Close Liaisons

Chapter 12



He knew.

In the suffocating panic engulfing her, Mia had only one clear thought: Korum knew. Somehow, he had found out about today – about what she’d done for the Resistance fighters – and he had come here to find her.

Her survival instinct kicked in, and a surge of adrenaline cleared the alcohol-induced fog from her mind. She fought a desperate urge to run, knowing that he would hunt her down in a matter of seconds. Instead, she just stood there, watching as he stalked toward her through the dance floor crowd, his eyes nearly yellow with fury.

Through the pulsing music and the terrified pounding of her own heart, she heard her name.

“Mia! Mia!” It was Peter, and he was talking to her. “Hey Mia, listen, I didn’t mean to be so pushy –”

He broke off in the middle of his apology and followed her gaze. “What the hell . . . is that your boyfriend or something?”

“Or something,” Mia said dully, staring at Korum easily pushing his way through the normally impassable mob. Her stomach churned with nausea and fear. Would he kill her on the spot or bring her elsewhere to interrogate first?

And then he was there, standing right in front of her.

“Hey man, listen, I think there’s been a misunderstanding –” Peter bravely stepped up, not realizing in the darkness what he was dealing with. In a blink of an eye, Korum’s hand was wrapped around Peter’s throat.

“No!” screamed Mia as Peter was lifted off the floor, feet kicking in the air and hands clawing helplessly at the iron grip around his throat. “No, please, let him go –”

“You want me to let him go?” Korum asked calmly, as though he was not killing a grown man with one hand in a crowded club.

“Please! He had nothing to do with it,” begged Mia, horrified tears running down her face.

“Oh really?” said Korum, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So my eyes deceived me then. He wasn’t the one just pawing you . . . It was someone else?”

Pawing her? Korum was upset that she had danced with Peter? Her brain could barely process the implications.

“Korum, please,” she tried again, “you’re mad at me. He didn’t do anything –”

“He touched what’s mine.” The words sounded like a verdict.

“Korum, please, he didn’t know! It was all me –”

The dancers around them realized that something unusual was going on, and a ring of spectators was starting to form around them.

“Please, don’t kill him!” she begged, grabbing at Korum’s arm in desperation. “Please, I will do anything –”

“Oh, you will,” he said softly, “you will do anything I want regardless.”

Peter’s face was turning purple, and the frantic clawing of his fingers was slowing. There were panicked cries from the crowd, but no one dared to intervene.

“PLEASE!” screamed Mia hysterically, tugging uselessly at his arm. He didn’t even look at her.

And then he suddenly released Peter, letting his body drop to the floor with a thump.

The crowd gasped as Peter drew in air for the first time, choking and gagging.

Sobbing, Mia nearly collapsed in relief. Her hands were still holding Korum’s forearm, and she let go, taking a step back.

He didn’t allow her to get far. His hand shot out, steely fingers wrapping around her upper arm.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

And Mia went with him, ignoring shocked stares from the people around her.

She was certain now that she would not survive this night.





There was no limo waiting for them. Instead, he hailed a cab and tersely gave the address of his building to the driver.

The ride was mercifully short. He didn’t speak to her at all, the silence in the cab interrupted only by the sound of her quiet weeping.

She’d always known that Ks had great capacity for violence, but she had never witnessed it in person. Korum had always been so careful, so gentle with her . . . It had been difficult for Mia to imagine him tearing apart a human being – like those Ks had done with the Saudis. But now she knew that he was no different, that he could snuff out a human life as casually as swatting a fly.

She didn’t want to die. She felt like she had barely started living. Thoughts tumbled around in her mind, frantically searching for a way out and finding none. Would he interrogate her first? She didn’t know anything of significance, but he might not believe her. She shuddered at the thought of torture. She’d never experienced real pain, and she didn’t know if she could withstand it. The last thing she wanted was to die like this, sniveling and begging for her life. If only she were braver –

They arrived at the building, and he dragged her out of the cab, still holding her arm. Her legs were weak with fear, and she stumbled on the stairs. He caught her and lifted her in his arms, carrying her through the lobby and into the penthouse elevator. The warmth of his body felt wonderful against her frozen skin, reminding her of the other night he’d carried her like this – under vastly different circumstances.

Once inside the apartment, he set her down on the couch and went to the closet to hang up his jacket. Of course, Mia thought resentfully, he wanted to be as comfortable as possible for the upcoming torture and mutilation.

To her utter mortification, she felt a strong urge to pee, her bladder nearly bursting from all the earlier drinks. She desperately wanted to hold on to her last shreds of dignity – dying while peeing her pants seemed like the ultimate humiliation.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “can I go to the bathroom?”

He nodded, a small mocking smile appearing on his lips.

Mia went as quickly as her shaking legs could carry her. Once inside, she quickly relieved herself and washed her hands. Her fingernails had a faint bluish tinge, she noticed, and the warm water felt almost scalding on her icy hands.

Finishing, she stared at the closed door and the flimsy lock on it. It was useless, she knew. But she didn’t want to go out there. For some strange reason, the thought of her blood spilling all over the cream-colored furniture was too disturbing. She would wait here, she decided. He would undoubtedly come get her in another few minutes. But when these might be the last moments of her life, every second counted.

She sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi and waited. It felt like an eternity had passed. Her reflection in the mirrored wall looked nothing like her normal self, from the provocative purple dress to the raccoon-like circles around her eyes from the smeared mascara. It was oddly fitting that she would die looking like this – not at all like the Mia Stalis from Florida that her family knew and loved. At the thought of their grief, a sharp pain sliced through her chest, and Mia nearly doubled over from the force of it. She couldn’t think about this now. If she did, she would break down and plead for her life, and it was strangely important to retain at least a semblance of pride –

There was a knock on the door.

Mia stifled a hysterical giggle. He was being polite before he killed her.

“Mia? What are you doing? Open the door and come out.” He sounded annoyed.

Mia didn’t respond, her eyes trained on the entrance.

“Mia. Open the f*cking door.”

She waited.

“Mia, if you make me open this door myself, you will regret it.”

She believed him, but she refused to go meekly, like a lamb to the slaughter. At the very least, she wanted him to have to deal with some house repairs afterwards.

The door flew off the hinges, crashing onto the floor. Even though she expected it, Mia still jumped from the suddenness of the violent action.

Korum stood in the doorway, looking magnificent and angry. His high cheekbones were flushed with color, and his eyes were almost pure gold.

“Are you seriously hiding from me in my own bathroom?” he asked, his tone dangerously quiet.

Mia nodded, afraid that her voice would tremble if she spoke. Despite her best intentions, fat tears kept sliding down her cheeks.

He came toward her then, and Mia shut her eyes, hoping that it will be over quickly. Instead, she felt his hands on her naked shoulders, lightly stroking her skin.

Her eyes flew open, and she stared up at him.

“Get in the shower,” he said. “You have his stink all over your body.”

In the shower? He wanted her clean. Mia’s stomach churned with nausea at the realization that he intended to have sex with her – maybe for the last time – before he killed her.

She shook her head in refusal.

His expression darkened. Before Mia could further contemplate the wisdom of her actions, the little dress lay in shreds on the floor and he was carrying her – naked and squirming – to the shower stall. A surge of adrenaline kicked in, and she arched in mindless panic, furiously kicking and scratching anything she could reach. Suddenly, she was standing on her feet inside the stall, and he was looming over her with an incredulous look on his face.

“Are you insane?” he asked her softly. “Did all that alcohol f*ck with your brain?”

Panting from exertion and fear, she stared up at him defiantly through the tears blurring her vision. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with! I don’t want to be f*cked first!”

His eyebrows rose, and he looked genuinely taken aback. “You think I’m going to kill you?” he asked slowly, as though not believing his ears.

“You’re not?” It was Mia’s turn to be surprised. Her heart pounded as if she’d run a marathon, and she could barely think.

He took a step back. He was still wearing his clothes, she noticed now. The expression on his face was strange. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wounded him somehow.

“Mia,” he said wearily, “just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean that I’m going to hurt you in any way, much less kill you.”

“You’re not?”

She had difficulty processing this. Ever since she’d laid eyes on him at the club, she’d been so certain that she would not survive the discovery.

“Of course not,” he said, still looking at her with that strange expression. “You betrayed my trust tonight, but you were drunk and stupid –”

Mia blinked. Something didn’t add up.

“– and I should have known better than to let you out like that on a Saturday night.”

She stared at him in confusion, hardly daring to hope. “You’re upset that I went out clubbing?”

“Upset is a very mild term for what I feel right now,” he said quietly. “You let that pretty worm put his hands all over you, and you kissed him right in front of my eyes. No, Mia, upset doesn’t even begin to approximate it.”

He didn’t know.

Her knees almost buckled in relief, and she grabbed the shower wall for support. As unbelievable as it seemed, his anger tonight was due to misplaced jealousy and had nothing to do with the Resistance movement.

It was a mind-boggling realization, and Mia desperately wished that she could think past the fog that seemed to permeate her every thought. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “I’m sorry,” she said cautiously. “I didn’t think you’d care if I went out tonight. I just wanted to have fun with Jessie and . . . I didn’t think you’d care either way. I wasn’t going to do anything but dance, I swear . . .”

He just continued looking at her, as though trying to decipher her thoughts.

“All right, Mia,” he said slowly, “just take that shower now, okay? We’ll talk when you’re done.”

And then he left, walking around the broken door lying on the floor.