I’ve been ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of my mind, stopping myself from looking at my phone every five minutes like I’m a moonstruck teenager. But in the darkness of night, when everything is quiet and still and I’m the only one in my bed, a little voice whispers,He’s grown tired of you. He had his fun, got what he wanted, and now he’s moved on.
I tell myself I should be happy if that’s the case, that I should be pleased the Russian mob boss has moved on and I can go back to my everyday life and forget all about him. I no longer have to worry about being dragged down by his darkness.
Except I feel sick at the thought of never seeing Matvei again.
Truly sick.
My stomach twists, and bile rises in my throat. I barely manage to bolt out of the room and make it to the bathroom before I’m sick, heaving into the toilet. The door bursts open as I’m slumped against the wall, gasping and shivering. Evgeny looms over me, concern on his face.
“What happened?” he demands.
I don’t have to tell him because I end up showing him. I’m sick several more times until the only thing coming up is bitter bile.
“Are you ill?” Evgeny hands me a damp paper towel. I rub it against my face and the back of my neck before wiping my mouth off.
“It certainly looks that way,” I mutter, annoyed by the question.
“When did you start feeling sick?”
I shake my head but don’t answer. I breathe through my nose, trying to hold off another round of vomiting.
“Is she okay?” I realize my coworkers are all hovering beyond the door, their faces anxious.
“What did she eat?” Evgeny demands, stalking toward my boss, who backs away until his back hits the wall. “Is anyone else feeling sick?”
“Everyone’s fine. She was fine until she got up and ran to the bathroom.”
“Where did you get the food?”
“From our usual spot.”
“What do you mean by ‘usual?’ Could someone have messed with the food because they know your routine?”
“I suppose so,” my boss says. “But I know these guys. I’ve been ordering from them for years. They wouldn’t do anything like that.”
“We’ll see,” Evgeny growls as he stalks into our conference room. I’m standing up now, feeling a little better, though still shaky and sweaty.
“They wouldn’t do anything!” my boss calls again.
Evgeny stalks back toward us, the small crowd scattering. “The food smells fine,” he says. “But I’m still taking you to the hospital.”
“The hospital? All I did was throw up. People do that.” I protest as his enormous paw of a hand clamps around my wrist. “I have work to do.”
Just as he ignored my boss, Evgeny is ignoring me. As he pulls me out of the office, I look back at my coworkers. My boss calls after me. “Maybe it’s better if you get looked at. I’ll cover what I can.”
I realize no help will be coming from them.
At the hospital, I’m whisked into a private room. Obviously this isn’t the first time Evgeny has brought someone to them. I don’t want to know the details.
The doctors check my vitals and take some blood, then leave me to rest until the results come in. I hear Evgeny in the hallway not so subtly telling the staff the results should be rushed. About thirty minutes later, I hear a commotion outside my door.
The Volkovpakhanstorms in like a vengeful angel ready to murder the first person who keeps him from my side. His expression is so forbidding that it does little to calm my nerves. A security guard trails along to ensure Matvei isn’t actually here to harm anyone, though I’m unsure what the guard thinks he’ll do if the Bratva boss attempts anything.
When I see Matvei’s face closer, I realize he’s not angry. Pure, unadulterated panic shines in those deep blue eyes.
“Sonya.” He locks onto me like a missile seeking its target, crossing the room in two long strides. “Are you okay? How areyou feeling?”He stands next to my bed, his hands opening and closing as he tries to center himself.
“I’m fine. I wasn’t feeling good earlier and I threw up. Evgeny overreacted and practically dragged me here kicking and screaming.”