Misha
The Seychelles is a paradise of turquoise water, white sand and warm breezes. I came here alone once as a much younger man to enjoy some time away from work. The archipelago of islands was able to draw my attention for a short time before I found myself working again. It wasn’t so much a holiday as a change of office space.
This time I’m not on holiday and I don’t even try to enjoy the sea air and gently swaying palm fronds. I spend most of my time at my laptop, tracking the news, managing my portfolios and reading reports from the private detectives I’ve hired to look for Damir. They’ve found no trace of him since Ciara was attacked on the street and, as far as I can tell, the British authorities and Interpol have no leads on his whereabouts, either. As he’s on the run without funds I don’t imagine it will be long until he’s apprehended.
Please, don’t let it be long.
I read the news, check in with my detectives and then work on investments for a few hours, and then the cycle begins again. I could take a break occasionally but I don’t know how. If Ciara and I were together as we were in Dubrovnik she’d know how to get me to switch off; to enjoy her smiles and warmth and connect to the beauty around me. But Ciara has withdrawn from me, and I sense sadness emanating from her every time I come close to her.
I have rented a house for us on La Digue, on the beach away from the hotels and other residences. It’s a stunningly beautiful locale. A honeymoon destination, even. I thought Ciara would be happy here, but perhaps I made the wrong choice and should have taken us to some bleak, rainy mountainside instead.
Shortly after we arrived a security detail I hired from a company in Dubai flew in, half a dozen men who guard the perimeter of the property twenty-four hours a day. They watch Ciara like a hawk on my orders. Though she doesn’t complain, I know she hates it. There’s little for her to do apart from read and sit on the private beach in front of the house. I’ve bought her a laptop and an e-reader, but stressed to her that she must be careful what she does online. No social media, no emailing, no contact with anyone at all from her old life. I barely see her using the laptop. Mostly she reads and swims.
We eat together in the evening, but our meals are strained, over-polite affairs with little conversation. I update her with news about Damir. There isn’t any really, so it doesn’t take long at all.
“What about Bethany?” she asks one evening, pushing her fish around on her plate. I told Ciara about not being able to get in touch with her during our flight to the Seychelles.
I feel the familiar stab of guilt that I wasn’t able to protect Bethany. “Still missing. There’s been no sign of her since she left work the day you were attacked.”
I’ve tried calling her phone several times, blocking my new number first, but it goes straight to voicemail. One of the investigators I hired checked up on her bank account for me—not strictly legally—and the money I gave her hasn’t been touched. The account hasn’t been used at all since Ciara and I left London, something that makes me fear the worst.
“Won’t the police be coming after you, soon?” Ciara asks me.
It takes a moment for me to draw my attention back to our conversation. “Me? Why?”
Ciara picks up a piece of bread, but shreds it on her side plate instead of eating it. “I see you working all day.”
She leaves that sentence hovering in the air, full of meaning.
“What of it?” I ask.
Ciara looks away, uncomfortable, and mutters, “I don’t know. You can’t be doing anything legal, can you?”
I see. I worked for Damir and so everything I do now is tainted with corruption. “Would you like to know, or would you prefer to jump to your own conclusions?”
She shrugs, and keeps tearing her bread.
“Left to my own devices, beholden to no one for the first time in my life, you think I would immediately start money laundering or arms dealing? The money I took out of Damir’s accounts is buried in the Caymans. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with it yet but I haven’t touched it. Money from accounts that I managed but that I believe were linked to Damir’s criminal activities is in those accounts too. The money that I earned legitimately while at Ravnikar Enterprises, on properties that I managed and investments I made, is the money I’m reinvesting now.” I’m aware that I’ve become angry as I talk, laying heavy emphasis on the words. The money that I earned, investments I made. Either Ciara trusts me or she doesn’t, but I thought I’d made it clear to her by now that I’m not my brother, I’m not beholden to him, and I’m not a fucking gangster.
“You can look at the work I’m doing. I’ve got nothing to hide from you.”
“Fine,” she agrees, her eyes challenging me. “Show me. Teach me some finance.”
“You mean that?”
“Sure. There isn’t anything else to do.”
I keep my face neutral, trying not to show how happy I suddenly feel despite the grudging way she put it. I would love to teach her about what I do. “All right.”
After we finish eating I get out my laptop and I take her through the various accounts, where the money came from, the projects I was working on at Ravnikar Enterprises, how the business came our way. She asks intelligent questions about the projects and seems genuinely interested. I show her the investments I’m considering and why. I enjoy her sitting close to me while I share something with her that I’ve never shared with anyone before. It’s always just been me doing this by myself, with Damir’s accountants to enact the orders I give them.
I watch her surreptitiously as she clicks through spreadsheets and reports, her eyes bright with interest. She’s stopped putting on makeup and curling her hair. The clothes she wears are loose, comfortable things that make the daytime heat bearable. She’s different, and never looked more beautiful. I wish I knew how to tell her that without her thinking I want something from her.
Because I do want something from her. I want everything, with a longing so powerful it keeps me up at night. I think about touching her, but mostly I think about making her smile again. My mind can’t stop playing what if. What if Damir had never lost his temper with Ciara and had his men attack her? What if we’d been left alone until she loved me so much that the truth hadn’t immediately burned everything to the ground?
I show her the money buried in the Caymans. Seen through her eyes I know it’s an obscene amount and that she finds it distasteful, but it’s there in case we ever need it. I don’t know if it’s occurred to her, but we could be hiding from Damir our whole lives. The police may never catch him and my investigators may never track him down.
“How did my father come to be involved with Ravnikar Enterprises?” she asks.
Oh. That. “He was referred to us via a mutual business acquaintance. I convinced him that the development was an excellent opportunity to him.”
Ciara goes silent, and the illusion of our intimacy shatters. A few minutes later she stands up and says coolly, “All right. Thank you for showing me this.”
I watch her walk out of the room without another backwards glance. I could have lied, and told her that it was Damir who’d been responsible for ruining her life. But it wasn’t. It was me.
It becomes clear over the following days that Ciara is desperately unhappy. I thought I could turn a blind eye to it and tell myself that her happiness is secondary to knowing that she’s safe, but my guilt grows stronger and stronger until it’s all I can think about.
We can’t go on like this.
I begin to formulate a new plan. A dangerous one that could mean I lose everything, forever, including her. She’d be safe, though. I go over and over the plan in my mind until I’m sure I’ve thought of every contingency. I think it will work, and once I’ve accepted that I see that it’s the only possible solution.
Over dinner a few days later, I break the news to her. “I’m going back to London. It will look to Damir as if I’ve returned in order to cooperate with the police investigation.”
Ciara stares at me, her fork dangling loosely in her hand. “But Damir will try to kill you.”
“Yes. That’s the plan.” I’m going to draw him out, away from Ciara, and I’m going to finish what started long ago, way back in our childhoods. Damir might kill me, but if I go out I’m going to take with me. He won’t get Ciara if I can help it. She’ll be safe here, and afterwards she’ll be able to return to London and start her life again, away from the dangerous influence of men like her father, Damir and myself.
Ciara puts her fork down, her food forgotten. She seems perplexed as she studies me.
I try to put my reasons for going into words for her. “I’m the one who dragged you into this, so I should be the one to put it right.”
She looks away, chewing on her nail. “When will you go?”
If I hoped she would put her arms around me or say thank you I guess I was expecting too much. It is expecting too much. All the same, my chest feels hollow with the need to hold her in my arms. My lips remember the feel of hers and I crave one last kiss from her. A kiss that means goodbye, forever. But I can’t even have that.
“First thing in the morning,” I tell her, and she nods absently. “I want you to stay here, in this house, and the full security detail will be here with you. I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything better. I know it’s lonely here, but I’m hoping that in a short time you’ll be able to return to your old life, and the Ravnikars will become a distant—”
Ciara stands up, her shoulders tight and her fists clenched at her sides. Then she turns her back on me and walks quickly out of the room.