Page 48 of Craving Dahlia

Fucking hell.I slide back under the water, fighting the sudden, irrational urge to cry again. It’s my hormones, I’m sure, but I still feel as if there was a moment there between us, before he locked up again. And for some reason, the mention of the baby was the reason for both.

I don’t care,I remind myself.This is a means to an end. A backup plan until I can figure out what to do.

I close my eyes, drifting in the hot water for a little while longer. When I go back inside a while later, Alek is thankfully nowhere to be seen, but I pass Evelyn in the hall as I’m heading upstairs.

“Dahlia!” She smiles brightly at me, a look on her face that tells me clearly that she has an idea. “Genevieve called me. She wants to go out tonight. I know you can’t drink and neither can I, but it would be fun to get out anyway, right? It would be good for us both to get out of the house,” she adds, looping her arm through mine as I walk back to my room. “Say yes.”

That startles me. Before, I was always the social butterfly, urging Evelyn out with me.Have I really withdrawn that much since all this started?The thought of that, that I’ve started to lose my grip on that part of my personality, is as much the reason for my answer as anything else.

“Absolutely,” I tell her. “Just say what time.”

—

At seven-thirty that evening,I met Evelyn downstairs, dressed to go out on the town. I picked a pair of tight black jeans and a black lace tank top with an aqua-blue ribbon threaded through the neckline, my black leather jacket tossed on top, with a pair of black leather ankle boots. For the first time in what feels like ages, too, I actually curled my hair and threw on a bit of black eyeliner, and I feel better than I have in weeks.

The driver is already waiting outside for us, with Gus standing by the passenger’s side. He’s still Evelyn’s bodyguard when she needs one, and they’ve reached a friendly truce—she accepts that he has to go places with her, and he tries not to be overly intrusive about it.

“Do you think you’ll ever get used to this?” I ask her as we slide into the car, breathing in the scent of warm, freshly cleaned leather. “I still remember when we were getting Ubers—or hell, just a taxi to go out for the night.”

Evelyn laughs, brushing her hair off of her shoulder. “No, I don’t know if I will,” she admits. “It’s strange, having a driver and staff and a bodyguard. I never imagined living like this. I was perfectly happy in my little apartment, walking back and forth to my shop every day. It feels a little—claustrophobic, sometimes, if I’m being honest. Even in a house as big as the onewe live in now. But I get to be with Dimitri, so that’s a trade-off I’m willing to make.”

Something twinges in my chest at that. I wish I knew what it was like to feel that way about someone. The only trade-off I’m making is enduring Alek’s attitude so that I can have some security until I figure out what I’m going to do.

“Even my father doesn’t live like this,” I tell Evelyn with a laugh, as the car pulls away from the front of the house. “He gets a driver on occasion for events where he wants to arrive in style, but he doesn’t have personal security, or anything like that. My mother has a housekeeper.” I shrug. “This is an entirely different way of living.”

I’ve always liked luxury, but I’m not sure even I could get used to this. But I won’t have to, I remind myself wryly. My marriage to Alek is temporary. I won’t be living like this forever.

The car drops us off at the bar that Genevieve picked—an upscale speakeasy-style bar in Tribeca that’s in a small brownstone building surrounded by foliage, like a little oasis in the middle of the city. She’s waiting for us inside, perched at the bar in a strappy black dress that shows off her endless long dancer’s legs, and I can tell that most of the eyes in the bar are on her as she sits there, sipping what looks like a martini.

“I picked this place specifically because it has fantastic non-alcoholic drinks too,” Genevieve promises as we hug and sit down next to her at the bar. “Since you two can’t drink.” She wrinkles her nose playfully, waving for the bartender to come over. The customers are five deep on the other side, but he heads our way immediately—unsurprisingly, since he can’t take his eyes off of Genevieve.

I can feel myself relaxing as we order our drinks and sit there, chatting about Genevieve’s upcoming ballet showcase, the new exhibit that’s coming to the Met, and the progress on Evelyn’s boutique. We don’t talk about Alek, or my new living situation,or pregnancies, and for a little while, I start to feel like my old self. We move away from the bar to a corner table after a little while, getting another round of drinks and nibbling at an appetizer.

“I need to head home,” Genevieve says after a couple of hours, tossing down the credit card that I know is one Chris gave her. “I have an early rehearsal in the morning. But we should do this again soon.”

“Let’s stay a little longer.” I look at Evelyn as Genevieve pays her tab and waves, heading out to catch her taxi back to her apartment. “It’s nice being out of the house. I’m feeling a lot better.”

“Sure.” She shrugs agreeably. “I’m going to run to the bathroom, though. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I glance at my phone as she walks away, and when I look up a second later, I nearly scream out loud.

A man I’ve never seen before is sitting across from me, dressed all in black, his face weathered and making it difficult to tell his exact age. He’s bald, with piercing blue eyes, and I look frantically towards the direction Evelyn went, a sense of alarm pinging through me.

“Your friend is fine,” he says gruffly, and my alarm only increases when he speaks. He has a thick Russian accent, and everything about him screamsdanger. “Although my associate has delayed her a bit. Just a little casual flirtation.”

“She’s married. That won’t work for long.” I swallow hard. “I don’t know you. What do you want?” My voice is surprisingly calm, considering the fear pounding through my veins.

“Oh, I know she’s married,devochka.” The man smiles, but it isn’t a pleasant smile. It’s predatory, like he’s playing a game with me and enjoying my fear. “Just like I know you are, and to who.”

My hand twitches toward my phone, even though I know it’s no use thinking I can call either Dimitri or Alek. Not with this man sitting there, his gaze fixed on me. I just have to hope Evelyn gets back soon.

“What do you want?” I repeat, a tiny tremor making its way into my voice, and the man’s smile broadens.

“To make you an offer,devochka.”

“For what?” I stare at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t need?—”

“You need a great many things. For one, you need money.” One eyebrow rises. “You have almost none of your own now. The Yashkovpakhanis letting you live off of his charity, because you’ve married his brother. But that brother is mercurial,net? He will tire of whatever game you’re playing with him soon enough.”

---