God, she had to understand.
The moment I was away from the suite, I hauled back and put my fist in the drywall, rewarded with the pain as it shot up my arm. “Dom,” Vincent grumbled as he approached me. “Everything all right?”
I pulled my hand out, holding it against my chest. “No, it’s fucking not. Get the jet fueled. I will be leaving within the hour.”
Vincent wisely did not respond, instead turning around to do my bidding, and I sighed, glancing back at the suite door. I had to get my sister back, but I couldn’t lose my wife in the process.
Chapter 12
Emma
It was funny how a life could be completely turned upside down in an instant. I sat in the car with my husband by my side, but there was no warmth between us.
Even the ring he had placed on my finger so lovingly an hour before now seemed heavy and cold next to my skin, matching everything that I was feeling right now.
My father had yet again made certain to ruin my life.
I stole a glance at Artem as the car zoomed to the airport, wishing that I could reach out and just try to offer him some comfort as to what he was going through. Irina was now the captive at the hands of my evil father, but I was also reduced back to captive myself. My father wanted me back, but I didn’t want to go back.
I didn’t want that life. I wanted the future I had just found with Artem, the love that we had shared fleetingly before his phone call. I wanted him to smile at me, to hold me and tell me that everything was going to work out.
That his plan was going to bring both me and Irina home.
He hadn’t said a word to me, and it had been Vincent that had escorted me to the car, not Artem. Artem hadn’t even glanced in my direction since we had started out and though I tried to push past it, I was hurt. My heart hurt for what he was going through. I was hurt that I couldn’t comfort him, that we were still caught up in this revenge plot that seemed to be never-ending.
This was my life too, and I wanted to be happy with Artem for the rest of my days. I wanted to hear him laugh, see that light in his eyes when he kissed me.
I wanted my husband back.
The car slowed and soon it was pulling up alongside a jet, ready and waiting to take off. The moment I stepped foot on that jet, everything I had just found would be over.
Desperate for some sign, I reached for Artem’s hand before he could step out of the car. “Artem.”
He looked over and my concern grew. There was not a shred of my husband there. In his place was the harsh boss I had met on my first day here, the one who frankly didn’t give a shit. “Artem, please,” I said again, gripping his hand. “Please tell me what the plan is. I really need to know that we are okay.”
“Your fucking father has my sister,” he growled, his hand limp in mine. “What the fuck do you think is the plan?”
Something inside me withered and died. Had I just dreamed up everything that had happened back at the mansion? “Please,” I said brokenly. “I love you.”
His eyes flickered before he closed them off as well, sliding his hand out from mine. “Get on the jet, Emma. We don’t have time for this.”
I watched as he climbed out of the car and I was forced to follow. Artem walked up the stairs without glancing back and I swallowed the sob I wanted to let out, placing my foot on the step.
A hand grabbed my arm and I came face-to-face with his second-in-command. “Don’t give up on him,” he said softly, his jaw hard. “I was wrong about you. You love him.”
It wasn’t a question. “Of course I love him,” I said, my throat thick with emotion. “And I will willingly give myself up for his sister.”
He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “He won’t. You make him happy.”
My throat worked, but I couldn’t bring any words forth and he moved away, allowing me to continue my trek up the stairs and into the luxury jet. God, I felt miserable. This ever-present hurt in my heart was like a poison, eating up all the happiness I had found and leaving me with nothing.
Nothing but hurt. This was a different kind of hurt too. I didn’t feel like the woman who had been on this jet a month or so before, scared about what was about to happen to me. No, this hurt was because I had happiness in my hands, and it was ripped away.
Artem was already seated in one of the leather chairs with his phone pressed up to his ear and a furious string of Russian flowing out of his mouth. I took the seat across the aisle.
“Can I get you anything before takeoff?” the flight attendant asked politely. “A drink, perhaps?”
“Some ginger ale,” I said weakly. “And a blanket.”
She nodded and moved away to get the items while I fastened my seat belt, stealing a glance at Artem once more to find him watching me. I searched for any indication that he was still there, anything that would give me hope that he loved me.
Of course he did. Artem wasn’t one to say those words lightly. He just was up against the worst possible thing in his life, and I didn’t blame him for giving me up for his sister. She was his sister, his flesh and blood, and I, well, I belonged with mine. “It’s okay,” I forced out. “I understand.”
His jaw ticced. “No, you don’t, Emma.”
I tried to keep my tone light when in reality I wanted to just bawl my eyes out. “Yes, I do. We have to get Irina back at any cost.”
The flight attendant made her way back, severing our connection, and I accepted her gifts gratefully. I didn’t know what my father would do when he got me back, but I was going to just about believe it wasn’t going to be a pleasant journey for me.
The glass in my hand, I stared ahead, hearing Artem continue his conversation once more. His angry tone reminded of when I had first met him, and now it just seemed all wrong for the man that I had come to love.
I was just a wife, and Artem loved his sister. I wished it could be different, but that was the fact. I was expendable.
Artem might love me, but when the choice came, I hoped he would choose his own flesh and blood.
***
I woke to the feeling of being carried. For a moment, I didn’t know what was happening, but it didn’t take me long to realize that my husband was carrying me somewhere, the spicy scent of his cologne filling my senses.
I didn’t dare breathe, tears crowding in my eyes as I cherished the few moments I had like this, like nothing had changed between us and he was still the man he had been a few hours before my father had called.
Carefully, Artem lowered me to a bed, and I forced my eyes open, half expecting to see some sort of torture device.
Instead I saw the exhausted face of my husband hovering above me. “Artem,” I said sleepily. “What’s going on?”