Chapter Twenty-Two
Elizabeth
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Tolyan asks.
“I’m sure,” I say, pulling out another couple of dresses—one an asymmetrical cream wrap and one a turquoise dress with a sweetheart neckline and skirt that ends an inch above my knees. I hold one over my body, then the other.
Tolyan watches me. He enters and leaves Ryder’s Hollywood mansion at will without being detected. Even its fortress-like security can’t stop him. Ryder’s men are excellent, but nobody’s quite like Tolyan.
Thankfully, they don’t know Tolyan’s been coming and going as he pleases. Ryder’s place is so large, my privacy is more or less guaranteed, especially when I’m staying in the opposite end of the house from Ryder and his wife Paige’s master suite.
“What do you think?” I ask, unable to decide.
My closet overflows with tons of designer clothes I handpicked for an excellent and stylish fit. It should be simple to choose. But every time I’m about to settle on one, I feel like it isn’t quite right. I’m already over-packed for the trip. Maybe I should dig through my suitcase to find something I can wear on the flight.
Tolyan tilts his head, his flat eyes studying the two dresses I’m holding. “Demure or vivacious?”
“Vivacious.”
“Turquoise.”
“You think?” I swear he just throws out colors at me without thinking. But I ask anyway because I need to make a decision.
He sighs. “Why does it matter? You never spend this much time on an outfit.”
“You’re right…” I look away.
I want to impress and appear confident. I already wore my pink dress to the dinner, the one I wear every time I need that extra boost in confidence. Unfortunately, I can’t wear the same thing again, not so soon. Dominic will notice.
And even if he didn’t, I would wonder if he did.
Then there’s the sense of unease and anger that’s been plaguing me since the leaving the café with Kristen. It simply makes it impossible to be decisive.
“Anything in your closet is fine.” Tolyan’s soft voice is almost paternal—the closest I’ll ever get to having a father figure.
“I’m a little nervous, is all.” I’m even nursing a glass of Chardonnay to settle myself.
“Don’t be. You’ll get what you want out of Dominic. I’ll make sure of it.”
I nod and go to the huge walk-in closet to change.
“If you want, I can make you disappear,” Tolyan says when I come out, now in the turquoise dress.
“What?” I couldn’t have heard that right.
“Create a new identity, transfer most of your money. Be anybody you want, live whatever life you want. No more Shirley. No more foundation.”
I should laugh at him for suggesting such an outrageous thing. But I can’t. My heart longs for that exact life with a crushing intensity that leaves me breathless.
If I wasn’t Elizabeth Pryce-Reed, I could be an artist. Dominic wouldn’t hate me anymore. I could live someplace with a pretty shore and lead a quiet life away from the social scene…
“Sometimes you say the craziest things,” I say instead, keeping my tone light like I consider it a non-funny joke.
“Not crazy,” he says. “I can do it.”
“Let’s worry about my trip to Hawaii first.” His offer is as tempting as freedom to a prisoner, and I can’t let myself think about it.
“Fine, let’s talk Hawaii. I don’t like you going alone.”
“I won’t be vulnerable. Ming Ming takes security seriously.”
“I’m sure she does. But is her team good enough?”
“She doesn’t hire idiots.” Nibbling on my lower lip, I peruse my jewelry and pick up some diamond solitaires. Nothing says vivacious and classy like good ol’ diamonds and platinum. I need all the help I can get to project the right image, no matter how I’m feeling inside, how much I want to chuck this whole Hawaii trip and talk with Tolyan about what he just said instead.
Since I’ll be flying for hours, I leave my hair unbound and slip my feet into a pair of gold stilettos. “Did you find anything about the photo?” The picture has me in the center, going into the Starbucks, with Kristen by my side, most of her face hidden.
“Came from a burner bought in Las Vegas. The bastard tossed it. No signal, no GPS, nothing.” Tolyan rattles off more facts, but I start to tune out and take another sip of my wine. I’m not that interested in the make and model and spec of the phone used to take the picture.
“Right,” I say when he’s done because I can’t think of anything else. It still upsets me that someone’s been stalking me.
“I’m telling you, you should arrange for tighter security.”
The same old argument. Tolyan wants me to go everywhere with a team of big, scary men in black who eat smaller, less scary men for breakfast. Except I don’t want to do that. It’s ostentatious, and I value my privacy and freedom of movement too much.
And the worst of my stalkers was a guy who exposed himself and tried to masturbate in front of me. The creep had the misfortune of timing his performance just as I was meeting Tolyan. When Tolyan was through, the guy couldn’t walk, scratch his head or chew anything for weeks. I actually felt slightly sorry for Mr. Microdick.
“More security or not, he still would’ve taken the picture,” I say.
“He would’ve wet his pants if he’d seen the men I’d pick for you.”
“Stalkers aren’t a new problem.”
“But they keep you up.”
“My insomnia isn’t a new problem, either.”
Tolyan lets out an annoyed sound. “Your stalkers are becoming more sophisticated and careful.”
“Because you already broke the ones who aren’t.”
He smirks. “In Russia, those men would be dead.”
“I’m sure. But this guy never came close to me, which tells me he’s just a little coward who’ll run once he’s found out. If it’ll make you feel better, you can come with me to the airport, but once I’m there, I’ll be surrounded by security. And Mr. Stalker can’t fly with me.”
“Ah, yes. Your bartender boy has a fancy toy that flies now.”
I shoot him a sharp look. “Don’t be snide.”
“Not snide. Disapproving.”
“Relationships end, not always on a good note.” I’ve told him this before.
“Then why hasn’t the guilt ended?”
I look away, my hand tightening on the wine glass.
“I’m helping you regain your heart and soul and whatever else you gave him when you were too young to know any better, so you can move on. Perhaps you need some kind of closure. But the biggest driver for you is guilt. You feel terrible for having used a fake ID, something all teenagers do in this no-joy country of yours, and you’re still trying to pay for that mistake.”
“I could’ve ruined his life.”
“Could have, but didn’t. It hurt no one.”
He can say that because he doesn’t believe in love or fairy tales. “You didn’t see him that night, Tolyan.”
“Hurt feelings don’t kill you.” He mutters something in Russian. From his derisive tone, I bet he’s saying “pussy” or some variation of it.
Refusing to give in—hurt feelings may not kill you, but they can shrivel your soul—I raise my wine glass. With an exasperated sigh, he takes the half-full glass from my hand and drains it into a trash bin before placing it on my vanity with a click.
“Let it go.”
“Tolyan—”
“You aren’t omnipotent. You can’t save everyone.”
I sigh. It’s the same argument we’ve had for the last five years. I can’t help but sound petulant when I say, “Yes, Daddy.”
As usual, he ignores my sarcasm. His gaze lands on the two huge suitcases and a carry-on. “I thought it was only for a couple of days.”
“I know, but just in case.”
He mutters something about women and their shoes and purses. As he helps me with my bags, he says, “I’m calling Ming Ming’s head of security.”
“That’s—”
“Absolutely necessary unless you want me to put four men on the plane with you. You may trust Dominic King, but I don’t.”
I sigh. This is the best deal I’m getting. He’s been on edge since my call about the photo. “Okay.”