Page 89 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

No reply from Victor in five hours.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and ran my hands through my tangled hair, then checked the kitchen. Irina greeted me with a tight smile and a nod, clutching her cup of coffee in both hands.

“I haven’t heard from him,” she said before I could ask.

“Thanks.”

“I just texted Luka to be safe. I’ll let you know the second he replies.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I grabbed one of the breakfast smoothies from the fridge, my mind reeling. Despite his crazy schedule over the last few months, Victor had never been gone overnight without checking in with me. He could just be at his own place, next door, sleeping safe and sound - but I knew in my gut that he wasn’t. He would have come see me before going tobed. He would already be here for breakfast. “Do I have reason to be concerned?”

Irina weighed her head from side to side, actually considering my question instead of placating me with empty phrases. That alone told me why Victor had positioned her with me. “Not about his well-being,” she said eventually, “my father has a plan for him, so he’s as safe as can be.”

“Then what should I be concerned about?”

Irina sighed and pulled out her phone. When she flipped it around and held it out to me, it was showing tabs upon tabs of news articles, all accompanied by screenshots of my campaign videos, of Victor’s fights, and of moments that Silas captured. Victor’s hands on my hips as he moved past me. My hands on his arm in the kitchen while he cooked. Our gazes locked in the hallway, and my smile so big, you didn’t need a suggestive headline to catch the meaning behind that look.

Warm heat prickled up my neck as I realized how obvious we must have seemed to everyone with a pair of eyes in their head.

“You turned from pawn to player, Cordelia. My father just countered your gambit.”

“So you think he’s keeping Victor away from me because of this?” I pointed at the phone.

“Yes,” Irina’s lips twitched into a small smile, “as fucked-up as it is, you probably just became one of the most powerful women on the east coast.”

“Excuse me?”

“You made a public move against Piotr Yelchin, and he’s accepted your challenge. If he hadn’t, Victor would be here,” she shrugged and took her phone back, “which means you just automatically made a lot of friends.Enemy of my enemyand all that.”

“I never wanted anything like that. I just want to look out for Victor.”

“Just get me a head-start and a ticket to the Maldives before you start working with the Italians. I’m not getting involved in a turf war.”

“The Maldives?”

“No extradition.”

I shook off all the questions that began bubbling up withthatanswer. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by Irina's personal situation. “What about you? Why are you still here? I mean, you’re hired to protect me but if your father thinks I’m challenging him…”

She smirked and reached into her blazer and withdrew a small gun. My spine stiffened at the sight, my pulse rushing in my ears, loud enough to pull me under. I focused on breathing, on staying present, on watching as she slid the firearm across the counter to me.

“I’m laying my weapons at your feet. Symbolically, I mean. I have so many more on me and it would take way too long. Anyway. I won’t hurt you, Cordelia. I gave Victor my word that I would look after you, and I keep my word. Just don’t ask me to hurt my family.”

“I’d never do that. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Quite the opposite, actually.” I carefully pushed the gun back at her with my smoothie bottle. I didn’t even want to touch that thing.

“Okay then,” Irina let the firearm disappear under her jacket, “what’s your next move?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The second daywas the worst. When I knew I’d walked into a trap, but had no idea how Cordelia was holding up at home. Petya had taken my phone and kept me in line with a single video call to one of his men, just to show me he was sitting in a car with a perfect view of Cordelia’s house and a Glock in his lap.

Even if Irina probably could have handled it, I wasn’t going to gamble with Cordelia’s life just because Petya wanted me to stay at his place. They even took my key fob. Any door I wanted to walk through, I’d need a fucking babysitter for.

I should have known my uncle would pull something like this. He wasn’t going to let a few headlines take away his power over me.

The third day, when my concentration in the ring was beyond abysmal, Luka finally replied to Irina’s texts. If his father foundout, he’d be lucky to walk off with a few broken fingers. He still sent her a quick update, just to let her - and Cordelia - know that I wasn’t hurt.

By day five, an unsettling routine had crept in. I slept in my old bed. I sat in my old chair at the dinner table. I nodded at all the same stories of the glory days that Petya had been recanting for years.

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