Unwilling Pawn by Measha Stone
Chapter 23
Amelia
“Are you telling me there isn’t one club here in New York that you’ve been to yet?” Maggie looked at me over the distance of the kitchen table with her eyes wide and her jaw slack.
I shrugged. “You’re not here to drag me out.”
“Drag you out,” she scoffed with a laugh. “Not once did I have to drag you anywhere.”
“Maybe not kicking and screaming, no.”
“No, that’s your husband’s job,” Maggie laughed.
“It’s not funny.” I pointed a finger at her, but I could at least see the humor.
“Tell me the truth, Amelia, do you absolutely hate it here? Should I stuff you in my suitcase when I go home?”
“I’m not miserable.” It was as honest of an answer I could give. “I mean, Christian works a lot.”
Maggie tilted her head. “And you’d rather he be home with you? Maybe taking you dancing?”
I shook my head. “No, don’t be stupid. I just mean…”
“You mean, you miss your husband. You”—she tapped my hand on the table—“actually like him.”
“Shut up.” I got up from the table. “We aren’t in middle school, Maggie.”
“You’re right. You don’t just like him, it’s more than that. It’s worse than that, isn’t it?”
“Whatever. Tell me about home.” I waved her words away. My feelings on Christian weren’t so cut and dry.
“What about home?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s boring without you. Dad is as oblivious as ever.”
“I miss you too,” I smiled. “Maybe I can come home for a long visit. A few months.”
“He’s not going to let you.” She grinned.
“He doesn’t need me here, Maggie. Things are no different here than when I lived at home.”
Sadness touched her eyes. “That can’t be true. Christian’s a hard man, but I see the way he looks at you, Amelia. He cares for you.”
I shook my head. Letting myself fall down that rabbit hole with her would only end up causing more pain when it became apparent she’d misread him.
“Let’s go out,” I announced, nearly shocking myself. “I have no idea where the good clubs are, but I’m sure—”
“I do.” She hopped out of her chair with a brilliant smile. “I know exactly where we’re going.” She grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door. “Go get dressed, I’ll change, and then we will hit the town!”
Anthony got up from his guard post at the door as we walked through the foyer toward the hallway.
“Call the car, Anthony. We’re going out.” I told him.
“Where are we going?” he asked with his phone already in his hands.
“Not sure yet, just get the car.”
“I’m not sure your husband—”
“Don’t care. Get the car.”
Maggie laughed. “Be careful, Amelia. You don’t want to get yourself into trouble.”
“Don’t care,” I said and pulled her into my room. I would need her expert advice on what to wear to the club. This was going to be a fun night out. I was going to forget about my father’s abandonment, my husband’s arrogance, and my stupid ideas of enjoying a shred of independence.
* * *
Music vibrated the dance floor beneath my feet as I moved with the beat beside Maggie. I pulled my hair off my neck. Of course, Maggie had found one of the most popular clubs in the city. The dance floor was packed from one end to the other with warm bodies. The DJ knew exactly how to get them to move too. A thin layer of sweat covered my neck, the heat was too much.
“I need to sit for a minute!” I leaned toward Maggie in order for her to hear me. She narrowed her eyes at me, and I had to scream a second time before she nodded, understanding.
With her wiggling her ass right behind me, we danced our way off the floor toward our booth. Maggie wrangled us a spot in the VIP section, which gave us a bit more space and our own server, so when we plunked down at the table a waiter was right at our side.
“A bottle of Prosecco, please. Oh, do you have strawberries? I want strawberries in mine.” Maggie flashed him a bright smile with a slight tilt of her head.
“Of course.” He winked in her direction then disappeared into the darkness of the club.
A small table lamp gave off enough yellow lighting for me to see Maggie clearly. She blew out a long breath and fanned her face with her hand.
“Where’s our bodyguard?” Maggie asked, looking around for Anthony.
I turned in my seat. “There.” I pointed to the corner of the VIP section. He stood against the wall, his gaze sweeping over the immediate area and then moving to the dance floor.
“Think we can lose him?” Maggie asked.
“I haven’t tried, but there’s enough people here it probably wouldn’t be too hard to get lost in the crowd.”
I dropped my hair back down my back. The air-conditioned air blew softly over our table, a welcome change to the heat of the dance floor.
A small entourage walked past our table, heading toward the bar. Four men in black suits with intense expressions. The last man caught my full attention. He had black hair, slicked back from his face, and was thinner. A younger version, but he looked just like Igor Romanov. Even the same crest was on his lapel.
“Amelia? You okay?” Maggie leaned over the table.
“Huh? Yeah. I’m fine.” I followed the group of men with my eyes as they climbed up a staircase in the back of the room that led to a second floor of the club. Upstairs was another dance floor with a techno DJ and private suites.
“What are you looking at?” Maggie tapped my hand.
I turned back around. “Those guys that just walked by.”
She wrinkled her brow. “The suits? What about them?”
“One of them looked familiar.” I lifted a shoulder.
Our waiter showed up at our table with our glasses and a chilled bottle of Prosecco.
“Hey, uh, did you see those men that just walked past our table?” I asked while he poured my glass full of the bubbly drink.
“I did,” he said, but his jaw clicked after he gave his answer.
“Do you know who they were?”
He picked up Maggie’s glass and filled hers next. “I do.”
I sighed, frustrated at having to pull teeth over something so damn easy. “Who were they? I swear I’ve seen the one in the back of the line before, but I can’t remember his name.”
The waiter brought his dark green eyes to mine. “The one with the pin on his suit jacket?”
“Yes. That one. We’ve met at a party before. I want to say hello, but for the life of me I cannot remember his name.” I picked up my wine glass, bringing it gently to my lips and taking a sip while watching his eyes lower to my mouth.
“She wouldn’t want to be rude,” Maggie chimed in.
“That was Gregor Romanov. The other men with him work for him, I don’t know their names though.”
“Gregor!” I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. Thank you so much.” I flashed a bright smile up at him. “Is he related to Igor Romanov? I heard that name this morning somewhere.”
The waiter swallowed hard enough his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah. Igor is his uncle.”
Uncle. Hmm.
“Ah, that explains why he looks so much like him.”
“You’ve seen Igor Romanov?” The waiter blanched.
“Oh, no, not in person. Why, is that bad?” I asked, but the waiter was already three steps away from the table.
“If you ladies need anything else, just press that button on the side of the table and the bar will alert me.” He turned on his heel and hurried away from us.
“That was weird.” I took another sip of my drink.
“Amelia. Do you know who Igor Romanov is?” Maggie asked with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah. He’s that guy’s uncle,” I grinned, trying to make light of what I could see was obviously not a simple subject.
“I’ve heard my dad talk about the Romanovs. Nothing good happens when they are in town. He hates them.”
“Why would he hate them?”
“I don’t know, he just does.”
“They could be a different Romanov you know.” I left my drink on the table and scooted out of the booth.
“Where are you going?” she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew exactly what I was doing.
“Can you go keep Anthony busy?”
She moved her eyes to our babysitter still standing at the end of the room, his annoyed glare set firmly on us.
“You want me to keep him busy so you can do what, exactly?”
“I just want to go upstairs for a minute without him. Please? I’ll be right back.” I hadn’t told her about the conversation with Igor Romanov on the street outside the museum or Christian’s reaction to it. It’s not like I could have given her any information, I knew nothing, thanks to my overbearing husband. But Gregor Romanov, he might be able to help. He might have the answers I needed.
Maggie downed her glass. “Fine. You have ten minutes. I’m not sure I can hold him off for much longer than that.” She scooted out of the booth, tugging down her dress to keep from mooning the girls in the next booth over.
“That should be enough. Just tell him I’m in the bathroom.”
She squeezed my arm as she passed me then sauntered over to Anthony. And the good friend she was, she put more sway in her walk than normal as she approached him.
The stairs leading up to the second floor were too close to Anthony, so I had to maneuver out of the VIP section and take the staircase farther away from him.
When I stepped through the door into the second-floor club, techno music bounced in my ears. Lights flashed over the crowd, illuminating the packed dance floor.
Someone like Gregor would be in one of the private suites. My stomach fluttered with my first step in that direction. What exactly was my plan when I reached him? I tried to come up with a reasonable story, but the closer to the VIP suites I came, the harder my stomach twisted into a knot.
“Can I help you?” A man in a dark suit approached me.
“No, I’m fine.” I tried to step around him, but he moved to the side, completely blocking me. Another man larger than him stepped out of one of the private rooms and closed the door behind him. He folded his arms over his chest and settled his gaze on us.
“I think what you’re looking for is somewhere else,” he said, his eyes going hard, his Russian accent thick.
“How do you know what I’m looking for?” I asked, putting a hand on my hip and shifting my weight to one foot.
“Girls like you often want the same thing, but we don’t have the time tonight.” The right corner of his mouth twisted up and his eyes slithered down my body. I’d worn a simple coral dress, but the neckline dipped between my breasts.
“I promise you don’t know any girls like me,” I shot at him, narrowing my eyes. I didn’t need to actually possess the confidence I exuded, but I need him to believe I did.
He raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?” he asked over the hard thump of the music.
“I want five minutes with Gregor Romanov.” I raised my chin. “I have a few questions. Nothing too difficult, I promise, then I’ll leave you guys to whatever debauchery you have planned for the night.”
“What business do you have with Gregor?”
“That’s between him and me.” I tilted my head to the side, going for a bit more bravado. If this conversation didn’t end soon, I was going to lose my dinner all over his shoes. But he didn’t seem to notice.
“What’s your name?” He looked amused by my pretense; maybe he did see right through me.
“Amelia Kaczmarek.” Surprised I’d made it this far, I blurted out my real name.
His eyes went wide, just a fraction of movement before he covered his surprise, but I’d caught it. My name meant something to him. But I was more interested in what it would mean to Gregor.
Without another word, he turned and headed to the guarded room. It took me a second, but then I rushed forward, following him. Once we reached the goon outside the private suite, he spoke to the larger man in Russian. After a few glances in my direction, and a harsher toned conversation, the larger man reached behind himself and pushed the door open.
“Let’s go.” My inquisitor crooked his finger to follow him inside.
I flashed a smile at the guard as I squeezed past him and stepped into the private suite. The music died abruptly when the door was pulled shut behind me. Usually, in these private rooms they mirrored the party going on the dance floor with bright neon lighting outlining the small dance floor in the room and the walls. Couches outlined the room with a few round tables sprinkled in the back of the room. It was like entering an entirely different club.
But this room, while it looked like any other VIP room I’d been in, had a darkness to it. None of the neon lights were on. Table lamps illuminated the space instead. The tables that were usually pushed to the back of the room mirrored the dance floor and three men sat at each of them. Huddled together, I could make out over twelve men. All in dark suits with the same pin on their lapels, and every one of them swung their eyes to me as I stood at the front of the room.
My escort walked through the men, now silenced by my presence, to Gregor who sat at the larger table in the back, overseeing the entire room. His eyes met mine from the length of the room, and cold came over me with his chilled glare.
I kept my hands loose at my sides, forcing my shoulders back and my chin to remain steady. I would not show cowardice among the den of wolves.
My escort leaned in toward Gregor’s ear to whisper to him. As the words left his lips, Gregor’s eyebrows rose a fraction. By the time my escort finished telling him whatever he needed to, Gregor’s left eyebrow arched sharply over his eye.
Gregor lifted a hand, shutting up the man talking and stood from his chair. While continuing to hold my gaze, he crooked his finger at me, calling me forward.
I swallowed hard, wishing I had another drink in my hand. I could use all the courage I could scrape together. Liquid or otherwise.
The men in the middle of the room scooted their chairs out of my way as I maneuvered toward Gregor.
“Make room.” My escort flicked the shoulder of the man sitting with Gregor. The man flashed a disgruntled expression, but quickly got up from his seat and offered it to me. The other two men sitting with Gregor also got up from their chairs.
As I approached the table, the conversations started up again.
“You’re Amelia Kaczmarek,” Gregor stated flatly. “Wife of Christian Kaczmarek.”
I held back at rolling my eyes. While I wanted to remind him my husband had nothing to do with who I actually was, I didn’t want to offend him and get sent away. Or worse, not be allowed to leave.
“I am.” I gave a curt nod while I curled my toes inside my shoes. I shouldn’t have sent Maggie to be a diversion. I needed her with me, she could handle this conversation much more smoothly than I could.
“You wanted to see me. Why?” He motioned to the chair in front of me. The man who’d brought me inside the room held out the chair for me and tucked me into the table as I sat. Gregor retook his seat, leaning back and leaving one hand lazily on the table.
I put my hands in my lap, grabbing my fingers tightly to keep from fidgeting.
“Your uncle is Igor Romanov, is that right?” I asked, though I already knew. Gregor had the same pin, the same thick hair swept away from his face, the same dark colored eyes, piercing me with his arrogance. In a way he reminded me of Christian, but I never felt such a cold fear staring at my husband. Not even when he was at his worst.
“He is,” Gregor answered with a short nod. “Why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t,” I quickly said, but then shook my head. “I mean, I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t mistaking you for someone else.”
Gregor laughed. “Mistake me? Now that’s not something that’s happened before. Why don’t you get to the point?” He leaned forward. “Ask what you want to ask. If you ask the right question, I’ll give you the answer you want.”
He looked downright eager to tell me something.
“Do you know me?” I blurted out the question.
He frowned. I’d asked the wrong question.
“No, Amelia. I don’t.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Does your uncle?”
He picked up his hand from the table and ran his thumb along the bottom of his lip. Tension built in his jawline while he thought over his response. Something was holding him back. He wanted to answer me, he wanted to tell me, but some stupid code among men was getting in the way.
“Does Igor Romanov know me?” I asked, placing my hands flat on the table. I needed to know.
“I don’t involve myself with what my uncle knows or doesn’t know.” He gestured with his hand. “Why don’t you ask your husband these questions?”
As though I hadn’t already done that, again and again. Christian was determined to keep me sheltered.
“I’m asking you. It seemed like your uncle knew my father when I met him the other day. It was a brief conversation, but he seemed to know my family. As his nephew, I assumed maybe you could answer some questions for me.” I started to stand. “But maybe, just being the nephew, you aren’t given any sort of important information.” I went for his pride, pulled back my arrow and shot true.
He laughed. A hearty, down in the belly laugh. “Amelia, you are exactly as I hoped you’d be,” he said, getting to his feet. “And I wouldn’t mind having a longer conversation with you, but it seems you’re about to be pulled away. I don’t want any trouble tonight, so I’ll ask you to go quietly.” He pointed over my shoulder.
Anthony stood in the doorway; anger blazed in his eyes. He didn’t try to enter the room, but he glared at me, at Gregor. His fingers twitched at his sides.
“Just tell me. Why does your uncle know about me? You just admitted you knew me before I stepped in here, so just tell me.”
Gregor gestured to his men at the door to stand away from Anthony. “You really need to go now.”
Anthony barreled through the room and was at my side before I could plead with Gregor to give me something. Any bit of information that might solve this puzzle for me.
“We need to leave,” Anthony said into my ear as soon as he reached me.
“Where’s Maggie?” I asked, noticing she wasn’t with him.
“She’s already in the car. Let’s go, Amelia.” Anthony swung his attention to Gregor. “Thank you for your discretion.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded as I stepped away from my chair.
“Good night, Amelia.” Gregor sat back down and lifted his drink to his mouth, casually taking a sip as Anthony gently pulled me toward the door.
I’d failed.
I hadn’t gotten anything answered.
“How did you know where I was?” I demanded the moment we were away from the VIP suite.
“Gregor’s man came down to get me,” Anthony answered, gesturing toward the stairs.
“He told on me?” I yelled over the music.
Anthony grabbed my elbow, puling me closer to him and out of the way of a bachelorette party barreling down on us. He kept silent the rest of the way out of the club, and continued to keep a firm grasp of my elbow, as though I would slip out of his hand and run back up to the Romanov room. I may not understand everything about the way Christian’s world worked, but I understood that once a man like Gregor Romanov dismisses you, you stay dismissed.
Once outside, the town car was idling in front of the club. Anthony finally let me go so I could climb into the backseat with Maggie, and he climbed up front with our driver.
Maggie reached over to me and grabbed my hand, squeezing it.
“Thanks,” I said, resting my head back on the headrest. She patted my leg.
Anthony took a call as the car brought us back home. It would be at least a half hour before I could sink into my bed and hide beneath the covers. Or I could find a gallon of ice cream and eat my frustration.
I replayed my conversation with Gregor in my head, looking for clues, or symbols or anything in his expression or in his word choices that could give a clue as to what he was hiding from me. Did he know my father and didn’t want me to know what sort of business dealings my dad really did? Maybe he knew my mom? Her family had lived in New York for a period of time.
By the time we arrived home, I was no closer to having an answer.
“I’m exhausted.” Maggie yanked off her shoes in the elevator as it carried us up to the penthouse. Anthony stood at the doors, blocking us as though we were going to take off at any moment.
“Well, don’t sleep too late. The hairdresser is coming at noon for you.”
She sighed, letting her shoulders sag. “It’s not weird that I’m getting all done up and you aren’t?”
“I hate having people fuss over my hair and makeup, you know that. I’ll do my own. It will be fine. A few curls, some lipstick, and I’m ready to go.”
The elevator dinged as we arrived at the penthouse, and the doors slid open. Anthony stepped off then disappeared out of sight. Or maybe he was still hanging around.
I lost all track of everything when my eyes met with Christian’s. Cool. Calm. And on fire.
“Maggie,” Christian began while keeping my gaze pinned beneath his. “I’d like a word with my wife. If you wouldn’t mind turning in for the night.”
Maggie glanced quickly at me.
“She doesn’t need to do that.” I laced my fingers through hers.
“You’d rather she witness our conversation?” His eyes darkened. Even if I won the argument and Maggie stayed with me, it wouldn’t stop what I knew was coming.
“I’m so tired, Amelia. I’m going to hit the sack.” Maggie released my hand after giving me one last supportive squeeze.
She padded off through the foyer and down the hall, searching out the sanctuary that was her room while I stood in a standoff with my husband. Who would speak first?
“To the bedroom, Amelia.” He turned slightly, gesturing for me to get moving. “Now.”