Chapter 36
Hotel Ritz, Paris, France
-
Dimitri Marick checked his reflection in the elaborately framed mirror, sufficiently content with what he saw. He had shaved and looked slightly less ragged than yesterday. Unlike, Sean, Sandrine and O'Toole who were slowly succumbing to the long, gruelling hours at the Auberge and had begun to arrive there in khakis, shorts and t-shirts, Dimitri couldn't bring himself to wear anything more casual than a crisp, short sleeved shirt and fitted slacks, with matching belt. Oddly enough the only other person who made it a point to keep up her appearance was the one he least expected to: Anna Devane.
"You'd find it amusing, darling, that your sister and I do have something in common after all. We share this misguided belief that if we appear to be in control, we might actually will ourselves to be in control," he mused aloud, turning his attention back to his son, asleep on his bed.
Dimitri saw him stir.
He watched as Andrei opened his arms into a full stretch and yawned loudly, nearly pushing the fluffy comforter off the king-sized bed before his eyes fluttered open. When he caught Dimitri staring at him his cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment.
"Did you sleep well?"
Andrei nodded, pulling the comforter up to his chin. "It is the biggest bed I ever sleep in."
"You can dream about it tomorrow when you're back in your dorm at Epsom."
Andrei narrowed his brows, shaking off his sleepiness. "No. I am not going back."
Dimitri sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to recall the conversation he had with his son last night.
"How in God's name did you get here?" he'd demanded after finding Andrei camped out in his hotel corridor.
"You gave me the address and telephone number of your hotel. I am not an idiot."
"How did you make your way here?"
Andrei had held up a credit card. A black American Express with Alex's name on it. It was a joint card with an obscenely high limit and Alex had simply given it to him.
"She said when I have an emergency, I can use it."
Dimitri had cringed, yet he knew the gesture shouldn't have surprised him. Alex had always trusted Andrei implicitly. Even during his troubled early days at Vadsel when he'd tried to run away and stolen jewellery from his teachers.
"You bought an airplane ticket with Alex's credit card?"
"No," Andrei had replied, as though it was a dumb question. "I cannot do that. I took out money from a bank machine and bought a train ticket. Two hours on the Chunnel train and I am in Paris."
"I am not going back," Andrei repeated. "Did you hear me?"
Dimitri sighed, back in the present. "Yes, I heard you. And yes, you are going back."
"You need my help to find Alex."
"No. I don't. I need to know you're safe and sound in England. So, I don't have to worry about you while I try to get Alex back. You have school and training…"
"That's stupid," Andrei pointed out. "You don't have to worry about me. I am not a child. Me, I can help you!"
"There is nothing you can do here!" Dimitri shot back.
"You still didn't find her!" Andrei countered, flipping his legs off the side of the bed, rearing for the verbal battle they were both too tired for last night. "It is clear that you need my help!"
Observing him, Dimitri's mind drifted back to the orphanage in Romania. On their first encounter Andrei had pushed Alex against a wall, and on their second he'd called Dimitri an idiot for refusing to pay the blackmail for the child he originally wanted to adopt.
'We've come a long way since then, haven't we?' he thought cynically.
Yet the truth was far from cynical. Dimitri loved him now, just as he'd have loved his flesh and blood. He was proud of the young man for adjusting to his new life better and faster than Dimitri would ever have expected him to. Andrei's English had improved dramatically. He had reigned in his stubborn independent streak in order to prove to that he was good enough to ride the best horse to come out of Marick stables in decades.
"There's nothing you can do here," Dimitri repeated, moving a crystal ashtray towards him as he lit a cigarette.
Andrei stared at him, his grey eyes annoyed. "Alex hates it when you smoke."
Dimitri moved his lips into a frown. "Alex isn't here now, is she?"
"She told me you were very sick when she first meets you. That smoking is worse for you then for other people. That it can make you sick again."
Dimitri rolled his eyes and put out the cigarette. "I definitely don't need you here to lecture me on my vices."
"I'm not going back until you find her," Andrei repeated.
"What about Tempus Fugit?" Dimitri asked. "You have a horse that needs you. Alex would hate it if you neglected him."
Andrei threw back his bed covers angrily. "I have no races this week! Tempus is not stupid, he understands that this week there is another person to take him for his exercises."
"And if in a week, we haven't found Alex?"
Andrei's face expressed its first hint of doubt. "You have to find…"
Dimitri straightened his back and stood up. "If in a week we haven't found her, you're going back to Epsom." It seemed like a reasonable compromise, even if Dimitri had no idea what Andrei was going to do in Paris for a week.
Andrei eyed him. "Do you think she is okay?"
Dimitri wanted to tell him about the phone call. If anyone had a right to know, it was Andrei. But telling him meant hearing her voice in his head again.
"I don't know, " he answered. It was the truth. The phone call hadn't exactly answered that question.
Andrei's grey eyes lined with tears. "What if she is not okay?" He asked the question in a way that begged for reassurance.
Dimitri clenched his teeth. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. It was the one question he wouldn't allow himself to answer.
"Stop it," Dimitri rebuked him.
The answer upset him and it made Andrei appear smaller and younger than he was. In that insntant, he wasn't a man yet, but a boy who wanted someone to take him into his arms.
Dimitri wondered what would happen to his steely resolve if he did just that.
"You're a Marick now," Dimitri told him harshly. "You don't cry and indulge in pointless what ifs."
Andrei blushed and wiped away an embarrassed tear.
Dimitri straightened his tie. "Get up and we'll have some breakfast downstairs."
Alexei Estate, North of Moscow, Russia
-
"Men don't just disappear off the face of the Earth!" Faison yelled into the telephone. "I want you to find him and to report back to me when you do, is that understood? It's a simple order, surely even you can handle that."
The man at the other end answered in French. Yes. Of course. If Jan Holstrom was to be found than he would find him. Had he let him down before?
Cesar Faison didn't bother answering the facetious question. He ended the call without another word.
"Where the hell are you, Jan?" he mumbled, just as a knock on the door stopped his frustration from mounting. There were few things Faison hated more than uncertainty and Jan's disappearance was filled with uncertainties.
"Come in," he barked, frowning when he saw the old English doctor enter his office.
"Good morning, Mr. Faison."
"What can I do for you, Dr. Thorpe?"
"I've seen both Scorpio and Anna, as you requested, and I came to tell you that I'm worried about Robert Scorpio because..."
"Tell me about Anna first," Cesar interrupted. "Have her injuries healed?"
Although Faison offered no invitation, the old doctor sat down across from him.
"She will need some physiotherapy but aside from that her injuries have healed well. It seems she was very fit before the accident."
Faison flashed a hint of pride. Anna's resilience never failed to impress him.
"She threw up before I saw her this morning and that's the one thing that concerns me; her continued nausea, " the doctor pointed out.
Faison's smile faded. "Is she reacting to the medication?"
The doctor chuckled. "She'd have to actually take it for that to occur. I still recommend you take her to a hospital for more extensive testing. Given her history of head trauma, she should have had an MRI, or at the very least a CT scan, knowing that she lost consciousness after her fall."
"She hasn't complained of headaches, has she?"
"No, but that doesn't mean…"
"No hospital," Faison reiterated with finality. "It's not what she wants."
Faison watched with pleasure as the doctor bit his tongue.
He took a sip of the cognac that stood on his desk. "Now, tell me about Scorpio."
"It's bad," the doctor started. "The bullet wound is gangrenous now…"
"I don't need details," Faison cut him off. "Give me a general report."
The old man, ran his fingers through his thick white beard. No aspects of this conversation seemed to perturb him and he accepted every interruption with nonchalance.
"His wound is infected. He also has pneumonia. If you leave him untreated, he could die sooner rather than later."
"That's what I sent you there to do this morning, isn't it? To treat him."
The doctor managed a smile. "There's only so much I can do for him in his current situation. I'm a physician not a miracle worker."
Faison felt increasingly annoyed. As if he needed yet another complication. Scorpio dying was not the issue. Scorpio dying before he told him how he found Alexei Estate was unacceptable. "How long?" he asked the doctor.
"Blood poisoning could kill him in days. He needs an IV, antibiotics…"
Faison frowned. "What do you need to do to lengthen his lifespan?"
The doctor inched forward, moving his hands from his beard to the desk top. "His living conditions are speeding up his demise. His mattress and blankets are filthy and blood stained. His cell is damp and cold." The doctor paused, "I saw two rats while I was there with him."
There was no accusation in the old man's voice. He was merely stating the facts.
Faison sighed. "There's an another cell adjacent to his. Well clean it out and move him there. Give him whatever he needs to treat his infection."
"That still doesn't solve the problem of the cold and the damp…"
Faison shrugged his shoulders. "Give him more blankets then."
He stared at the old man, curious as to how much he'd seen during his tenure as physician to some of Moscow's most notorious members of the mob. Nothing the old man had seen here at Alexei Estate seemed to disturb him in the slightest.
Doctor Thorpe got up, understanding that their meeting had ended. "Will do."
Faison appreciated the old man's discretion. In an era where gossip was equated with knowledge, discretion was an increasingly rare and valuable commodity.
"When you're done, please make yourself comfortable in one of the upstairs suites and tell Olga what you wish to dine on. I've already told Ivan you'll be staying another night."
"Yes, sir," the doctor replied with neither enthusiasm nor disappointment.
Faison barely noticed that he left the room. Scorpio wasn't the first thing on his mind, yet he would be damned if he let the arrogant Australian die before he made him talk.
His attention drifted to the Russian oil painting that hung on the wall. It featured nothing more than a vase and some flowers on a bare wooden table and yet it was one of Jan's favourites. Faison remembered the Swede saying something about the artist's clever use of light and his uncanny perception of depth and space.
Faison stared at it, unable to see past the bland colours and the uninspired floral arrangement.
"What is it that can possibly captivate you when you look at that?"
He thought he knew his assistant as well as anyone could know the quiet, meticulous man.
Faison took another sip of cognac. 'Should I be worried about you,' he thought glumly. 'Or is it me that I should be worried about?'
Auberge Augustin, Paris, France
Later
-
Anna Devane rubbed her eyes, pulling them away from the computer terminal that sat in front of her.
It had been a long morning.
Anna cringed when she thought back to the argument she had with David, after waking up three hours later than planned, following by Robin showing up unexpectedly at her apartment and not so unexpectedly taking David's side.
Rather than make her angry, Robin's presence made her realize just how easily her temper flared in recent weeks.
'I'm lousy at letting someone else take care of me,' she thought, glancing at her neatly bandaged wrist, grateful that, in the end, she hadn't left the apartment angry. That instead, she'd told David that she loved him. Not out of guilt or remorse, but because it was the truth.
Anna saw Sean heading out the door and hoisted up her purse and pulled out a container of Aspirin, shaking two pills into the palm of her hand. Maybe if she ate something along with them, the pulsing in her head wouldn't reach the point of making her feel sick.
"Another headache?" Sandrine Mutanga's voice startled her.
Anna wondered if ten seconds of unobserved privacy was really too much to ask for.
"My youngest sister, Marie-Therese has migraines," Sandrine pointed out. Her voice was soft and her expression kind, the combination of which made Anna feel guilty for being so irritated at her presence.
"She worries too much, my little sister, " Sandrine added with a smile. "When she has a migraine she goes into a dark room to close her eyes until they go away." Sandrine's smile faded, "But you, you just keep going. You don't even tell anyone."
Anna cringed at the observation. There was an unnerving frankness about Sandrine coupled with an eerie, inexplicable feeling that this woman knew her more intimately than she should.
"You'd keep going if someone kidnapped your sister wouldn't you?"
Sandrine's lips widened into another smile, "Yes, you are right. I would. But sometimes, it takes a strong person to admit they need help and that they cannot take care of everything by themselves."
Anna swallowed the pills with a sip of lukewarm coffee. "I'm not incapable of asking for help."
"I didn't mean…" Sandrine started.
"I'm sorry that your partner decided to go it alone," Anna cut her off. "I agree with you that he shouldn't have done what he did. You can't fight Cesar Faison alone. Trust me, I've learned that the hard way."
The comparison surprised the young woman and this time it was Sandrine who blushed. Anna thought it made her look even more strikingly beautiful than she was.
Anna put a hand over Sandrine's, feeling guiltier still for her irritation. "We're getting close. If we find my sister, there's good chance we'll fight out something about your partner as well."
"I hope so," Sandrine said softly. She turned her attention to the computer screen in front of her, as if wanting to change the subject. "Have you found any more connections that link Jan Holstrom to Cesar Faison?" she asked her.
Anna frowned. "I don't need to find any more links. The ones I have are screaming a connection to Faison and they are connections that I drew long before we ran into Jan on the street."
Sandrine pointed to a listing on the computer screen. "What about these? Why did you choose to put these in a separate file?"
"These are three instances of large scale financial transactions where I couldn't find a trail leading to Faison," Anna explained.
"You mean you have yet to find a link?"
Anna shook her head. "No. I don't believe there is a link."
Sandrine narrowed her brows, puzzled. "I don't understand. These are three huge transactions."
"They are," Anna told her. "They all have one thing in common."
"What?"
"Diamonds. African conflict diamonds being sold to some very eager buyers."
She watched as Sandrine pulled herself away from the screen, her dark skin losing a touch of its colour.
"It makes no sense. It's as though Jan Holstrom was acting on his own or on someone else's behalf during these transactions, because absolutely nothing leads us back to Faison."
Sandrine said nothing, staring at the computer screen in silence.
"Do you have any idea what he might have been doing?" Ana asked her. "You said you and your partner traced conflict diamonds back to Faison and yet, ironically this is the one time I can't find a connection…"
"No," Sandrine shook her head, clearly perturbed. "I can't see a connection here…"
"Sandrine…?" Anna asked. There was something odd about Sandrine's reaction to her findings.
She watched as the young woman made an effort to compose herself.
"You are right," Sandrine agreed. "You have more than enough proof linking Jan Holstrom to Cesar Faison."
Anna leaned back in her chair and sighed. "If Sean and Dan don't get something out of him soon, I swear I'm going to do it myself…"
Both Sean and O'Toole had insisted… no, not insisted, they ordered, that she keep her distance from Jan Holstrom.
"Both you and Dimitri are too close to this case to interrogate this man. Leave it up to us. We will get him to talk," they had told her. Sandrine had agreed with them and Anna had eventually agreed with reluctance. Neither she nor Dimitri had so much as seen Jan since they brought him in yesterday.
'And he still hasn't given us a damn thing,' Anna thought angrily.
Dan O'Toole interrupted her thoughts when he entered the room with a computer print out. "Good news," he announced. "We've narrowed down the origins of the call as coming from one of three main telecommunications towers, two of which are outside of Moscow."
"That only tells us what we already knew," Anna pointed out. "That Alex is in Russia."
"It confirms our guess," Dan corrected her.
Sandrine excused herself. "I need to make a phone call to Sampson. He's expecting to hear from me."
Anna turned her gaze to O'Toole. "Russia is the largest nation in the world! Limiting my sister's whereabouts to within several hundred miles of three telecommunications towers is like trying to find a needle in a haystack!"
"It's a hell of a lot more than we've had since we started looking," Dan reminded her.
Anna stood up to stretch her aching muscles. "Look… you're right. It's amazing to finally have a lead after all this time. But…" Anna pointed to the door that led to Jan Holstrom. "There's a man in there who knows exactly where my sister is while we're playing connect the dots? Tell me that's not driving you crazy?"
"We don't know that, Devane," Dan corrected her again. "We have no idea whether this guy is close enough to Faison to actually be familiar with his current whereabouts. Or if he's ever seen Alex."
"He has, damn it!" Anna shot back. "You know that as well as I do." She waved at the computer terminal. "Here, take a look, we have proof coming out our ears!"
Anna sat back down, loosening the belt on her fitted skirt. She knew her attire was a tribute to her sister. Anna remembered how during Robin's breakdown her sister had spent countless hours at her daughter's bedside and never looked the part.
"You spend the night sleeping on a hospital chair, sis. It's not right that you still look like a million bucks."
Alex had blushed at the compliment. "It's an old habit. If I look like I can't even keep myself together, my patients wouldn't trust my skills as a doctor." She'd smiled, "It's silly, really, because the most brilliant researchers I know are complete slobs. But sometimes perception is everything. When I was still practising, I needed my patients to have an unshakeable faith in me. Because faith instills confidence and when people are facing death, every thread of hope counts."
' "Perception is everything",' Anna repeated, in her mind, wondering if her sister realized that one day her life would depend on it.
"We have proof that Jan Holstrom did business with Faison," Dan O'Toole pointed out to Anna. "But that's it. Theoretically, it could have been months since Holstrom last met with Faison."
"Yeah, right." She raised her eyebrows, surprised to see they were the only people in the room. "Where's Sean?" she asked.
"He went to the computer shop on Rue Alsace. There's a software glitch on his terminal…"
"Great," Anna mumbled.
"You look like you could use some fresh air too."
"What I could use is some reassurance that you and Sean are doing everything you can to extract the information we need from Jan Holstrom."
"We're doing everything we can, short of beating it out of him," Dan answered.
"Why stop there?" Anna asked him dryly.
Because he couldn't tell whether she was joking, O'Toole's eyes narrowed with disbelief. "I didn't hear that…"
"If Faison finds out the truth, there's no telling what he'll do to Alex. Us finding her in time could mean the difference between life and death," Anna reminded him, ignoring his look of disapproval. "Knowing that, why the hell are we treating this man with kid gloves?"
Dan O'Toole's expression hardened. "Because last time I checked we were officers of the law. Simply by keeping him here against his will, we're already breaking the law…I won't go any further than that, Devane."
"You don't have to."
Dan didn't hide his revulsion at the suggestion. "I think you really do need to step outside for a few minutes."
Anna leaned back in her chair. O'Toole didn't understand. He couldn't understand because it wasn't his sister. If Jan talked they wouldn't have to waste time tracking phone calls and taking educated guesses as to where they might have originated.
A sudden idea occurred to her and Anna took a deep breath, allowing herself to process it.
"Fine," She said, picking up her purse. "I'll take your advice and get some fresh air to clear my mind. Did you want me to grab you something?"
The relief on Dan's face was obvious. "Yeah, an éclair from that pastry shop down the road. Not the one around the corner, but the one on Rue Bleury. Vanilla not chocolate."
Anna smirked. "Should I be writing this down?" She turned to the younger woman. "Sandrine?"
"Nothing for me," Sandrine replied.
Anna left the suite and headed into staircase that led to the ground level, several stories below. Instead of taking the stairs down, she sat down on the steps and glanced at the silver watch face of her Raymond Weil watch.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Then she picked up her cell phone to call Dan.
"Hey," she said, adding a touch of irritation into the tone of her voice. "I'm at the pastry shop. I forgot my wallet…would you mind terribly bringing it down to me? So I don't have to go back?"
Dan grumbled something about not wanting to leave Sandrine alone with Jan Holstrom in the suite.
"There's no way he can get out," Anna told him. She sighed a sigh of relief when Dan agreed. "It must have fallen out of my purse, by the desk."
From the stairwell, Anna heard him leave the suite. Although she was certain he'd take the elevator, she moved up two flights of stairs, just in case.
In the distance, Anna heard the elevator door open and took another glance at her watch.
One minute.
Five.
Even at a brisk pace, it would take him a good ten minutes to walk to the pastry shop. Another ten to walk back.
'Twenty minutes alone with Jan Holstrom is more than enough time,' she thought.
Anna opened the door of the suite, only to see Sandrine's surprised face stare back at her.
"Anna? You are back? Did you not see Dan?"
"I did," Anna said, setting down her cell phone. "He decided to stay out for a few minutes."
"Oh…"
"There's a file in the other room, in the cabinet, with the heading Mittermeier," Anna told her, sitting back down at her desk. "Could you do me a favour and grab it for me?"
Sandrine nodded, "Sure."
Anna watched as the young woman left the room and went into the adjoining bedroom, to the hastily erected filing cabinet that stood next to one of the beds. There was such a disarray of laptops, chairs, paper piles and other office equipment strewn everywhere that, at times, she forgot that this was also a two-bedroom hotel suite, complete with beds and other furniture that they used mostly as space to pile their supplies on.
Anna knew the Mittermeier file folder was sitting on her desk. Knew that Sandrine wouldn't find it in the cabinet.
'But she'll try,' she thought with a stab of guilt as she walked quietly towards Dan's desk.
The third room was where Jan Holstrom was held prisoner. It was locked shut with a simple drugstore lock. One that Anna knew she could have picked in less than a minute. But that was more time than it would take to open it with the actual key.
The lock wasn't meant to keep her out. It was meant to keep Jan Holstrom in.
Anna pulled the lock's keys from the top drawer of Dan's desk and moved towards the door.
She opened the lock without the slightest noise.
From the corner of her eyes, she spotted Sandrine kneeling by the filing cabinet looking for the file that wasn't there.
It wouldn't take Sandrine long to figure out what she had done. Nor would it be long until Dan returned.
'It doesn't matter,' Anna thought, biting her lip as she opened the door and closed it shut behind her, fastening the lock from the inside this time. 'A few minutes alone with him is all I need…'
And there he was. His long, spindly arms awkwardly handcuffed to the iron railing of the bed, his face red and bruised as a result of their sidewalk scuffle.
Anna stared at him with disgust.
"Hello, Mr. Holstrom."
Alexei Estate, North of Moscow, Russia
-
"I'm sorry," Alex whispered, running her hand along the horse's neck. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
The horse had balked when she first stepped near it this afternoon. Afraid. Mistrusting.
Alex didn't blame it.
It took nearly an hour of coddling and coaxing before the animal allowed her to approach it, and when it finally did, Alex rewarded it with two apple slices and a sugar cube, lowering her head against its mane, humbled by the animal's willingness to give her a second chance.
"It was a really stupid thing to do," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
Faison had told her that after she was thrown from the horse and knocked unconscious, the animal had returned to stay at her side until Faison reached her. It was a kindness she hadn't deserved after terrifying the horse.
Now Alex wanted nothing more than to jump on the horses back, but even if she made it up on her injured leg, she knew she'd be pushing her luck. It would also be asking too much of an animal that didn't owe her anything.
"Thank you," she said softly. "Thank you for your…"
She couldn't finish her sentence.
"That's amazing," a voice announced behind her back.
Alex turned around to see Faison's silhouette walking towards her, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hands. He was a dark figure, emerging from a halo of bright, afternoon light as he stepped into the darkness of the stable.
"No one has been able to approach her since your fall."
Alex's face flushed and she wondered how long he'd been watching her. "It took a bit of time," she said.
"But still," he said, as the horse turned away from them and headed back into the open pen. "I'm surprised she would let you near her. You of all people."
Alex shrugged. "It's the sugar cube."
"No, it's more than that," Faison countered, observing her as he always did. "You have a way with horses. I had no idea."
"No," Alex denied. "I'm just…persistent."
"Alright," Faison smiled. A gust of wind from the open door blew his shoulder length hair into his face. "If you won't accept my compliment."
Alex took a deep breath. Defensive. She was always much too defensive.
She noticed now, when the horse was gone, that her leg was throbbing from having stood on it for so long.
"I should sit down," she told him.
He nodded, putting a protective arm around her waist just as Dimitri might have done. "Come, let's sit in the shade," he told her as they walked towards the cover of the nearest tree. A broad maple tree with welcoming branches full of bright green leaves.
Faison ran his fingers along her arm. "You're getting a sun burn."
Alex wasn't surprised. Before coming into the stables she'd spent at least an hour outside in the warmth of the afternoon sun. It had been days since she was last outside. The tan she sported before being kidnapped was now replaced with a pallor that would undoubtedly burn in the bright sunshine.
She didn't resist when he helped her down to the grass and Alex welcomed the coolness of the shade. It was a gorgeous day and the blue sky above them was full of white, cotton-candy clouds.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked, taking a seat alongside her, using his arms to prop himself up from the ground.
Alex shook her head. "No."
She watched as he pulled a cigar from his pocket. She wanted to close her eyes and imagine she wasn't here, but back at Vadsel. It wasn't difficult to envision. While it lacked the rolling hills of the Hungarian countryside, the landscape was not unlike that of Vadsel.
There were corral fences. Horses. And a huge cast-iron gate. Except here it kept visitors out, rather than welcomed them in.
'And, after a ride, Dimitri might have done just what you're doing now. He might have lit a cigar, even though I would have told him not to. And then we might have made love…'
The smell of cigar smoke entered her nostrils. Was it possible that the man she loved and this man she loathed smoked the same brand? Or was she imagining an identical scent?
Alex leaned against the tree trunk and stared at the leaves rustling above her. It was a dreamily beautiful setting. Proof that evil could lurk in the most angelic spaces.
She shivered when Faison's face came back into her view.
He smiled at her. "I spoke to Doctor Thorpe this morning. He says you'll need some physical therapy."
"When I've recovered I want to leave the estate."
Faison's smile faded.
"You've told me I'm not a prisoner," Alex pressed. "Then prove it. Let me come and go as I please."
"Where do you want to go?"
Alex shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know…I need to know I'm not trapped here, that's all. Maybe Moscow? I want to see people. I need clothes. Clothes of my choosing." Save for Anna's black blouse and jeans, everything she wore since coming to Alexei estate had been hand picked by Faison and Olga, including the yellow dress she wore today.
Alex could see the conflict on Faison's face. He didn't want to deny her the request, yet he knew he couldn't honour it.
"You're not a prisoner," he conceded. "But I know you're still angry with me. If I let you go, I'm not sure I can expect you to come back to me yet."
Yet. Alex marvelled at his choice of words. Faison truly believed that Anna would grow to love him in time. It was a frightening reminder of the depth of his delusion.
A delusion that was also her biggest advantage.
Alex watched as he exhaled a wispy trail of cigar smoke, wishing she could the same. Wishing she could rise and escape into the sky like a wisp of smoke, impossible to capture.
Sitting put more pressure on her thigh than was comfortable and Alex used her arms to lie down onto the soft grass below noting its sweet, fresh smell in contrast to the harsh, musky cigar smoke.
"You don't trust me," she told him, looking up at him. "I understand."
"Trust comes with time. I want to trust you, Anna."
Alex stared at the sky. "It is beautiful here," she admitted. "I can imagine not wanting to leave this place."
Faison smiled, as he exhaled another whiff of smoke. "It means a lot to me, to have you say that."
Alex propped herself up next to him, noticing that he smoked the cigar without any pleasure. It was more of a need than enjoyment. "You seem anxious…is something wrong?"
His eyes creased into a smile, lining his pockmarked face more deeply than it already was. "No…not anymore. Not when I'm next to you. You remind me how lucky I've become."
His stare made her uncomfortable.
One of his hands moved to caress her cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "So much that I love about you can't be measured or seen…your strength, your spirit," Faison said with a smile. "Sometimes it makes me forget how very beautiful you are."
He moved closer, his face mere inches from hers.
Alex bristled at the closeness, wanting to pull away. At the same time his voice echoed in her mind.
"I want to trust you, Anna."
"So beautiful…"
His hand now rested on the back of her neck, cradling her head.
Nausea rose in her throat and Alex wondered if Faison could hear the pounding of her heart.
His lips touched hers before Alex was fully aware of what he was doing.
"I want to trust you, Anna."
This kiss was different from the hungry, uncontrolled assault he planted on her lips before her fall off the horse.
This time it was gentle. Warm. Curious.
He explored her with unhurried delight, knowing he could take his time now. Confident that she would enjoy it just as much as he was.
It made her feel sick.
"I want to trust you, Anna."
Alex closed her eyes and fought back the nausea.
And when she was fairly certain that she'd won the battle, she moved her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.