Vicious Protector by Maggie Cole

16

Skylar

Obrecht leadsme to the car, and we get in. For several minutes, we don't speak. When the driver stops outside my work building, Obrecht unrolls the divider window. "Give us a minute."

"Sure," the driver says, and the window closes.

Obrecht gives me a small smile. "My brother likes you."

"Is this where you tell me you don't?" I nervously ask.

He jerks his head back. "No. Not at all. Why would you think that?"

"I was being sarcastic."

"Oh. Gotcha."

I clear my throat. "Sorry. You were saying?"

He pins his icy-blue eyes on me. They're replicas of Adrian's and Svetlana's, but something about Obrecht's is different. There's a warmth in them Adrian doesn't possess, as if he's your friend. I noticed it the first time I ever laid eyes on him. He restates, "Adrian likes you."

"I like him, too."

He nods. "My mother likes you."

"I like her, too," I repeat like a broken record. It's the truth though. Adrian made Svetlana sound like a basket case, but all I see is a strong woman who is also sweet as sugar. In many ways, she reminds me of Adrian.

"You can add me to the I-like-you-too list," he says then winks.

"Umm...thanks." Where is he going with this? My stomach swarms with jitters.

His face turns serious. His Russian accent becomes thicker. "You and your friends need to consider your safety a little better."

"I know, I'm sorry—"

He holds up his hand. "I'm not judging or trying to talk down to you, but there's a lot of bad people out there."

"I know."

He shifts in his seat and leans forward. "No. You don't know, and I hope you never do. My family, we know this too well. So if an Ivanov says to do something for your safety, it's best not to fight it. There's a reason for everything we do. Nothing is ever by chance."

"I didn't know," I admit, feeling guilty about how I fought Adrian over not taking public transportation in the middle of the night by myself. It seemed extreme at the time, but now all I can think about is how stupid I was for arguing with Adrian about it. After all, I know he's overly cautious.

Obrecht's jaw clenches. "You couldn't have."

There's a knock on the window, and my gut drops when I turn toward it. Through clenched teeth, I ask, "What is she doing here?"

Dasha's long blonde hair is blowing in the wind. She has silver mirrored sunglasses, red lips, and perfectly manicured fingers. A red minidress fits her curves perfectly.

"I can't discuss it."

I gape at Obrecht as horror fills me. "Are you...oh my God!"

A confused expression fills his face. "What?"

"You're dating Adrian's ex-wife?" I whisper so Dasha can't hear.

"Fuck no!" he says in an insulted tone.

She knocks again. In her thick Russian accent, she demands, "Let me in."

I glance at her then back at Obrecht. I continue to whisper, "She looks dressed for a date. You look dressed for a date..." I point to his suit.

"Skylar, if anyone hates Dasha more than Adrian, it's me. Whatever you think, I can assure you is not happening."

"Obrecht! Open up!" Dasha says and tries to open the door.

"Then why is she here?" I harshly whisper.

"Adrian knows. If he wants to tell you, that's his choice."

"Seriously?" I spout.

"Yes. And I didn't know you would see her, so I'm sorry."

"You're outside my office building. You were meeting her here?"

"No." He points to the tower next door. "She lives there."

My stomach flips. Dasha lives next to my work. Ugh. Can she just go away and leave us alone? "The windows are blacked out."

"She knows my car and driver."

"But you're not dating?" I ask, suspicious again.

"Have I not said fuck no loud enough?" he asks in a pissed and annoyed tone.

"She wants Adrian back. Why are you meeting her?"

He avoids my question. "Yes. I knew she would eventually return."

My entire body tightens. "Because she loves Adrian?"

He scoffs and looks out the window at her. "No. She's never really loved Adrian. He thinks she did, but she didn't."

Anger and sadness consume me. There are so many things about Adrian to fall in love with. He deserved to have a wife who loved him. I despise thinking about what I assume his past life with Dasha was like and guess it's all I can do, since Adrian and I don't talk about her. Even though I can't stand the thought of Dasha with Adrian, I would rather she did love him during their marriage than not.

"Because she loves you?" I ask.

He groans. "Skylar, I like you, but you need to listen better. I wouldn't let Dasha anywhere near my dick. Can you get past whatever scenario you're playing out in your head?"

I sigh. "Okay. Sorry. But if she never loved him, then why would she come back?"

"Why does anyone go to anyone? Protection. Love. Money. Sex. Power. I suspect her motives are a combination of all those things. And in her warped mind, she thinks she loved Adrian."

"Obrecht!" She knocks again.

He cracks the window and speaks to her in Russian. She says something, and he softens his voice. She rattles something else off then sighs and steps back.

He closes the glass and pins me with his gaze. "No one wants to see you get hurt, Skylar. Listen to Adrian when he tries to keep you safe. We don't do it to play games."

Guilt rears its ugly head, mixing with my annoyance and jealousy that Dasha is standing outside the car. "I need to go."

"Hold on." He rolls the divider window down and instructs his driver, "Watch Dasha. I'll be back."

Obrecht gets out and reaches in for me. When I step out of the car, Dasha purses her lips. Staring me down in her six-inch heels, she speaks Russian. The only word I recognize is Adrian.

"Don't speak his name," I sneer at her.

She steps forward. Her rose scent makes me nauseous.

"Dasha," Obrecht warns.

A smile curves her mouth. She firmly says, "Mrs. Adrian Ivanov. My name, not yours."

"No. You don't own Adrian's name anymore," I tell her then step closer. "You never deserved it."

She condescendingly says, "No? My name is Ivanov. Yours—"

"That's enough, Dasha," Obrecht reprimands then speaks aggressively in Russian. He points to the car, and the driver opens the door.

Obrecht says something else I don't understand, and Dasha glares and gets in the car. Obrecht puts his hand on my back and escorts me into the building. "I apologize you had to see her and... Jesus, just because she's her."

I stop next to the security desk. "You aren't acting. You honestly don't like her, do you?"

He shakes his head. "No. I don't. I do, however, like you. You seem good for Adrian even though you're Aspen's friend."

"What's wrong with Aspen?"

"She's engaged to Maksim."

"Is there something about Maksim I should know?"

"No. Just...it doesn't matter. The point I'm trying to make is we all like you better, so make sure you stay safe, okay?"

How many times is he going to warn me about safety?"Yes. I think you've been extremely clear."

"Great. I have to go deal with the snake in a dress. Call Adrian when you get off work." He turns, but I reach for his arm.

"Wait!"

Obrecht spins and raises his eyebrows.

"Um...is Adrian..." I take a deep breath. "Is he okay right now? He spins out at times and—"

"He told you?"

"Yes."

He studies my face and cautiously replies, "He'll be fine. It's good you have work so he has a few hours by himself. He needs to stay away from people when he goes down the rabbit hole."

"But you don't?"

Obrecht's face hardens.

"Sorry. I don't mean to pry, but you're brothers, and I'm sure it was just as tragic for you." I bite on my lip, not sure why I'm asking Obrecht a question so personal. "Sorry, you don't have to answer if you don't want. It isn't my business."

"I cope in other ways."

"Skylar! Everyone is upstairs. You're holding up our progress," my boss's voice rings in my ears.

I close my eyes. Yep, because I'll be the one directing and designing everything. I open my eyes. Obrecht's are in slits and directed at Bowmen. I mumble, "I have to go."

"Skylar!" Bowmen barks.

Obrecht steps forward, but I move in front of him. I quietly say, "It's my boss. Don't." I'm not sure what he'll do, but I don't need any altercations with Bowmen. I have to pick and choose my battles, and this isn't one of them.

A low growl comes out of Obrecht. He tears his glare away from Bowmen. "Have a good night."

"Thanks." I quickly spin and join my boss.

Bowmen's face is red. He shakes his head at me and runs his hand through his bright-blue hair, which is his color of the week. "What are you doing down here? I've been looking everywhere for you."

I force a smile and put on my most cheerful voice. "I'm here."

He pushes the elevator button and glances toward the door where Obrecht is still standing, scowling. "Who is that? New boyfriend?"

None of your business."Nope." The doors open, and I step into the elevator. "So what do you think we need for the new pieces?"

Bowmen stands next to me, and I press the button for the fourteenth floor. The doors shut, and he replies, "Let's make this into a training session. What do you think the collection is lacking?"

My insides twist, and I count to ten. This is Bowmen's way of trying to make me think he has all the ideas, and he's adding value to my skills. In reality, it means he has no plan. This entire addition is on a whim because something happened that caused his confidence to shake. Now, the entire office will have to pump him back up so we can leave. Even though I created almost the entire collection, I know what Bowmen needs to hear.

Best to give him credit and mad props.

I swallow my pride and think of my paycheck. "I think the line you created is the best work you've done. The statement pieces are edgy and trendy. I wouldn't want any distraction."

"You don't think we need more?"

"We have five more items than normal. Are you trying to trick me?" I ask in a teasing tone, hoping he'll forget about this idea and let everyone go home. Adrian and Obrecht may claim I need to stay away from Adrian when he spins out, but I'm worried about him and don't want him by himself, even if it means I stay in a different room until he snaps out of it.

"No, I'm not. So tell me what you believe is lacking."

Crap. There's no getting out of it. I'm going to be here all night.

The elevator opens. As we make our way through the hall and into our office suite, I cringe. Adding anything to the collection could destroy the value and demand for it. Too much isn't always better. We also only have a week, so this is nearly impossible. Anything we add has to align with fabrics and other material we already have. Against my better judgment, I tell Bowmen the truth. "I don't see what would enhance what we have. I'm sorry, but I think we should stick with what we've done and not add anything."

The doors open, and he snaps, "Wrong answer!"

Awesome. Ugh.

I shouldn't push Bowmen's buttons. He doesn't have any ideas for this unnecessary project, but there is nothing I can think of that won't harm the collection. If I had a brilliant idea, it would be his. I've never created anything for him that wasn't a winner, but I know the first time I do, he'll fire me. I'm not going to be held accountable for this insane knee-jerk move of his. "You're right. This is a great time to teach me. Please give me instruction."

Now we're never going home.

Bowmen scowls then glances over my shoulder. He claps his hands and orders, "Everyone, meeting room, now." He shakes his head at me. "I expect you to get your creative brain working." He passes me and stomps into the conference room.

Dread fills me. It's three-forty-five in the morning when Bowmen finally lets us leave. The extra pieces he decided on, I advised against, but Bowmen doesn't listen. Each new item makes the collection I designed now look cluttered and tacky.

Why do I work for this idiot?

I have no other options unless I move.

Maybe I should.

No, I'm talking from emotion, not reality.

Everyone leaves, including Bowmen. I can't seem to tear my eyes off the destruction. I spent months perfecting this. It was my best work ever. The additions changed it from an edgy masterpiece into a resemblance of last year's trends.

My eyes can't seem to move off the jacket I designed. It's the one I told Adrian he would look hot wearing. Several gaudy patches now fill the sleeves and back. Bowmen had one of his interns create them in under an hour. I've never felt so connected to a piece I designed.

Adrian would never wear this.

I wouldn't want him to. It's no longer worthy of his body.

It hits me. I designed this jacket with Adrian in mind.

I go into my office and double-check I have the design I created on my cloud. I work from home a lot. Bowmen's never had a problem with me keeping my work on my personal cloud. He has no access to it, but as long as I keep designing his lines and keep the media buzzing about his label, he doesn't care.

I turn off my computer, fish my phone out of my purse, and unlock my screen.

Adrian: Something came up. Bogden is waiting in the lobby for you and will bring you home.

He sent the message around midnight.

Surely Bogden isn't still in the lobby?

I call Adrian, but it doesn't ring and goes straight to voicemail, so I hurry downstairs. When I step off the elevator, the janitor is cleaning the floor, the night guards nod to me, and Bogden is sitting on the couch. As soon as he sees me, he rises.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here. I just pulled out my phone."

Bogden smiles and a dimple appears. I assume he is in his early thirties. He brushes his brown hair off his forehead. His brown eyes are cold like most of the Ivanov men. His accent is thick Russian. "It's not a problem. Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes."

He guides me to the car. When he gets in, I lower the divider window. "Have you heard from Adrian?"

"No, ma'am."

I assume he's taking me to my place, but he parks in the garage for Adrian's building. "Oh. I thought you were taking me home?"

"Adrian instructed me to bring you here. Do you want me to take you to your apartment?"

Maybe Adrian is here and his phone is off.

I shake my head. "No. I can stay here."

Bogden turns off the car and escorts me into the penthouse. When he leaves, I search for Adrian, but he's nowhere. I undress and slide into bed, but I can't sleep.

Where is he?

Did he meet up with Obrecht and Dasha? Is he still with her?

Why am I thinking this way? He said he doesn't want her.

Obrecht said Adrian knew he was meeting Dasha.

What if he's avoiding me because of what happened?

I toss and turn all night, inhaling the scent of Adrian on the pillows, wishing he were with me. The sun rises quickly. I shower and try to call Adrian again, but it's the same as before. I text him.

Me: I hope you're okay. Can you call me when you get this? I'm worried about you.

I get ready for work and leave. When I get in the lobby, Bogden is waiting. "Ready for work?"

Confused, I say, "Have you not gone home?"

"No, ma'am. Are you heading to work or somewhere else?"

"Work. But I can—" I take a deep breath. "Adrian told you to be my driver?"

"Yes, ma'am."

This is extreme. It's daytime.

Obrecht's voice erupts in my mind. "If an Ivanov says to do something for your safety, it's best not to fight it. There's a reason for everything we do. Nothing is ever by chance."

"Have you heard from Adrian?"

"No, ma'am."

The anxiety in my chest tightens. What is he doing? Where is he? Is he okay?

"Should I take you to work or somewhere else?"

I sigh. There's nothing I can do right now. "Please take me to work."