But that’s out of the question for the moment.
I drain my glass. Caroline will come around.
I hope she’ll come around.
I slam the glass on the counter and nod to the barman. It’s 7:15, it’s time to go. I need to get back to my girl.
* * *
Anatoli keeps a firm grip on Alessia’s elbow as he marches her back up the street toward Maxim’s building. “You are his housekeeper?”
“Yes.” Her answer is clipped. She’s trying not to panic, thinking through her options.
What if Maxim is home?
Anatoli threatened to kill him.
The thought of what Anatoli might do to Maxim is terrifying.
Magda must have written to her mother. Why? Alessia had begged her not to.
She has to get away, but Alessia knows she cannot outrun him.
Think, Alessia, think.
“So he is your employer?”
“Yes.”
“That is all?”
Alessia turns her head sharply. “Of course!” Her tone is vehement.
He stops, pulling her roughly, and regards her through hooded eyes that gleam with suspicion in the muted glow of the streetlamps. “He’s not had what’s mine?”
It takes a moment for Alessia to realize what he’s referring to. “No,” she says quickly, breathlessly, blushing so that her cheeks heat up in spite of the frigid February air. Anatoli nods once, as if accepting her answer, and she feels a momentary pang of relief.
He follows her into the apartment. The alarm beeps, and Alessia is thankful that Maxim has not returned. Anatoli looks around the hallway. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches his brows rise. He’s impressed.
“He has money, this man?” he mutters. She doesn’t know if he’s directing a question at her or not. “And you live here?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you sleep?”
“In that room.” Alessia points to the door of the spare bedroom.
“Where does he sleep?”
She nods toward the master bedroom door. Anatoli opens the door and marches inside. Alessia stands in the hallway, frozen with panic. Can she escape? But he returns moments later holding the small wastebasket. “And this?” he growls.
Alessia manages to mobilize her features and screws her nose up in disgust at the condom in the trash. She shrugs, trying desperately for nonchalance. “He has a girlfriend. They are out at the moment.”
He puts the basket down, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Get your things. I am parked outside.”
She stands motionless, her heart racing.
“Go. Now. I don’t want to wait for him to return. I don’t want a scene.” He undoes his coat, slips his hand inside his jacket, and pulls out a pistol. “I am serious.”
Alessia blanches at the sight of the gun, and her breathing shallows with panic. He’ll kill Maxim, of that she has no doubt. Her head begins to swim. Silently she begs her grandmother’s God to keep Maxim away.
“I came here to rescue you. I don’t know why you are here. We can talk about that later. But right now I want you to pack your things. We are leaving.”
Her fate is sealed. She will go with Anatoli. She must, to protect the man she loves. She has no choice. How did she think she could escape her father’s besa?
Tears of helpless anger pool in Alessia’s eyes as she heads into the spare bedroom. She packs quietly and efficiently, her hands shaking as rage and terror war within her. She wants to go before Maxim returns. She has to—to protect him.
Anatoli appears on the threshold. His eyes sweep over her and the empty room. “You look very…different. Western. I like it.”
Alessia says nothing as she zips up the duffel, but for some reason she’s grateful she’s still wearing her coat.
“I don’t know why you are crying.” He sounds genuinely perplexed.
“I like England. I would like to stay. I have been happy here.”
“You have had your fun. It is time to come home and accept your responsibilities, carissima.” Slipping the gun into his overcoat pocket, he grabs her bag.
“I have to leave a note,” she blurts.
“Why?”
“Because it is the right thing to do. My employer will worry. He has been good to me.” She almost chokes on her words.
Anatoli gazes at her, and she has no idea what he’s thinking. Perhaps he’s weighing what she’s said. “Okay,” he says eventually. He follows her into the kitchen, where a notepad and pen lie beside the phone. Alessia scribbles quickly, careful with her choice of words, hoping desperately that Maxim will read between them. She doesn’t know how well Anatoli speaks or reads English. She cannot take the chance—she cannot write what she really wants to say.
Thank you for protecting me.
Thank you for showing me what love means.
But I cannot escape my destiny.
I love you. I will always love you. Until the day I die.
Maxim. My love.
“What does it say?”
She shows him and watches as his eyes scan the words. He nods. “Good. Let’s go.” She lays her new keys on top of the note. They’d been hers for only a few precious hours.
* * *
It’s a still, cold night, and frost is beginning to form, sparkling ice-white under the light from the streetlamps. When I turn the corner, the road is quiet except in the distance a man is closing the door of a black Mercedes S-Class that’s parked in front of my building.
“Maxim!”
I turn to see Caroline running down the street toward me.
Caroline? What on earth?
But something about the man with the Mercedes pulls my attention back. The scene is odd, because he’s walking around to the near side of the car. It’s wrong. I’m missing something. My senses are suddenly on high alert: I can hear the crisp clip of Caroline’s heels as she gets closer, I can smell winter and the Thames on the chilly breeze, and I strain my eyes to stare at the license number of the car. Even from this distance, I can tell that it has foreign plates.
The man opens what must be the driver’s door.
“Maxim!” Caroline calls again. I turn, and she runs up to me and throws her arms around my neck with such force that I have to put my arms around her to balance us both and stop us from falling to the ground. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs.
I say nothing as my focus is drawn back to the car. The driver climbs in and slams the door while Caroline offers more apologies, but I ignore her as the indicator light starts blinking and the car pulls away from the curb into the light of a streetlamp.
And then I see it. The small red-and-black flag of Albania on the number plate.
* * *
Alessia hears Maxim’s name shouted down the street. She turns around in the passenger seat as Anatoli opens his door. Maxim is standing at the end of the block—and a fair-haired woman runs into his arms, hugging him.
Who is she?
He cradles her head.
No!
He holds her waist.
And she remembers—the woman wearing his shirt, standing in his kitchen.
Alessia, this is my friend and sister-in-law, Caroline.
Anatoli slams the door shut, making Alessia jump and forcing her to look ahead.
His sister-in-law? His married sister-in-law—and his brother is dead.
Caroline is his widow.
Alessia chokes back a sob.
This is where he has been. With Caroline. And now they are hugging in the street and he’s holding her. The betrayal is swift and cruel, slicing Alessia into tiny pieces and shattering her faith in herself—and in him.
Him. Her Mister.
A tear oozes down her cheek as Anatoli starts the engine. Smoothly he maneuvers t
he car out of the parking space and drives away from the only happiness Alessia has ever known.
* * *
“Fuck!” I shout as dread spawns dark and deadly in my gut.
Caroline startles. “What is it?”
“Alessia!” Abandoning Caroline, I race up the street, only to see the car disappear into the distance.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Not again!” I grab my hair with both hands, helpless. Completely helpless.
“Maxim, what is it?” Caroline is now standing beside me outside the entrance to my building.
“They’ve got her!” I fumble for my keys to open the front door.
“Who? What are you talking about?”