Page 52 of The Way You Hurt Me

"Whether you remove your clothes or not is up to you from now on. I understand some of the employees choose to do it for extra pay," Ava says, with zero judgement. "Others don't. What you need to understand is that your choices will not be taken away from you from this point onward. Leave or stay, that doesn't matter. You belong to you now."

That's when she starts crying, and so do I. I make another cup of tea for everyone, wishing mine were spiked.

In the end, Anika chooses to remain, as do the twelve other women Doctor Palmer sees afterwards. The boy decides to take the five grand and leave after the IDs.

"How do you get them IDs?" I ask. "You said they aren't forged."

"Dima cut a deal with the government for situations like these. I don't know the details, but I understand it's one of those, you scratch my back, I scratch yours things. He gives information, I think. We take care of our own and they don’t cause problems. Everyone wins."

"So you're part of his company?"

She shakes her head. "No, I have my own practice. But Dima knows me, so when he took over, and needed a professional who knows how to speak to people like them—hurt, mistrusting, broken, and often needing psychological help—he came to me. I volunteered, honestly, but he insisted on paying me an insane amount of money, mostly because it tends to be out of the blue, middle-of-the-night calls and long shifts. I'm done for the night here." She reaches out to me and squeezes my hand, like she has with many other girls tonight. "Now let's go back to our girl talk, yes?"

"Do we have to?" I grimace.

"No. But if it's truly bothering you as much as I think it is, I want you to ask yourself why." She stands and start to gather her things. "Shall I get you back upstairs? You don't want to get lost here."

It occurs to me that I've spent a very big portion of the night with her. I don't know what time it is, but I wouldn't be surprised if it’s close to morning, and all of a sudden, I'm beat.

"Yeah. I could do with a nap on the sofa."

"There are a hundred and fifty rooms at the very least. I'm pretty sure we can find you something better than a sofa."

She leads me to the entry hall first, and we're just on our way up the first flight of stairs when Dimitri walks in, standing next to an equally attractive, if slightly scruffier man, this one with long, jet-black hair, and eyes to match.

"Ah, perfect timing," Ava says. "I trust you can lead my lovely assistant to a flat surface she can collapse on?"

"Of course. Are you staying? It's a little late to make your way back to the city."

"No, I need to head back to my husband and the girls. Dima. Mishka. Always a pleasure."

"Ava," the dark-haired man says, holding the door open for her.

"Willow, this is my childhood friend, Mishka—Mikhail Artyomov. I trust him with my life. Mishka, Willow. She's under my protection."

"Lovely meeting you, ma'am," he replies politely, with the ghost of a smile. Then he hits Dimitri's shoulder. "Call me when it's taken care of, yes?"

"Will do."

They part ways, Mishka heading downstairs, and Dimitri stalking up to join me on the stairs. He offers me his arm gallantly. "A flat surface was requested?"

"Please."

25

WILLOW

My phone barely has any battery, but I can see the time; four in the morning when I'm shown to the most beautiful, regal room I’ve seen, larger than even Dimitri's own lounge. It leads to a balcony, with a view of the beach and the seashore that I can't wait to stare at in the morning.

"I feel like a queen is likely to show up and curse me out for taking her room."

"Unlikely. It's my room," Dimitri says.

"Oh. I can stay elsewhere."

He shakes his head. "It's the most secure in the compound and no one would dare enter without authorization. There's an en-suite this way, and you can borrow anything in the wardrobe. I'll be next door, to the right."

And then, his mouth lands on the top of my head.

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