The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 25

Mila

I run,until a shooting pain in my side makes me slow to a walk. My feet are killing me. Pierce had thrown away my old clothes, including my shoes. No doubt to deter me from trying to escape. My gaze darts around. Nothing looks familiar. Or rather, everything looks the same. I could be anywhere in Brooklyn. In Italian territory. I don’t dare ask anyone for help.

To my right is an empty playground surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. I walk slowly through the opening and collapse onto a wooden bench near the twisting silver metal slide.

Memories flood me of standing at the bottom of one similar to this and catching Anya as she raced down it, laughing and giggling without a care in the world. She used to look up at me with her gap-tooth smile and tell me how much she loved me. I don’t move from this spot or push away the images of better times.

Throughout the day a few parents with their children ramble in and out. They play for a while, until the kids grow bored, or the parents do, and then they gather everyone up and go back to their homes and their lives. A few smile at me in greeting, and one even says hello. The evening sun dips in the sky, and still I sit here, as though waiting for something. Or someone.

A heavy weight settles on the bench, jarring it slightly. That familiar, fresh, clean scent surrounds me, and I close my eyes, breathing it in. A single tear spills from my eye, and I swipe it away.

“How did you find me?” I ask without looking at the man sitting next to me.

“You didn’t make it very far from the townhouse,” Pierce says with a wry grin. “Plus, you’re not well hidden, mia piccola fata.”

I release a small laugh. “Is Francesca all right?”

“She’s fine. A little pissed at me. And a lot confused about what’s going on,” he tells me.

“That makes two of us.”

“Why did you run?”

I lift my shoulder. “Panic, I guess. I saw your sister, and the only thing I thought of was that she was going to hate me. Because of who I am. Because of what had been done to her. I didn’t think. Just ran.”

“I’ve been worried about you,” Pierce says softly.

This makes me turn. God, this man is so beautiful with his warm brown eyes I’m not sure how I could have ever mistaken for being cold. He takes up so much space, but I don’t feel crowded. Even the skull tattoo with Death’s eyes captivates me.

“Worried that your prey had finally gotten away?”

A warm hand engulfs mine. I stare down at our entwined fingers, and my head jerks up to meet Pierce’s eyes.

“I was worried about Mila, the person. About you.”

There’s a giant knot growing at the back of my throat and my eyes burn. “No one has ever worried about me before. Not even Anya, I don’t think. I’ve always been the one who took care of her. Who fretted over her. Who made sure she had everything she needed, even if that meant me going without.”

“Then it’s about time someone looked after you,” Pierce says. “I have no idea what this thing between us is. But I’d like to find out. No tricks. No mind games. Not anymore.”

I want to trust him more than anything. To trust this, whatever it is. He brought me to Brenna’s house. That has to mean something. It can’t all be some elaborate game.

“The only person I have ever trusted is Anya.” He opens his mouth, and I place my finger over it. “When you took me, I vowed I would never beg. Not for food. Not for Anya. Not for anything. This is me, begging. Please don’t make me regret trusting you.”

Pierce presses a kiss to my fingertip. “I won’t.”

I inhale a shaky breath. Please don’t let this be a mistake. “All right.”

He rises and holds out his hand. I place mine in it, and he leads me to the town car parked at the curb. Once we’re enclosed inside, he turns to me. “Brenna was worried about you. I called her as soon as I found you. She wanted me to tell you that when you’re up for another visit, she’d love to have you.”

“And your sister?” I ask softly.

“Isn’t speaking to me at the moment. But,” Pierce begins. “She wants to apologize for how she reacted this morning. She really would like to meet you.”

Nausea floods my belly. He threads his fingers through mine again. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I hope he’s right.

My gaze dartsto the door for the hundredth time, and the small amount of food I’d managed to get down for dinner is threatening to come back up. After Pierce found me in the playground, we’d returned to this house. He’d fed me, or tried to. Then he’d called Francesca. I’ve been sitting here ever since, waiting for her to arrive.

“I can tell her to come over another time,” Pierce says, yet again.

“No,” I shake my head, not taking my eyes off the front door. “It’ll just make me more nervous having to postpone this.”

He settles on the sofa next to me. “This isn’t an execution, Mila.”

My gaze turns to his. “Then why does it feel like it? Your sister was brutalized by Russians, and here you are, fucking one.”

Pierce’s expression turns fierce. I wave my hand around. “You know what I mean.”

He snatches it from the air and brings it to his lap. I’ve never had someone touch me, especially hold my hand, as much as he does. I kind of like it. I like it a lot that he seems to always touch me in some way.

“I do know what you mean. But you aren’t them. In fact, you’re just as much a victim as she is. I’m sorry I couldn’t see that.”

Another piece of the barrier around my heart cracks and breaks off. If he keeps saying things like that, it’s going to shatter completely. I only hope the organ it protects stays intact. There’s a knock on the door and my head swings toward it. Pierce squeezes my hand and ghosts another kiss across my forehead. He rises from the couch and heads to the door. I stand, too, wiping my sweaty palms down my thighs.

Pierce glances over his shoulder, and before I can take another breath, he opens it and Francesca steps through. I swallow hard. She looks just like she did this morning, but with the two of them beside each other, the resemblance is striking. The longer I study her, the more things I notice. She looks as nervous as you feel. I’m not sure which of us moves first, but in seconds we’re standing face to face.

“Hi.” Francesca breaks the silence with a small smile. It doesn’t seem forced. Only…cautious.

I have to clear the rocks in my throat. “Um, hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well. I’m sorry,” she says. “About this morning, I mean.”

“No, no,” I rush to correct her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure it came as quite a shock to find me at Brenna’s house.”

She blows out a puff of laughter. “Just a little.”

Pierce appears at my side, and I jump. My entire focus had been on his sister, who glares at him. “Maybe you guys would like to go out on the patio?”

“Oh, shit, I mean, sorry, would you like to have a seat? I should have asked that first. Sorry,” I ramble.”

“Hey, it’s all right.” Francesca reaches out and touches my arm. “Outside would be nice. It’s a lovely evening.”

I lead her out to the table and we both sit. Pierce remains inside. Most likely to not piss off his sister any further. An awkward silence settles between us. What do you say to a woman in this kind of situation?

“How is—”

“Brenna tells me—”

“Oh, sorry, go ahead,” I spit out.

She laughs and gestures for me to talk. “No, it’s okay. What were you going to say?”

“I was just going to ask how your friend is doing? The one in the hospital.”

Her face flushes and she looks away shyly. “You mean Giovanni? He’s doing well. They discharged him from the hospital yesterday, actually.”

“That’s good. Brenna told me he was with her the night she was taken. That Mikhail’s men shot him.”

Any color in Francesca’s face disappears.

“God, I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have said that,” I rush to apologize. What the hell was I thinking?

“It’s okay. Despite all appearances, I’m not a delicate flower who can’t handle even hearing about something the Russians did. I’m the one being silly.”

I’m afraid to say anything else for fear of making another mistake. Pierce isn’t a topic I’m not sure I’m ready to discuss.

“Brenna told me that you were the one who helped her that night. The one who got her out of the room Mikhail was holding her in. That was really brave,” Francesca fills the silence.

I duck my head. “I don’t know if had much to do with bravery. More like an insane amount of fear.”

“Isn’t that what being brave means? Doing something despite how much it scares you. There are times I wish I had that much courage,” she says quietly.

After only a moment’s hesitation, I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. Francesca raises her head to meet my gaze.

“I think you have far more bravery than you give yourself credit for.” It’s true, too. Based on what Pierce told me she went through, she’s resilient and strong.

Her smile is sincere. “Thank you.” She takes a deep breath and breathes it out on a, “So…”

I pull my hand from hers and place it in my lap, cradling it in my other one. “So.”

Francesca looks over her shoulder and her eyes return to mine. “What’s going on between you and Pierce? Brenna told me you’ve been here since the night my brother and Jacob rescued her. She also told me that you lied and said you were here by choice.”

There doesn’t seem to be judgment in her expression. Curiosity, yes. Anger, definitely, but I’ll guess that’s directed more at her brother than me. At least, I hope it is.

“It’s a hard question to answer when I don’t even know myself,” I tell her honestly.

“Do you love him?”

I nearly choke. Francesca waits patiently for me to respond. “I don’t know the answer to that, either.”

“Do you think you could love him?”