Her hair was tangled, silky strands spread out over the pillowcase like rivers of red, lit ablaze by the early morning sun filtering in through the window blinds. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out and touched the fiery silk. I let the soft wavy strands slide through my fingers.
She was unconscious to the world, but she sighed softly, as if something deep inside her, that even she had not yet recognized, felt my touch. At the sound I exhaled my first proper breath in the last twenty hours.
Her eyelids fluttered and I immediately leaned away. Giving her a heart attack the moment she awakened was not one of my goals for that day. I felt my phone vibrate and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was my brother, Levan. Her chest was rising and falling peacefully so I quickly slipped out of the room into the corridor to take the call.
“Is everything alright?” I asked.
“I should be the one asking you that. I just heard from Makhail. He can’t understand why they tried to get to her now.”
“Instead of tattling about it, Makhail should be unravelling it,” I growled.
He sighed. “Let him be, man. He told me because he knew I’d be worried. Any ideas why this happened?”
“About a thousand,” I said dryly.
“I can’t believe Fedorov lets her live alone and without protection in that city.”
“Do you really believe that Fedorov would let his daughter go about without protection?”
“Then where were they when all this happened?”
“They would have shown themselves if I was not there. They could see my men had everything under control almost instantly.”
“How is she doing now?” he asked.
“About to come awake.”
“I’ll let you go then.”
“Yeah. Watch your back,” I reminded him. “Your wedding is just around the corner.”
“You too,” he responded. “From what I hear you might be tying the knot before me.”
“Well she’s just received a hole through her back. So I doubt that.”
“Take care, Maxim.”
I wasn’t done with the call. “Before you go, I heard there was trouble at Brighton last night.”
His sigh was heavy. “Yeah, I’m handling that now. I have a meeting with a detective in forty-five minutes. Otari and his idiots got into a brawl with some Armenian gang. Unfortunately for them some rookie uniforms arrived on the scene and they found their stash of weapons and ice. I’m of the mind to just throw them to the authorities for at least a decade. That should be enough to reset their brains.”
That made me smile. “You don’t have the heart to.”
“You’ll be surprised. Anyway, we’ll talk some more after I’ve had my meeting. I’ll leave you with your new bride. One day in your company and she’s already had a knife through her. I fear for what the future holds.”
“With this girl, weapons of steel are currently the least of my concern.”
He chuckled. “Exciting days ahead, Maxim. I have great faith in her.”
I put the phone back into my pocket and went back to the room. As if on cue, her eyelids began to flutter restlessly. I realized then that she must have already been awake for at least a few minutes.
Her eyes opened. They were strained from the pain, the corners crinkling as she tried to reposition herself. She dragged her gaze away from mine and looked down at the IV needle in her hand.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her tone clearly hostile.
I wasn’t in the mood to fight so I decided to take my leave. She was awake, and alive and that was all that mattered… at least for now. Just as I reached the door it was abruptly pushed forward.
I met the furious eyes of the don himself.
“You bastard,” he swore. “Is this how you protect her?”
“Technically she is still under your protection,” after a tiny pause I added, “Sir.”
He was a reasonable man. He noted the truth in the statement and courtesy in which it was expressed and continued on his way to visit his daughter.
Chapter Eleven
Freya
My father hurried to my side and placed his hand over mine. “Freya,” he called.
I sucked in my breath at his use of the name my mother had given me. He hated it and when it appeared on his tongue it meant the situation was grave and he was trying to comfort me. I felt certain it was grave, but at that moment little, beyond the pain and anger I felt at the demon, had sunk in, so I felt quite numb.
The scenes leading up to the second I was stabbed played in my head. They were fresh and hurtful. The cold, unfeeling demon had completely refused to help me even if it meant I would end up dead. I focused my eyes on my father. I must have looked pale and pathetic lying in that hospital bed, because he seemed disturbed. Even in that reduced state I knew right away this might be my only chance to reason with him. I willed the tears to come, but they wouldn’t. I brought back the image of the mangled body of my pet, Pasha, after he ran out in front of a car when I was nine. Soon enough my eyes misted over.
“Papa,” I called out pitifully, keeping my gaze lowered.
“Yes, my dear daughter,” he replied quite sincerely, placing dry kisses on my hand.
My, my, kisses on my hand! He must be feeling especially guilty, or I looked especially wretched. I let even more crocodile tears pour down my face.
“There, there,” my father consoled.
With the drama of a black and white movie, I lifted my eyes brimming over with tears and gazed tragically at him. “Papa, I cannot marry Maxim.”
For a few seconds his cold eyes regarded me expressionlessly. It was almost like looking into a reptile’s eyes. Then he patted the back of my hand affectionately. “Not now, Printsessa,” he said softly. “Just focus on recovering first.”
I knew then that it was pointless. My head flopped back against the pillows.
“Did you see the man who attacked you?” he asked, his voice business-like and brisk again.
I shook my head wearily. Then I shut my eyes, and suddenly felt very, very, very exhausted.
The flowers came as I returned from the bathroom.
Tracy, a cute Japanese intern, rolled me into the room and there it was. A massive bouquet of about two dozen sunflowers, their faces as big as children’s heads was sitting next to the bed. At first I was confused. How could he have known? Then I realized how and it instantly destroyed my mood.
As Tracy helped me to get back into bed, I barely registered the pain that came with the movements because my chest was aching, aching even more for the friend I had loved, the girl I had found hanging from the ceiling fan, with a rope she had bought at the hardware store around her neck. Her tongue was swollen and protruding from her mouth, and her blouse was wet with saliva.
“Are you alright?” Tracy had noted my changed demeanor.
I found a smile for her. “I’m fine.”
She wanted to help me lie on my back, but I refused. “It’s alright. I’ll just sit for a little while.”
“Okay,” she said with a smile and turned to leave. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I responded, and watched her leave. My gaze remained on the door, but I saw nothing. My mind was filled with Anna. How I had cut the rope down with a kitchen knife that day and held her in my arms sobbing, until finally the police arrived and pried her away from my clawed hands.