Page 89 of The Tsar's Obsession
This wasn’t the fun and easy-going version of him. This was not good; I felt it,I knew it.Instinctively, I reached for the door handle, but, of course, it was locked. Immediately, I tried the window, but that too produced no results.
“Don’t worry, Mia. It’s just a conversation.” Jeremy spoke beside me, oblivious to the danger he placed us in. His eyes pure and calm, he had absolutely no fucking clue what the fuck was going on.
“Just a conversation.” Dmitry nodded, adding my name, replete with meaning. “Mia.”
The car pulled away from the sidewalk, and all of me shivered. My legs were numb with fear, and I stayed still in the backseat, wildly wondering how to get out of this. Scream, kick the driver, or try to negotiate my way out?
As discreetly as I could, I reached inside my purse to feel around for my phone. Kirill’s number wasn’t blocked, but I also didn’t have it saved anymore. But before I even had the time to finish my thought, Dmitry reached back and snatched the purse off my lap, taking my phone out.
Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows, finally catching on that he fucked up big time. Jeremy was shady; I knew that. No one achieved the status he had without getting their hands dirty, but Jeremy was absolutely no match for these guys.
Within a matter of minutes, we were already in an underground garage where another car was waiting for us. It all looked so familiar to me now: black SUVs, armed men, and a consistent aura of deathand danger.
“Please,svet moy, this way.” Dmitry swung my car door open and beckoned me with an almost imperceptible smile on his face.
Svet moy.Kirill never called me that in front of anyone; I was sure of it, but he knew it. Oh Lord, what the fuck?
But there was no more time to think about anything else when a black cloth was quickly pulled over my head, my terrified gasp a useless deterrent.
“Is that really necessary?” Jeremy’s voice rang out, notes of worry clearly discernible. He was met with silence while I was shoved into another vehicle, my hands in someone else’s, their strong fingers binding my wrists together with zip ties.
This was a fucking disaster. Blinded and bound, my body jostled on the floor of a moving vehicle as images of mine and Jeremy’s deaths flashed before my eyes.
But that’s not what I was most worried about. Instead, the realization that I would never see those green eyes again, never hear his voice, never kiss those lips, overtook me, making me regret every single decision of the last month.
Where was the love of my life?
38
A Choice
Kirill
What’sthatstupidphrase?If you love someone, let them go, and if they come back to you, it was meant to be. No. If you love someone, never, ever let them out of your sight.
Mia felt so frail in my arms. She’d lost weight, her face was emaciated, and her shoulder blades scraped against my hands. Her heartbreak was my heartbreak. Her pain was my pain. Her devastation was my death. She couldn’t even look at me, and I genuinely wondered if I should even continue living.
After I saw her, I ordered meals to arrive at her doorstep every morning. I couldn’t bear the thought that she wasn’t eating.
I stayed silent, keeping tabs on her just like before, never reaching out. I wanted to give her space to understand that she made a mistake breaking this off, just like I made a mistake with Ari. I really was a different man when I met her. I thought I could live how I always did: just getting what I wanted, no matter the consequences.
Consequences weren’t for me; they were for others. But I didn’t live like that anymore. And the consequences of this year’s decisions were about to be revealed when the day of The Skhodka finally arrived.
Polina would be absent. The doctors had noexplanation as to why she hadn’t been able to wake up. A few times they pulled her back from the dead, and every time I visited, she remained pale and unconscious, the steady beeping of her heart monitor repeating to me how much of a failure I’d been.
She wouldn’t be at the meeting, and that was a big blow to my reputation.
The location was only revealed to the attendees that morning. Dmitry had planned it, and for some unknown reason, he chose a golf club in Brooklyn. My annoyance could not inflate anymore, and instead of reading him a lecture, I merely accepted it.
I sat in my car, staring at the red light. If I turned right, I could head toward Mia's apartment. I would simply walk in, take her, bring her back home, and we would work it the fuck out. If I turned left, I'd get to the meeting on time.
The decision between love and duty was being lived out in real time. I turned left, knowing that in the evening, I would show up at her door and sleep on the floor of the hallway until she opened it.
The private room was dimly lit. Leather couches and upholstered walls reminded me of some English country house, and I fucking hated it. I hated everything when Mia wasn’t in my life.
Everyone was here from all corners. Roman Agapov—my California contact. Alex Martinov and Andrei Pavlov from Miami. Mikhail Morozov flew in from London, and my one American—James Brooks from Boston. Danila would call in. The rest trickled in, bringing the total to fifteen men.
This event was to be both inconspicuous and also teeming with everyone’s security details. Did I trust my men? Yes. Did they trust each other? Fuck no.
