Chapter 15

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Anya

M y gaze is trained on the floor as I walk through the security check into the lobby of the State Court Building. Absorbed in my troubles, I don't pay attention to the people or the environment around me. I can't think about anything else but the problems I'm facing.

What am I going to do?

Frustration wells up inside me, followed by a bout of despondency.

Why must everything be such a battle? How wretched is my life that a couple of bottles of vitamins and a blood test are unobtainable?

Pushing my hair with both hands from my face, I take a deep breath.

Get a grip on yourself, Anya.

I refuse to be pathetic. I've always been good at finding solutions to problems. There's nothing I hate more than to beg. I've done enough of that in my life.

No more.

I'll just have to come up with another idea.

Maybe I should try gambling. If that doesn't work out, there are always the loan sharks, but I'd never be able to pay back a loan with the high interest they charge, and I don't want a loan shark to come after me.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice the wall of muscles materializing in front of me until I'm almost on top of the man. Stopping short, I lift my head, and then I part my lips with a gasp that doesn't escape.

Saverio stands in front of me, looking like a god who just descended from heaven. No, not a god. A demon from hell. A beautiful demon, but a dangerous one nevertheless. If I forgot how big he is, I'm sorely reminded of his size as he towers over me, observing me with an ominous glint in those icy blue eyes.

"Saverio," I whisper-cry, battling to come to grips with his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"

He drapes an arm around my shoulders in a strangely protective manner and says in the gentlest way, "I'm here for you, tesoro ," but I don't miss the menace that rides on those soft-spoken words.

Not giving me a chance to reply, he ushers me to the exit. I'm too flabbergasted to protest, not fully registering what's happening, that he's here . Because how? Why?

The same black car from before waits on the curb. He opens the back door and helps me inside before getting in next to me. The tension in the atmosphere is palpable as he shuts the door. He takes a blanket from the seat and drapes it over my legs, making sure it's tucked in on the sides. The day is fresh, and I didn't bring a jacket, but I hardly notice the cooler temperature or the goosebumps on my arms.

"There," he says, the word measured as he studies me with disturbing intensity. "Comfortable?"

Like the food he had delivered, the considerate act of making sure I'm warm confuses me, especially as he's clearly angry with me. No, more than angry. He may not say it, but he's furious. Rage rolls off him in waves.

My throat closes up as our gazes lock. I don't like the calculation or the promise of retribution that spark in the flawless color of those otherworldly blue pools. He doesn't even try to hide his emotions. He lets me see the darkness that swirls in their depths, giving me a frightening look inside his soul. It's a scary picture, yet I can't look away. That commanding stare is too magnetic. Too terrifying. Tearing my gaze from his would be like giving a feral predator my back.

Unable to formulate a reply, I only nod.

"Good," he drawls, but rather than approving, the word sounds threatening.

"Drive," he tells the driver in a brusque tone without breaking our eye contact.

As soon as the driver pulls into the road, a partition comes up between us and the front. A click sounds as the door locks activate.

My pulse quickens. I'm shut in the back of the car with a killer, the tinted windows hiding us from the outside world. I have no idea where he's taking me. For all I know, he's driving me to a secluded spot where he can slit my throat and dump my body in the bushes. No, he'd bury it on a flowery spot. And he'd visit my grave often. Isn't that what he said?

I wonder if, like some kind of monster, he'd get hard every time he stands on the heap of earth that covers my bones. I wouldn't put such a twisted reaction past him. God knows, he got aroused from pushing a knife against my stomach. There's no denying that I could be in grave danger. He could be plotting my murder even as he stares unflinchingly into my eyes.

The precarious situation constricts my chest. It's difficult to breathe, but I don't look away from Saverio as he continues to observe me with cold rage.

A deceptive smile curves his lips. His words are spoken quietly, masking the brutality that runs under the surface. "Who did you see?"

I swallow, unable to speak past the knot that forms in my throat.

His smile turns sinister. "There are many things I can do to make you talk. They won't harm the baby, but I promise you won't like them."

My heart starts galloping as reality strikes. My voice is strained, sounding foreign to my own ears. "You're having me watched."

He simply observes me with that odd look on his face, letting me come to terms with the truth as I connect the dots.

Of course.

How stupid of me.

It wouldn't be careful of him not to have me tailed, and Saverio is a very thorough killer.

"I'm waiting," he says, his eyes narrowing in the corners.

My mind conjures the recollection of that night, of the knife he sliced with effortless swiftness over Mr. Lewis's throat. I don't want to think about it, not now, but I can't stop the images from flashing in front of my eyes. I can't stop feeling the tip of the knife that presses against my belly. No matter how hard I try to control my erratic pulse, I can't stop trembling as I see myself in my boss's place, pushed up against a wall by the weight of Saverio's body as he brings that knife to my heart and smiles compassionately while plunging the blade deep. He's capable of doing that. And so much more. I'm not going to kid myself about what he could do to me.

"Speak," he commands in a soft, dark voice. "This is your last chance."

The glint of the blade as it catches the light stabs into my memory. Resisting the urge to clutch my bag to my chest like a shield, I say in my most assertive manner, "It was a private visit."

His mouth lifts in one corner as he pins me with that unnerving look. "Was it now?"

"Yes," I say, my fear morphing into frustration.

"Enlighten me."

Finally scavenging the courage to look away from the hypnotic power of his glare, I glance at the window. Somehow, I manage to keep my voice even. "Where are you taking me?"

"Anya."

The way in which he says my name like the tenderest but most powerful warning makes me whip my head around to face him again.

He bites out every word. "Who did you see?"

I'm not reluctant to tell him because I'm protecting Evan. I just don't want him to be privy to my humiliation.

"If that's how you want to play it," he says.

It's not the finality with which he utters those words that scares me as much as the regret that slips into his tone.

I swallow away the tightness in my throat before saying, "Evan Kearney."

"Justice Kearney?"

"Yes," I say a bit more harshly, hating that he's forcing me to confess this.

"Why?" he asks, dragging out the word with something like sardonic humor.

Lowering my lashes, I fiddle with the strap of the bag in my lap.

He stills my fingers by cupping my hand, pulling my gaze back to him as he draws circles over my skin with his thumb.

"Do you honestly think he can save you, tesoro ?"

I frown. Then his meaning hits me. "No! You're mistaken."

"Am I?"

I stumble over the words in my haste to utter them. "I didn't go there to do what you think."

"And what is it that I think?"

"It's not that. I promise you. I didn't tell him what I saw," I say, breathless with fear. "You've got it wrong. I swear it."

He studies me like a powerful god about to decide my fate, and it's not far off the mark. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

It's imperative that he believes me, because if he doesn't, I know where he's taking me. In that case, we're definitely heading to my grave.

I don't have a choice but to tell him, "I went there to…" I inhale deeply, my cheeks burning as I admit, "…to ask him for money."

His eyes tighten with suspicion. "Money for what?"

"Vitamins."

"Vitamins?" Disapproval darkens his face. "Is that your code for drugs?"

It hurts that he thinks that about me. I don't even know why his opinion matters. All I know is that his unfair judgment of my character infuriates me.

I jerk my hand from where he's still touching it with his disturbing caress. "Are you crazy? I'm pregnant, for God's sake. Do you think I'd do that to my baby? Do I look like an addict?"

"Money for what, Anya?" he asks again, undeterred by my outburst.

I heave a frustrated sigh. "I'm anemic, okay? I need iron and folic acid supplements." Admitting the next part is the worst. "I couldn't afford to buy the supplements, so I asked him for the money. There. Are you happy?"

Too ashamed to hold his gaze, I look away.

He grips my chin and turns my face back to him. "Is that why you went to the gynecologist on Friday and this morning?"

If I still doubted he's having me followed, there's no question about it any longer. He just admitted it in not so many words.

"She got the results of my blood test," I say with reluctance.

His gaze drills into mine. "What are the symptoms?"

"Dizzy spells." I shrug. "I fainted a while ago."

His jaw flexes even as his eyes flare. "You fucking fainted?"

I pull my face from his hold. "Yes."

"When?"

Giving him an exasperated look, I ask, "Does it matter?"

"Yes," he says tightly.

"During the week."

"Fuck, Anya. Why didn't you tell me? You could've injured yourself."

"Tell you?" I chuckle. "Why would I do that?"

"I would've taken you to Nicole, which brings me to another point I'm going to make very clear to you. From now on, Dr. Wade is your treating ob-gyn. Got that?"

"I can't afford her," I say with mounting agitation. "Which reminds me, you still haven't given me her bill."

The small hoop in his ear catches the light that runs along the door handle. "I already settled the bill."

"I told you I'd pay for it."

"I never expected you to."

"I'll pay you back."

"That won't be necessary. Money isn't an issue. I'll cover Nicole's bills, and I'll get you the vitamins you need. You don't have to worry about that."

"Why do you care, Saverio? What difference does it make in your life?"

"In case you failed to understand the situation, I need you alive and well." There's no question about how serious he is when he continues. "Your health is not only my concern but also my responsibility. That night you walked into something you shouldn't have, you signed your life over to me. That's why I'm going to arrange for your mother's medical and housing bills to be sent to me."

"You're going to do what?" I exclaim.

"The costs of her care are high. I thought you'd be happy not to have to worry about that."

Wait. "How do you know about my mother?"

He doesn't reply.

Great. On top of having me followed, he did a background check on me.

Incredulous, I say, "You didn't discuss it with me."

"Wouldn't make a difference. It's my responsibility now."

"Wow." I utter a wry laugh. "You have a warped way of looking at things."

"Nothing is warped where my freedom is concerned."

My reply is bitter. "So you're investing in your freedom."

"I'm glad you get it."

"I so badly want to tell you to go to hell," I spit out.

"Don't." He fixes me with a narrow-eyed look. "You won't like the consequences."

I grit my teeth to prevent myself from doing exactly that.

"I'm taking you to Nicole right now," he says. "I want her to rerun the tests."

"That's ridiculous. The gynecologist I saw is a very capable doctor. You can run the tests again, but you'll only get the same results. Besides, as I'm anemic, more blood tests so shortly after I had one are probably not a good idea."

He holds out a hand. "Give me the prescription."

Sighing, I fish the piece of paper from my bag and hand it to him.

He scans over it before instructing in a no-nonsense manner, "I want the blood test results too."

"It's on my phone."

"Send it to me."

"Why?"

"I want a second opinion."

It's futile to argue. I take out my phone and pull up the app with my test results before forwarding it to him.

"I'm sending this to Nicole," he says, typing on his phone. "If she wants to see you, I'm taking you straight away."

"Don't you need an appointment?"

"She'll make time for us."

"Jeez." I cross my arms. "You must pay her well."

"She's a friend."

A good one, obviously.

"You should've also told me you needed money," he reprimands. "That's why your fridge was empty."

I don't bother to validate the statement with a reply.

"Livy told me everything," he adds.

"You went to see Livy?"

He shrugs. "She invited me for tea."

"Don't you dare touch her." Fear for the woman who's been like a fairy godmother to me quickens my pulse. "If you lay a finger on her?—"

"I already told you, that's up to you."

Hold on. "Why did she invite you for tea?"

"To talk."

"About what?" I ask, a nasty suspicion growing in the pit of my stomach.

"She warned me not to break your heart."

I just about die of mortification. "She did not."

He doesn't reply.

"What did she tell you?" I ask, holding my breath.

"About your mother. That you don't pay rent for the apartment."

Embarrassment burns a path up my neck. "She had no right to share those details with you. That's private."

"Don't blame her." He grins. "I'm your boyfriend, remember? Even if I have to say so myself, she approves of your choice."

I gape at him, chagrin and anger making a potent cocktail of emotions in my chest. "You're unbelievable."

"Don't hold it against her. She's a nice old lady who's looking out for you. I would've found out eventually."

I don't have to ask how.

"The only question that remains is why him ?" he asks. "Why did you go to Justice Kearney for the money?" When I only lock my jaw, comprehension washes over his features. The set of his mouth turns hard. Contempt rides on his words when he makes his own deduction. "He's the father of your baby."

I don't acknowledge that truth either. It speaks for itself.

In a flash, he goes from broody to downright murderous. "What happened in his office? Did he touch you?"

I stare at his thunderous expression with confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He bites off every word. "Did he fucking touch you?"

"No," I cry out. "It's not like that between us, not that it's any of your damn business."

Gripping my face in his hand, he splays his fingers over my cheek. "You will never go to that asshole for money or for anything else again. If I catch him near you, I'll break his fucking hands. I'll flatten each of his fingers and turn his bones into pulp. If he as much as brushes against you, I'll peel every inch of his skin off his body."

My jaw drops at the gruesome threats. The worst is that he means it. There's no bluffing in his serious, determined gaze.

"If you need anything—whether it's one dollar or a thousand, food or rent, or just a warm cup of fucking tea—you will ask no one but me."

More confused than ever, I ask, "Why?"

An unfriendly smile curves his lips. "Do you need to ask?"

"I don't understand," I whisper.

"Your life belongs to me." He emphasizes the point by tightening his hold, his fingers digging into my cheeks. "Is that clear?"

Too frightened to do anything else, I can only nod again.

"Good girl," he praises, easing his grip and brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. He leans closer, encroaching on my private space and forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him. "Now that we understand each other on that point, we can move to my next question." His voice drops, his words dangerously soft. "Did you want him to touch you?"

This line of questioning is crossing a line. "I don't understand where you're going with this."

"It's simple." His statement is toneless yet loaded at the same time. "If the answer is yes, I'll kill him."

My breath catches. I don't doubt for a minute that he would. "I didn't. I don't."

He leans closer still, so close that if he lowers his head another fraction, his lips will brush over mine. "Are you sure about that?"

"I don't fool around with married men," I say with my heart beating in my throat.

He dips his gaze to my stomach. "Yet you did." Tracing the seam of my lips with a fingertip, he continues with a cruel smile. "Which makes me wonder. What made him so special to be your exception?"

"I didn't know he was married," I say, clenching my jaw. "He didn't wear a ring, and he gave me a false name."

Surprise washes over his features, eradicating the frosty violence in his eyes. Letting me go, he puts a small measure of space between us. "How did you find out who he was?"

"I happened to see a photo of him in a newspaper."

He tilts his head. "What did he say when you confronted him?"

"He told me to get rid of the problem and to never contact him again."

His gaze turns stony. "That son of a bitch." He searches my face as if he can't figure me out. "How did it happen? You don't strike me as a one-night stand type of girl."

My hackles rise. "What's that supposed to mean? That I'm uptight?"

His lips quirk. "You come across as…" He pauses as he seemingly reflects for a moment before declaring, "Prim and proper."

"Go to hell," I say, not caring about the consequences of swearing at him even though he warned me about it not a few minutes ago.

"I'm not insulting you." He appears amused. "On the contrary, it's a compliment."

"That I'm so gullible?"

Yes, I should've known better than trusting a man I'd just met. It was a terrible mistake, one I'll never repeat. At the time, I reckoned single women did it all the time. Why not me? Why not allow myself one night to forget everything in the arms of a handsome man? I guess I was both unlucky and unwise. I've been stupid. That doesn't give Saverio the right to rub my faults in my face.

"Not gullible," he says. "Innocent."

I'm not even sure that's a compliment.

"Where did you meet him?" he asks.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I want to know."

I huff. "Why?"

"I don't need a reason. Tell me, or I'll ask him myself."

"Why are you being so sadistic? Do you enjoy my humiliation?"

"Not at all. I just want to understand."

"Why is it so imperative that you understand?"

"It's part of figuring you out."

"Why do you need to figure me out?"

Sighing, he takes his phone from his pocket. "Fine."

"What are you doing?" I ask with alarm.

"Sending a man to get my answers from the honorable justice."

I catch his wrist. "Wait."

He pauses, watching me with expectation.

Reluctantly, I say, "I was having a really bad day. My mom… Something happened."

"She stole your money, spent it on booze, got herself attacked, and ended up in hospital."

I look at him quickly. "How do you know?"

"How do you think?"

Livy told him. Kudos to him for winning her trust so fast. Not that I blame her. He's a great actor, and she's a romantic soul who looks at the world through rose-colored glasses.

"Carry on," he says in a commanding manner.

He really has a way of wearing me down. Too tired to argue or fight any longer, I blow out a sigh. "I went to a bar for a drink. He seemed kind and caring. He bought me a drink, and one thing led to another." I look at my hands. "We were careful but obviously not enough. I wasn't surprised that he ghosted me." Shrugging, I face Saverio again. "It happens. What floored me was finding out he lied about his identity and about being single."

"That piece of scum," Saverio says, his upper lip curling. "You'll burn every dollar he gave you, understand? I don't want anything that belonged to him anywhere near you, and I'll be damned before I let you buy a damn thing with his cash."

"Don't worry." I laugh to hide my discomfort. "I didn't take his money."

"Why not?"

"He was unhappy about giving it."

The car comes to a stop.

"You did the right thing, Anya. If you want him to pay?—"

"No," I say quickly. "It's in the past. I can't change what happened. I just want to move on."

"All right." He nods. "I'll respect your wish. But…"

I stare at him, my mouth going dry. "But what?"

His tone is clipped. "From now on, I never want to hear you speak his name again."

Before I can reply, he pushes a button to lower the partition.

Giving the driver my prescription, he says, "Go get this from the pharmacy."

"Yes, sir," the driver replies as Saverio opens his door and gets out.

I freeze. I think he believes me. I'm ninety percent sure he's not going to stab me to death and bury my body on a hill, but there's always that ten percent of doubt.

Bending my head, I try to get a glimpse of our surroundings. The stately mansion and manicured garden that are visible through his open door catch me by surprise.

Panic engulfs me when he opens my door and offers me a hand. Not wanting to aggravate him and ignite his anger again, I slip my fingers into his.

"Where are we?" I ask as he helps me from the car.

In the distance, the green expanse of Prospect Park is visible. We're in a posh part of Park Slope.

"This is my home." He places my hand on the crook of his elbow. "Come, I'll show you around."

I dig in my heels. "I have to get back to the office. I'll get into trouble if I'm late. The HR manager was unhappy with letting me take the morning off as it is."

"I already told them you won't be in today."

Baffled, I ask, "Why would you do something like that?"

He raises a brow and just looks at me.

Of course. He believed I was running to Evan to blurt out the truth. Saverio would've had to deal with me. Us. Evan and me.

A shiver crawls down my spine when I think about how close both of us came to dying today. If Saverio didn't give me a chance to explain?—

"Come on," he says, tugging me toward the impressive two-story house.

My heartbeat speeds up as warning bells go off in my head. "What are we doing here?" I hang back. "Why did you bring me to your house?"

"It's time we take our relationship to the next level." His smile is pure wickedness. "We're moving in together, my love ."