Chapter 81: Chapter Eighty-One

Gloria stared down at the wristwatch in her hand as each minute slowly ticked by. Charlotte and Johnny remained silent while they waited for the moment to spring into action. Johnny grabbed Gloria’s wrist so he could pull the watch closer to see the time.

“Twelve minutes to the cake cutting, then speeches, then Gromov will pull us aside for the meeting,” Johnny said. He sighed. “Another hour at least of doing fuck-all before we can get our plan moving.”

Charlotte let out a puff of air and got to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Johnny asked, his voice indifferent.

“Oh, are you speaking to me now?” Charlotte snapped back. Johnny rolled his eyes. Charlotte straightened her dress. “I’m here to schmooze and distract, not sit on my ass and count the minutes going by. Whether Frankie is here or not, I’ll do my job and so should you.”

“Whatever.”

Gloria ignored their bickering to continue staring down at the watch. Eighteen minutes had come and gone. She sat back in her chair and sipped some champagne as she looked around the room.

People were scattered everywhere. Some were on the dance floor, swaying to the music, others ate bits of food while conversing with each other at their tables, and the remainder were standing, mingling while they sipped their drinks. Her eyes lazily scanned the room until a pair of brown eyes stopped her in her tracks.

Ivan Rubanov’s glare narrowed while his jaw ticked. Whoever he was talking to seemed oblivious to the sudden tension radiating off the angry Pakhan. His eyes roamed her face and while her disguise would be enough to elude friends and associates of the family, she knew better than to think it could fool her own father. Finishing his inspection, his face twisted in a mixture of fury and disbelief. He knew. Gloria shot to her feet, and the gesture was enough for his suspicions to be confirmed. He shoved the two blondes away and started in her direction. Her gaze jerked around the room, looking for an escape. She couldn’t leave Frankie. She couldn’t destroy the plan. But she couldn’t just stand there and wait for a reckoning with her father before Frankie had returned.

Gloria grabbed Johnny’s hand and yanked. He glared up at her. “What the…”

“Dance with me,” she ordered, her eyes on her father and his impending arrival at her side.

“Hell no, I don’t want my skull caved in,” he growled as she continued to pull at him.

“My father is walking over here,” she snapped. Johnny’s eyes whipped up, and a quick scan confirmed her words.

“Fuck.”

“Get up, now!” she repeated, pulling harder.

Johnny got to his feet, grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the group of dancers. “This won’t stop him,” he told her as he spun her out once and brought her back against his chest.

She looked over his shoulder and saw her father halt at the edge of the dance floor as if he’d encountered a barrier. “No, but he won’t cause a scene in the middle of the party. He’ll wait til we get out of the crowd and do it quietly.”

“Do you think he knows it’s you or just that you don’t belong?” Johnny asked, his grip on her firm but respectful. His right hand held her left while his own left hand rested gently against her mid back.

“He knows,” she whispered.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Charlotte has him. She’ll keep him distracted for a time.”

Gloria breathed easier. “Good, I’m glad she’s here.” Johnny made a sound in his throat. “What is your deal with her? She didn’t know.”

“You’re clearly the expert.”

“Why can’t you…”

“She’s my best friend,” he hissed. “She knows me more than anyone, even Frankie.”

“And yet you never told her…”

“I did tell her,” he growled. He shut his eyes hard and spun them a bit rougher than necessary. “I told her years ago, but she was high, like always, and didn’t remember because drugs and fucking are clearly more important than our friendship.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“No one does. No one sees her like I do.” He sighed as if he’d just confessed something that had weighed down his shoulders for years. “I just thought it was the same for her.”

Before Gloria could respond, Johnny’s eyes lifted over her shoulder, and he gave a nod. In the next moment, Gloria was whirled out and fell into another man’s chest. Frankie smirked down at her and raised a brow.

“Trying to make me jealous, Vixen?” Frankie asked, placing his hand far further down her back than Johnny had dared. Suddenly all of her worry vanished like smoke dragged through an air filter.

He seemed relaxed as if he’d snuck off with Dr. Johnson to do something in the closet other than cause pain. Though he was now missing his suit jacket, tie and belt, his body was loose and free of stress as he guided her around the dance floor like someone who’d attended dance school for years.

“It’s my dad,” she whispered.

“Hmm, he knows?”

She nodded. Gloria looked around the room. “Where’s Doctor…”

“Detained. He won’t touch another woman ever again,” he told her, pulling her impossibly closer so that his mouth rested against her ear. “Twenty-four minutes, Vixen. One minute of excruciating pain for each time he inspected you. It’s not quite the time I had envisioned. I would have preferred twenty-four hours, days, years, but alas, as you reminded me, we have other things to attend to. He was even kind enough to give me a present for you, but I can hand it over later,” he added with a laugh that said there was some kind of inside joke there he couldn’t wait to let her in on.

She pressed her cheek against his neck. “At least it’s better than dehydration.”

Frankie chuckled. Gloria pulled away from him as the scent of copper reached her nose. She realized part of his white collar was stained crimson and a portion of his hair was now red. As he sent her a wink, she couldn’t help but smile back. She could see it all ahead of them: taking over her family business, Gloria giving the order, Frankie carrying it out, the world falling to its knees in the wake of their slow but inevitable rise to the top.

“I love you,” she found herself whispering.

Frankie’s bright eyes softened slightly and his grip on her waist lowered even further. As the music faded and transitioned, Frankie dipped her back and took her mouth with his. The kiss was deep, passionate in a way that made her feel as though they were home in his apartment, the city lights of New York illuminating their silhouettes. It felt intimate, as if he’d read her mind and was sealing the dream with a kiss of promise, a deal to later be drawn in blood. Frankie lifted his head and ran his nose down to her breasts before looking up toward the crowd. He pulled her up straight and gripped her firmly to his chest.

“Charlotte has gotten Ivan away, but Gromov is waiting for us. It’s time.”

Her heart skipped, and a shiver ran over her body, causing gooseflesh to rise over her skin. “But… he’s supposed to cut the cake, and there’s meant to be speeches and…”

Frankie ignored her nerves, grabbed her hand and moved her across the floor toward their table and a waiting Gromov and Johnny. He gave Gromov a nod.

“Grab my jacket, Vixen,” Frankie said.

Gloria took the suit jacket from the back of his chair, noting the odd weight of one side. Frankie reeled her in and looped his arm around her neck, keeping her close as they followed Gromov toward the confrontation Gloria had been preparing for.

Frankie’s voice came low and reassuring. “Hold on to the anger. Remember what he did to your mother. Remember how he sold you. Hold on to that. Not the fear. Not the nerves.”

Gloria took a deep breath and nodded. Gromov stopped at a door and turned to make sure they were ready.

“Gloria?” Frankie asked, deferring to her. Because of the way he held her, she couldn’t see his face, nor did she dare to look up. Her eyes were fixed on the door, preparing for what she would face within. She nodded.

Gromov opened the door and ushered them inside. The sound of flesh on flesh sent a shock of cold and fear rushing over Gloria’s skin. She gasped, but Frankie held her tight as they discovered the source of the noise.

Ivan Rubanov stepped back. He turned, brushing his bleeding knuckles through his dark hair to get it out of his face. His breathing was harsh, but his smile was contradictory to the scene around them. His other hand held the former brunette hair of Charlotte. Her face was bruised, swollen, bleeding, unrecognizable. Her hands feebly grasped Ivan’s forearm, trying to stall the attack that threatened to kill her. Ivan chuckled at Gloria’s expression.

“Chto sluchilos', dochka? Ty zabyla, kakovo eto — kogda tebya stavyat na mesto? –What’s wrong, daughter? Forgotten what it looks like to be put in your place?–”

“Charlotte!” Johnny yelled, running toward his friend without any concern for his own safety.

In a flash, Ivan raised a gun from his waistband, pointed it at Johnny and shot him in the stomach. Johnny crumbled to the ground. Gloria was frozen, forced to watch the scene in slow motion, helpless to do anything while the plan they’d carefully constructed unraveled in spectacular fashion. Gromov moved and, finally, Frankie reacted. He shoved Gloria to the side, twirling her as he took hold of his suit jacket. He pulled something silver, the sharpness of which caught the light from the above chandelier. Frankie threw the knife toward Ivan, who released Charlotte in order to dodge the incoming projectile. Then Frankie held up the small key fob he’d brought with him and clicked. The sound was short and sharp, but it was loud enough to bring Gromov to a stuttering halt.

“Not another move, Gromov, or I press the real button and your baby boy goes ‘kaboom’,” Frankie warned.