Page 28 of Charmingly Obsessed
And then… oh my God.
A mountain of a man detaches himself from the group, moving with an eerie, unsettling animalistic grace. He’s huge, shoulders like boulders, neck like a tree trunk. That has to be Wasyl Kulak.
The group converges at the far end of the clearing. All I can see are their backs, the napes of their necks. A knot of dreadtightens in my stomach. Does Spectre stock binoculars as an optional extra? Probably not.
I wipe a sweaty palm on my jeans, my heart hammering. Just as I’m debating the wisdom of actually staying put, Kulak – the human bulldozer – peels away from the huddle and starts heading directly towards the Spectre.
He’s coming for me. It’s obvious. He nods towards the hood of the car, a clear, silent summons for me to get out.
As I close the car’s door behind me, a strange sensory distortion takes over. Sounds stretch, becoming slow, syrupy, then snap back with jarring sharpness. The air feels thick, charged.
Frez is instantly at my side as I approach the group, positioning himself slightly in front of me, his body a solid, protective shield along my entire right side.
I’m still clutching the ridiculous pink tulip, a splash of incongruous color against the grim backdrop. I feel stiff, stupid, exposed.
A scruffy-haired man in a too-bright red jacket studies me from the side, his gaze sharp, assessing. His forehead slopes, his lips are comically thin. This must be Papa. He shifts his weight, one knee bent outwards, projecting an air of bored thuggery.
“So,” he says, his voice raspy. “You’re in the loop? Everything’s settled? Bilova, is it?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to match his cool tone. “Everything is agreed.”
“No need for a passport check, then?” Kulak rumbles, a dangerous glint in his small eyes. Clearly, he thinks he’s hilarious.
“We spent all night forging it,” Frez deadpans, his voice utterly flat. Not a flicker of amusement.
“Alright, alright,” Papa says quickly, holding up a placating hand. “Everything’s clear, then. Good.”
“We’ll call San Sergiyovich tonight,” Kulak nods towards Papa. “Telegram. No point dragging him all the way from the south just for a chat in the woods.”
“We’ll call, we’ll call,” Papa echoes.
“Forget the apartment’s address,” Frez tosses over his shoulder as he starts to turn me away, his hand a firm pressure on my lower back. “And tell your Golden Trio to do the same.”
Kulak claps his massive hands together once, the sound sharp, final. “Well then, girls,” he says, his gaze lingering on me for a beat too long. “Wishing you both health and happiness. And a fruitful… partnership.”
“This is a pretty good deal, all things considered,” Papa laughs, a harsh, grating sound. “We never meant to screw anyone over. Just business.”
“Sure, sure,” Frez says, his voice dripping ice. “Let’s move.”
“You were supposed to bethe one, huh?” Papa calls after me, his voice carrying across the clearing.
I turn, faster than Frez, faster than his men. I just need to see him. To remember this face. He won’t hurt me now. Not with Frez here. Papa is good at reading eyes.He knows.
“What did you say?” Frez is instantly between us, pushing me protectively behind him, angling his body. “You talk to me. Not her.” His voice is dangerously soft again.
I still don’t understand why he’s reacting so violently to that. It’s just words.
“Real question is,whynow?” Kulak mutters, pulling out his phone, already looking bored.
“Just thinking aloud,” Papa shrugs, a nasty smirk playing on his thin lips. “You were supposed to be the first one, Diana. Instead of your sister. Anya. The old man… remembers how it was supposed to be.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice clear, ringing out in the sudden tense silence. A few of the surrounding thugs turn their heads, craningtheir necks to get a better look at me. “Yes. It was supposed to be me.”
“Your ‘just’ doesn’t interest anyone here,” Frez warns, his tone glacial, his hand blindly reaching back for mine.
“Well, you see,” Papa continues, ignoring Frez, his eyes fixed on me, “Diana immediately—”
“What. Did. You. Say?” Frez cuts him off, enunciating each syllable with chilling precision.
