Beautiful Beast - Page 89

“When will you be coming back?”

“I’m not going with her, Guido.”

“But, I thought . . . Why?”

“I told her that I love her, but she didn’t believe me. She said I don’t know what loving someone truly means. And she was right. I tried to make her stay with me by buying her presents. And issuing threats. I’m letting her go, so she can decide for herself.” I open the car door and step out with Vasilisa safely cradled in my arms. “Take your bag from the trunk and hurry.”

“My bag?”

“With a change of clothes. You’re getting onto that plane to make sure my wife arrives safely at her family’s home.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Calogero will retaliate in the next twenty-four hours. You need me.”

“I know. And I’ll handle him. Alone.”

“The fuck you will! He has more than ten men on his personal security team!”

“Shut. Your. Mouth. Because if you wake Vasilisa, I’ll strangle you,” I sneer through my teeth. “The deal I made with Biaggi includes a no-witness guarantee. I’m going to take down Calogero myself.”

“Raff—”

“This discussion is over.”

Standing at the foot of the airstairs, the flight attendant clutches the sides of her blazer to her chest as she watches me approach. I climb the steps, Guido following close behind me. Inside the cabin, I carefully lower my precious cargo onto the beige leather sofa. Vasilisa stirs, her eyes cracking a little.

“Are we home?”

I crouch next to her and brush the back of my hand along her chin. “Soon.”

“Okay,” she mumbles.

Her eyes flutter closed. I never imagined that letting go of something could hurt so much.

Sharp talons are slicing through my chest, trying to tear out my fucking heart. I reach into my pocket and take out the ring I put there earlier. It’s one of mine. Just a solid band of plain silver, worth practically nothing at all. I had the jeweler resize it to fit her delicate finger. He tried to convince me that it would be too small, as if I wouldn’t know every inch of my wife. Taking her right hand in mine, I slide the band onto her ring finger. Russians traditionally wear wedding rings on the right hand, and I want to honor that custom. The ring is a perfect fit.

“Farei qualsiasi cosa per te, vespetta,” I whisper as I lean toward her and kiss her slightly parted lips. “Perfino lasciarti andare.”

Vasilisa’s lips pull into a slight, sleepy smile before she turns around, tucking her face into the soft cushions of the sofa. I take off my jacket and cover her with it. After one last look, I straighten and rush toward the aircraft exit, feeling like every step is shredding my insides.

* * *

The videoconference window pops up on my laptop screen, showing Roman Petrov sitting at the desk inside his office.

“Rafael. It’s been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“My plane will be landing at a private airfield outside Chicago in ten hours. I’ll send you the exact location. You want to be there when it arrives.”

“Why is that?”

“Your daughter is on board.”

Petrov leaps from his chair, his shocked face drawing close to the camera. “What is my baby girl doing on your plane?!” he snarls.

“She’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“You took her.” A low growl comes from Roman.

“Yes. I did. Her IT skills are extraordinary. I had her brought to Sicily to complete a job for me. It’s all wrapped up, so I’ve sent her back home.”