Chapter Seven

Celia

Present Day

When I get home Carina is there. Her eyes are wide as she looks up from the manga she’s reading. “What are you doing home from work already?”

I sigh. “I’m not allowed to work. So embarrassing calling them to tell them that I won’t be working after all when today was my first day back. Milos is holding the rescue I want to start hostage to get me to comply. He’ll fund it in exchange for me barely spending any time there so I can be the good little Russian mafia wife.”

Dropping the manga, she shakes her head. “Bratva, don’t call them mafia, they hate that. I mean to us it’s what they are, but they can’t stand it.”

She’s not wrong, I found that out while I went diving into Milos in the days after I met him. “How did you know that?”

A shrug. “I went digging into him after that night I came home and found him here. After you left today I calmed down and remembered how it was for you after you met him. Then the dinner that one night, you’re right. I’m sorry I got all freaked out. I know you’re gaga for the guy. In the end you’re lucky to get a guy you want and not someone Carlo is forcing on you. And damn, Milos has been way more patient than I thought any man would be, waiting four years for you.”

Scoffing at her assumption. “He told Carlo he didn’t care who he got because all women are the same in the dark. I think he looks at me as what he knows versus someone he would have to work to get. I’m easy because yeah, I fell in love with the fucker somehow, somewhere along the way. But Milos isn’t in love, men like him don’t love. They don’t know how.”

She sighs. “That’s exactly what I thought when I went looking through everything on him. I know something happened when you went to talk to him after I told you not to. You looked like you were half alive. I wanted to find him and kick his ass. Don’t be mad, but I was kind of wondering if I should mention him to Mommy so you would get him the way I knew you wanted. Only I was too afraid it would make everything worse.”

“Jesus, Carina, you sound as manipulative as Carlo. Please do not go there with my life.” I’m shocked at the way she had thought.

“But something did happen. Something before even what went down after Mommy got sick, didn’t it?” she presses.

I think back to three years ago. “Yes, something happened.”

Her eyes are pleading with me to tell her. “What, Celia?”

I close my eyes. “I spent a lot longer with Milos than I told you. That first spring break after I started college. Remember when you went to the convention thing?”

“Yeah, you spent spring break with him? All that time all those years ago and you never told me?” Her voice goes up an octave in outrage.

Shaking my head, I sigh. “It wasn’t like that though.”

Green eyes are narrow. “What was it like?”

I take a deep breath and exhale. Then I tell her.

Three years ago

“Sergei, I am so sorry but I need to study. Am I horrible to leave you like this?” I wince as I watch him shake his head while his body trembles as he attempts not to vomit. I feel awful. His flu started the day before yesterday. He hasn’t been able to even keep the crackers and sports drink down all day.

“Go. I don’t want you getting sick.” He moans then runs back to the bathroom.

“Okay, I’ll have my phone. Call me if you need anything.” Then I escape outside with my books and laptop.

It’s a quick drive to the coffee shop on campus. The hours pass quickly, until my eyes begin to cross and burn. Lifting my head as I drink down the last of my iced tea, I see the place is almost full. Ten thirty on a Friday night with spring break next week, and I’m studying while people around me are on dates.

I sigh as the need to pee hits me now that I’m no longer focused on studying. Scanning the room, I decide my stuff is safe for me to run to the restroom.

“Hey, Celia, isn’t it? Did you need me to watch your stuff?” I can’t place him. He’s shorter, only an inch or so taller than me I think. His brown hair and eyes are soft.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I don’t think he’s one of the baristas here.

“Wow, you know how to hit a guy where it hurts. Keith March, I’m in your Pathobiology class. I was also in you Structure and Function one class last semester.” He chuckles yet the humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Blushing in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t really pay attention to anything but class—”

Shaking his head, he says, “No worries, I’m joking with you.”

“If you could watch my stuff that would be great. Thank you.” I nod as I get up.

In the restroom I’m quick, I return and sigh with relief to find my things still on the table.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I say as I sit back down, gathering my things up.

“No problem. So how are you doing in Pathobiology? Professor Clark is an asshole.” He’s clearly waiting for me to agree with him, but I can’t.

I shrug. “Okay, I have dyslexia so all classes are hard for me. Professor Clark has been one of the few professors to accommodate me when it comes to taking quizzes and other tests. Without acting like it’s a big deal the way some professors and TAs do.”

His laugh is forced. “You’re pretty and smart though. He said himself you’re one of the smartest girls in class. You scored higher on the equine test than anyone. Hey, speaking of, do you want to come by my family’s farm and check out our miniature horses?”

“Miniature horses? I would love to.” I’m excited at the idea.

“Great, come on. We get there soon and my mom will make us hot chocolate.” He takes my bag with my laptop and books from me.

I go still. “Now? It’s almost eleven at night.”

“Yeah, now. My parents are up late waiting for one of our mares to foal. Don’t you want to see a live birth?” He walks away with my bag.

I follow, wary of offending him. His parents will be there. “I’ll follow you,” I attempt to compromise as I step to my car.

“Come on, I got you. There aren’t any lights and the roads are crap, easy to get turned around and lost out there.”

Hesitation holds me in place.

“What, too good to ride in a dusty old truck? Not everyone can afford a Mercedes.” He holds the door open to his large black truck.

“No, of course,” I rush to assure him as I climb up into the truck. I pull out my phone and text Sergei I’m going with Keith March to check out his miniature horses. Then jam my phone back in my pocket before he gets in. It’s fine. I’m being paranoid. When I pull up to his house and watch a mare foal, I’m going to feel like an idiot.

“So, um, how far away is your family’s farm? I can’t be out too late. My roommate is waiting on me. He never goes to bed without locking up the house and he hates when I’m out late and keep him up.” I’m making sure he knows someone is waiting for me, will miss me.

“Not far, your roommate will be fine.” I’m not sure but it feels like he speeds down the streets away from the coffee house. “Relax, we’ll be there soon.”

As we leave the lights of the city behind with him definitely going over the speed limit, it doesn’t feel like it will be soon. We’re almost twenty-five minutes out of the city. It feels like the middle of nowhere, especially with how fast he’s going. “Where are we? I need to get home. It’s almost—”

He smacks me across the face so hard my head rings. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid fat whore. You should be fucking grateful—”

Stupid, stupid, how could I have been so damn stupid?

I grab the steering wheel and yank with all my might. We slide across the road. He smacks me again. But it doesn’t have as much strength as the last one. I take a chance and try to open the door. Fuck, it’s locked. He grabs me by the hair and slams my head into the window so hard I expect the glass to break. Maybe it did and I can’t hear it over the ringing in my ears.

Taking a hard turn, he’s racing down a side road. It isn’t a real road, it’s bumpy and my head hits the window again.

Slamming on the brakes, I’m barely aware we’ve stopped before my door is open. He drags me out and throws me onto the ground. “Who the fuck are you to look through me with your fat ass? You didn’t know my name when I’ve talked to you two times in class! Do you think you’re better than me, bitch?”

He’s going to kill me. Hearing his rage, I have no doubt in my mind. I fight frantically. “My father is mafia!” I scream. “He’ll have your balls!”

I scream until my throat is aching. “The Outfit in Chicago! They have men everywhere and they will find you and kill you. I promise you! I texted my roommate your name—that I was going with you.”

He stops, thank god he’s stopped. I go with the scariest name I can come up with, a name that if he searches for it, will scare him. “Tony Sabatini! Look him up. If all you did was rough me up, he’ll let you live. But if you rape me or even try and kill me, he will come for you and he will never let you live. How many people were in the coffee shop and saw me leave with you?! He won’t go to the police, he’ll hunt you down and kill you with his bare hands.”

Pacing, he swears. I watch him pull out his phone. I know he’s doing a search. “Fuck.” He groans.

“Leave and I’ll tell him I got jumped for my car. I’ll never say your name. I swear it.” I groan. My hand finds the blood dripping down from a cut on my head. Oh god, there’s more blood dripping down my cheek on the other side of my face. Everything hurts.

A thump and my stuff lands on the ground beside me. Then he’s gone, peeling out down the long road. I roll onto my stomach. Everything hurts. Every fucking thing hurts. I pull my phone out of my pocket and try to call Sergei. No answer. Shit.

My phone is glowing, I know who I want to call. It didn’t matter I gave Keith Tony Sabatini’s name as my father. It didn’t matter both Tony and Dominic told me to call them if I ever needed anything, or that I have no doubt if I called them they would come. It isn’t Tony or Dominic Sabatini I want to come.

I remember him saying it, making me promise—If you need anything, day or night, call me and I will be whatever you need. I believed in him even as I battled back tears. I believe in him now. It didn’t matter he was more than two hours away, and fucking hell, it was almost midnight. I find his number and hit send. One ring and he answers. “Celia, are you all right?”

“Milos.” I begin crying, relieved he answered, grateful he sounded concerned. “I messed up. A guy, he took me out to the country, he was going to—help me. Please.”

“It will be all right, Celia. I am coming. I will be right there. Do not hang up. I need to make another call on my other phone. I am on my way. Do not hang up.” It’s an order.

“Okay,” I mumble. Fuck, my face aches. I can hear Milos speaking rapid-fire Russian. Too fast for two semesters of Russian to catch on to what he is saying, and besides, my head hurts too much to focus.

“Celia, I am on my way. Talk to me, kotyonok. Who is the dead man who hurt you?”

Anger fuels me, fuck Keith. My promise to him was a lie even as I said it. “Keith March. He’s in my pathobiology course. He told me his family has a miniature horse breeding farm. I’m sorry. I was stupid. So stupid.”

“Do not speak like that about yourself. It was not a failing to want to believe the best in someone. This Keith March, he is the stupid one. Not you, kotyonok. What have I told you about speaking badly about yourself? Do not think because you are in pain I will allow it.” He warns me.

Letting my head meet the dirt road, I can’t help smiling. Only Milos could make a warning sound appealing. “It will take forever for you to get here. I’m sorry I called you.”

“I’ll be there in under an hour. Keep talking to me, do not go quiet,” he commands.

“How can it be so fast?” I wonder aloud. It’s a two-hour drive from Chicago.

“I am getting into my helicopter now. Peter is a proficient pilot. He can fly both an airplane and a helicopter.”

“You own a helicopter?” Holy crap, he is rich.

“As well as a private plane. The helicopter is quicker and there is no need for a runway.” I can hear him shrug it off.

Very rich. I blink and watch the blood pool beneath me. God, I am so freaking tired. I try to yawn but fuck, it hurts so bad.

“Celia, keep talking. I need you to keep talking to me. Why were you out alone late?”

The answer is too long, it won’t come. I hear the blades of the helicopter and wonder if he can hear me. “I’m tired, Milos.”

“I know, kotyonok. Still, I need you to keep talking in case you are injured. I am bringing a doctor with me so he can evaluate you. He is saying you cannot fall asleep, you likely have a concussion.” His voice is strained.

I sigh. “Yes, I think so. My head hurts so bad. And there’s blood from a cut on my head. More blood on my face, but it hurts too much to figure out where it’s coming from.”

It’s the last thing I remember. Suddenly there’s a bright light above me along with the whirling blades of a helicopter.

Gentle hands turn me over onto my back. It doesn’t matter that the hands are gentle, the electric shock never is. For the first time I resent it waking me up as pain comes rushing over me. Milos is above me, his beautiful face tight with anger. A gentle hand runs over my cheek, then he’s gone, replaced by an older man—the doctor he said he was bringing. The doctor shines a flashlight into my eyes then runs his hand over me. I groan as his hands go over my head then down my side.

I’m up in Milos’s arms, then the world fades away again.

***

Celia

I come awake slowly as pain pulls me from the dark. I find a thick gauze bandage beneath my fingers. A hand is around my wrist. “No, Celia. Do not hurt yourself.”

My eyes fly open at the electricity coursing through me. “Milos?”

His smile is gentle. “Yes, since it’s been a day the doctor was adamant the IV I demanded you have for pain be removed. I’m sorry you’re waking in pain. I have some pain pills I can give you if you need them.”

“A day?” The words don’t make sense, then all at once it comes back with the impact of a blow. “Keith—he almost…”

I’m in Milos’s arms. This time I welcome the electricity. Although I ache, the sting feels so damn good because it means Milos is here. If Milos is here everything will be all right.

“He didn’t though. He didn’t and he never will.” Milos runs his hand up and down my back.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Anything, Celia. I would do anything you needed. I’m glad you called me,” he whispers.

“Me too.” I moan as I clutch him tighter.

He pulls away. “I will call for something for you to eat. What are you hungry for this morning?”

All I can do is shrug. A hand goes up to brush my hair away from my forehead. Even though it’s gentle it sends a shiver through me that reminds me of all my aches and pains. “I’m not really hungry.”

Shaking his head. “You have not eaten in more than a day. Eat a little something for me, please.”

I give in, he said please. Could anyone deny Milos Levin when he says please? “Okay.”

His phone is in his hand, French flows from him in a rapid clip.

He speaks French? I shouldn’t be surprised by anything this man can do and knows by now. “That sounds like a lot of food,” I mumble.

“I asked for a selection for you to choose from,” he explains. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, all over,” I admit. “But not as bad as it could be, I guess. Did you find him?”

Yellow glows with a feral light. “Yes.”

“Is he dead?” The question is out before I can stop it.

“Not yet. He wishes he was.” The words are quiet. Too quiet for the violence they throb with.

I study the palms of my hands. I had no idea they were scratched up from the rocks and pebbles on the dirt road. “Good.”

His phone goes off with an alert. “One moment, kotyonok.” Then he’s up from the edge of the bed.

Giving in to need, I watch him as he walks to the window of the room. Once again he’s in black on black. A sleek black button-down shirt with only the top button undone. The black slacks he’s wearing have a crease so sharp I can see it from across the room. His clothes have to be cut to fit him, as they so perfectly caress his body. Heat fills me at the memory of how it felt to be in his arms…oh god, knock it off, Celia.

I tear my eyes from him to roam the rest of the room I’m in. Holy crap, it’s huge. I’m on an enormous four-poster bed raised high up. Through an open door across from the bed, I see a large bathroom. The room is so large there is a sitting area with a long couch and a matching overstuffed chair, both in a pretty light blue silk. In front of the sitting area is a large flat-screen television. In the corner of the room near the bed is a small desk with a chair in white velvet.

Oh, I thought it was a window he’s standing in front of, but it’s actually French doors made of glass leading out onto a balcony, so we’re on the second floor.

There is a soft knock on the door. Milos ends the call. He crosses the room, muscle and sinew flexing impressively in fluid movement—just like the big cat of his last name. He opens the door to a woman in an actual uniform pushing a large cart that has three different covered dishes and carafes of orange juice, cranberry juice, and iced water.

“Stay.” One word is all he says before he opens the bottom of the cart, then takes out a tray before settling it over my legs. He pushes the cart close to the bed then removes two of the covers. One concealed a plate of a quiche—one of my favorite foods. How did he know that?

There is a large bowl of fruit and beneath the other cover is a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries. He removes the last cover to a Belgian waffle covered in strawberries and whip cream. “The quiche is pancetta, spinach, and goat cheese. What looks best to you? The fruit is a requirement.”

“I can’t pick, everything looks so good. I guess the quiche.” Although I can’t take my eyes off the waffle.

Milos takes the plate and sets it on the tray, then cuts half the waffle and puts it on a smaller plate before also setting it on the tray. His smile is enticing. “You have been a day without food, kotyonok.”

“Thank you,” I murmur as I cut into the waffle.

“Eat the fruit too.” It’s an order.

I sigh then take a forkful of the fruit.

“Good girl.” The words are soft, I don’t understand why they send a wave of pleasure through me.

Blushing, I continue eating. The quiche is perfect. It wasn’t until I moved in with Sergei I discovered how good they were. Sergei was all about easy protein— “Oh no, Sergei—he’s my roommate. I have to call him and let him know I’m okay.”

“He has been informed,” Milos states calmly. “Yesterday, he called your phone. Speaking of, your phone was damaged. I have a new one for you. Do not worry, I have set it up with the previous sim card.” He offers me a new phone from his inner pocket.

It’s as shiny and expensive as the old one. I don’t even bother arguing. “Thank you.” I accept the phone. “For everything, I don’t—”

He shakes his head. “There is no need for thanks. I’m glad you called me. If you had called anyone else they might not have been able to find you. I could not have…” His sigh is from the depths of his lungs. “I am glad you called me.”

He sounds so sad, I don’t even realize I’m doing it until my hand is in his. Immediately, I’m embarrassed and try to tug free of his hold. Milos doesn’t let go, bringing it up to his mouth pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand. I can’t hide the shiver it causes to run through me.

“As much as I do not want to leave you, I must. There is something I need to see to.” He says the words against the back of my hand, not taking my hand away, almost as if he couldn’t bear to.

I have no idea how I know. “It’s Keith, isn’t it?”

His eyes say yes. But Milos shakes his head, laying my hand at my side. “I will be back as soon as I can. If you need me, call me.”

Even though I don’t like him lying to me, I’m not willing to call him a liar. Instead, I nod.

“Eat all your fruit. If you need anything, pain pills, something else to eat or drink, the button beside your bed will call a maid for you.” He gestures to an intercom beside the headboard.

“Okay,” I mumble as I study the food on my tray.

“You are safe here, there are guards all over my property. They are to keep you safe. No one is allowed to touch you, but please do not roam and cause them to worry they might need to go against my orders. As they are allowed to touch you, if it is for your safety.”

The moment the door is closed behind him, all I want to do is call him back. I don’t want to be alone…that isn’t it, I want him with me.

Once I’m done, although I only drunk half my glass of water and half my glass of orange juice, the need to pee comes on strong and fast. Removing the tray from over my legs, I set it on the other side of the big bed. I pull back the covers to find I’m wearing a long white silk nightgown. A blush comes over me as I realize I’m not wearing a bra or panties.

Carefully, I scoot to the edge of the big bed. Damn, it’s much farther down then I thought it was. I roll onto my stomach, and inch down to the floor.

I let go of the bed too soon and land on my ass with a thump. Ouch. Suddenly, a man is standing above me with his gun drawn. I cower with my hands above me.

He jams his gun into his holster, then calls out in Russian to someone named Magda. A woman in plain blue scrubs appears. “You should have called for me. I am here to help you.”

Her hands are gentle yet strong as she pulls me up from the floor. An arm goes around my waist as she helps me to the bathroom. Holy crap, the bathroom is the nicest one I’ve ever been in. It’s all white marble and porcelain and gleaming silver. Once I’m in front of the toilet I’m relieved I can stand on my own. Except Magda doesn’t step away.

“I’m good. I can do it from here,” I assure her.

A frown appears. “I stay to protect you from falling.”

“I can do it. Please,” I plead.

She purses her mouth. “I am right outside.”

I nod. It takes far longer than I want it to before I’m finished. I worry the white nightgown is see through and check in the mirror.

Then I see my face in the mirror. Oh my god, there is the bandage on my head and a smaller, thinner bandage over my cheek. I lose track of the bruises on my face, my neck and my arms. Everything is in technicolor. I shrink at the thought of Milos seeing me like this.

I sigh as my eyes travel down the nightgown. The nightgown is beautiful. It’s lined at the top so I didn’t feel the delicate lace that covers my breasts up to the neckline. The hem goes all the way down to the top of my feet, a little long but I don’t care.

I’m so glad Milos picked it out for me. I have no doubt in my mind Milos picked it out, and I would not be surprised if he put it on as well. I blush at the thought.

I turn the water on to wash my hands, immediately the door is open and Magda is at my side.

The man is still there. “I will pick you up only to put you in bed.”

Before I can say anything, I’m up and then I’m down on the bed. With a nod he’s gone.

Magda nods. “If you need help seeing to your needs, you press the button.”

It’s an order. “Yes, okay,” I murmur to get her to go away.

I burrow into the bed, loving the feel of the silk nightgown. As much as I wasn’t happy about the man picking me up, I’m grateful to have something to contrast with being held by Milos. Another part of me is relieved I didn’t feel a thing when the man picked me up.

There’s also an odd sadness—no man has ever made me feel the way Milos Levin did. And now I give in to what I’ve known since the day I met him, no man ever will.