimes. Maybe he sent the email to someone by accident.”

“That’s the thing…he was emailing Avernisk. My dadhatedAvernisk because they’re a rung above us. Above themwasAleksander, and then Vyachaslav. Now… The families aren’t the only ones with vacancies. Knowing Aleksander was torturing Erik, and Erik was holding out, makes me think he’s got a reason not to break. I wouldn’t put it past my dad to be fooled by some pictures off Google.”

Not exactlym the first thought that comes to mind, but…At least, Ophelia seemed more stable, even though I had a nagging feeling she was just psyching herself up. Rising, I shuffled into the seat next to her. This time, she didn’t pull away when I took her hand and laced our fingers together.

She let out a sigh. “I’m sorry you had to cancel your lectures tomorrow. I can’t do this by myself, and I hate it. Aleksander is the only one with a big picture and to react effectively, I need to know more.”

“Is that what you want? To react?” I asked. “You want to spend the rest of your life reacting to Erik Avernisk, instead of being the one to not need a cleaner in the first place?” The notion that she’d never allowed herself to think settled thickly between us. “Is that what you want, and you’re afraid of it?”

“I try not to think about that answer, Sascha. The thing with the families is that we only have power because Aleksander allows it. Cherinivsky… Roknevi… Suvensk… they’re just names… flimsy names. Allowing Makovich more control for more freedom is asinine. So, either I sell my soul to the devil, or he kills me. This isn’t fair to you, Sascha… but there’s not much room between being a slave and being dead for a relationship. My name is a collar and not those convenient ones that split in the middle and get longer or shorter.”

“Oppie… are you trying to break up with me on a private jet in a city I’ve never been to, over a man who’s ruining your life for fun? Or worse…are you expecting me to break up with you over that?”

The nastiest expression crossed her face. Her nose scrunched, lips twisting between the saddest of frowns and a horrible sneer.

Squeezing her hand gently, I took a second to really choose my next words carefully. “If you want to break up, you’re going to have to say it. All five words.”

“You’re not gonna tell me it’ll get better and to just hold out?” She tilted her head away from me, but her hand didn’t leave mine.

Despite the conversation, a tingly worm of satisfaction and relief slithered through my veins. Inhaling deeply, I rolled my jaw with a slight shake of my head. “I’m not going to invalidate your feelings by lying. You have a realistic expectation of the world, Ophelia. You’re a fixer. So, all I can do is support you while you fix the incredibly fucked up situation your parents put on you…again.” Licking my dry lips, I turned to her a little more even as she craned her neck to hide from me. “You realize that, right? That’s all this is, your parents fucked up, and you’re left to clean it up. You’ve done it before. This time is only different because Aleksander is involved.”

Ophelia’s jaw ticked.

I didn’t want to keep talking and screw up what I’d barely managed. Twisting back to stare at the tips of my shoes, I drummed my fingertips on my thigh absently. This kind of dilemma… we’d never had to deal before. Her parents hated me…fine. Whatever. I could handle it, but more importantly, Ophelia knew it was inconsequential.

When faced with a brick all, all she could do was slam her head against it and hope the mortar chipped a little. “What doyouwant, Sascha?” Ophelia asked as she watched the ground come closer and closer.

My cheek twitched at this question…Wasn’t that just the question of the day, though. Behind my eyes, my mind churned out too many answers. The only similarity between them—she was somehow still in my life.