“Come,” she snaps at Luca and turns on her pointy heels.
I can’t help but grin as Ezra holds out his arm for me and I take it. Kostya is in tow, following us into the reception space just outside the theater. I spare him a quick glance and a friendly smile over my shoulder.
Renata leads the way with Luca at her side and re-introduces me to practically every person at the reception. She does so begrudgingly, but it has to be someone’s responsibility to do this—I thought it would be Murphy, as he’s hosting, but he pawned off the task on Renata, much to her dismay. By the time I’ve been presented as Nikolai’s bereaved wife to what feels like a thousand demons who I only vaguely remember, my feet and calves are aching and I’m desperate to get off my feet.
Olivia—a full month less pregnant than me—has already found a place to perch and put her feet up on Lorenzo’s lap. He’s taken off her shoes and is rubbing her feet.
They look happy.
I feel painfully jealous.
My mind flashes in envy and for a terrible moment, I see myself as Olivia—a happy girl with a smile on my face—and my feet on Nikolai’s lap. It’s a split-second vision and my heart drops into my stomach because that’s not a vision I want.
I never wanted that…not with Nikolai.
Why doesn’t my mind understand that my heart never wanted him?
Ezra taps my elbow and nods his head toward an ornate, traditional-looking loveseat in front of the fireplace—just big enough for two. I nod at him and we move to take the seat before someone else beats us to it. I plop down and Ezra tells me he’ll be right back. I don’t want him to leave me alone, but I’m not alone, really.
I’m surrounded by people.
I glance around the room as I wait and spot Kostya nearby, standing alone in the far corner, and I suddenly feel sad for him. He really has been all alone in his role, and I never stopped to think how lonely he might’ve been all these years. I smile at him and he nods at me graciously. His expression softens at my acknowledgment and that warms my heart.
Ezra returns with refreshments for me and I realize just how hungry I really am. “I can feed you if you want. I am your slave after all,” he says with a joking smile as he sits beside me.
Our hips touch and I feel safe for the moment. We may be in a room full of trafficking, murderous criminals, but with Ezra by my side, I’m trapped in his sunshine, protected behind a thin layer of false normalcy. I give myself permission to enjoy it for the moment, because moments are all he and I have.
“I’ll feed myself, thanks.” I return his smile and take the small plate of hors d’oeuvres from him.
“I can’t stop looking at you,” Ezra tells me quietly as I eat.
I’m certain I’m blushing five different shades of pink. I wish he could crush my lips with a kiss right now. It’s hard to breathe this close to him, knowing I can’t touch him in a romantic way.
I glance around the room after popping another morsel into my mouth. I chew and swallow before speaking. “Do you notice how distracted they all are?”
“Who?”
“All of them. Renata, Murphy, Leo. They’re all so busy socializing that they’re not paying attention to us.”
“Renata has eyes on us, though.” Ezra turns his head and looks behind us, then jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “See? Luca’s watching.”
I follow where he indicates with my eyes and see that he’s right. I also notice that Lorenzo isn’t entirely distracted by Olivia. He glances over at us, and his brows lift when our eyes catch, giving me an expression that tells me he is, in fact, watching us. “Lorenzo, too,” I tell him.
“Why do you mention it? What are you thinking?” he asks as I turn my attention back to him.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m thinking that if there were ever a time to attempt escape, perhaps it would be during a reception. There’s access to transportation—”
“Security is focused on guests more than perimeter guarding. We might be able to slip out unnoticed,” Ezra finishes my train of thought.
I nod. “We know how to do it now. We got away from the Vittoris with Nikolai’s help.”
“Right,” Ezra turns his body sideways to face me and lowers his voice. “And we could escape from Mikhailov Manor with Kostya’s help. There’s nothing stopping us now. No one’s trailing Lidia and Emma. And Kostya promised Nikolai he’d keep your heart beating, right? He wanted to keep that promise to Nikolai, and even gave us those cell phones in hopes it would keep you from…” Committing suicide is what he means to say, but I know it’s hard for him to say those words. “Even Nikolai didn’t know about the cell phones. And Kostya put his life on the line when we fled the Vittoris. Got himself shot for us so we could escape.”
“Three months,” I start in a whisper, looking straight ahead rather than at Ezra. “The next quarterly meeting is supposed to be hosted by the Mikhailovs. Renata thinks we should host it jointly at the Vittori mansion, but if I can convince the board to let me host it at Mikhailov Manor—”
He sits up straighter with a burst of energy. “Yes. And if I perform, we’ll have access to Nobility Hall. We could escape from there, even before the reception starts. They wouldn’t notice we haven’t shown up for thirty minutes, maybe as much as an hour if we’re lucky.”
I inhale a breath of hopeful longing. “You’re right. They’ll expect me to give you time to change before heading down to the reception…”
“Anya. It could work. We could escape from Mikhailov Manor with Kostya’s help.”
I put my hand over my heart, willing my racing pulse to slow. “It could work,” I repeat and turn my head to give him a small smile.
He looks at my mouth and licks his lips, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. “You look so fucking beautiful.”
I melt, wishing I could kiss him, but I settle for briefly brushing my fingertips over his knee. He tenses at my touch and I know he wants more.
“What about your due date? Won’t that be cutting it close? It’s only a week before the next meeting, right? “
“It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. It’s our best chance. Maybe our only chance,” I tell him with a confident tone, though a twinge of fear strikes within me about the timing.
The timing does cut it close, fearfully close. But I know that it doesn’t matter to me. Whether I’m still pregnant, in labor, or have my baby in my arms, I’ll take him with me in this fight to be free.
We could finally be free.
“We’ll make a plan,” I tell him. “We can do this. We can survive three more months of this…right?”