Page 68 of Arranged with Twins
“Is he wrong?” Nadia raises an eyebrow. “If your father really is involved with dangerous people, staying isolated makes you vulnerable.”
I consider this. Leo’s estate has security I can’t even see, guards who patrol the grounds, and protocols I don’t understand but that clearly work. My penthouse has a doorman and some basic building security. I have bodyguards I never see, but that doesn’t seem all that reassuring right now. “I accused him of trying to control me.”
“I’m not surprised, because that’s what you’re used to.” Nadia’s assessment is matter-of-fact. “Your parents have controlled you your entire life, so you assume everyone else will too, but maybe Leo’s different.”
I bite my lip. “How can I tell the difference between protection and possession?”
“Protection respects your choices even when they’re inconvenient. Possession eliminates choices entirely.” She finishes her cappuccino and checks her watch. “I have to get back to the studio. The gala dress needs final adjustments.”
“The gala.” I’d forgotten about Friday’s event entirely. “I’m supposed to wear your creation.”
“You are, assuming you and Leo work this out.” She stands and slings her handbag over her shoulder. “The dress is beautiful, by the way. That gold silk will make you look like a goddess.”
We gather our things and head toward the exit. “What would you do?” I ask as we reach the corner where we’ll part ways. “If you were me?”
“I’d confront Vincent, who will probably deny everything.” Nadia hugs me tightly. “Then I’d call Leo and ask to see the evidence again. Really look at it this time, without assuming the worst about his motives.”
“What if it’s all true?”
“At least you’ll know who you can trust and who you can’t.” She pulls back to meet my gaze. “Either way, you need to know. Whatever you decide, I’m here for you, but don’t let fear of the truth keep you from seeking it.”
I walk slowly toward my building, turning her words over in my mind. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should at least listen to Leo’s evidence before dismissing it entirely. Maybe?—
“Miss Cooper?”
The voice comes from behind me, unfamiliar and sharp. I turn to see three men in dark clothing approaching from a black SUV that’s pulled up to the curb. Something in their purposeful stride makes my pulse spike.
My first thought is that these might be more of Leo’s security people, but something feels wrong. They move too aggressively, with too much focus, and I don’t recognize any of them. “Can I help you?” I take a step backward, suddenly aware of how empty this particular stretch of sidewalk is.
The nearest man reaches inside his jacket, and I see the grip of a weapon. “You need to come with us.”
“I don’t think so.” I turn to run, but another man blocks my path, appearing from behind a parked car. “Get away from me.”
I scream as loudly as I can, hoping someone will hear, but strong hands grab my arms before I can break free. I fight with everything I have, clawing at faces, kicking at shins, and trying to break their grip through sheer desperation. I just have to buy time to give my bodyguards time to act, because I’m sure they’re still watching me. I’m grateful rather than irritated now, and I wish I hadn’t been so insistent on them maintaining their distance.
“Stop struggling,” one of them demands in accented English.
“Let me go.” I drive my elbow backward and connect with something solid, probably a rib. The man curses in what sounds like Russian.
One of my kicks connects hard with someone’s knee, and he stumbles backward, loosening his grip enough that I almost break free. I make it three steps before they grab me again, this time more roughly.
“Bitch,” one of them mutters, and I see blood running from scratches I left on his cheek.
More SUVs screech around opposite corners. These are different vehicles with different men. I think they might be my protection detail until I see guns drawn on both sides. The realization hits me that this is about to become a war zone, and I’m in the middle of it.
A firefight erupts behind us as my captors drag me toward their waiting vehicle. Gunshots echo off the buildings, and I hear someone screaming. It might be me, or maybe it’s someone else.
“Move, move!” someone shouts in English.
They throw me into the back seat between two men while the driver guns the engine. My shoulder hits the door frame hard enough to make me gasp, but there’s no time to process the pain.
I hear the crash of metal and breaking glass as we slam through another SUV trying to block our path. The impact throws me forward, then back against the seat. Through the rear window, I see muzzle flashes and men taking cover behind cars. One of Leo’s security team is down, blood spreading across his white shirt, but others are still fighting.
“Leo’s men,” one of my captors says into a radio before spitting something in Russian that sounds like a curse.
I lean across the one on the phone to try the door handle, but it doesn’t budge. Child safety locks, probably. “Who are you? What do you want?”
No one answers. The man to my left reaches into a small case and withdraws a syringe filled with clear liquid. The sight of it makes my blood turn to ice. “Hold her.”
