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I’m in the main room at one of my auction sites. It’s usually my favorite auction, but I have nothing to be excited about despite the thriving first half of the evening. I weave through the seated patrons, anticipating the second half as my waitstaff tends to their needs.
I find myself looking over to where River sat last time, half expecting the arrogant asshole to be sitting there. He’s not. The person sitting in his spot looks baffled as to why I’m looking in his direction.
I turn and head for my private room. Clay and Vance trail behind me and enter the room. “Have they found something more on the dancer?” I ask, hopeful.
“Yes and no, miss,” Vance says. “Much like your brother, the dancer seems to have gone off grid. In fact, she hasn’t been seen for five months now.”
I plop into my chair behind my desk and throw my hands up in bewilderment. She can’t be found because she’s most likely dead.
The only reason why I care even a little about this dancer is because if I find her, I’ll find Alek, right?
“Why is this so fucking difficult?!” I demand from them, slapping the new file on my desk. “I don’t need outdated information. I need to know where the fuck my brother is!”
Clay steps behind me and begins to massage my shoulders. I’m riddled with knots and tension. “Miss, it’s most likely because Alek knows how your men operate and how to avoid them. He’ll come home.”
I laugh, almost half crazed. “It’s a fucking cry for help if you’re giving me sympathy, Clay.”
He says nothing as Vance drops to his knees in front of me. “We can help release your tension, miss.” And he almost looks hopeful. It’s like a cold wash of reality because why the fuck don’t I find my men attractive anymore? River Bently, that’s why.
Fuck.
“I just need to be alone for a few minutes,” I tell them. They look at one another but take the hint and leave the room. I hear the second half of the auctions begin as I put my head in my hands.
What the fuck am I doing?
My phone rings, and my specific ringtone for Alek startles me into sliding the screen more than once to answer. Alek’s name appears on the screen, and my heart beats through my chest.
“Alek,” I say in a rushed breath as I answer.
“Call your guard dog off, Anya,” he growls into the phone.
I’m still so stunned that it’s finally him that all I can say is, “My what?”
“I’ll kill him. Call him off now. I don’t care if you have feelings for him. If he fucks up what I’m doing and gets her killed, I will kill River Bently,” he says and hangs up. I’m shocked and confused. And now the room is quiet. What the fuck?
I hit call, but he doesn’t answer. I call another three times.
On the fourth ring, I get his voicemail, and I unload.
“What the fuck was that, Alek? Are you serious? The first and only thing you have to say to me is a fucking threat? Do you realize the shit I’ve been going through here to keep this business afloat, and you can’t even give me a proper fucking explanation? I hope your dancer does fucking die. In fact, I might put a hit on her myself so you’re done with this stupid puppy love shit.”
I hang up and do everything I can not to absolutely lose my shit. But it’s not enough. I need an outlet. The first thing I grab is the keyboard, and I fling it across the room. The next is a glass that explodes against the wall. Anything I can manage to grab explodes in one way or another as I do everything I can not to cry. I will turn this room upside down and burn the building to the ground, all to prevent myself from fucking crying.
No man will make me cry. Not even Alek.
A tap comes on the door. “Fuck off!” I scream.
But it opens anyway. I grab the gun from my drawer and point it in the direction of the door, licking my lips. I don’t give a shit who it is. I just need a release.
“Well,” Meredith says as she looks around the room, unfazed by the gun. “Put that gun down, girl, before you hurt somebody with it.”
I consider her for a moment, and she raises an eyebrow in warning.
“What the fuck have you done to this room?” she asks as she steps in and closes the door behind her. “Another tantrum?”
My temple throbs. “There was a bug. What are you doing here anyway? I didn’t get a call or an ASAP demand.” I lean back in the chair.
Meredith is wearing a long, loose dress that’s bright red. Her hair is up in a bun, and I wonder if I adopted her styling along the way. I must have. My hair is always up, I’m only ever in red or black, and I’m sure I have her attitude. Even if she isn’t my biological mother, she’s the only mother we’ve really known.
