I was free. I’d done it. After weeks of attempting to call Hazel – and failing miserably every single time – Dimitri finally knocked the sense into me. Literally. We’d gone to a charity event for some dirty business friend of his, friend being a word I’d use loosely, and about halfway through, he’d disappeared. Although I preferred to be alone than in his company, I had a feeling I knew exactly what he was up to, and I wanted to witness it with my own two eyes. And right I was. Took some time and a few dozen faces or so to point me in his direction, but in the end, I’d found him somewhere on the third floor of the expansive Mediterranean mansion, spanking Svetlana. Again, literally.
Now, here’s the part where you think you know what happens, based on the norm: Woman finds husband cheating. Woman proceeds to become angered and/or cry. Husband is to blame. They fight. The usual.
But Dimitri’s style wasn’t the least bit usual, so rather than storm out of the room and leave the event without him, I got thrown into the wall, with the blame at my feet. Pain lanced through my head from impact, forcing silent tears from my eyes as he went off like bomb, berating me in his native Russian tongue until he was blue in the face, about how I don't make the time to please him. He didn’t stop there, though, oh no. With menacing green eyes, he watched in fascination as the strength of his grip had the ability to cut off my air supply, leaving my life dangling in his mercy. Every choke spewed from my throat spurred him on too. It was obvious he was enjoying himself and it was right about then, I really knew he’d eventually enjoy it so much, he'd kill me.
The next morning, I called Hazel, bright and early. I felt terrible for possibly waking her up, given the time difference, but after the night I’d had with Dimitri, I wasn’t waiting another minute to finally go through with it. It’s not like I’d slept anyway. If the situation was horrifying while we were at the event, imagine what happened when he brought me home. You just cringed a little, right? Right. There were thick belt marks everywhere; bruises, hickeys, bite marks…his hand print outlined on my throat. My wrist might've been fractured too, but I wasn't positive.
Needless to say, it was bad, so when Hazel actually heard me out and agreed to my plan, I could not have been more relieved. Took her and Knox a day or two to get back to me regarding my flight, leaving me to worry about a sudden change of heart, but they finally did, and ironically, I was leaving NYC the same day Dimitri was venturing to Russia. That could’ve made things difficult and dangerous. Could’ve being the operative word. Thankfully, though, my flight was way later on in the day, so he would’ve been well on his way by the time I arrived to check in.
The two weeks leading up D-day were an excruciating battle of self-preservation. Dimitri refused to talk about the Svetlana debacle, and it’d gotten to the point he didn’t seem interested in speaking with me at all. He’d go to work, go out until late, come home piss drunk, fuck me like an animal, and then pass out, only to do it all over again the next day. I dreaded it, especially the times I had to deal with him, which was usually in the middle of the night. But fleeing from this exact situation would never come to be if I didn’t keep up with appearances. Acting differently would’ve blown my cover, and knowing him and the monster he’d become, he’d stop at nothing until I dished out every last word. Undesired relations or not, I will admit this new pattern of his was intriguing. It’s one of the few things that got me through. He seemed...I don’t know...more stressed? I’m not sure stressed was really the right word, but he just seemed off. Made me wonder if he was still getting midday quickies from Svetlana. Based on his behavior and the fact that she’d definitely witnessed him going apeshit, I would say no, more than likely not. Which led me to wonder if she’d quit on Monday morning.
Thank fuck I didn’t have to worry about him anymore.
Seven hours ago, I walked out of the empty penthouse for the last time and was able to board the plane without issue. Dima and Maksim were out running some important errands for me, while I supposedly laid bedridden with an excruciating migraine. Surprise for them when they returned, huh? Mrs. Petrova vanished into thin air. I'm sure Dimitri knew I was gone by now, too, but he wouldn't know where. I’d left behind the cell phone he paid for, along with my rings on the nightstand, so there was no way for him to track me down. At least, not right now. There was no doubt in my mind he'd find a source soon enough, to give him the details regarding my whereabouts.
Glancing out the window of the plane to the runway below, where we’d landed not five minutes ago, I couldn’t believe I was in sunny L.A. Nearly a decade had passed since the day I left here with Dimitri, and for a while, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see these tall palms and beautiful beaches ever again. I’d missed it, more than I’d allowed myself to believe, and as passengers filed out in a rush, I was more than happy to sit and wait. The extra few minutes gave me the opportunity to take it all in properly because soon, I’d be more worried about interacting with Hazel than the scenery around me.
Hazel.
Hazel-fucking-Perry, The Underground Queen. I'd done my research after receiving my dad's will, and I was more than impressed. She was the daughter my father never had and the sister I’d wished for hundreds of times. Sure, my dad had me, but I wasn’t a fighter. I had no interest in it, truly didn't understand why anyone would volunteer to get punched in the face. That was his passion, though, and something we unfortunately never shared. But he did with Hazel, and in his final years, she was the constant in his life, much like he was for her. All this time, I’d thought he was alone when, in reality, he had this admirable woman by his side, caring for him as though he were her blood. And now here she was, taking me in, when it would have been so easy and so damn logical for her to just say no. Thankful didn’t begin to cover how I felt.
When only a few passengers remained on board, I gathered my carry-on from the overhead and made my way out of the plane to baggage claim. As usual, LAX was abuzz with life, more so today since it was Independence Day. Wasn’t the easiest feat to navigate my way amongst the masses, but after a five-minute game of weaving in and out through the clogged maze, I finally made it to the carousel. Not that I could just jump in front and grab my bag, of course, because it was lined with travelers waiting to do the same. Until some of them retrieved their belongings, there was no way in hell I was finding mine, so in the meantime, I pulled off to the side and dug through my duffle bag in search of my phone. I needed to let Hazel know I was here and find out where she was – since she’d been insistent in picking me up – but she'd already beat me to it. There was an unread text waiting when the burner phone powered on.
Hazel: We’re here.
Me: Me too, just got here.
Hazel: What are you wearing? It'll be easier to find you.
Me: A Lakers jersey lol and jean shorts.
Hazel: You're kidding me, right?
Me: Nope. Why?
Hazel: You’ll see lol. Did you get off the plane already?
Me: Yeah, just waiting for my bag. There's a lot of people, though, so I’ll be waiting a few minutes at least.
Hazel: That’s fine. No rush. We’re right outside the gate.
Me: Sounds good. See you soon!
Stuffing the phone into the back pocket of my shorts, a fresh wave of hellish nerves washed over me. Was this really happening, or was this some sick dream I’d wake up from while Dimitri forced his cock inside me? It almost seemed too good to be true, too easy; so much so that I was afraid to blink. I couldn’t go back there, not after I’d had a taste of freedom...
Just breathe, you’re safe, the little voice in my head was quick to remind me. Shutting my eyes, I breathed in deeply and counted to ten. She was right, I was safe. No one had seen me leave the penthouse, I hadn’t left anything to trace, and soon I wouldn’t be alone. Like an answer to some unsaid prayer, several people moved away from the conveyer belt, giving me the opportunity to swoop in and wait for my bag before more passengers beat me to it. I didn’t have to wait long, though, my bag quickly coming into view as the carousel moved right along. With a swift hand, I reached for the handle, set it onto the ground, and raced toward the exit where Hazel told me she’d be waiting.
And waiting she was.
As soon as I stepped out into the California heat, I saw her; wearing the exact same outfit as me, no less. Now I understood why she’d asked if I was kidding. Her hair was loose, in wild curls, her face fresh and make-up free – which was flawless, I might add – and her brown eyes were honed in on me. We may have not met before but clearly, we were not clueless as to what the other looked like. Beside her was a man; a very, very tall and heavily-tattooed man. I assumed he was Knox and in my awed state, I realized I was totally ogling him. Not intentionally, of course, but holy Moses, he was gorgeous.
“Maya?” Hazel asked softly.
I smiled and nodded, taking a few tentative steps toward her.
This was where it got awkward. Was I supposed to hug her? She didn’t seem like a hugger and I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, so I opted for a handshake instead, extending my palm to her. She took it without hesitation as another huge man with velvety ebony skin stepped out from behind the wheel of the blacked-out SUV.
“This is Knox,” she said, releasing me from her grip.
“Nice to meet you,” I offered, and he only smiled slightly, tipping his head by way of greeting in a way I found rather intimidating.
Alrighty then.
“And this is Manny. Your security, for all intents and purposes.”
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He grinned, taking hold of my luggage. “Can I take the other bag for you as well?”
“Oh, um, sure,” I answered, my voice shaky, pulling the strap over my head to pass him the duffle bag.
You’d think I’d be used to this type of treatment, considering Dima and Maksim were equally as courteous as this man, but the circumstances were way different and suddenly, I felt very out of place. We were all just standing there, looking at each other, no words exchanged.
“Are we ready?” Manny asked as he shut the trunk door, the loud slam nearly jolting me out of my own skin.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Knox said, eyeing me keenly as he retreated several steps to open the front and back passenger doors.
Here we go. Welcome home, I guess...