by H L Day
He shook his head. "Njet. It has gone past that. If I leave, they will kill you." His lips twisted. "And as we have already established that I love you, then I cannot let that happen."
"You can't stop it."
He sat back, although he kept a tight hold of my hand. "I can. Hopefully." His brow furrowed. "I set something up a couple of years ago. Through a man I met at one of Dmitry's parties. He was a good man. He was only there because he was searching for a missing boy." Valentin's fingers tightened before relaxing again. "A boy who later turned up dead. Nothing to do with Dmitry. Dmitry wouldn't waste a perfectly good boy by killing him. Anyway, I have kept my eye out for useful information for years that I might be able to use to my advantage, and any I found I have been sending to him for safekeeping. It is time that Dmitry realizes that the majority of his secrets are not secrets at all, that he may have made a mistake in keeping me close all these years. I think that the information I have, in the right hands, could at the very least prove financially devastating to Dmitry and, at best, could ruin him completely. I believe he will want them to remain a secret."
"You're going to blackmail him?"
"Something like that." His gaze fastened on mine. "I am not a hundred percent sure that it will work, Max. It may be that I have nothing. If it doesn't work, then..."
He didn't need to say it. I already knew what the consequences would be. I tugged him closer. "Maybe you should just forget it. Leave. I want you safe."
His lips slowly curved into a smile. "I can't do that, because... it works both ways. The way you feel is the way I feel too. I want you safe."
For a moment, as we stared into each other's eyes, there was nothing in the world but the two of us, and I knew that there was no convincing him. He'd already made his mind up. "If it works?"
He bit his lip as if he was trying to temper its need to smile at the thought. "Then... if you want me, I'm all yours."
There was no hesitation on my part whatsoever. "I want you!"
"I figured you did."
I tried to laugh before realizing that the action would be way too painful. "Kiss me."
His head turned toward the door to the corridor. "Your mum is watching."
"I don't care." I didn't. The whole of the London Philharmonic Orchestra could have filed into the room, and I would have still demanded to feel his lips on mine. He was about to go and face the big bad wolf, so the least he could do was leave me with one last kiss. His lips slowly lowered to mine. As kisses go, it was fairly chaste, but even so, neither of us was in any rush to break it. We lingered, each of us content to simply breathe the other one in and maintain contact for as long as we possibly could.
Finally, he stepped back, letting go of my hand and putting some distance between himself and the bed before I could reach for him. "I hope to be back here later. If I'm not... well, then you'll know that I was unsuccessful."
I stared at him. "I'm scared for you. Is there someone you can trust? Someone you can take with you? That might be able to help?"
He shook his head. "Njet. There is only me. I wouldn't put anyone else in danger anyway."
The lump in my throat made it hard to form words, but I persevered. "I love you. Stay safe, Valentin."
His smile was blinding. "I love you too, Max."
And then he was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Valentin
Max's mum was waiting outside the room, her eyes as round as saucers as she stared at me. I would have been able to tell they were related, even if I hadn't known, just from the similar bone structure and the color of their eyes. She finally seemed to give herself a mental shake. "Who are you?"
Given what I knew of her son's nonexistent dating status, I could well understand her shock at the touching scene she'd witnessed while peering through the glass partition in the door. I also knew that there was no way, given the nature and the time scale of our relationship, that Max would have told her anything about the two of us. I cast a surreptitious eye down the corridor, checking for anyone suspicious while I considered the best way to answer the question. She'd seen us holding hands. She'd watched me plant a kiss on her son's lips, so there was little point in claiming we were just friends. "I'm the man who's hoping to be able to call himself your son's boyfriend if the next few hours go well."
Her face lit up. "Really? Oh my God! You have no idea how long Max has been alone. It's been such a waste. I kept telling him to find someone nice, and he kept claiming that he was fine on his own. He was hurt a long time ago, you see, so..." She stopped midsentence. "You are nice?"
I grimaced. "I think the jury is still out on that one."
She was already shaking her head though. "No, you are. I can tell. And your accent is gorgeous. You're gorgeous." She seemed to be working herself up into a frenzy, and I could handle many things, but an overenthusiastic mother wasn't one of them. She advanced toward me, and I resisted the urge to take a step back. "Can I hug you?"
Before I could agree or disagree, she launched herself at me, and I found myself engulfed in motherly arms. She held on tight, and I was surprised to find that I liked it. It had been years since anyone had held me like this. Probably since my own mother had died. Max liked to hug too, but it wasn't quite like this. I disentangled myself reluctantly from her embrace. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
She beamed at me, seemingly completely undeterred that I was fobbing her off. "I'll see you later. I'm going to interrogate Max about you and probably have a go at him for keeping you a secret. Concussion or no concussion, there's no excuse for that."
I nodded. Poor Max. He wasn't going to know what hit him. "Don't leave him alone, will you? Keep him safe for me."
She shook her head, confusion written all across her face, and I turned and limped my way back down the corridor before she could question my reasons for saying that.
* * * *
I kept getting halfway through inputting the number into my phone before panic would seize hold, and I'd have to stop and pace around on the lawn in front of the hospital some more, or at least as close as I could get to pacing in my current state. Putting it off wouldn't make it any easier. In fact, the longer I left it, the more chance I had of losing my advantage. I keyed in the rest of the number and pressed call before I could think better of it.
"Dmitry Gruzdev. Who is this?"
I forced my body to relax. It was imperative from this point on that I acted perfectly calm, supremely confident, and absolutely unflappable. If Dmitry suspected anything else, the battle was already lost before it had begun. "It's me."
"You are meant to be in Russia. How dare you disobey me? There will be consequences for your actions."
A car horn beeped. I headed in the opposite direction, needing quiet. "Like killing Max? Are those the sorts of consequences you mean? Oh wait, you already attempted that last night, didn't you? You broke your agreement with me that he would be safe, Dmitry." I poured every inch of scorn I could into the way I said his name. "You are going to meet me today in La Gelatiera, and we are going to come to a new agreement."
His laugh was filled with disdain. "Who do you think you are, Valentin? Did you hit your head at the airport? Do you think that you now call the shots? Poor deluded boy. Have you forgotten who you are talking to? We will not meet there."
I kept my voice firm. "Yes, we will, Dmitry." I needed the meeting to be in a public place. Somewhere I was familiar with that only had one entrance and exit. I knew for a fact that he wouldn't come alone, so I needed to be in control of as much as I possibly could. "Five o’clock. I'll see you there. Goodbye." Then I hung up, the shaking of my hands belying the calm I'd managed to infuse into my voice. I was relying on his need to pull me back under his control to overrule his refusal to follow my demands.
* * * *
I was in place by four thirty, carefully positioned with my back planted against the wall so that I had a clear view of the entire café and any possible threats it might hold. Dmitry didn't do ear
ly; waiting was beneath him. I'd banked on that, naming an hour that would give me plenty of time to visit the print shop and get copies of everything I needed, and still be able to arrive early. My hand reflexively reached out to touch the large brown envelope I'd placed on the table. It was tempting to check the contents again, but I'd already done it twice since my arrival at the café.
There was always the possibility that Dmitry wouldn't show after all. But if I knew him as well as I thought I did, then his curiosity would be piqued, and he would be chomping at the bit to put me back in my place. Not to mention reeling at my sheer audacity for daring to stand up to him. No. I couldn't envisage a scenario where he wouldn't come. I just needed to wait.
"More coffee?"
I shook my head at the pretty waitress hovering by the side of the table, my hand immediately moving to cover the top of the mug in case she got carried away. I didn't intend to drink the coffee I had, didn't really know why I'd ordered it. The last thing I needed was to make myself even more jittery than I already was. I should have asked for tea, but tea always reminded me of Max. My mind drifted back to the hospital. He'd been both the most dreadful sight I'd ever seen and the most beautiful. Dreadful because there'd been hardly any part of him on display that hadn't been covered in bruises, but beautiful because he'd been alive. That was the main thing, and it was my job to do everything in my power to make sure he stayed like that. I needed to make up for that moment where I'd invited him into my dressing room and set the ball rolling on the whole of this mess.
I smiled as I recalled admitting I loved him. Love had always been something that happened to other people. Sometimes I'd caught myself looking at couples holding hands—gay and straight—and I'd found myself wondering exactly what it was that had brought them together and then made it worthwhile to stay together. In some ways, I'd felt superior, imagining that their emotions made them weak.
Meeting Max had made me realize how far from the truth that was. Emotions didn't make you weak. They made you stronger. If it weren’t for the way I felt about Max, I wouldn't be sitting here now. I wouldn't be preparing to take on a man who had a whole organization behind him, its tendrils sneaking into most countries in the world, its connections going back decades.
Two men entered. I tracked their movements out of the corner of my eye, watching as they took up seats close to the door. There was no doubt in my mind that they belonged to Dmitry. There was less than a minute before another two men passed my table, taking up a position on the far side of the room. It left me sandwiched between them. Neither pair had spared me so much as a glance. I tapped my fingers on the table. Now that the advance party was in place, it meant that Dmitry's arrival was imminent.
I didn't have to wait long, my eyes immediately drawn to him as he paused in the doorway. I kept my gaze fixed on him as he made his way between the tables, the way a zebra might keep their eyes locked on an approaching lion. Only I didn't bolt. I stayed seated, and I kept my face expressionless, not even letting one iota of emotion escape.
He eyed the chair across from me with distaste before pulling it out and reluctantly seating himself in it, his blue eyes boring into me. Unlike Max's, which always radiated warmth, his were cold and calculating. I waited while he shifted his position and made himself comfortable, determined not to be the one to speak first. I wanted to show him that I wasn't going to be rushed. That this meeting was on my terms—not his. He steepled his fingers together. "I don't hear you apologizing, Valentin."
I lifted my chin. "For what?"
He snorted, his fingers automatically reaching into his jacket pocket to extract a cigar. Even when he couldn't smoke it, he liked to have one in his hand. It was an old habit of his. "For running off. For deliberately misleading Mikhail and Igor. For not being in Russia where you are supposed to be. For throwing around orders." He scanned the café, his lip curling with distaste. "For demanding we meet here rather than a place more suited to a man of my status."
I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the table and studying him without so much as blinking. I caught a flicker of surprise before he masked it. "Maybe I'm waiting for you to apologize first."
He rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger, his face thoughtful. "All this rebellion for one man. I highly doubt he is worth it."
A muscle ticked in my cheek. "That's for me to decide. Not you."
He sighed wearily, as if I was a recalcitrant child whose attitude was becoming beyond tiresome. "You are not a teenager, Valentin. You need to stop acting like one."
My splutter of indignation was loud, even to my own ears. "A teenager! How dare you act like I'm not allowed to be upset!" I switched to Russian. "We had a deal that you would leave Max alone. Instead you gave orders for him to be killed. Why? What was the purpose behind that? He was no threat to you."
Dmitry shrugged. If it wasn't for the fury I could see lurking behind his eyes, he might have been able to carry off the bored act that he was trying to portray. He wasn't used to anyone talking to him the way I was. Especially not in public. He tapped the cigar against the side of the table. "Sometimes plans change." His head tilted to one side. "Did you enjoy your visit to the hospital today?" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I hope you said your good-byes."
I curled my fingers around the edge of the table, using the pain of the wood digging into the palm of my hand to keep the rest of my body immobile, and I still didn't take my eyes off his face. His brow furrowed slightly, giving away the fact that he was less than pleased at my lack of reaction. I slid my free hand across the table, smoothing it over the envelope and reminding myself that I hadn't come without weapons. But how flimsy they were remained to be seen. "We're going to make a new deal."
A sneer appeared on his face. "I really think you're miscalculating your worth to me, Valentin. You have been nothing but trouble lately. You can't even dance. So I do not know what you think you have to bargain with." He leaned closer. "I will let you into a little secret. I am deciding whether I even let you walk out of here." He gave a pointed glance to where the four men were stationed as if I was stupid enough not to have realized they were there.
I ignored him. "How long have I spent with you, Dmitry? Ten years, right?" He didn't bother to acknowledge my question. I forged on regardless. "And you think I have spent that time doing what? Just dancing. You think I am oblivious to what you get up to most of the time? And it never occurred to you during all that time that I was alone in your house or waiting in the car while you had clandestine meetings. It never crossed your mind that I might have been tempted to collect information that would prove useful to me at a later date?"
I paused to see what effect my words were having—if any—on him. To an onlooker, he'd seem just as calm as he'd been from the moment he'd arrived. But I knew every mannerism, so I saw the tension that was apparent in his shoulders and the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the cigar.
He scrutinized me down his nose as if I was nothing more than an annoying bug that had landed on his windshield. Then he laughed slowly and deliberately. "You. Have. Nothing."
A buzz of adrenaline zipped through my body. "On the contrary..." I pulled the envelope toward me, pulling the flap open and extracting the first thing I'd had printed from the data Claude had returned to me that afternoon. I laid the photo flat on the table, turning it around so that it was the right way up for Dmitry to be able to get a good look at. "Do you remember this meeting you had last year? Do you recognize the man in the picture? I did. I was surprised when you met with him, considering that he works for a rival organization. Do your colleagues know that you regularly meet with him?" I pulled another piece of paper from the envelope, this one stamped with dates and times, laying it on top of the first. "I have more photos linked to some of the other meetings you had with the same man, but you know"—I gave a deliberate shrug—"printing costs." Dmitry still hadn't said anything. "Oh, and there's more. You really need to choose your passwords more caref
ully because"—I pulled out the third piece of paper—"you make it way too easy to get into your financial records. It's interesting how many payments you've received from this same man. Almost like he's been paying you for inside information or you've got some sort of deal going on the side with him."
"Is that it?" Dmitry's expression was so glacial that I was surprised that the remaining coffee in my cup hadn't developed an icy layer.
This was the moment of truth. Most of the evidence was circumstantial. If there was a valid explanation for the meetings and payments—something sanctioned by Bratva, then I had nothing. I was placing all my chips on the gamble that Dmitry's actions were for his own selfish reasons. If I was wrong, then I was dead, and so was Max. "That's it."
I watched him closely. He picked all three pieces of paper up again and examined them closely before lifting his head. My heart stopped at the smile on his face. "So, I take these. My men kill you, and then kill your boyfriend." He smirked. "I don't understand how you thought you could win here, Valentin?"
Sweat trickled down my back, but I remained outwardly calm and played my last card. "There is a man on standby who has several envelopes all containing copies of this same data. If I don't call him in"—I made a big show out of checking my watch—"an hour, he's under strict instructions to mail those envelopes."
"To where?"
"The press, the police, your colleagues in Bratva. And he's also under strict instructions to do the same if either Max or myself mysteriously disappear." I held my breath as Dmitry's head shifted to stare across the room as he considered the ultimatum I'd given to him. Then he did the worst possible thing he could have done, he laughed. My blood ran cold at the realization that I'd failed. His head swung back toward me, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, Valentin, I gave you everything you could possibly want, and you've thrown it all back in my face." He shook his head. "I treated you like a son."
