by Dee Garcia
Cracking open the oversized sliding glass door off the living area, I stepped out onto the massive balcony that overlooked the busy streets of Manhattan, and curled up in one of the plushy chairs I still vividly remembered picking out when we first moved in. I’d fallen in love with the set because of the color. The cushions were a soft lavender, contrasting seamlessly with the deep espresso of the wicker structure. Dimitri had said it would pair well with the white tiles and add a modern style to the exterior of our home. A faint smile touched my lips as my eyes took in every aspect of the well-decorated space, one that used to be my favorite spot in the entire house. I had many a fond memory on this balcony, memories that seemed like a lifetime ago. Memories that would never be again, trapped in the past with an old version ourselves. I think that's what I missed the most: the old us. The us that lived and breathed for one another. The happy us that, at one point in time, I was certain would last forever. But nothing ever does...
A blaring honk from somewhere down below snapped me out of my daze. I shook away the images that now had the ability to burn me and pulled out an ancient cell phone my husband had no clue of. Dimitri wasn't the only with a trick or two up his sleeve. I knew, without a doubt, he was tracking every move on my phone, so I bought this little gem on eBay. Don't worry, the seller was kind – and savvy – enough to forge the statement as an online makeup shop, leaving nothing for Dimitri to question.
With a shaky hand, I dialed the number I’d committed to memory and waited not so patiently for an answer.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Thank you for calling KC Law, this is Sasha speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Sasha,” I said softly. “I was hoping I could speak with Karley for just five minutes.”
“She just got back from a meeting. Let me check if she's available. May I ask who's calling?”
“Maya. Maya Petrova.”
“One second please, Miss Petrova.”
Sasha’s voice was promptly replaced with one of those typical call holding melodies. I waited and waited, occasionally glancing to the front door, hoping like hell Karley would be able to spare me a few minutes of her time. I also had to hope she’d have good news for me, should she take my call; otherwise I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take, but I knew there was no way I could make it out of here alone. I needed Hazel’s help.
“Miss Petrova?” Sasha asked abruptly, cutting off the tune mid-crescendo.
“Yes?”
“Karley has about twenty minutes before her next client comes in, so I’m going to transfer you over, okay?”
Thank fuck.
“Sounds perfect. Thank you, Sasha,” I said, mentally preparing myself for what could possibly be a huge letdown.
“Maya?” Karley’s voice rang through a moment later.
“Hey, Karley.”
“How are you?”
“I’m pretty good. Hoping I’ll be better once we hang up. Were you able to speak to Hazel?” The question was almost inaudible.
“I was… however” – she paused briefly – “I’m not sure I have the answer you want to hear.”
My heart dropped a little, but I swallowed down the lump of disappointment and went on. “What did she say?”
“Well, she vocalized no desire to make first point of contact, but…”
There's a but.
“She asked me to give you her number, if the situation was dire.”
“Really?” I asked breathlessly, surprised.
“Yes.”
“Wow. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but at least it's not a firm no.”
Karley hummed. “Exactly. And between you and I, Hazel would never have been able to give a firm no. She may be tough as nails, but she has a big heart, and your father meant a great deal to her. She would do anything for him, even now in death.”
The words ‘death’ and ‘father’ in the same sentence had yet to truly hit me. It hurt; shit, it hurt like hell, but I hadn’t broken down. I knew it was coming, though, eventually; but in the moment, I was trying my damndest to remain focused on what needed my undivided attention before I could properly mourn the loss of my father.
Namely, my life.
“Oh, I know. It's one of the things I want to thank her for,” I murmured, watching a 747 fly overhead.
“So, I'll take that as you're going to call her?”
“I'm going to think it over, but really, what choice do I have?”
“I know, honey. Just make sure you tell her everything, if you do decide to call. You can’t half ass this, as you did with me. She needs to know every detail in order to understand why you’re seeking out her help. Here, jot down her number before I forget to give it to you.”
Just the thought of having to regale Hazel with everything that’s happened in almost a decade had my stomach churning, but nonetheless, I knew it had to be done. Pulling out the scrap piece of paper I’d stowed in my robe, along with one of Dimitri’s fancy pens, I scribbled down the number as Karley read it off to me.
“Is that all you needed, or was there anything else I could help you with?” she questioned, her voice sweeter than honey.
“No, that’s all. Thank you for this, by the way. Are you sure I can’t pay you anything for all you’ve done?”
“I don’t want a single dime, Maya. I’m happy to help, especially when it’s family-related.”
The response, moments away from slipping off my tongue, tumbled back down my throat when I caught the front door swinging open from the corner of my eye. I swallowed a heap of cool, spring air and my turned my head enough to keep the cell phone hidden from their line of sight. With how far away they were, it was unlikely they’d caught me, but still, one could never be too sure. These guys had a sharp eye; hence why they worked for my husband.
“I have to go,” I whispered in a rush, my heart galloping wildly in my chest.
I didn’t even give her the chance to respond. Jamming my finger into the end button, I stuffed the phone into the pocket of my robe and laid my head on my arm, breathing in deeply through my nose in attempt to calm myself. My eyes fell shut and I listened to the sounds of the city, forcing myself back to a time when it’s melody both soothed and excited me at the same time. The taxi horns, the blaring honks of delivery trucks, storybook-gray pigeons hopping across ledges from building to building in search of food. These were once my favorite sounds; the soundtrack of the concrete jungle. But over the last three years, I’d grown to hate it. Not even the beauty of the seasons was enough to keep me here. New York wasn’t home anymore. It was my own personal hell, a prison I deserved to suffer in after what I’d done to my father. If I could go back in time and redo the last seven years of my life, I would, no questions asked. What I’d give to have one more day with my dad...
Neither Dima nor Maksim ever came to check on me. The minutes ticked away, and it was clear they weren’t suspicious in the slightest. My hidden itinerary was, in fact, still hidden, and all I had to do was make it back into bed without them spotting the lump in my robe to seal the deal. Another deep breath lifted me onto my feet, and with anxious hands, I cracked open the sliding glass door and wedged my way inside, locking my arms around my middle as I padded through the living room to the hallway. Maksim was perched on the coach, reading the paper in his pristinely tailored suit and Dima was somewhere in the kitchen, likely putting away all the items I'd had them purchase. Thankfully, not a look or a word was spared my way, and with quick, quiet steps, I scurried into the master bedroom, locking the doors and burying myself in the extortionately priced sheets of our king-sized bed. I'd stow the phone away later, when I was certain they weren't to come knocking on the door. Reaching for the TV remote on the nightstand, I began flipping through the channels, hoping to distract myself from everything, but said phone was burning a damn hole through my pocket. So was the tiny piece of paper with a ce
rtain someone’s phone number. I hugged the sheets closer, and sighed as I rolled onto my back and stared at the tray ceiling above the bed, my mind wandering off to how a phone call with Hazel may pan out. Would she hear me out, or would she perhaps deem my past decisions so unforgivable and refuse to help me? I couldn’t say I blamed her if she did. What I did to my father was inexcusable and now, looking back at it, it was foolish too. He’d been right all along and I was just too stupid – and too damn stubborn – to see Dimitri for who he was. I guess, in some ways, the signs had always been there; the possessiveness, the sudden anger flares. My father had been none of those things with my mother yet somehow, I thought it was normal. Yeah, I know, pathetic. But it’s true. I thought it was fucking normal. A unique display of affection or whatever my twisted mind had convinced me to believe. It was that same unique display of affection that kept me from my father, too, and still I chose to overlook it all. For love.
Love.
I scoffed. How stupid and naive I was. What Dimitri and I had wasn't love. A severe infatuation, a taboo one at that, but love, no. Took me years to figure that out and by the time I did, it was too late. He'd sunk his claws in so deep, I knew there was no looking back. That, of course, was before he began roughing me up. The day my head hit the wall and I came to with a busted lip was the day I mentally drew the line, and my father's death was the reassurance I needed. When I got his will in the mail, along with Karley’s letter, and I learned all about Hazel, I took it as a sign. She was my only salvation in this disaster.
But mentally checking out of the relationship and actually leaving were two different ball games.
The truth was, even if I reached out to Hazel and she agreed to help me escape this mess, I’d have to find the courage within myself to leave first. Was I capable of that? Could I really break free from Dimitri and regain control of my life? Was a life without him even possible? No, probably not. Okay, definitely not. I didn’t have any experience with independence, and that man would hunt me down if I ever left. What kind of life would I be living then? One where I spent my days always glancing over my shoulder, that's what. If I didn't leave, though, I might as well begin preparations for my funeral because I had no doubt that the more this nefarious beast within him festered, the more probable my death at his hand would be.
With that horrifying thought in mind, I pulled out the torn scrap of paper with Hazel’s phone number scribbled on it and stared at it until I went cross-eyed. I was at a constant push and pull with what to do; more so because I was scared. It wasn't as simple as filing for divorce and leaving. Dimitri would never allow that. My only out was to escape without his knowledge and have him locked him away where he deserved to be. Only then could I file, and hope to live a life without him.
As if he knew I was thinking about him, the house phone began ringing on the nightstand. I knew it was him without even looking at the caller ID. He was the only one who called the landline. I stuffed the wrinkled piece of paper away again and snatched up the phone, answering with a shaky “Hello” I hadn't meant to utter.
“Mishka.” He purred the pet name he'd given me years ago with his deep Russian accent. “What is wrong? Maksim said you were unwell?”
“Uh, yeah, another migraine,” I answered, sinking back into the bed. Migraines were my go-to excuse to lock myself in the room.
“You really need to see a doctor. You have them too often. It's not normal.”
“They'll just stick me on a bunch of pills. I don't want that, Dimitri. I promise I'll be okay. I just need to cut out the excess caffeine and eat better.”
He sighed. “I'll agree, for now. But if they continue, you will see a doctor. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don't suppose you are well enough to accompany me to a gala tonight, correct?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Very well,” he muttered. “Svetlana will have to come with me then. I cannot go alone.”
Of course.
Svetlana was his PA; his very blonde, very pretty, and very fucking busty PA. She was my polar opposite, and I was more than certain they were screwing around. Whenever I blew him off, he dragged her along with him and rubbed it in my face. I assumed his motive was to anger me or to evoke jealousy, but in all honesty, it did anything but. He could fuck her brains out, for all I cared. Better her than me.
“I understand. Will you be coming home before, or are you heading there after work?” I asked, hoping I wouldn’t have to see him until the morning.
“Well, Svetlana will have to change into something more appropriate. She cannot attend in what she is wearing now, so we will have to go to her apartment first. I don’t think I will have time to stop by.”
“That’s fine, I was just curious. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“No, not tomorrow, Mishka. I will wake you when I get home.”
I cringed, knowing full well what that meant; drunk, brutal sex with a one-way happy ending. I could already picture the bruises I’d have when I awoke. Every hair on my body rose at attention, fear-induced goose bumps breaking out along every plane of skin. I fucking hated this.
“Okay,” I whispered, defeated, curling into a ball. “I’m going to hang up, Dimitri; my head is pounding.”
“Feel better, my love. I will you see you later.”
A lone tear rolled down my cheek.
Click.
Why the hell did I think this was a good idea?
That was the very question I’d been asking myself since Knox began wrapping my hands. Had you asked me three hours ago, maybe even two, I would’ve given you a million reasons why. But now, as I sat here, anxious out of my mind, I couldn’t give you one. Regardless of all the training we’d done to prepare, I felt less than, and suddenly, all I wanted was the safety and comfort of what I was familiar with, and the certainty that came with it too.
“You ready, baby?” Knox asked, pulling the pink tape snugly around my fingers one last time.
My answer was instantaneous. “No.”
He froze and although my eyes were glued to the floor beneath my feet, I knew he was observing me keenly. The warmth of his penetrating stare heated every layer of my skin from the sheer force of its intensity. Setting the roll of tape down beside him on the bench, he sighed deeply.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I just...I...I don’t know,” I stammered, shaking my head as another wave of unease flooded me.
“Hazel, look at me,” he demanded.
So I did. I lifted my gaze and immediately noted the hint of worry that flashed over his expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said, my voice all but trembling.
“This again? Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just so different. There’s so many rules I have to abide by now, and Terra has much more experience than I do. Not to mention I’m the newbie. Aside from you, I won't have anyone out there rooting for me, and you know how much I love my fans. I thrive off their energy.”
Knox’s head reared back in disbelief. “You really believe you're not going to have a lick of support around that cage?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re in for a rude awakening, baby. Let’s put aside the fact that everyone we love is here, but when I went out there to show them to their seats, I caught groups of people who are here, just for you. If you don’t think your fans from The Underground have followed you since leaving, you’re wrong. And what does it matter that Terra has more experience? She was never Queen of The Underground for four consecutive years, and she sure as hell hasn't gotten a title since going pro. Listen to me.” He grabbed my hands. “I get being nervous, it’s to be expected with every new experience, but I know you can do this. You were made for this, kitten, but you have to believe in yourself. Where's the cocky, fearless Lioness I love so much?”
“Cowering like a wimp, obviously.”
“Well,
tell her to quit it and lift that head up high. You’re a Queen, and I refuse to let you go out there feeling defeated, when the fight hasn’t even started yet. If you step foot in that octagon with negative thoughts, the outcome will be negative too.”
I turned my head away from him almost shamefully. I knew he was right, and I knew I could do this. But fear was a powerful emotion and change was fucking scary.
“Let me ask you something. Who rose to the top her first year as a fighter?”
The question pulled me away from my fears and sparked a familiar flame within me. “Me.”
“And who owned the title year after year?”
“Me.”
“And who was the fighter everyone dreaded going up against,” he pressed, spreading the fire through my veins.
“Me.”
“Exactly,” he growled. “I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Pretend Terra is Lexi.”
My eyes swung back to where he sat, curiosity quirking my brow in a sleek arch.
“I know this is different in some ways, but it’s still an octagon, babe. You know exactly what to do within those eight walls. Instinct will always see you through. Just imagine they’re locking you in there with Lexi, and give it all you got, like you did in The Finals. Think you can do that for me?”
“I can try.”
“Try isn’t good enough. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
‘What was that?” He held a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”
“Yes,” I said louder.
“A little louder for the folks in the back.”
“Yes!”
“Was that a yes?” he hedged, rising from the bench.
“Yes! Yes, I can fucking do it!” I roared, the vigor of my concession driving me to my feet.
“There’s my girl.” He smiled brightly. “Welcome back, baby,”
A matching smile drifted across my face, prompting him to swallow me in his arms. Resting my chin on his chest, I stared up into satisfied blue eyes and wondered what the hell I would do without him.
