Chapter 50 Episode 50

I nod and we move past each other on the stairs. I continue up to my apartment as Freya disappears down the stairwell. I have only enough time to discard my coat and grab some water before my doorbell rings. I’m already regretting asking Chris to come over. I feel drained and deflated. The high I’d been riding when Anton dropped me off has dissipated completely. I answer the door with a forced smile. “Thanks for coming over so late. Did you see Freya on the stairs?” He frowns. “No. Should I have?” “She was taking down the trash.” “Maybe she hid to avoid me,” he grumbles. “I would have done the same if I’d seen her coming.” I glare at him. “Come on, you could make an effort.” “You’ve barely given her a chance.” “There’s a lot of drama with that girl.” “Sorry, that’s not a legitimate reason to dislike her.” “I just… I don’t like how close she got to you so fast,” he admits wearily. I stiffen a little, remembering what Freya observed about Chris. Is it true that maybe her assumption that he has feelings for me is dead-on? No, no, no. Don’t know, don’t care. Most importantly, don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. “Sit down. Can I get you anything to eat?” “C’mon, J,” he sighs. “Just tell me what’s going on. You didn’t call me over here for a cup of tea and a chit-chat.” I gulp. “Alrighty then. Right to it. Let’s sit.” He drops onto the sofa, eyes boring into me. I sit down beside him, perched on the edge like I might run at any moment. And who knows? I might. “I… gave back the phone.” “But?” he growls, turning towards me. “There shouldn’t be a ‘but.’” “I accepted a job with him,” I blurt. He blinks at me for a few moments. “I’m sorry, did you just say what I think you said?” I nod. “I’m head chef now. It’s a step up.” I don’t know why I skip over the part where Anton basically forced me into the gig. It just sounds better this way. It puts the onus on me, instead of Anton. Makes me feel like I’m the one in charge of my life. “I just have one question, and my question is, what the f**k? What the f**k, Jess?” “I know it sounds stupid—” “Maybe because it is stupid!” he suggests. “Not to mention dangerous. This guy is a murderer. You saw him shoot a man right in front of you. He’s been stalking you for weeks now and the moment you manage to get him off your back, you—” He stops short, his eyes going wide with realization. “Wait, did he threaten you into saying yes to this s**t?” But Chris stares at me until I look away in shame. “He did!” I shake my head. “I wanted to take the job.” “Did you have a choice?” “You’re doing it again,” he says. “You’re making the same damn mistake all over again.” “He’s not Dane,” I snap. “I know—he’s worse!” Chris spits. “He’s a f*****g Bratva don, Jessa! A very bad dude who may have murdered his own goddamn wife!” “Why the hell are you defending him?” His eyes narrow. “Because what?” “Because I don’t want to believe he did it, okay?!” The atmosphere in the room gets so thick that I struggle to breathe. I get up off the sofa, storm to the window, and pull it open to let some fresh breeze in, but it doesn’t help. I turn to him, feeling incredibly tired. “Do you have feelings for this guy?” he asks softly. I can still feel Anton’s c*m inside me, staining my panties. If I concentrate, I can pick out his scent on me. Musky and masculine, just like Freya said. I can imagine his gray eyes boring into mine. The way his hands laid claim on my body. The way he said my name. Like it all meant something to him. You’re beautiful when you talk about what you love. Chris’s angry curse snaps me out of my reverie. I can’t even bring myself to deny anything anymore. Not just because I know I won’t sound convincing. But because I know he won’t believe me even if I do. “It… it’s out of my control now, Chris,” I tell him. I don’t even know what I’m talking about. He walks right up to me and grabs both my hands. “It’s all in your control, Jess. You just refuse to believe you have the power to choose. Don’t let this son of a b***h get in your head.” I don’t say a word, but it’s pretty obvious what I’m not saying: he’s already in my head. “f**k,” Chris spits, letting go of my hands and running his palm over his face. “Even after you saw him murder a man, it’s like that?” “It’s not like he was an innocent victim,” I say, despising the justification even as it comes out of my mouth. “He was an arms dealer.” “So he deserved to die? Is that it?” “It’s a different kind of world, Chris,” I tell him. “It works by different rules.” “Do you even hear yourself right now?” “He’s not going to hurt me,” I protest. “If that’s what you’re worried about. He won’t hurt me.” “Because you think he cares about you like you care about him? Or are you just hoping that’s true?” “Is it really so hard to believe that he could care about me?” I ask. First Freya, now Chris. Maybe I am pathetic. “Maybe right now, no. But long term?” Chris asks. “Seriously? Genuinely? Yes, I think it’s going to be hard for you to keep his interest. He’s going to use you and when you stop amusing him, he’s going to get rid of you.” I cringe. A second later, I hear Anton’s own words in my head. “Gonna ditch me as soon as you get bored?” I’d asked. I swallow and shake my head to clear the cobwebs. “Chris, look—I know that this could possibly be the stupidest decision I’ve ever made in my life. And I’m including Dane in that, just for the record. But I have to do this.” “No, the f**k you don’t.” I sigh. “Just trust me.” “Trust you?” he says. “Not likely.” That stings. I can’t keep the hurt from my face, so I drift away from him. His grimace falls. “Damn it, Jess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” “Yes, you did. And I can’t say that I blame you.” I collapse back on the sofa, feeling completely defeated. And still, I’m aware of my longing for him. For the gray-eyed god who dropped me off like Freya’s trash and drove away without looking back. Exactly how he’ll leave when he is finished with me for good. “Can I ask you to do something for me?” he asks gently. I nod and turn to him. “What is it?” “Try and find out what happened to his wife,” Chris says. “What really happened to his wife.” “How am I supposed to do that?” “You’re a smart girl,” he says. “I’m sure you can figure something out. If you find that he really had nothing to do with her death, then go ahead and work for him as long as it suits you. Or him. But if you find out that he was responsible, whether directly or indirectly, for her death…” I nod as he leaves the sentence unfinished. It makes sense. If I’m being honest, I should have thought of this myself, instead of deciding to just blindly trust him. It’s those gray eyes. They managed to hypnotize me when I wasn’t paying attention. “Okay?” he asks, staring at me hard. I nod. “I’ll see what I can find out.” He exhales softly. “Just be careful.” “He won’t hurt me,” I repeat again. But this time, I don’t even manage to convince myself. “I really, really hope that’s true, Jess. But I don’t want you taking the risk either way. He’s not worth it. No man is.” I consider those words. They make sense in my head, but my heart is speaking a whole different language. With every irregular beat, it seems to be asking the same question, over and over again. What if this man is worth it? I don’t know what I’m doing with Jessa. I’m certain she’ll keep her mouth shut about Benyamin’s death. I have my phone back. So with all that in place, letting her go should be the easiest decision in the world. I drive back home, lost in thought and suppressed memories. I still remember the day that my father told me that I was going to marry Rodion Ivanov’s daughter. “She’s beautiful and young. She’ll make a fine wife. More importantly, a fine Bratva wife," he said. "Make her happy and she will deliver you children and an empire.” It was an impressive little speech at the time. I nodded once and that was the end of it. I resigned myself to the fact that I would not have the freedom to choose my own woman. At the time, there wasn’t any disappointment that accompanied the realization. It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard the two old men plotting my future since I was a teenager. And he was right. Marina was beautiful. She had a powerful father. She'd grown up in the Bratva; she knew the life.