by Roxie Rivera
The tension in the SUV was unbearable. When we finally parked in our garage, I bailed first, unable to spend another moment with the two of them. Ruby followed, and Ivan trailed her. In the kitchen, it all came to a head before I could even try to avert the impending disaster.
“Let’s just cut the shit,” Ivan announced, slashing his hand through the air. Ruby crossed her arms, ready for the fight that was coming, and I held my breath and waited for the fireworks. “You’re a guest in our house. We don’t expect you to pay rent. We don’t expect you to buy your own groceries or other necessities. What we do expect is that you keep your room clean, get a job and go to all of your probation appointments and classes. If you fuck around and get in trouble, you’re out of here. If you do something that puts Erin in danger, you’re out of here. If you keep up the attitude, you’re out of here.”
Ruby looked at me in disbelief. “Is he always a controlling asshole like this?”
“Ruby!”
“If you don’t like the rules at my house—”
“Your house?” Ruby interrupted. “I thought this was Erin’s house, too.”
“Stop!” I stepped between them like a referee, my arms out wide to keep them separated. “Ivan, stop antagonizing her.” He frowned but didn’t say anything in protest. Turning toward Ruby, I said, “Let me show to your room. You can get that shower and nap you wanted.”
I didn’t stick around to see if she made a childish face at him. I pivoted on my heel and marched from the kitchen, trusting that she would follow. She caught up to me in the formal dining room, and I quickly pointed out the other rooms on the main floor as we made our way to the staircase. She walked next to me as we climbed the stairs to the second floor and seemed to be surprised by the size of the house. We had grown up as upper-middle class, and our parents had done very well for themselves, but they had never lived as large as Ivan preferred. He worked so hard for his money, and after studying his—our—finances, it was clear that we could afford the level of lifestyle he wanted for us.
“So, we are on the other side of the hall,” I gestured toward the master suite. “I put you here, so you have more privacy. The windows look out over the backyard. It’s a very calming view.”
I pushed the door to her room open and stood aside so she could enter first. She walked to the center of the room and turned in a slow circle as she studied the space. She gave in to her curiosity and checked out the closet and bathroom. Wanting her to feel welcome and comfortable, I said, “I kept the décor simple so you can add or change things. I brought your things from the apartment. Some of them are hanging in the closet or are on the bookshelves. There’s a storage container in the closet with things for you to sort out when you’re ready.”
When she didn’t say anything, I nervously added, “We can go shopping later to get anything you need.”
“Why? So, you can rub all your money in my face?”
Whatever response I had been expecting from her, it wasn’t this. “What do you mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ruby. Don’t act so innocent. You know what I mean. You have all this.” She threw her arms out wide. “And I have nothing.”
“That’s not true. You have your trust fund coming when you turn thirty, just like me.”
Ignoring that fact, she barreled on, unleashing her frustrations on me. “I have to admit I’m really surprised at you, Erin. I thought you were the kind of girl who wanted to make her own way in life. Remember how you used to talk about going to college, buying your own house and your own car, and making your own way? Look at you now.”
“What about me now?”
She gestured toward me. “Designer clothes. Designer purse. Designer shoes. Diamonds and gold. Living in this obscene fucking mansion all alone with your husband.”
“Our home isn’t obscene.”
“His home, you mean,” she corrected, cruelly pointing out Ivan’s words from earlier. “You know, all this time I thought you were so boring and simple. You were just this annoying good girl who did everything Mom and Dad wanted. Who would have believed that you were just a gold digger in training the whole time?” With a curl of her lip, she asked, “What’s your secret, little sister? Huh? How do you get a man as rich as Ivan to keep someone like you? Are you that good at sucking cock or do you have some kind of magic pussy that he can’t get—”
“I’m not listening to this!” I cut her off angrily. Mouth dry, head pounding, I turned and headed for the door. I spun back toward her. “When you’re ready to act like my sister—m"
Ruby slammed the door in front of my face, ending our conversation on an ugly note. Reeling from the horrible shit she had said to me, I walked downstairs on shaky legs. My decision to bring her home with us seemed so stupid now. I should have known I was inviting trouble into my life and my marriage.
She’s my sister. I have to help her.
But not at the cost of my marriage.
Rubbing my face, I returned to the kitchen, ready to speak to Ivan about the awful turn our morning had taken. Everything we had discussed about Ruby’s first few days with us had gone out the window the moment he accused her of knowing about the parking lot attack. Why the hell hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut?
“Ivan?” I called out as I entered the kitchen. Not seeing him there, I left the kitchen and made my way to his office, ducking into other rooms and spaces on the way to make sure he wasn’t in them. When his office was empty, I searched our home gym, but he wasn’t there either. A sinking feeling invaded the pit of my stomach, and I walked to the garage to confirm my suspicion.
His SUV was gone.
He was gone.
Numb and feeling so painfully alone, I wandered through the house until I reached the bottom of the staircase. My legs finally buckled, and I plopped down on the first step. I didn’t even try to hold back my tears. Ruby’s voice echoed in my head. She was right. I used to have so many ideas and plans for my future.
But then I met Ivan, and everything felt so perfect and natural, and my plans changed. I enjoyed working with him, and I was proud of all that I had accomplished at the Warehouse to grow the business. I was proud of the way I had taken control of his investment portfolio to diversify and adjust his riskier holdings to more stable earners that would protect us financially. I was proud of the house I had decorated and turned into a warm, inviting home and a place of respite for us. I was proud of our life.
So why did Ruby’s ugly words make me feel so bad?
Chapter Ten
Aggravated with the way the morning had gone to shit, Ivan waited in line at Erin’s favorite spot for breakfast tacos. The least he could do was bring home something she enjoyed so she could have a full belly when she ripped into him for being a complete asshole. Why didn’t you just keep your fucking mouth shut?
Pondering on that, he surveyed the area from the back of the line. The Jimenez sisters’ brightly painted truck was always parked in the Warehouse parking lot on Fridays, and Erin was always one of the first in line to get her taco and Mexican hot chocolate fix. This morning, he’d tracked them down using Instagram and found them in an empty lot surrounded by construction and demolition. The sisters had a knack for finding the best place to park to feed a steady stream of hungry workers.
His phone started to vibrate in his back pocket. He tugged it free and glanced at the screen, expecting to see Erin calling, but it was Dimitri. “Dima?”
“Are you busy?” his friend asked.
“No,” he answered, slipping easily into Russian.
“Listen, I had a chance to talk with that connection I mentioned the other day.”
“And?”
“And she isn’t interested in talking to us about her time working in corrections.”
Shit. Her hesitation wasn’t a good sign.
“Is there anything I can do to persuade her to talk to us? Or to Erin? Money?”
“No, she was very clear that she never wants to be asked about that perio
d of her life ever again, and I agreed to let it go and never bring it up again.”
He sighed. “I understand.”
“I’m sorry, Vanya.”
“It’s fine. Thank you for trying.”
“Of course.” A baby shouted with frustration in the background, and Dimitri laughed. “I have to go. Sophia is demanding I pick her up and fly her around the house like an airplane.”
Ivan laughed. “You better go then.”
After the call ended, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and wondered where he could go for answers. He was sorely tempted to break Nikolai’s order to leave Kostya alone. The cleaner was rumored to be back in town, hiding out with Holly Phillips, of all people. There was a story there, some kind of secret that Nikolai was hiding, about Holly. He had his own suspicions, but he didn’t dare ask. When Nikolai was ready for people to know Holly’s story, he would tell them.
“Hey, Judy, look! El Russo found us way over here on the other side of Houston!” Angie Jimenez, the younger of the two sisters, leaned forward on her elbows at the ordering window and smiled at him. She stuck her head out the window and looked around as if trying to find Erin. “Where’s your wife?”
“Home.”
“Uh-huh,” Angie said, clearly believing there was more to the story. She grabbed her pad of tickets and a pencil. “The usual?”
“Yes.”
As she scribbled on the pad, she called out, “Two barbacoa! Two chorizo, potato and egg! One bean and cheese. Large hot chocolate. Bottle of OJ. Extra pico in the bag.”
“Add two bacon, egg, and cheese,” he instructed, thinking that was the safest option for Ruby. “And another hot chocolate.”
Angie yelled out the additions and then ripped the ticket free. She thrust it at him. “Tell Erin I have a new hot chocolate recipe I want her to test on Friday.”
“Thanks. I will.” He moved down to the window to pay and then waited nearby for his name to be called. Thoughts of Kostya and Nikolai circled round in his head. Faced with the choice between pissing off Nikolai or getting help to keep Erin and Ruby safe, he chose the latter. Nikolai would forgive him. Eventually, he would understand why Ivan had done it.
He called the most recent number he had for the cleaner, not at all surprised when it redirected to a voicemail box. “It’s Vanya. Call me.”
“El Russo!” The cashier called out the nickname the sisters had given him and plunked his order down at the window.
He grabbed the paper bag and drink carrier and made his way back to his SUV. His phone started to buzz in his pocket, and he bit the paper bag to free his hand to open the door and then retrieve it. He dropped the bag onto his seat and answered. “Hello?”
“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to call me,” Kostya greeted with amusement in his raspy voice.
“I was told you’re on vacation or maybe retired.” He shifted the food and drinks into the passenger seat and climbed into the SUV.
“Fucking Nikolai,” Kostya growled. “He’s not my mother. He doesn’t get to decide what I do.”
“Does Holly?” Ivan dared to ask.
Kostya went silent. After a long moment, he admitted, “Yes.”
“Welcome to the club,” he grunted and punched the ignition button. “Listen, you know why I’m calling, yes?”
“Parking lot attack. Ex-con sister. Ex-boyfriend in money trouble. Lone Star Hitler,” he listed off all the problems in Ivan’s life. “Do you want me to handle it?”
Ivan frowned. “No, I don’t want you to handle anyone.”
“Fine.” Kostya sounded almost glum. “I suppose you want me to dig around and see what I find?”
“Yes.”
“I can put some of my spiders on Erin, if you like,” Kostya offered. “They’re very discreet but also very deadly if the situation calls for it.”
Erin would be angry once she realized she was being followed, but he couldn’t risk anything happening to her. “Discreet is good.”
“Do you want me to tap her phone and email?”
“No.” Keeping her safe was one thing. Invading her privacy was another.
“GPS on her phone and vehicle?”
“Yes, but she hasn’t chosen a replacement car yet.”
“Is she going to Alexei?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got it covered.” Kostya seemed to be running through a checklist. “Does she have a favorite handbag? A pair sunglasses? Something she carries every day?”
“She has dozens of both and changes them all the time. You can’t track her that way.”
“Phone it is,” Kostya muttered. “What about the sister? You want the same on her?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Something happened inside the jail. I think it was something bad. Something very bad.”
“There are rumors,” Kostya admitted. “One of my spiders heard them a few months ago, but they weren’t able to find any proof.”
“Rumors of?”
“Sex trafficking.”
“Inside the jail?”
“Yes. It happens all the time. If you spend any time on the darker parts of the internet, you’ll find all kinds of shit filmed inside prisons. High paying clientele will order certain types of scenes or acts. It’s good money for the distributors and producers,” he explained with disgust in his voice.
“There was a voicemail on the night of that charity party,” Ivan said, unable to forget the horrible screams. “There was a woman. Latina. Not Mexican. She sounded Honduran, maybe.”
“You always did have an ear for accents,” Kostya remarked. “What was she saying in the voicemail?”
“She was screaming. She was being beaten.”
“A warning to Erin,” Kostya guessed. “Or to the sister,” he amended. “She may have seen something while she was doing her time.” He hesitated. “Or she’s on one of those tapes.”
Ivan clenched the wheel as rage overwhelmed him. If that were true, if Ruby had been abused in jail, Erin would never forgive herself for letting her sister go to jail to learn her lesson. “If Ruby was abused, you know I’ll have—"
“I know,” Kostya cut him off. “I know. If it comes to that, I don’t have a problem making it happen.”
That was the good thing about working with Kostya. He didn’t blink at the prospect of even the most illegal acts.
“I’m going to text you a number. Use it to contact me. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ended, and he dropped his phone into the cup holder. When he reached over to adjust the drink carrier to make sure it wouldn’t tip while he drove, he spotted Erin’s hot pink phone on the floorboard. Feeling like a serious asshole, he picked it up and moved it to a cup holder. He had left without a word and had unknowingly taken her phone, cutting of the easiest way for her to contact him. He hastily buckled his belt and reversed out of his spot, all the while wondering how mad she was going to be when he returned. Even walking into the house with tacos in hand might not be enough to soothe her. If he didn’t end up with a cup of hot chocolate dumped on his head, he would consider it a win.
He pulled into the garage and didn’t waste any time grabbing the food, drinks, and her phone. Ready to face his wife and apologize, he entered the house through the mudroom and made his way to the kitchen. He stopped in the arched doorway at the sight of a red-eyed and sniffling Erin standing at the marble island and eating handfuls of sugary cereal straight from the box. She stuffed her hand back into the box and then froze, finally noticing him in the doorway.
Lamely, he lifted the paper bag and drink carrier. “I went for tacos and hot chocolate.”
Her lower lip wobbled as she set aside the box. “You left without saying anything.”
“I know. Fuck. I’m sorry.” He crossed the space between them and placed the bag and drink holder on the countertop. He slid his arms around her and tugged her in for a hug. Pressing his lips to the top of her head and then her cheek, he repeated, “I’m sorry. I felt so stupid for fu
cking up, and I wanted to do something that would make it even a little better. I thought breakfast would help.”
“It does,” she sniffled against his chest. “But I’m still mad about the way you acted in the parking lot!”
“I know. I deserve it.” He closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “I don’t know why I acted like that. I’ve been worrying about who hurt you for days, and she was sitting back there, acting as if she had no idea what you had been through, and I lost it.”
“You have to try harder, Ivan,” she urged, leaning back to stare up at him. Her beautiful eyes silently pleaded with him. “You have to try not to antagonize her. She knows how to push your buttons. Until she realizes we aren’t trying to control or lie or betray her, she’s going to be difficult. You’re an adult. You can control your own behavior.”
Duly chastised, he nodded. “I know. I’ll try. I will.” As he released Erin, he said, “I’ll go apologize to your sister.”
“She may not answer the door. She was...,” Erin paused as if searching for the correct word, “testy earlier.”
He had a feeling there was much more to that story. Guilt gripped him at the idea of Erin being here alone while her sister lashed her with whatever spiteful nonsense she decided to spew at that moment. He plucked two of the burritos and the second hot chocolate from the bag and carrier. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You should eat some real food.” He eyed the box of carb-heavy cereal with disdain. “That shit is going to give you diabetes.”
“And these tacos are going to clog my arteries with all the delightfully fat goodness wrapped up in them,” she replied before snatching up her drink and the bag of tacos and retreating to the breakfast nook.
As he climbed the stairs, he considered that not so long ago, he didn’t even know what the hell a breakfast nook was. Or a gallery wall, he thought as his gaze moved to the artfully arranged photos and paintings on either side of the wide staircase. He hadn’t ever given much thought to color palettes or things like modern farmhouse or industrial chic until Erin had moved in and started showing him things she had pinned on Pinterest or screenshotted on Instagram. She had lured him into watching shows like Fixer Upper and convinced him to take her to Round Top where he happily followed her around while she plucked furniture and décor from vendor stalls. He hadn’t even minded the small fortune he had spent in shipping for the things that wouldn’t fit in the SUV.
