Page 94 of Vicious Temptation
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Let’s just sit down.”
“Good.” Igor steps closer to the table, as I get Danny and Cecelia sitting, and then turn back to look at him. “When will Mr. Esposito be home?”
I hear Agnes’ sharp intake of breath. Her gaze flicks to the window, and I know she’s looking for Aldo, hoping that he doesn’t walk in on this scene. That he won’t become part of this, too—or that he might see, and think to alert Gabriel in time.
“It will be a while,” I tell Igor, my voice still flat. I sink down into a chair, still keeping myself between him and the children.
“Then we’ll wait.” Igor’s smile never leaves his lips. “Patrik, stay here with me. And you, Marc. The rest of you, head out to look for Mr. Esposito’s security. Don’t let them get back to the house alive.”
Cecelia lets out a wail, and I turn quickly, wrapping my arms around her in an effort to soothe her. “Shut the brat up,” Igor snaps, and I whip back around towards him.
“They’re frightened. There are strangers with guns. What did you expect?”
He shrugs. “There’s no need to be frightened. So long as their father cooperates.”
“Cooperates with what?” I hold Cecelia closer, and reach for Danny’s hand. “You’re mad if you think this isn’t going to frighten them.”
He chuckles, ignoring my concerns.“Oh, come now, Bella. You’re a smart girl. You should know by now. But if you don’t—” Igor’s smile drops. “Retribution, devochka. For what happened at the wedding. My son is dead. You don’t think I would let that go unpunished, do you?”
Now, it is fear that lances through me, hot and sharp, mingling with the anger until hot tears that I refuse to allow to fall, burn behind my eyes. “That has nothing to do with them,” I whisper. “If you want to punish me, then punish me. They’re not a part of this. There’s no reason to include anyone else.”
Igor laughs, a smirk on his lips. “Where’s the fun in that, dorogoy? No, we’ll wait for Gabriel.” He sinks down into a chair at the end of the table, smiling at me, and then at Agnes, who is looking at him with murder in her eyes. “And then, we’ll all have a conversation.”
His eyes sweep the length of the table. “All six of us, once Gabriel is here.”
29
GABRIEL
Ileave work only a few hours after I arrive, well before noon. I can’t focus, and I decide that the sooner I clear things up with Bella and tell her about my plans, the better. As I walk to the car, I consider the idea of getting her something. A gift, something thoughtful to ease the sting of things ending between us—something that she can remember our time together by, as a good memory, and not something awkward and difficult. There’s a jewelry store on the way home, one that has more unique pieces than the average chain, and I stop there, checking the time as I walk in.
There’s plenty of time to choose something and still be back by the end of lunch, when Cecelia and Danny will be napping, and I can talk to Bella alone. I browse through the glass cases, finally settling on a pearl bracelet—each small pearl set in the center of a silver daisy. I know Bella loves the botanical gardens, and I don’t think either of us will soon forget the day that we went there together.
I still have that feeling of being on edge, as I wait for the sales associate to wrap it up. A prickling at the back of my neck, a faint, almost sixth sense that tells me there’s some danger. But I brush it away, chalking it up to the night before, and the emotions it brought up.
Emotions that I need to work through, away from Bella, where they can’t hurt her. That’s the reason I’ve chosen to avoid a relationship, after all. Because I don’t want to burden her with emotions that she shouldn’t have to deal with.
I take the package, slipping it into my pocket as I walk out to my car, trying not to to think about how much I would rather go home, and sweep her upstairs to bed. How I would rather give her this bracelet as the beginning of something, instead of the end.
I’m just reaching for the door handle when I feel hard metal press against the back of my head, and I go very still.
I’ve been very lucky, in my business dealings, but I’ve had the unfortunate experience of having a gun to my head once or twice before. I’ve always walked away, obviously—but there’s always that first, terrible moment of wondering if this will be the time that I won’t.
I raise my hands, slowly. “If I turn around, are you going to shoot me?”
“No, Mr. Esposito. In fact, please turn around,” a Russian-accented voice says, and cold fear spirals through me, ice forming in my gut.
I turn around, slowly, to see a tall man in black fatigues standing in front of me, with close-cropped blond hair and icy eyes, a gun leveled at my forehead. I immediately recoil, instinctively moving to knock his gun to one side, bringing my arm sharply up against his. I haven’t spent hours upon hours training to be brought down by one Bratva goon with a Desert Eagle. I feel it give way under the sharp blow, and a burst of satisfaction ripples through me.
But it’s not just one man, I realize, as the first lets out a string of curses in Russian, taking a heavy step back as he grips his wrist. “You’ll regret that, svoloch,” he snarls, and I realize, as four more men move towards me, that I very well might.
I can’t fight them off. Five against one is far beyond me, and I’m not armed. I’ve been careful to conduct my business and handle my affairs in a way that’s meant I’ve never felt the need to be armed at all times, or have heavy security.
In a moment, all of that has changed.
The blond man rights himself, looking at me narrowly, with an expression of pleasure that tells me I’m not going to like what he says next. “You will follow us back to your home, Mr. Esposito. Now.”
I look at him with disbelief. “I will fucking not do that. If you want something from me?—”