The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 23

Mila

“Can I help with anything?”I ask Brenna, rising from my seat, after Pierce and her husband leave.

I’m trying to distract myself from thinking about the kiss he’d brushed across my forehead before the two of them walked out the door. Or the fact that I’m here, in this townhouse. One that belongs to the head of the Italian syndicate. Why did he bring me here?

Brenna waves me back down. “You’re my guest. You can help by relaxing and keeping me company. I hope you like pancakes and bacon. I always end up cooking far too much.”

“I love them. Also, I’m not sure I know how to relax,” I admit.

She looks over at me. “Not at all?”

“There hasn’t really ever been a time in my life when I could.” I don’t say that searching for pity. It’s just how it is.

“That must be hard. To never be able to just…be,” Brenna says.

Maybe, but I don’t know the difference. “I guess.”

The delicious scent of bacon fills the house. She turns her attention back to her food prep, but continues. “Is there anything you like to do for fun? Or something you’ve always wanted to try?”

Fun feels like such a foreign word. Especially since Anya’s been gone. “My sister and I used to go to Brighton Beach every summer ever since she was little. I’d help her look for seashells.” It was the few times that I could try and forget about my life. Where I could daydream about knowing where our next meal came from. About having a father and a mother who gave a shit. Who loved me. At least until the harsh reality intruded when we trudged home.

“Hey, are you all right?” Brenna asks.

I shake my head and glance up at her. My cheeks heat. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“You and I are a lot alike in some ways, I think. I’ve never really had any friends besides my sister, too. My nose is almost always stuck in a book. Plus, I don’t think I fit in with any of the young women my age in our organization,” she says. “Caitlín has told me that I’m a really good listener. If you ever want someone to talk to, you can always call me.”

“Thank you. I’d really like that.” I don’t tell her that I’m not sure it will ever be possible. “Also, I should apologize for ignoring you the other day when you were helping me in the garden. It wasn’t intentional. Pierce just distracted me, and when I looked up, you were gone.”

She chuckles. “No apologies necessary. I didn’t want to intrude on your privacy, so we snuck out. If anyone should apologize, it’s me for leaving without saying goodbye. So why don’t we call it even?”

“That seems fair.” I try to come up with something to talk about. “Did you have a nice visit with your parents last week?”

Brenna looks up at me in surprise.

“Sorry. I overheard Pierce talking to your husband on the phone a couple nights after.”

“They were relieved,” she says. “My Da and brothers were there that night at the compound, but things were chaos after Jacob shot Mikhail, so they weren’t able to see for themselves I was okay. My husband is extremely protective and he brought me straight home. I knew my mother would be worried sick. Plus, you know those moments when you just need your mother? This was one of those.”

A rush of envy courses through. No, I don’t know those moments. If I ever needed my mother, I couldn’t remember a time.

“Have you heard anything about your sister?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

Brenna reaches across the island and lays her hand over mine. She squeezes it reassuringly. “I’m sorry. I’m sure Pierce is doing everything he can.” She pauses. “He’s different around you, you know.”

That stupid organ in my chest skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

“It was several days into my marriage to Jacob before Pierce said his first words to me. He was always this watchful, scary presence. He didn’t talk. He just loomed. I actually thought he was cold. Even a little brutal.” She looks over at me. “But with you, there’s warmth. I notice it in the way he touches you. The way he looks at you. Those icy eyes of his seem to thaw.”

I swallow. I hadn’t been imagining it. “It’s been so long since I’ve trusted anyone except for Anya. I don’t even trust myself. Or my judgment. It’s steered me wrong so many times. In ways I can never come back from, no matter how long it’s been. I don’t trust whatever this”—I gesture around the room—“is. I can’t. I’m Pierce’s enemy. His hatred for Mikhail—for the Russians—has been driving him all these years. It’s not going to magically disappear. Life doesn’t work that way. No matter how much we might want it to.”

“I said some really harsh things to him the other day after I found out he’s been keeping you in that house. I’m not sure if they’re true anymore,” she says softly. “Did you know that my marriage to Jacob started out because of a contract? An alliance? It was meant to unite the Italians and the Irish and increase their power. Neither of us wanted it. But we fell in love. Anything is possible. You just have to keep hoping.”

I shake my head. “I had hope tortured out of me a long time ago. All I can do is let this play out however it will, and after it’s all over, I’ll get to see my sister again. That’s the only thing that matters. She is the only thing that matters.”

Brenna opens her mouth, but there’s a knock on the front door. She sets her towel on the counter and heads toward it. “Crap. Do you mind taking over for a minute? I’ll be right back.”

“Of course.” I rise and move over to the stove.

Moments later female voices reach me. Brenna appears around the corner with a gorgeous brunette who looks to be around our age. The two women are laughing. I shift self-consciously. It’s clear they’re friends. I’m the outsider.

The second woman pulls up short at the sight of me. I send her a nervous smile.

“Oh, goodness, you two probably don’t know each other. Mila, this is Pierce’s sister, Francesca,” Brenna introduces us.

Oh, god. This is a nightmare.

Brenna’s gaze bounces awkwardly between us, and her mouth turns down, as though she can sense the tension in the air. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company. I should have called before just coming over,” Francesca frets.

“You know you’re welcome here anytime. Breakfast is almost ready.” Brenna moves to stand next to me. I can’t take my eyes off Pierce’s sister.

“Mila? Are you okay?” Brenna steps directly in front of me, blocking my view.

I blink and focus on her. My head feels woozy. “Huh? No. I mean, yes, sorry, I’m fine.”

Francesca sucks in a breath. “You’re Russian.” It’s not a question.

I’m going to be sick. This is the woman who was brutalized by Mikhail. By other Russians. I have to be a reminder of everything that happened to her. I need to get out of here.

“I’m so sorry.” The apology spills from me, and I drop the spatula on the counter before bolting around the island, past Francesca, and through the living room.

“Mila, wait. Please,” Brenna pleads.

I make it out the front door and to the elevator. C’mon! c’mon! I beg, my finger stabbing repeatedly at the down button. The door opens and I jump inside. I slam my hand on the button labeled “G” and then the button to close me inside. It slides shut.

“Mila!” Brenna’s face appears, and then just as quickly, disappears. The elevator jerks and makes a grinding noise, but it begins its descent. My chest heaves, and my breath is coming out in gasps. Will the security guard try and stop me? There’s a ding and the metal door slides open. I dash out, still breathless, and race across the marble lobby floor.

“Miss, is everything okay?” The guard calls out, but doesn’t try to stop me.

My palms slam against the exit, and I’m momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the black mirrored windows of the building opposite me. I look left and then right, and take off running in the opposite direction of the river. I don’t know where I am or where I’m going, but I can’t stay here.