Chapter 29: Forbidden Vows: Chapter 29

The days that follow are eerily quiet.

Kuznetsov is nowhere to be found, though the Donovan mansion is still very much under his control. Ciara hasn’t reached out, but I know she needs time and a safe way to get into his sensitive documents. She’ll call or text me when she has what we need to bury that bastard—unless Tommy’s people from the NSA call first.

Either way, it has become a matter of when, not if, we take him down.

Until then, I keep my word to Anton and limit my outings. It’s beautiful outside, so I at least allow myself to enjoy afternoons in the garden. Sitting on the edge of the pool, I dip my bare feet in the water while the early summer breeze blows through my hair. I allow my body to soak in as much sun as possible.

“Your lemonade,” Ian says as he brings an ice-cold pitcher and a chilled glass out to me.

The minty top note hits my nose first. I look up at him through my shades and smile. “Thank you ever so much. Any news from Anton?”

“He and Andrei are meeting with the Popovs as we speak. The initial support for Kuznetsov seems to be waning, but I wouldn’t place any bets yet.”

He fills my glass and adjusts the sunshade.

“Do you think you might be able to set up lunch on the terrace for Laura and me today?”

“I think I can make that happen,” Ian replies with a smile.

“Thanks, Ian. You’re the best.”

My phone pings.

“Oh,” I mumble, checking the screen.

It’s a text from Ciara.

I’m in trouble. Help me.

Shit.

I immediately call her, but I’m sent straight to voicemail.

What’s going on?

Sergei suspects something.

Did you get into his vault?

It’s quiet for a while, and I’m getting nervous, my heart beating faster with each minute of silence. Finally, three dots appear again.

I did. But he’s got eyes on me all the time. I can’t get out of here.

What can I do?

I need a diversion.

Okay, leave this to me. Hang in there, sis. I got you.

Anton isn’t reachable by phone or email. I’ve left him messages, so he’s been informed, at least, and he’ll learn what I’m about to do when he reads through everything. In the meantime, Ian and I prepare to head out.

“I just need to get close enough to the mansion so we can create a diversion.”

“I know, but it still doesn’t feel right.”

“All we have to do is be there when Ciara comes out of the tunnels. I told her to take the route that leads into Mr. Kristofferson’s yard, which is right next door. We’ll be in the car, waiting, right outside his gate.”

“It sounds simple enough.”

“Then what is it?”

He checks the magazine and slips it into the gun, then makes sure the safety is off before holstering it under his jacket.

“I don’t know, Eileen. Call it a gut instinct, if you will. I specifically don’t like the fact that Mr. Karpov didn’t greenlight this move.”

“Have you been successful in reaching him?”

“No.”

“Time is of the essence here, Ian.”

Just then my phone rings. “It’s Ciara,” I tell him.

Quickly, I answer. “Hey, what’s up? Where are you?”

“I ran…” Her voice is fractured. She’s breaking up.

“Ciara, where are you?” I repeat while Ian gives me a worried look. “I can barely hear you.”

“I… got… out… on my way… your coffee… place…”

The line goes dead. I stare at the screen for a few seconds.

“Where is she?” Ian asks.

“I think she’s on the way to my café,” I tell him.

He gives me a puzzled look and then drives us across the city to Gold Coast, to the pitiful remnants of my café.

“She must’ve gone inside,” I tell Ian. “I texted her the passkey for the back door.”

My heart hurts whenever I come here. The façade was repainted, and the windows were replaced, but we still have a lot of work to do inside. Nevertheless, Ciara needs me, so I gather the strength I need to get out of the car and follow Ian through the service alley that leads us to the back door.

He inputs the code into the electronic lock. After a click, the access light turns from red to blinking green. We go in, and I am immediately struck by the smell of spray paint again.

“That smell. I should leave the air conditioning system on for a day or so,” I say as we make our way through the dark corridor and head for the main hall.

“Call out to her,” Ian says, walking in front of me, one hand on his holstered weapon.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Just call out and stay back.”

I do as he asks. “Ciara?”

A rustling sound causes both of us to pause in the main hall’s double doorway. Ian places his arm in front of me then looks around. He draws his weapon and my skin crawls all over, the hairs on the back of my neck rise as I listen carefully.

“Ciara?” I call out again.

FLIT. FLIT.

Ian twitches and falls to the side.

I scream, watching the blood bloom on his shirt. “Oh, my God!”

“Fuck,” he hisses as he fires back.

I hear footsteps pounding, but I don’t see the man until it’s too late. He’s big and dressed all in black. He charges at us, then kicks Ian so hard he passes out.

“No!” I cry out and try to run away, but not before I feel the muzzle pressing at the back of my neck. I freeze on the spot. “No, please.”

“Relax; he wants you alive,” his thick Russian accent fills me with dread as I realize this was a setup.

“Where’s my stepsister?” I ask as he binds my hands behind my back with a zip tie.

“You’ll be reunited soon enough.”

I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t like the sound of him. And I don’t like the look of Ian, passed out and pale, bleeding from what appears to be two gunshot wounds—one to the left shoulder and one to his side.

“Oh, Ian…” I whisper.

“Worry about yourself, Mrs. Karpova.”

I’m taken to a structure somewhere on the other side of town, far outside the suburbs, by the looks of it. It’s quiet and dark at this hour. I’m gagged and bound as I am unceremoniously dragged out from the back of a black van and up the front steps of the house.

It’s a two-level building with white marble flooring and huge, French-style windows. Based on the state-of-the-art security system and over a dozen Kuznetsov goons present, I’m guessing I’m in a Kuznetsov safe house.

“You’d better not scream or do anything stupid,” my giant kidnapper says as he removes my gag. “Or I will put this back and add a black eye.”

“You’re too kind,” I mutter, my mouth dry and my blood boiling as I look up at him. “You’re a real gem, threatening to hit a pregnant woman.”

He shrugs and gives me a sneer. I notice a long scar on one side of his face. “I don’t care that you’re pregnant, and I don’t think the boss cares either.”

“Sergei? He should care. He just declared open war against the Karpovs,” I reply.

“It’s a new age, Mrs. Karpova. We will rule soon enough,” he says, pushing open a door behind me.

He gives me a shove, and I stumble into the room where he locks me in. Immediately, I turn around and start banging on the door, determined not to go down quietly. “You son of a bitch! Let me out! Now!”

“Quiet!” he shouts, pounding a fist against the door, causing it to shudder.

It startles me, and I take a couple of steps back. This is not where I’m going to die. No way in hell I’m letting Kuznetsov win. There has to be a way out of this mess. There’s always a way out.

“Eileen?” A weak, familiar voice causes me to spin around.

Ciara sits in a chair by the window.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper, stunned by the sight of her.

Her face is bruised. There’s not enough concealer in the world to hide the vibrant red and blue splotches around her eye, stretching down her cheek, all the way to her chin. There are bloodstains on her white blouse. Her lip is split and cracked, and clearly tender whenever she tries to speak. She looks so weak, so pale.

“Ciara,” I breathe as I rush over and kneel in front of her. “What happened?”

She gives me a pained look. “He caught me snooping. He beat it out of me… the plans we made… I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t you texting me, was it?”

“No.”

“You called me, though.”

Ciara shakes her head slowly. “No, he forced me to say those things, to ask you to meet me at the café.”

“That son of a bitch.”

She nods, wincing in pain. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault.”

“No, Ciara, it isn’t.” I gently tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. It pains me deeply to see her like this. She may not be the world’s greatest stepsister, and her mouth and ego might often get the better of her, but she didn’t deserve any of this. We each did the best we could with what we were given.

She sobs quietly, barely able to look me in the eyes. “I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve rejected Sergei’s offer, Eileen. Dad said I could say no, that he’d find me another match.”

“But you said yes. I know why and I understand. I don’t like it, but, hey, we’ve all made mistakes, right? I mean, look at me,” I laugh nervously, and she glances down at my bump. “Don’t get me wrong, I love these babies with everything I’ve got, and I can’t wait to bring them into the world, but this wasn’t exactly planned. We make mistakes, Ciara. The trick is we need to learn from them.”

“I’m going to get you and the twins killed.”

“No, honey. This is on Sergei. Besides, I’m not dying here, you hear me? Neither are you.”

“Eileen, we’re trapped. Sergei is on his way over and he’s going to kill us both once the marriage certificate is signed. I’m to blame. I can admit it. It’s my fault. I’m a terrible human being; that’s why Anton didn’t think twice to toss me aside for you. Deep down, I knew—”

“Had he not learned about my pregnancy, he would’ve married you.”

She gives me a long look, her tired eyes filled with shame and grief. “I wanted to rush the wedding the first time, because I saw how you two looked at each other. I was afraid he’d change his mind. And when you fainted, I was so scared he’d pull away that I was in an even bigger hurry afterward. Then he made the new deal with Dad and… God, Eileen, will you ever forgive me?”

“For being insecure? For not being true to yourself? Because that’s where all of this stemmed from. It’s not my job to forgive you. It’s yours to forgive yourself. In order to do that, however, we need to survive.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Right now we have to put our effort and energy into getting out of here alive, so we can take that monster down once and for all.”

“You don’t even know the half of it, Eileen. Of what Sergei really is.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said something earlier. God, how could I be so blind?”

“What did he say?”

The door swings open. “Ah, my favorite ladies!”

The devil himself stands before us, hands casually resting on his hips. He looks annoyingly pleased.

“The Donovan sisters reunited,” he adds, taking a step forward. “Has Ciara told you yet? She’s got that sick look on her face. The same look she had when I told her. It’s priceless.”

“Told her what?” I ask.

“Your father didn’t go out on his own,” he says.

It’s a good thing I’m kneeling, because I think my legs would’ve given out upon hearing what he said. The smug look on his face causes my blood to boil, but I need to focus, I need to get Ciara and myself out of here before it’s too late. Therefore, whatever Sergei says to rile me up or to hurt me, I cannot allow it to get to me.

“What did you just say?” I ask, my voice slightly trembling.

Ciara is a mess, holding onto my hands for dear life. She’s terrified of him.

“There’s this thing called thallium sulfate. Incredibly useful and easy to procure when you’re a man of my means,” Sergei says. “Ronan was sick, but it was nothing that a dietary change and a healthier lifestyle couldn’t improve. Hell, he probably could’ve overcome it altogether if he picked up a dumbbell and threw an exercise routine into the mix.”

“You poisoned our father,” I say, the words coming out through gritted teeth. “I know what thallium sulfate is. It’s undetectable.”

“His doctors were stumped. All those tests. But that’s the thing, Eileen. When you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it.”

“You piece of shit.”

“Watch your mouth!” he snaps, then smiles again. “Besides, he had it coming. You and I were going to be the greatest couple in all of Chicago. You would’ve been by my side while I went about my mission to destroy the Karpovs. Look at you now, on the wrong side of the fence. But don’t worry, you and Ciara will be joining your father soon enough.”

“So, what exactly are you going to do?” I ask Sergei, trying to buy some time to come up with a plan.

“You should’ve stayed with me,” he says, each word dripping with fury and contempt. “I didn’t want to settle for your sister.”

I give Ciara an apologetic glance. “He’s off his rocker. You know that, right?”

“Ronan was still rooting for you to take over the Donovan business. It’s why I made the marriage proposal in the first place,” Sergei continues. “I never bought the Ciara angle. She doesn’t have your resilience, your clear head. More than once, she proved herself to be a spoiled brat. It’s a pity, too, the girl is smart, just not smart enough.”

“I’m going to make you eat those words,” Ciara hisses, fury finally pushing her fear aside. Good. I need her angry.

I squeeze her knee. “Don’t engage him.”

“See? This is what I mean. So easy to rile up. I was devastated when Karpov swooped in and won you, Eileen. The only reason I proposed to Ciara instead was because I needed another way into the family. If you weren’t going to come to me willingly so that I could finally grab the Donovan estate, I had to try a different approach.”

“Why are you so desperate to get my father’s fortune? You’re a powerful and influential man, Sergei. You don’t need us,” I say.

“He does need us,” Ciara groans.

“I’m going to kill you first,” Sergei replies, pointing a finger at her. “It’ll be ruled a suicide. Plenty of witnesses to confirm that you were unstable. You have been unstable ever since Karpov left you for your stepsister. Then your father died. It’ll be a tragedy.”

“You make it very hard not to promise you a world of pain, Sergei,” I shoot back. “Enough with the gloating.”

“That’s all he’s got. Gloating. He is out of money, Eileen. He’s been broke for a while now. Getting rid of his siblings seemed like a good idea until he realized that they were the ones keeping the Kuznetsov businesses running. Once he was left on his own, Sergei proved exactly how incompetent he truly is. One by one, his companies started going under. Throw in a gambling debt, and here he is. The mighty Sergei Kuznetsov is nothing more than a loser and a flop.”

He is about to lunge at her, but I get up, stopping him in his tracks. Hesitating, he scowls at Ciara.

“Is that true?” I ask him.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What are you going to do, Sergei? Kill us both and expect to get away with it? Have you forgotten about the treaty?”

For a moment, Sergei appears uncertain. Ciara is right. These are the actions of a desperate man who lied and who has to keep lying in order to save his own ass. It puts me at a slight advantage, provided I can buy us some time.

“Ciara’s death will be ruled a suicide. You’ll be diagnosed with a heart condition because of the pregnancy. There wasn’t anything anyone could do,” he mutters, completely dodging my question.

“Do you really plan to kill me and my unborn children? Sergei, I’m trying to reason with you here. My stepsister and I are still alive right now, and it’s in your best interest to keep it that way, because nobody’s going to buy your story. Anton already knows the truth. Your men left Ian back at the café.”

“Shut up!” he snaps. “Shut the hell up!”

He’s losing it. Good. It means he’s getting closer to the edge and he’s not thinking straight anymore.

I lower my gaze, the blood rushing through my veins as I struggle to keep myself calm and composed. I cannot allow him to see fear or despair on my face. Finally, after a lengthy, heavy silence where all I can hear is his ragged breathing, Sergei inhales sharply and walks back to the door.

“I’ll let you know when the marriage certificate gets here,” he says. “Paul will bring it over as soon as the judge signs it.”

He gives me one last glance over his shoulder. He’s screwed, and he knows it. He was playing fast and loose this whole time. This puts him in a whole new light. I thought he was calculated and five steps ahead of us. I was wrong.

Go figure.

It’s time for Sergei to meet his fate.