Page 60 of The Payback

“Sorry to disappoint you, Sergei. It’s Elsa.”

“Elsa! Good to hear from you. I assume Dimitri finally passed on my message?”

I chuckle softly, as if flattered by his attention.

“He did, so I took his phone to call you while he’s working downstairs. And I’m flattered, but it was just instinct—and one my scraped knees are still paying for. Remind me to learn how to fall gracefully on the pavement in the future.” A manufactured chuckle slips past my lips, Sergei indulging me with one of his own. “I only did what one does for family—blood or not. I was just calling to say that you don’t need to repay me for anything.”

“Nonsense, Elsa. It is most assuredly necessary. Now please, tell me what I can do to show my gratitude. There must be something.”

“I... Well...” I pause as if thinking about it, but my answer is already perched on the tip of my tongue. “The only thing I can think of is needing some help. An introduction, if you will, to the family business. Dimitri buys me everything I could need, so there’s no need for material objects. But the one thing he can’t give is time. By the time we see each other at the end of the day, he’s too tired. I just want to be the best wife I can for him, and I am unsure how to do that aside from... well, you know.” I let the innuendo linger, and Sergei hums with understanding.

“I was hoping you might give me a few hours of your time so I can learn what I need to and be a better wife for my husband. I know a little about how the organisation works, but it’s all so overwhelming, Sergei.”

I sigh with frustration as if I’ve been trying to learn, but Dimitri is not affording me the opportunity. “Please, Sergei. I know you’re a busy man too, and it’s entirely too much of me to ask of someone in your position, but I want to surprise Dimitri.”

He’s been silent since I started talking, but when I finish, I hear a cheerful tone in his voice. “That is a wonderful thing to want to do for your husband, Elsa, but—”

“Please don’t say no,” I say, letting my voice warble with unshed tears and emotion. “I’ve been traded into a life I know nothing about. My father says I can trust you, and honestly, Dimitri scares me. I don’t want to incur his anger.”

Dead air hovers over the line, and I cross my fingers at my side. After endless beats of silence, Sergei answers, “Say no more, dear. I’ll make time for us to meet, with your husband’s consent, of course. Perhaps I can take you to lunch.”

“Thank you, Sergei.”

“You’re welcome, Elsa. Now, take the phone to Dimitri, and we’ll work out the details.”

“Thank you, Sergei. Thank you for helping me.” I turn my voice into a breathless whisper with an affectionate tone. I cover the bottom of the phone for a few seconds and cross the apartment to the office, where I find Dimitri glowering at my approach.

“Dimitri?” I ask, loud enough for Sergei to hear me on the other end. “Sergei is on the phone.”

He takes the phone from my grip, and in a few short sentences, I have a lunch date with Sergei in a week, wherein I will do my very best to make him slip up.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Eleanor

Four days later,I’m still avoiding the men in my temporary home like the goddamned plague.

Dimitri is still trying to make eye contact with me. Nik is stalking the halls like Atlas with the world on his shoulders. And I am crawling out of my skin, just trying to keep the peace and stay out of their way.

So much so that today, I said fuck it and ordered Igor to bring the car around via a text. I walked through Central Park this morning while Nik and Dimitri met with one of the cells under Dimitri’s reign upstate.

Igor stalked behind me like a ghost the whole time. After encouraging him to walk by my side and his refusal for the tenth time, I gave up and told him I wanted to return to the penthouse.

So now, here I am, beating the shit out of a heavy bag in the gym for the twelfth time in as many days. My arms feel like noodles, but if I’m not entirely ripped by the end of this assignment, I’ll be shocked. Working out to relieve frustrations and exhaust myself to the point of passing out has become my full-time hobby.

The bass thumps through the room, and the mirrored walls make me feel like I have company when I am so utterly alone.

Jab, cross, kick. Don’t think about Dimitri.

Jab, cross, kick. Don’t think about Nik.

Jab, cross, kick. Don’t think about anything.

I let my fists fly, trying to knock the stuffing out of the bag. The chain rattles above, and my knuckles feel the sting of anger as I become relentless.

Dimitri murdered a man the other night in our home—Dimitri’s home.Notours. Nik killed the Irishman before that. I feel like I’m spinning because, as much as I deny it, I have feelings for both men. Confusing, conflicting, frustrating feelings I think I should be ashamed of, but for the life of me, I can’t muster up the energy for self-loathing.

All I feel is confusion.

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