Wolfgang taps his steering wheel restlessly, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to watch for a lumbering yellow bus or, more annoyingly, Polizei. He's parked illegally in the bus lane: back enough to avoid glares from people waiting in the shelter, but near enough for Kala to spot him immediately.
He checks the clock on the dashboard. It is already twenty minutes after six in the evening; it shouldn't take Kala longer than five or six minutes to walk the two blocks from work to the bus stop. His gaze shifts to the corner across the street, where pedestrians wait impatiently for the light to change, umbrellas raised against the cool spring drizzle. A quick glance confirms that Kala is not among them. Wolfgang looks back at the rearview mirror.
He gives a short exhale, resisting the urge to smoke. The dark mood that dogged him most of the day still lingers, despite the fact that he's waiting for Kala, that he knows she is safe and still in Berlin.
His thoughts shift to this morning: how he had arrived at Kala's building straight from the club, an hour, maybe two before sunrise. He had waited outside of her building until it was obvious she was not coming out. It occurred to him that she might be sick and staying home. But he'd felt uneasy, and so he stepped out of his car and walked to the entrance of her building. He pushed the buzzer to her unit, waited to give her a chance to get out of bed and answer, maybe shoo him away. When she didn't, he blocked the view to the door and picked the ancient lock.
The rain comes down harder against his windshield. Wolfgang turns on the wipers to see more clearly, his gaze flickering between the rear view mirror and the new group of pedestrians that gather restlessly at the crosswalk.
He had knocked on Kala's door and waited until the silence at the other end grew too deafening. He picked the lock to her flat and let himself inside, calling her name; wary, cautious. There was no answer from Kala.
The apartment had felt eerie: off in a way that reminded him so strongly of his old life that he almost reached for a gun that he no longer carries. He had walked through Kala's living room, eyeing the spartan furnishings, neat and undisturbed; to the small kitchen, the dining table. The bathroom. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
Inevitably, his path led to her partially open bedroom. He noted the bed first: still made, not slept in; then the laptop missing from the desk and the full wardrobe that was now half empty. A suitcase was also missing. Wolfgang's initial relief was quickly tempered. He didn't know what to think. Other than Kala was gone.
Wolfgang's eyes refocus to the corner across the street. He frowns slightly, squinting, and releases a breath. Kala crosses the street with a small crowd of people, breaking away just before the curb. He watches her approach his car with rapid steps, the wind whipping at her hair, nearly inverting her umbrella. She opens the passenger door and slips into her seat, using the umbrella to shield her before hastily folding it and shutting the door.
"Hi," Kala says breathlessly, flashing a quick smile as she lays the umbrella on the floor beside her tote. She sits up, brushes her hair back from her face with damp fingers. She catches Wolfgang's stare and drops her gaze as she reaches for her seatbelt, her cheeks flush. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
It takes Wolfgang a moment to realize he watches Kala with a fierce expression that she misunderstands. "No," he says sharply, then grunts at how much worse he must sound. "You didn't. I was just thinking..." He exhales, starts again: "I'm sorry. I don't know if I messed up your plans for tonight. I just wanted to see you, make sure you're ok."
Kala turns her gaze back to him, eyes guarded. "I'm ok, Wolfgang," she tells him "I'm fine."
"Even though, because of me, you had to leave your place last night?" He can't help the harsh tone in his voice. He can imagine her fear at finding the note from Lila in her room; she must have been terrified. "Did you try and call me?" he asks.
Kala nods once, eyes dark.
Wolfgang's mouth sets, guilt washing over him. He was flippant in letting a day go by without talking to Kala even though he knew Lila had taken his phone, when he suspected Lila was up to something. He should have sent Yeruslan back to Kala's flat. He should have checked on Kala himself.
Kala watches him, her expression softening. "There's no need to look like that," she says at last, as if finally realizing the forbidding look he gives is not for her. "I'm fine."
"I was worried when I didn't see you this morning," he tells her, anger seeping into his tone. "I should have checked on you last night."
Kala gives a slight shake of her head. "How could you have known?"
Wolfgang's frown deepens. He reaches for her, fingers burying in her damp hair, as if to reassure himself that she is really here. "I should have known," he tells her, watching her face, at the dark warmth in her eyes, at her mouth parting on an exhale. "I should have known," he murmurs again, and he is suddenly kissing her: rough, quick, almost desperate with relief and guilt and need.
He is surprised by the need.
Wolfgang drags his mouth from hers. His heart races as he presses his forehead against Kala's, lips lightly grazing against hers. "Kala." She sighs against his mouth.
The glaring light and irate horn from the bus disrupts them. Wolfgang curses as they separate, his expression no less fierce than it had been when Kala first arrived. She smiles a little, settles back in her seat, face flushed. They say nothing as he leaves the bus lane, merging quickly with traffic.
His mind feels cluttered, dulled. Wolfgang drives a block or two before he realizes they have no real destination. He darts a look at Kala. "Are you hungry?" he asks. "Do you want to eat somewhere? Or do you want me to take you to your hotel?"
Kala gives a small nod. "I'd like to go back home," she says, weary, "but I can't do that now. Not tonight. Can you take me to the Neue Hotel Berlin? It's not far from my apartment."
He nods, vaguely recalling a narrow brick building with blue neon lights maybe five kilometres from her building.
Kala gives a small smile. "My room number is the same as my flat. Strange, isn't it?"
He nods again, flashes a quick, answering smile. "Odd," he agrees.
"Yes." Her voice seems to taper, distracted.
He changes lanes, turns a corner at the next light.
"Wolfgang?" Kala catches her bottom lip. She seems to consider what to say before she simply leans forward, grabs something from her tote that she places on the tray in the center console. "Here."
Wolfgang looks down and feels the blood drain from his face. The generic screen-lock picture on the cellphone in the console fades to black. "My phone," he says.
Kala nods. "Yes." She takes a shaky breath. "Lila gave it to me. She used it to message me. I thought I was meeting you at the coffee shop by work this morning, but it was her. She was waiting for me."
Wolfgang's hands tighten around the steering wheel, eyes keep to the street. Kala has nothing to do with the Kings. She has nothing to do with Lila's ambitions. The thought of Lila interacting with Kala - someone outside of her circle; someone so obviously not part of that world - fills him with white-hot anger. And dread.
He brings the car to a stop at a traffic light, glances at Kala's profile. "Did Lila threaten you?" He can hear the slight tremble in his own voice, his fury palpable.
"No."
Kala doesn't look at him, but he sees the restlessness in her body; how she plucks at the seatbelt on her lap, shifts slightly in her seat. His jaw clenches. "What happened?"
Kala catches her bottom lip. She hesitates, considers before she answers: "She tried to warn me about you. She said to stay away from you for my own good; that you're a very dangerous man. She said if I didn't believe her, I should look through the contacts on your phone. That the people on it reveal the person you really are."
The evening rain grows harder. Wolfgang adjusts his windshield wipers as he makes his turn.
"Did you do it?" His voice is remarkably even. He may as well be asking what she ate for lunch.
Kala looks quickly at him, mouth pressing firmly together before she answers. "Of course not."
His brows lift in surprise. "No?"
Kala's profile is stark against the shadows cast by the street lights. "No."
He changes lanes, overtakes a slower driver. He is afraid to ask, but does so anyway: "Why didn't you?"
Kala averts his gaze altogether. She looks outside the passenger window, hands finally still. "It doesn't matter, does it?" she says. "We're not together for real. When Lila is gone, we go back to our normal lives. You're entitled to keep your secrets, Wolfgang."
He says nothing for a moment. Everything she says is true.
Yet, illogically, it annoys him; irritates him more than it should. He glances at her, but her face remains turned away, watching the rain outside.
"Aren't you worried?" he asks. He's not sure what devil prompts him, but he can't stop himself from the deep sarcasm in his voice, at the smirk he gives her. "Don't you think you should know if I'm a dangerous man? You're alone with me now, and who knows what can happen?"
He suddenly remembers their first meeting a month ago - how can it have been only a month? - when she had stated very practically that if anything happened to her, Lukas Fischer would suspect him and Felix.
Wolfgang had been surprised and even a little impressed by her logic; Felix had openly relished it. But Kala had not been privy to the Big Joke, then; the irony was lost on her.
And here they are now.
His mind feels numb, although maybe there's relief to think that Kala suspects the truth. How could she not, when he has no doubt that Lila filled in details to convince her? Kala should be frightened that she's in a car, alone, with the notorious Wolfgang Bogdanow. She should be fucking terrified to be anywhere near him.
He turns another corner, scoffs quietly. "Anything can happen," he says again. "And who would know, yeah? When you're with a monster like me."
Kala finally turns to face him, but the look she gives is not what he expects: brows drawn, mouth grim. She doesn't look the least bit afraid.
"Why do you do that?" she asks sharply, cheeks flushed.
He turns away from her accusatory stare. "Do what?"
She frowns, huffs in frustration. "Why are you deliberately trying to frighten me?" she asks.
His brows snap together. "I'm not trying to frighten you," he says curtly.
"You are." Kala turns her eyes forward, face stoney.
He says nothing as he drives on. Kala is equally silent.
She is angry, visibly so. He can feel the ire practically radiating from her.
Wolfgang releases a huff, unsure why she is so upset. He should laugh that instead of frightening her away, he only served to make her furious.
He glances at her as he stops at another light. Kala does not turn, eyes ahead.
That she reacts like this confuses him. And makes him uneasy.
Because she's right. He wants to scare her. She needs to know he is dangerous. He isn't a good man. He thought to watch shock creep into her eyes, and then fear; she would hate him, and she would be right to do so.
But he didn't expect anger. Not her anger. He's unsure how to react to it.
Except.
Wolfgang exhales slowly. "I'm sorry," he says, for the second time already. He knows the moment she turns to look at him: He can feel her stare, but he can't bring himself to meet her gaze. The light changes and he eases forward, eyes on the traffic, on the lights; anything but her. "Iam trying to scare you. But maybe it's for your own good. Because I'm not a good person, Kala."
He knows she still looks at him. He feels uncomfortable; as if she sees through him.
She turns back, looks down at her hands. "Wolfgang, you might believe that," she says quietly, "but I don't."
His breath catches, face heats, embarrassed, almost, by how sure she seems. If she only knew, he thinks. But maybe she does. Maybe she guesses.
They arrive at the hotel and he pulls up at the door, close enough for Kala to avoid the downpour.
"Are you coming up?" she asks.
"I don't know," he tells her. "I should go back to the club."
There's a pause, a slight flicker in Kala's eyes before she nods. "Ok," she says lightly, opening her door to get out. "Goodnight, then."
He watches her walk quickly into the hotel. He watches for several minutes even though she disappears from view.
Scheiße.
Wolfgang pulls away from the hotel and drives around the corner. He parks his car on the street, sits for a moment before he gets out. He doesn't have an umbrella.
He walks to the Neue Berlin and into the lobby, nods absently at the lone attendant staring behind the front desk, at the guest getting out of the elevator as he gets in.
He goes up to the third floor, finds the room with the same number as Kala's flat, and knocks.
She opens the door, eyes wide at the picture he must present, soaked to the skin, hair still dripping into his eyes.
"I've changed my mind," he says softly.
Kala releases a breath. She opens the door wider and lets him inside.
A/N: A few weeks ago, the lovely @inc.di.incantava posted an excerpt of the last chapter on her account and received a "like" from the actress playing our favorite villain, Lila. So...I have NOT come down yet from both the thrill and the sheer embarrassment of thinking Valeria Bilello might have checked out the last chapter out of curiosity. THAT SAID, Lila isn't in this chapter But I had to share that story because it's about as much excitement as this writer is likely to ever have! :) Thank you, Cuz!!!A huge THANK YOU to @Halcyon_Red for taking the time to beta even though I seem to hit her up around every holiday. Sorry!!!!And thank you for reading! As always, reviews are much appreciated3