I grab my phone that has fallen to the floor because I might have slept with it in my hand.
It’s ten thirty. Holy hell. How did I sleep in?
My belly flutters when I find a text from him.
Jeremy: There was a situation. I’ll talk to you soon.
His words seem clipped, almost dismissive. Or I hope I’m reading too much into it.
Cecily: What type of situation?
Jeremy: Nothing you need to know about.
My blood boils, and the sense of dejection from last night rushes in at full force.
Cecily: You could have, I don’t know, let me know beforehand so I could’ve been with people who are actually considerate of me and my time instead of staying in this gothic house.
Jeremy: Drop the sarcasm and watch that mouth.
Cecily: Fuck you.
I pause, and I think he pauses, too, because there’s no typing on the other end.
Why the… Did I just curse? Okay. It doesn’t count since it’s in a text. It’s not like I said it out loud.
I startle when the phone vibrates in my hand again.
Jeremy: Next time I see you, I will be the one who holds you down and fucks you until you’re screaming while you’re bouncing off my cock.
A splash of heat slithers through me and I try—then fail—not to clench my legs.
It’s not fair how much he can affect me with mere words.
Jeremy: I’m going home for a few days. There’s a situation with Annika that I’m sure you’re fully aware of.
I stiffen for a completely different reason.
He knows about Annika and Creigh.
Dammit.
Cecily: Are you taking her home? To your father? Why?
Jeremy: She wanted to convince him and I’ll be there to prove that she can’t.
Cecily: Don’t do that to her.
Jeremy: Worry about yourself and don’t even try to provoke me. Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I won’t take action.
Cecily: Just like what you did to the guys from the other night?
Jeremy: They deserved more.
Cecily: Did you also hurt TKU’s American football team because of me?
Jeremy: Maybe.
I pace the length of the room, feeling hot to the core and not in a good way.
He’s not even going to deny it or offer excuses.
Cecily: You can’t just beat people up because they talked to me, Jeremy. That’s not how this works.
Jeremy: I don’t give a fuck about whatever this is or how it fucking works. You let me deal with it when it comes to outside threats.
Cecily: You mean to let you beat up and eventually kill people? I will never get behind that.
Jeremy: You’ll learn to. Didn’t you ask for more of me? This is me, Cecily. I feel not an ounce of remorse for those fuckers. If anything, I’d do it again and again, until death transforms from dread to a luxury. I’ll torture them until they can’t recognize their own images in the mirror, and I’ll do it often, repeatedly, and with gradual brutality, until there’s nothing left of them.
The words start to blur due to the sting in my eyes. A powerful emotion snakes through me and leaves me breathless.
It’s fear, I realize.
I’m scared of this part of Jeremy. The inhumane, ruthless side who wouldn’t blink before offing people. Though it shouldn’t come as a surprise considering his background, but it’s the first time I put him in a frame.
One in which I’ll probably suffer from incidents like these constantly. As long as I’m with him, he’ll find a reason to hurt others.
I need to leave this place.
After changing my clothes in record time, I grab my phone and storm out the front door but come to a halt on the threshold.
Ilya stands there, arms crossed in front of him. He’s dressed in casual clothing and a denim jacket that I think I saw a gun hidden beneath last night.
His face is a bit angular yet handsome, but his blank expression never changes. I don’t think I’ve seen any feelings on his face.
Sort of like Jeremy most of the time.
You know what they say about birds of a feather.
“Hi,” I say cautiously.
He nods in greeting.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
I know Ilya is Jeremy’s shadow, in a way, but I’ve never seen him at the cottage before.
“Boss said not to go inside the house if you’re in it.”
My eyes widen. “Don’t tell me you stayed out here all night?”
“I had to make sure you were safe.”
“Oh my God, but it’s freezing.”
“It’s okay. I’m Russian.”
“That’s bollocks. I bet you didn’t eat anything either.”
Not that I did. At the reminder, my stomach growls, and Ilya does a perfect job of maintaining his poker face.
I open the door wide. “Come in. I made some soup we can share.”
He shakes his head once. “You go eat.”
“If you don’t come with me, I won’t.”
He shakes his head again.
“If you don’t, I’ll tell Jeremy you came into the house.”
“I didn’t.”
“Try convincing him of that after he beats you up like he did the guys from the other night.” I narrow my eyes and he narrows his back before he finally steps in.
After I heat the soup, we sit around the table. It brings back memories of Jeremy and his crazy Russian roulette.
My skin gets goosebumps as I remember how the crazy bastard nearly killed us both.
I should’ve known he lacked limits after that happened.
Ilya eats in silence, definitely uncooperative in offering any insight into his overbearing boss.
“So.” I clear my throat. “Why did you beat up those guys from the club?”
“Ask Boss,” he says point-blank.
I purse my lips but force myself to remain calm. “He’s not here, which is why I’m asking you.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Okay, but can you tell me why you beat them up until they were in a critical condition?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Because they deserved it.”
Of course he’d think they did.
“Where’s the third guy? Why have you taken him away? He didn’t even approach me.”
“We didn’t.”
“But he disappeared.”
“Wasn’t our doing. We left the three of them together.”
I frown. If it wasn’t them, then who—
Eli.
Of course.
Not sure how Ava will feel about this tidbit.
I move the spoon in my bowl and only raise my head when I feel eyes on me.
Ilya. He’s staring at me with that serial-killer gaze.
“What?”
“I know you’re not like Boss and have no clue how dangerous and complicated his life is. So if you’re not going to put the effort in understanding it, I suggest you leave.”
Okay. That was direct and bold.
I think Ilya doesn’t like me.
But it wasn’t said with ill intent. He really thinks I’m not fit for Jeremy. I agree.
I place the spoon on the table, losing my appetite. “I can’t get behind his acts of violence. I might turn a blind eye once or twice, but it’ll kill me if it’s a recurring theme.”
“Boss only inflicts violence when it’s the last resort or if it’s personal, and only against individuals who’ve earned it. Have you tried to understand why he did that last night?”
“Because they talked to me and touched me and he needs to protect his ownership.”