Page 58 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
Chapter 32 - Nat
I arrived at the gallery well after the other shops were closed up for the night, and then quickly lost track of time. Just being there made me remember the rush of selling all those paintings at the last show. I loved it there, and I loved those shows too much to just walk away. There would be no harm in doing one more before selling Kolya out. It would give me time to disentangle myself from Vissarion as well. He was a thorn in my side, and I wasn’t sure whether I should continue pretending to work with him or admit that I was loyal to my employer and couldn’t go through with it.
There was so much to do to get ready for the next show, he was the least of my worries at the moment. Pretty soon, I was consumed with making everything as perfect as it could be, moving paintings, setting up pottery displays, deciding what would go into the auction, and trying to come up with believable but scintillating backstories for our featured artists.
Then I worked on the financial side, almost rubbing my hands together with greedy glee at how much money was already in the account I was in charge of. It was going to be a piece of cake to drain it dry and leave Kolya with nothing.
It seemed like we were more similar than I liked to admit, but we always did get along well. Too well. The more I worked, the more I recalled the good times we had, and my grudge receded, no matter how hard I tried to hang on. It would only come flying back as soon as I tried to start another painting and remembered the one that was lost forever. That was something I couldn’t get past. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but for the moment, it was the only thing keeping me on track.
Being busy and doing some good, hard work put me in a better frame of mind, less frazzled and frantic. I could enjoy the last days with Kolya and twist the knife at the same time. Wasn’t that what he did to me in Milan, knowing all along he’d eventually swindle me and run?
Yes, it was easier to think that I was putting my revenge off so I could make it worse. Not because I wanted more time with Kolya to explore the bizarre connection we had. How could I hate him enough to want to stab him one minute, and then be craving his touch the next?
By the time I finished as much as I could, most of the night had flown by. It was so late, or rather, so early, that he was going to be pissed when I got back. It was a wonder he hadn’t messaged yet, or come here by now. It was nearly four in the morning.
There was a knock at the back door, and I smiled, not even jumping at the sudden sound. All the exertion had rid me of my anger, and all I could think about were the flowers, the romantic dinner, and the way he told me I could speak freely with my family. Could it be possible that he really didn’t have anything to hide as far as they were concerned?
Now, he had sought me out to make amends for running off earlier when we should have been still making up. I really hated to admit it, but just during the time I had been at the gallery, I started to miss him. I shouldn’t have lost track of time and gone back to be in bed with him by now. Well, we could remedy that on the couch in the office, for a start. I had already decided I could enjoy my remaining time with him, didn’t I?
Pushing everything aside except my excitement to really make up with him, all over the gallery, I hurried to fling openthe back door, expecting more flowers and a contrite look on my handsome husband’s face.
Except when I did that, no one was there. The back parking lot was eerily quiet, despite being well-lit. Maybe a maintenance man got the wrong door, although there was no truck that I could see. It was disappointing not to see Kolya standing there, but either way, it was time to go home. My purse was just on one of the shelves behind me, so I turned to grab it, keeping the door open with my foot for light as I snapped off the overheads in the storage room.
As soon as I was reaching for my bag, something hard whacked against the back of my skull. The pain rocked down my spine, and I fell to my knees, too shocked to cry out. Something slammed down in the middle of my back, sending me sprawling onto my face on the floor.
Shaking off my daze, I shouted, trying to get out from under the heavy weight. The boot, a big one, lifted and lowered again beside me, and whoever was behind me grunted. I tried reaching for a hammer that was on one of the low shelves, but my hands were twisted roughly behind me and snapped together with zip ties. I had been trained to get out of them, but the person seemed to be trained to notice something like that, and pulled them so tight I could already feel my fingers going numb.
As soon as I could no longer use my arms, rough hands rolled me over and hauled me halfway up. Blinking in the glare of the harsh outside lights, I was shocked to see the face leering down at me. I opened my mouth to yell for help, but a fist came crashing toward me. A brief burst of intense pain, and then I was out.
