Promises After Dark (After Dark Book 3) (20 page)

‘Tempting,’ I say sarcastically. ‘After this, I’m sure he’ll be desperate to work with you again.’

He glowers at me. ‘You don’t know what’s good for you, Beth. You don’t know how to make yourself happy. I do. That’s why I’m prepared to take Dominic back in return for you. And that’s why I’m prepared to continue protecting Mark.’

I go very still. A cold clammy feeling races over my skin. ‘What?’

‘You heard me. If you’re by my side, I will protect Mark for the rest of his life. If not, if you remain stubborn, then I’m prepared not only to ruin Mark’s professional reputation, but to sue him for malpractice, and I promise you: I won’t stop until he’s lost everything. I’m prepared to see him in prison.’ Andrei fixes me with that cold blue stare and says in a quiet voice, ‘Are you, Beth?’

I gasp. This is unbelievable. One minute he’s reminding me how kind he is to orphans, and the next he wants to blackmail me into becoming his partner by threatening me with the destruction of everything that Mark has built up over the years. He would ruin my kind, loyal friend without a second thought.

‘That would kill Mark,’ I say in a whisper through lips that almost refuse to move. ‘You know it would. It’s a death sentence.’

Andrei smiles at me, the cold smile of the shark. ‘Then be with me and everyone will benefit – Mark, me, and most of all, you, Beth. I wish you could see it. You’ll have everything in the world, anything you wish for will be yours.’

‘Except true love,’ I say in a cracked voice. ‘You forgot that, Andrei.’ I manage to get to my feet, throwing my napkin on to the table. ‘Excuse me, please. I’m going to the ladies’ room.’

He nods curtly and I don’t linger. Instead, I push away from the table and walk through the dining room as quickly as I can on my spindly heels. A waiter gestures me in the direction of the restrooms and I push through the doors until I find myself in the plush quietness of the ladies’ room. I run to the mirror and stare at my frightened eyes and pale face.

‘I can’t believe he would do this,’ I say to myself, the horror evident in my expression. ‘Would he really? Would he? Oh my God!’ Am I really trapped? Can I condemn Mark to disgrace, ruin and probably death? Can I have Dominic thrown to the mercy of Andrei’s hired thugs and crooks? What if Andrei has him killed?

‘No!’ I whisper. ‘No.’

Tears rush up into my eyes as the stress of this day begins to tell on me. I’m exhausted and this feels like I’m in a living nightmare. How did I get into this situation? Is it really true that the more I resist Andrei, the more convinced he’ll be that I’m the perfect woman for him? How the hell am I going to get out of that? I try to control my emotions but I can’t. I begin to sob and the minute it’s started I can’t stop. I pick up a fresh towel and press it to my face, weeping hard.

I cry for a minute or more when I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder and hear a gentle voice.

‘Hey – are you okay? Stupid question, you’re obviously not. Can I help you?’

I look up, still sobbing and sniffing, and see a pair of friendly brown eyes in a smooth, pretty face. It’s a woman in her mid-thirties, elegant and very good-looking, with straight and glossy dark hair. She’s looking at me with pity and concern.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, choked.

‘Don’t be, you don’t have to be sorry,’ she says in her soft musical voice. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘I’m with a man,’ I say, feeling relief in just sharing some of what’s oppressing me. ‘He’s putting pressure on me to be with him when I love someone else. He knows I don’t feel that way so he’s using emotional blackmail to force me into it.’

The woman looks appalled. ‘That’s dreadful!’ she cries. ‘What a bully! What does the other man think about this?’

‘He doesn’t know yet.’

‘Then you should tell him right away!’

‘I don’t know where he is!’ I wail, overcome again with the hopelessness of my situation. ‘I miss him. I really need him. But it’s more complicated than I can explain. Oh God, I don’t know what to do.’

The woman looks at me with determined eyes and takes my hand. ‘You mustn’t let this man bully you. He’s probably all talk, bullies are. Walk away and don’t look back!’

I shake my head and sniff, the sobs subsiding. ‘You don’t understand. He’s capable of anything.’

‘Then you mustn’t go back to him,’ the woman says in a spirited voice. ‘He sounds thoroughly dangerous.’

Now I’m calmer, I realise what’s been bothering me about this woman since she started talking and say almost wonderingly, ‘You’re British!’

‘That’s right,’ she says, smiling, ‘and so are you. We Brits have to stick together. Listen, I’m not letting you go back to that man. You’re coming with me. I was just leaving anyway. You can come back to my place, it’s not far from here.’

‘But all my stuff is at this man’s apartment. He has everything – my clothes, my work things . . .’ I look helplessly at her. Besides, if I leave Andrei high and dry, who’s to say he won’t be so incensed, he’ll decide to carry out his threats?

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ the woman says firmly. ‘We’ll send my brother round to get your things. He’s gone out to meet his girlfriend. As soon as he’s back, I’ll tell him to get this guy to return everything or we’ll call the police. I think you’ll find he’s not as tough as he seems.’ She smiles at me. ‘I’m serious. You mustn’t go back to him. Give in to a bully and you’ll be submitting to him and his ways for life. Do you want that?’

I shake my head.

‘No,’ she says. ‘You jolly well don’t! Now, let’s go. We’ll get your coat from the cloakroom and I’ll go and explain to this man that you’re coming with me. You wait in a taxi outside and I’ll join you there. No arguments!’

I feel too tired to argue. I want to tell her that her plan is too dangerous but the way she says it makes it sound so wonderfully simple. Perhaps I should just let this woman take control.

‘That’s decided,’ she says. ‘Now, let’s go. You need to get away from here as soon as possible. Tell me what table you were at and what this man looks like – I’ll go and speak to him right now.’

Chapter Twelve

What am I doing? Isn’t this just going to inflame Andrei – make him carry out his threats?

I’m sitting in the back of a taxi that’s waiting with its engine running outside the restaurant. I can guess that Andrei’s car is somewhere nearby waiting for him to summon it. I shiver and wrap myself a little more tightly in the black cashmere coat.

This is madness! I’ve nothing. Even the clothes I’m standing up in aren’t mine!

I hear the tap of heels on the pavement and then the taxi door opens and my new friend gets in beside me. She calls an address to the driver and we’re off.

‘What did he say?’ I ask.

She slides a look in my direction from under curling black lashes. ‘You didn’t tell me that your friend is Andrei Dubrovski.’

‘Oh . . . yes . . . I should have said.’ I’d forgotten that Andrei is well known in this city.

‘He’s a fairly intimidating character – I’ve heard plenty about him. So there was a slight change of plan. I told him you’d been taken ill in the ladies’ room and I was going to look after you. I said I’d bring you home when you were feeling better.’

‘Did he believe that?’

She laughs. ‘I’m not sure. But he wanted to, so he did. He asked me to bring you to his apartment and gave me his card. I said you should be with a woman for now, and that shut him up. But he doesn’t have my name or address, so you’re safe for now.’

‘Not for long,’ I say in a dull voice.

I’ll have to go back to him, I know that. I’m beginning to realise that Andrei has got me surrounded. I have no choice now. I’m going to have to explain this all to Dominic somehow. My heart feels like it’s breaking. Just when we’ve found our way back to each other, we’re going to be separated again, and this time forever.

‘You’ll feel better in the morning,’ she says confidently. ‘There’s a way out of this, don’t you worry.’

Just then my phone buzzes with a text. I pull it out and look at it.

Rosa, where are you? Your master needs you.

I gasp.
Dominic!
What does this mean? Where is he? I don’t reply at once – my brain is whirling with the possibility that he might be in New York. What shall I do? I desperately want to tell him everything that’s happened, but I suddenly wonder if that’s wise. I know that Dominic will laugh in the face of Andrei’s offer. He’s more likely to decide to kick the shit out of his old boss – and that might sign Mark’s death warrant. I stare at my phone, trying to work out what to do.

Rosa, have you decided to serve someone else? Is that it? I’m told you left with a man tonight and took your luggage. Have I lost my Rosa?

Oh my God, is he in New York?
I breathe in sharply, quivering with excitement. I want to call him this moment, but I can’t with my new friend in the taxi with me.

‘Are you okay?’ she says, watching me. ‘That’s not him, is it? He’s not threatening you, is he?’

‘No, no,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s my other friend.’ I text him quickly.

Sir, Rosa adores you and wants to serve only you. She offers you her humble apologies and longs for you to join her.

The reply is fired back:

Where are you, Rosa? Are you safe?

I tap out another message:

Yes, but I don’t know where I am. I will let you know when I do, very soon.

The phone buzzes almost immediately:

All right. I will wait to hear from you.

I click off the text, feeling a little more hopeful. Dominic must be here in New York City. Oh God, I hope it’s true! I long for him with every cell of my being. If I can only see and feel him again, surely everything will be all right.

Just then my friend’s phone chimes and she takes a look at it. ‘Oh good,’ she says after a moment, ‘it’s my brother. He’s on his way, probably with his girlfriend. We can send him round to Dubrovski’s place for your things.’ She looks out of the window. ‘And here we are, at home.’

The taxi pulls up outside a tall brownstone house and we climb out. She pays the fare and then leads me up the worn stone steps. ‘Home sweet home!’ she says, and unlocks the white painted front door.

At once we’re in the cosy hallway of a chic but lived-in home. It’s stylish with clean modern furniture and bright with books and pictures. The polished wood floors have the occasional discarded pair of shoes or newspaper on them, and the chairs look sat in. It’s a relief to be in a proper home at last after all the hotels and Andrei’s soulless apartment.

‘Come through,’ my friend says, hanging her coat on an antique stand. ‘Throw your things anywhere. Take those shoes off if you like, there’s a pair of slippers by the stairs. I’ll get you a jumper, you’re going to freeze in that dress, pretty though it is.’

As she leads me into the sitting room, she says, ‘And by the way, my name is Georgina – you can call me Georgie. What’s yours?’

‘Beth,’ I say, feeling a million times better to be somewhere normal.

‘Beth?’ She frowns. ‘That’s odd.’ Then she remembers herself. ‘Would you like something? Coffee, tea? Something stronger? I’ve got wine or whisky if you’re feeling really in shock!’

‘Tea would be lovely, thank you,’ I say gratefully.

‘Yes, good old British tea. I bring it over from home whenever I can. They just can’t make it here.’

I’m glad to have those high heels off and a pair of soft woollen fur-lined slippers on. Georgina picks up a jumper from the back of the chair and passes it to me. While she disappears off to get the tea, I slip on the jumper and luxuriate in its cosy depths. I wait for her to come back, padding around the room and scanning the shelves, looking at photographs and the spines of her books.

This evening is not at all what I expected. I thought it would be a room-service supper in the hotel and an early night, preparing for my homeward flight and making a list of any last Christmas presents. Now I’m in a stranger’s house somewhere in New York, wearing an evening dress and without my luggage. I pick up some of the photographs on the shelves. They show Georgie with her friends, on the ski slopes, on the beach, larking around, or looking smart at balls, garden parties and weddings. A faded colour photograph shows two adults and two children standing on the veranda of a large villa somewhere exotic and hot. I take that one up to examine it more closely. The children are a boy and a girl, the girl just a little older, both dark-haired and dark-eyed. The girl is Georgie, I’m sure of that, despite the difference between the child with short hair and gangly limbs and the elegant woman in the kitchen. The boy must be her younger brother: he has eyes like hers and the same dark colouring. Both are tanned. Behind them are their parents, the man in a formal suit, the woman in a flowery sundress and hat. I put the photograph back on the shelf and walk over to the fireplace where there are more pictures in silver frames.

Georgie comes in with a mug of steaming tea, which she puts on the coffee table. ‘Here you are,’ she says cheerfully. ‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable.’