The shadows move like figures in the night. I know it’s daytime though.
I can sense it, although I haven’t seen daylight in forever.
The darkness is scary, but what’s scarier is the shadows. I know they’re there, and they know I know. It’s a game to them. All of them.
A laugh sounds, and it triggers the fear of God deep inside me.
Rough hands grab me, and flashes of light go on and off. I don’t know why they bother. I wonder if it’s so I can’t identify them, or maybe it’s part of the game. I know their faces. I know who they are and what they are. Men who are monsters. Men who are nightmares.
Laughter and more hands. It all comes at once. Terror comes next. It feels like falling to death. I’m falling, and there’s no one to save me. Those who could are dead.
I’m next… but these devils will only let me have death when they’re finished with me.
Someone squeezes my neck hard, and I jump….
I jump out of my sleep forgetting where I am, but he’s holding me.
Vincent’s holding me. He’s here.
It’s daylight again, and he’s here in my bed.
“Doll… you okay?” he asks, searching my eyes.
I run a hand through my hair and draw in a steady breath. It was just a dream. Or rather a nightmare of a memory.
When he cups my face, his warm fingers make me feel better.
“You’re here.” He didn’t leave like last time. We slept in the same bed together and this is what it would be like to wake up next to him.
“Is that what you wanted?” he asks in a playful manner I haven’t seen before.
“Maybe…” I answer, and a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe? Remember, I can tell when you’re lying. Or even telling half-truths.”
A little smile creeps across my lips, and he gives me a curious look.
“Well, hell. She’s even prettier when she smiles.” He releases my face and crooks his finger, beckoning me to his lips for a kiss. I move forward and plant a little kiss on his lips.
He gets off the bed and drags on his pants and boxers.
“I will see you at eight,” he declares.
“Where are you going?”
“Work.”
“Do you have to work so hard?” I ask, and the question somehow throws him. He raises a brow at me and gives me a wolfish grin.
I was so mad at this man just days ago, and that smile and his words have charmed me back to him. His ruffled hair is in complete contrast to his usually well-kept suave look and gives him a more youthful appearance. I like both.
“Yes, although you don’t eat, the rest of us need food on the table.”
“It’s Saturday though.”
“Bellezza, I have to go… I’ll see you at the club later.”
My lips part. “The club?”
“Yeah. Wear purple this time.” He winks at me before leaving.
I stare at the door and try to take myself out of the trance.
What’s happening again?
Or… what’s happening now?
That was a good version of us cemented by last night.
I won’t forget our arrangement, and I’ll continue to hold guard of my heart even when it calls for him, but I have to admit there was something freeing about having him see into the pain that fills my soul.
It’s not wise to do that again though. I shouldn’t unlock that door to secrets of the past. Although I have no control of my subconscious mind and the nightmares that lurk there, I can control what happens while I’m awake.
It was just yesterday… I couldn’t do it yesterday. The faces of ghosts haunted me all day, and I slipped up when Vincent saw deeper than I wanted anybody to see.
I’m glad he didn’t ask me more, and I’m glad he just held me.
It’s the first nice thing he’s done for me since I’ve been here, although I suppose the joke’s really on me because the fact that I’m here and Dad’s alive means my arrangement with Vincent is the nicest thing he’s done.
God, what am I going to do?
I bring my hands up to my cheeks and sigh. He’s allowing me to get my stuff. That’s good, but what I want is to have my life back. I don’t know what’s happening at work, and I’ve had no contact with anyone for close to three weeks. It’s Saturday, and I haven’t spoken to Holly or Freddie. What the hell must they think?
The competition ends on Friday. I’ve already accepted that all hopes are gone. It upset me a great deal yesterday too when I thought about it, but I had to file it away in the cupboard of lost dreams.
This thing happened with Dad, and maybe it’s more punishment for me because I didn’t take heed sooner that he was in trouble.
I don’t know what Vincent told anybody, and I don’t want to ask him just in case I piss him off.
Last night was nice, so was just now… What does it mean though?
It shouldn’t mean anything, and I shouldn’t see more than there is, but what am I supposed to think when it feels so real to me?
***
After being in Vincent’s castle of a home, my apartment feels small and enclosed. It’s also odd to be back.
The place is as tidy as I left it. The only things that look out of place are the newspaper on the coffee table and my food shopping list sitting next to it.
The first thing I do is go to my laptop to check my emails. I just want to see if Freddie might have emailed me.
I have a few hours here to grab what I want. Another person would probably use the leeway to escape. Vincent gave it to me, though, because he knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere.
I wish like hell I could see Holly or call her. I wish I could explain what happened and what’s happening. I wish I could explain how I’m with a man I’m supposed to be a debt repayment to, and I can’t stop myself from feeling for him.
I couldn’t tell her any part of it, though, even if I could see or speak to her.
As the emails load, my heart all but soars out of my chest when I see there’s a message from Freddie.
It’s telling me he understands that Dad needs me, and he got the message from my friend. The friend must be Vincent or one of his men.
Freddie’s only instruction to me was to take as much time as I needed and let him know if I needed any help from him.
I sigh with complete relief. It’s a relief that I still have the job, and I’m happy for that, although he didn’t mention anything about the competition.
There’re a few emails from Holly too, checking on me.
It’s so nice to see her messages. She’s the only person I have in this world to truly talk to. We met in college when the universe shoved us together as roommates, and have been best friends since. She’s helped a lot in ways she’d never know. I really do wish I could see her. Just seeing her would give me strength.
I email her and Freddie back, thanking them for their messages and letting them know I’m okay and will be in touch as soon as I can.
I think that’s okay and won’t get me in trouble. I won’t be a fool and assume Vincent won’t be doing some shit like monitoring my emails or something like that.
We may be good together when we get physical, but I still need to be careful.
I close the laptop and pack it in my bag.
I head to the bedroom next, which looks even smaller now that I’ve lived in such a lavish room.
I drop to my knees by my little bed and pull out my keepsake box. There’re a lot of things I need to get, but there’s something in this box I want to see.
It’s the only reminder of Russia I have, and the life I once led. I open the box. There’s only one thing in here from that time, and it’s preserved in a little cellophane bag.
It’s a blue ribbon my mother gave me. It matched my favorite practice dress. The ends are a little scorched from the fire, but the rest is still intact. It looks like a ratty old thing ready to be thrown away. Anyone who sees it would wonder why on earth I kept it.
It’s the only thing I’m able to look at and feel the love I had from my mother. I don’t even have pictures. I’m sure that demon who took her from me would have destroyed everything. There would have been no trace of us, just known and mourned by the people who knew us, but he would have thrown everything away.
Not because he had to. It would have been for spite. He would have burned it to the ground the way the house burned just to be spiteful toward us. His family.
In the end, it was the person who wasn’t family who came through for me.
I’m inclined to say it’s the Bratva way because of greed, but I don’t know that. I think when you’re evil, you are just evil. Nothing else explains you.
When you belong to an organization like that, where it’s ruthless against the heartless, it facilitates the trait.
That was what that demon was like.
Completely different to my real father. Like the opposite. Papa wasn’t evil. He might have ruled with a heavy hand as leader, but there was nothing evil about him. He loved me. My mother and father loved me.
That’s what I remember. It’s that too that makes me feel the guilt I continue to feel for their deaths.
I put the little ribbon in my pocket. I’ll take this to keep her close. Close to my heart.
I take a few more things, and as I leave, I hope that life will get better soon… in whatever way that means.
***
Marguerite meets me at the door when I get back.
“Buona serata, Signora,” she says. “Please, keep an old woman alive by eating something. I worry so much about you.”
I smell cookies, and my stomach grumbles with hunger. She hears it and gives me that knowing look with her head tilted to the side.
“Okay, thank you,” I answer.
“Thank God. Come.” She taps my shoulder, and I follow her into the kitchen, where I see she’s made sandwiches and a host of baked goodies.
Even if I wanted to be stubborn today, I don’t think I could be. Everything looks and smells amazing. I dive in straightaway and probably eat a week’s worth of food, much to Marguerite’s satisfaction.
“Do you want more?” she asks, and I laugh because I’m so full I’ll probably burst if I have another bite.
“No, I’m stuffed.”
She smiles and sets a glass of orange juice down in front of me on the table. “My dear, you have such a nice laugh. It’s nice to hear it.”
She takes a seat in the chair opposite me. It’s the first we’ve sat like this, and I don’t know what to say to her or talk to her about.
The situation is unconventional, and so am I. I know she reports back to Vincent all that happens during the day, and you can’t really trust a person like that, but I don’t feel that malicious vibe from her. I never have. If anything, I’ve felt that motherly warmth I’ve lacked for the last ten years.
“Did it go okay? Getting your things, I mean?” she asks.
I nod. “I just got a few things. I guess there’s clothes here, and they’re a lot better than anything I could afford.”
Sympathy appears in her warm eyes. “They may be expensive, but your own things mean more to you. It’s okay. I understand, and I get it that you can’t say much. I can’t either. I just do my job. Doesn’t mean I am blind to what is happening, or that I agree with it.” She makes a point of quirking her brows for those last words.
“You must know why I’m here, then,” I say.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I never know details.”
I don’t know how she does it. Just doing her day-to-day work and never knowing what’s going on. Add the fact that Vincent is a mobster and most of what he’s doing isn’t going to be legit. How is she okay with it?
“No one tells you anything?”
“No. It’s not for me to know. I can… guess though.” She raises her shoulders and gives me a small smile.
Shame fills me when she says that, and my cheeks burn. She knows I’m here for sex. Maybe there were more like me. Foolishly, jealousy takes me. I don’t know what the hell’s happening to me.
“Has this ever happened before? I mean women here. Like me?” I ask.
She chuckles. “No, Vincent does not have women in his home, and as long as I’ve known him, he’s been the same. The only woman he lived with is his wife.”
That surprises me.
“Really?” I ask, and she nods.
I think of Vincent’s wife. Sorcha. She seemed so perfect on the video. Then there was what she said. How she loved him.
What happened to her? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Marguerite, but I hold my tongue as the seconds pass. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. So, I can only assume my thoughts are right. She died.
“He was different then. The same boss, but his spirit was different. He’s not as … what he might seem. I think you might see that for yourself too.” The way she looks at me now tells me she knows what I feel. There’s a twinkle in her eyes that’s a tell of what she’s thinking.
It’s almost like I got a part of that someone I was dying to talk to, even if I can’t say much.
“Yeah,” I agree.
She rises to her feet. “Drink your juice. I won’t take up your time. I’ll be tending to the baby. Call me if you need to.”
I nod.
When she leaves, I take a sip of my drink and a few moments to think. I can tell that Vincent was different when he had his wife. Maybe I get pieces of that man too in the times when I see desire in his eyes for me.
But do I want that?
That’s not a question I should entertain. At the same time, I can’t stop it from entering my mind.
I’m going to The Dark Odyssey again tonight.
Will we have another fantasy?
If we do, I hope I’ll have the strength to leave it because last time was hard.