That’s when he saw the red marks on her throat. They nearly knocked him on his ass.
Blackout rage might have taken him then, but the woman said, “You need clothes to wear in the car. Do you want me to find something? Then I can help you dress?”
Ilona nodded.
Leander stood and took advantage of the moment to step away from Ilona and get hold of himself. He could hardly breathe, he was so explosive with fury. He went across to her flat and into her bathroom where he emptied the tepid tub. Then he splashed cold water on his face and the back of his neck, trying to cool his temper enough to behave like a civilized human being.
Trying to quiet the voice that said, Kill him.
The neighbor woman was gone when he came out. He looked around Ilona’s apartment. It was small, only one bedroom, but it was nicely laid out and welcoming. He liked the warm tones and lack of clutter and comfortable textures. It smelled like her.
It was clearly her safe space, but she no longer felt safe here. That infuriated him all over again. He cleaned up the flowers and glass, then found her bag. He had security take it down with some fresh dry cleaning and her laptop. He threw all the medications he could find into her handbag along with her phone and the keys from a bowl by the door.
When he came to collect her, Ilona was dressed in matching track pants and jacket, bare feet tucked into a pair of sandals. Her face was washed, her hair combed and gathered in a ponytail. She was still sallow, but the shaken vulnerability of twenty minutes ago was firmly packed away behind a mask of polite gratitude.
“You’ve been very kind,” she said to the couple. “I’m sorry I interrupted your evening.”
They reassured her it was no trouble and Leander nodded his own thanks before he escorted Ilona into the elevator. There was a robotic quality to her body language. Her gaze was unblinking, her expression blank, her movements seeming to be on autopilot.
He wasn’t much better, but his jerky sightlessness was the result of the tight control he was using to suppress his bloodthirsty wrath. She needed reassurance, not an exhibition of further male aggression, but that aggression was there and it would emerge when the time was right. Midas would definitely pay for this.
“You drove yourself?” Ilona was briefly confounded when Leander opened the passenger door of a green-and-silver convertible.
“Dino was already home for the evening.” Leander placed a call as he started the car.
“Androu,” his assistant answered.
“Order curbside. Chicken for two.”
That confused her, too. She wasn’t hungry and time had ceased to move while she had sat on her neighbor’s sofa.
Thank goodness her neighbor, Rasmus, had left his door unlocked. Midas had attacked her, but her self-defense training had kicked in just as quickly. She had dropped him with a knee to the groin, then barged into the apartment next door, before locking Midas in the hall to shout profanities. His voice had faded even as Rasmus was calling security. Ilona suspected Rasmus had been making love with that woman, but Ilona had stayed there anyway, ruining their evening, too afraid to go into her own home.
That’s why she was in Leander’s car, valiantly trying to work out what she ought to do next, but her brain simply refused to work. She could hardly make sense of simple things like why there was so much traffic when it felt like the middle of the night. When had she opened her door to Midas? An hour ago?
“Is Kyría Callas with you?” Androu’s disembodied voice was asking. “Feodor has dispatched bodyguards to escort her—”
“She’s with me. I’m taking her home.”
“Ilona?” Feodor’s voice came through the speaker. “I’ve initiated red-level security at the Callas building and amber levels at all the international facilities. I have a secure location for you to stay in. Where should Eugene collect you? What else do you need? Clothes? Personal products? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said, more baffled than ever. “Why are you with Androu?”
“She’s not fine,” Leander cut in. “Have her doctor come to my apartment.” Leander poked to end the call. “They’re seeing one another.”
“Feodor and Androu?” Her brain was still stumbling over his doctor edict. “Since when?”
“Since they went home together off the yacht, I imagine.”
“Oh. That’s nice for them. Is Androu nice? Feodor deserves someone nice.” He was more than her PA. He was her best friend. Her only friend and she paid him very well to be as trustworthy and accessible as he was. She had had to use Rasmus’s phone to call him so he hadn’t picked up the unknown number, but he had listened to her voice mail straightaway. He had dealt with everything while she had sat on Rasmus’s sofa, numb, incapable of helping herself.
“Androu is smart, efficient and loyal enough to call me when you were in trouble. Why didn’t you?”
“It didn’t occur to me.” She slouched deeper into her seat. “Feodor knows what to do. Don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at Midas and myself for not seeing how truly dangerous he is. Has he assaulted you before? Is that why you have all these security protocols that can be activated with a word?”
“Not recently.” There had been that incident at the funeral, the one that had left her arm in a sling. Odessa had witnessed it and pretended she hadn’t, but Feodor had talked Ilona into making a report to the police—which Leander would probably insist on as well. She headed that off by saying, “Look, I know I should make statements and everything, but it’s hard. And nothing will happen. I can tell you right now Odessa will provide him with an alibi. She always does.”