Page 64 of Fractured Loyalties
“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” I growl into the phone. “Now.”
Irena sighs, ragged and heavy. “Robert is a bad,badman. There is a reason I left my daughter behind.” Her voice shakes. “I had no choice but to leave her. It was forhersafety. I knew what happened behind those closed doors, but it was too late for me. Why do you think I walked the halls at night, Roman?What do you think all those investors were paying for? What was your father paying for?” Her voice is in pure panic now. “I need to keep my daughter safe from him.Please. I never wanted her here.”
What the fuck. How did I not know?
“Roman,” Irena says, voice dropping to a whisper, “You need to find her. Please. Robert made me think I was stepping into a kingdom to be a queen, don’t let him do that to Ivy.”
I want to hang up. I want to launch the phone through the fucking window. But my hand is steady.
“I’ll find her,” I say. “But if you’re lying to me, I’ll burn you down with him.”
“I believe you,” Irena says. “Just…please. Protect my daughter.”
I end the call and drop the phone on the table.
For a second, there’s nothing. Just the sound of my own pulse, loud as thunder. I can barely breathe, self-loathing pulsing through my veins at the fact that I didn’tforceIvy to go with me.
I’m about to fuckingloseit.
Nico moves then, grabbing the collar of my shirt. She pulls me close, giving me the shake that I need. “Donotfuck this up, Roman. We have to go in prepared. You can’t go to prison.”
I nod, trying to think clearly. “I know.”
Nico takes a step back and then heads for the hall closet, where she rummages around for a minute. I take a breath and then another. It’s like swallowing glass, but I do it anyway.
“I’m going to the house,” I call after her. “I have to go now.”
He’s not going to touch what’s mine.
Twenty-Six
IVY
It’s black outside,it’s black inside, and the only light is the faint glow that’s leaking in from under my door. I lie on top of the covers, my knees to my chest, a throw blanket knotted around my waist.
I just need to make it a couple more months. Then I can run away. I don’t have to be here.
The click of a lock turning breaks my thoughts, and I freeze. Ever since Roman left, the lock hasstayedturned on my door.
I hold my breath and stare at the door, the white rectangle glowing faint and spectral in the darkness. A shadow passes in front of it. For a second, my heart hammers with the hope that maybe Roman has come back from wherever Robert sent him.
Is he here to set fire to the house and take me with him?
But the shadow is too tall.
The silhouette in the doorway is broad and straight-backed, and I know instantly that it’snotRoman, it’s Robert.
He waits there for a moment, as if expecting applause. Then he steps in, and quietly closes the door behind him.
His scent hits before anything else. The cologne is heavy in the air, an abnormality I’ve never noticed before. It’s almost suffocating and makes me want to vomit.
When he steps closer, I can make out that he’s wearing a navy silk robe over immaculate pajamas, like this is just an errand, a quick trip to the fridge for a midnight snack. He says nothing at first, just glides across the floor, his shadow stretching and swallowing the shapes of my things—my desk, my books and the urn on the dresser.
He sits down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disrupt the covers, and turns to face me with a smile that’s all teeth and no warmth.
I pull the blanket tighter. “What are you doing?”
He laughs, soft and measured, as if he’s already bored with the conversation. “I thought you might be lonely.”
