A Bedtime Story (19 page)

Of all things, Laura hadn’t prepared her heart for this. She stared
at Tanya, trying to read her face. She felt strangely calm, like she was leaving her
body, rising above, far above everything. Tanya was saying it all to hurt her, just
to hurt her… And yet she knew it to be the truth. Hadn’t she known it all along?
Hadn’t she known it in her heart, from the first night Kayne came back? The timing
too coincidental, the suicide too convenient, hadn’t she known deep down inside
Kayne was responsible for Peter’s death?

She walked away from Tanya and her triumph without saying a word.
She focused on breathing, struggling with every breath, fearing her shaky legs would
give out any moment.

Her face aghast, she stumbled forward in the blur of sunshine and
greenery. She walked straight past everyone on the terrace and headed to the
driveway. Lucas was leaning on the car, a cigarette in his mouth. His eyes were
closed, his face turned up, bathing in the sun.

“Lucas… Lucas… take me home.”

“Are you okay, Miss Spencer? Should I get Mr. Malkin?” He seemed
concerned. Laura was white, her body shivering under the sun.

“No!” she replied instantly, her eyes wide. “Please... please,
Lucas... take me home,” she pleaded, not waiting for the answer, and climbed in the
car.

Lucas was unsure what to do. He took his
instructions directly from Kayne, but he could sense the urgency of the matter. He
decided not to make her wait and confirm with him; he got in the front seat and
drove. The entire drive, he kept looking at Laura through the visor, worried by the
reflection he saw. She’d never looked like this, not even the night they fetched her
from the bar. Laura walked in like a zombie, ignored Olga, and went straight to her
bedroom. It was the calm before the storm. The perfect storm brewing in her blood,
poisoning every cell, membrane, and nerve in her body. She paced in circles; she was
suffocating, wanted to pull her hair out, find a way, any way to get the venom
out.

Olga was in the kitchen when she heard a chilling scream echo
throughout the house. It wasn’t human. She was drying the dishes, dropped the one
she was holding. She felt a shiver run down her spine and froze on the spot. The
sound of glass shattering and furniture breaking snapped her back to reality.
Panicked, she rushed to Laura’s room.

Everything was destroyed. Laura stood in the middle of the mayhem,
a demented gleam in her eye, holding the foot of a broken chair. She screamed at
Olga to leave and threw the wooden piece in her direction. Olga rushed out of the
room, picked up the phone, and reached Lucas.

***

Lucas was already parking the car back at the Drugov mansion when
he received Olga’s frantic call. He went inside, quietly approached Kayne, and
addressed him discreetly.

“Sir. There’s a problem at the house.”

Kayne turned his head in response, his eyes instantly darkening.
“It’s Miss Spencer. She wasn’t feeling well. She asked me to bring her back—”

“
What,
” Kayne hissed, barely containing his anger.

“She didn’t look well, sir. I thought it was wiser to bring her
back straight away, thought you’d approve.”

Kayne narrowed his eyes. “And what’s the problem
now?”

“I’m not really sure. Olga called, panicked, saying Miss Spencer
had gone mad... destroyed her room…”

Kayne rushed behind the wheel with Lucas in the passenger seat. He
was livid. It seemed no one had any idea what triggered Laura’s meltdown. He would
deal with her and her tantrum.
He would deal with her all right
. Grinding his
teeth, breaking every speed limit, Kayne screeched the car to a full stop before
walking in and slamming the door.

The house was quiet. Olga was sitting on a couch in the living
room, playing with the towel she had been using to dry the dishes. Her face was
white. She just looked up at Kayne, her eyes distressed.

“Where is she?” he bellowed.

“Still in her room… . She’s quiet now…”

He nodded, his eyes ablaze. His walk determined, his hands in tight
fists, he made his way to her room. The bedroom was completely trashed, broken glass
everywhere on the floor, all the furniture broken, turned over in pieces, but no
Laura.

He turned his gaze to the closed bathroom door, walked slowly to
it, and tried the handle. “Laura. Open the door.” His voice was eerily calm.

Nothing.

“Laura! Open this fucking door before I do it for you!” he
threatened, raising his voice, his façade of coolness long gone.

Nothing.

A demonic smile crossed his lips.
She will pay for this
. He
kicked the door in.

Laura lay in the bathtub, her eyes closed, the water surrounding
her, an unwholesome tint.

His eyes widened, his anger evaporating instantly. He was by her
side in a second. He reached for her wrist and covered the gash with his hand, blood
seeping through his fingers.

“Lucas! Get Iman! Now!” he shouted, urgency in his
tone. He picked up the limp body and deposited Laura carefully on the bed. Then he
removed his shirt, bandaging the wound as best as he could.

“Laura! What the fuck!” he screamed to himself enraged, knowing she
couldn’t hear him. Knowing in this moment, he had no control, over her, over
himself, over anything. For the first time in his life, Kayne Malkin felt the stab
of powerlessness.

He paced around like a madman until Iman arrived. Iman, a slim
brunette with olive skin, was in her late thirties. She had been a surgeon in her
country, in Palestine. Like her father before her, she had a fascination for
medicine, felt a calling to save lives, regardless of what side of the border they
belonged to. Until she saw her world come crashing down. Until she saw her entire
family die in front of her eyes, blown to pieces due to a strategic hit by military
forces. Their neighborhood had been deemed hostile. Iman, whose name meant faith in
her mother tongue, understood that day there was no greater good, only monsters
fighting for power. She left her country, her life, and her memories. Only a scar on
the left side of her face kept her linked to the hopeful hazel-eyed beauty she had
once been.

Upon arriving in Quebec, she worked as a cleaning maid in a hotel.
She pretended not to speak French or English, shutting herself off from the world.
She walked in on Lucas bleeding in one of the rooms one night. Without saying a
word, she removed the bullet and stitched him back together. She’d been with the
Organization ever since. Iman accepted the world for what it was, who populated it;
she would at least control which monsters got her help.

I
t had been two days. Iman assured him the
girl would live. She gave him pills for Laura and advised him to let her get all the
rest she could get and that she would return to check up on her. Kayne had not left
Laura’s side, for two days and two nights. He kept watch from the La-Z-Boy he had
dragged to the side of her bed.

He wiped the sweat from her forehead, heard her cry in her sleep,
tossing and turning, uttering his name. He cringed, knowing he was the monster in
her nightmares. He couldn’t know she was calling for him, lost in a daze, calling
for him to save her, her tears coming from despair, not fear.

I
t was evening when Laura’s eyes fluttered
open. Kayne immediately put the laptop away and turned his attention to her, not
uttering a word. She looked around, her eyes weary. When she noticed him, she closed
her eyes right back.

“You should have left me…” she uttered weakly, eyes still closed.
“Laura… why? You promised me,
you promised
, you would never try this again.”
His voice was contained, though raw with emotion.

A bitter subdued snort escaped her lips. She opened her eyes,
staring right ahead. “You promised you wouldn’t kill Peter. Guess we’re both
liars.”

“
What?
” His expression instantly changed, his eyes
blackened.

She didn’t answer, just turned her gaze his way. There was no anger
there. There was no more place for anything but the limitless grief that inhabited
those haunting grey eyes maintaining his gaze.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice was gruff and
heavy, his eyes concentrated on her.

“You shot him.”

He shut his eyes, exhaling slowly. “Who told you that?”

She responded with a sardonic chuckle. “
Tanya
.” She met his
gaze, a wicked humorless smile on her lips.

“Are you fucking kidding me? And that’s it? You just take her word
as the cold hard truth.
Hers?
A goddamn whore… who hates you…?”

“But
it is
the truth...” She remained calm, lifting jaded
eyes to his. “It’s not, Laura. I had given you my word,” he responded, a flicker of
hurt flashing in his scornful stare.

“So you just happened to find him dead, from an
overdose
… the moment I sent you to him.”

“No,” he conceded, his expression unreadable.

She closed her eyes again, bracing herself for the piece of the
puzzle he’d been holding back. The one she was dreading to hold in her hands and yet
knew it was the only way she could finally lay her brother to rest.

“He was alive. But I didn’t kill him. I waited for him in his
apartment. He wasn’t that surprised to see me. I explained the situation to him… It
was you or him, Laura. Dimitri had given me another week that night at the party. He
wanted to interrogate you... right then… but he gave me another week. I gave Peter
the drugs. He made his choice. I shot him after… For Dimitri’s benefit… He was
already gone...”

Tears spilled over from her closed lids. “You might as well have
shot him. It would have been more honest,” she spat at him, her eyes still closed,
her voice as cold as ice. She didn’t know if those hurtful words were meant for him,
she didn’t even know if she meant them. She just felt the need to hurt him, to bring
him into her pain, to hold him there, and never let him go.

“Let me go… or let me die,” she pleaded, all malice gone.

He remained quiet, taking her words in. In the oppressing silence
that followed, he turned around and left her room. She broke down, the moment he
closed her door.

K
ayne had gone to Dimitri and requested to
meet with Tanya privately. Dimitri had listened, seemed vexed with the whole ordeal,
but nodded his consent nonetheless to Kayne’s request. He understood it to be a
request only as far as it would be granted. Kayne Malkin, like his father, was not
one to cross. Dimitri was very displeased with Tanya himself. Not only did she
reveal privileged information to an outside source, giving more weapons to a loose
end he already wanted to be rid of; she did it out of passion, for another man.
Sharing her with other men was one thing. To have her openly infatuated with
another, betray his confidence out of jealousy for another,
that
he could not
accept. He would let Kayne deal with her, let her have her moment with him.

Tanya Malone. Kayne reminisced how he had met her. A party, very
similar to the one he had taken Laura to. Tanya, however, was all smiles, clearly in
her element. She had come willingly, unclaimed and actively looking. He had spotted
her while she was surrounded by admirers, her demeanor closer to Scarlett O’Hara at
the fancy picnic than a woman aware of the future awaiting her. She looked
magnificent, dressed in long dark blue gown with crystal embellishments, flirting
back with only those she deemed worthy, men of high rank. She was not prey, she was
baiting solicitors, and she would go to the highest bidder. Kayne knew, from that
first encounter, he’d make her his.

He had crept up behind her, wrapped his arm around her, pulling her
close to him. He left his hand on her stomach, leaning in, his voice silky, and
whispered in her ear, “I can play or I can fight… whichever you prefer…”

She turned her head coquettishly to him, her eyes fiery. “Aren’t
they the same?”

“Only to the winner.”

Her eyes bored into his, challenging him; she nodded. The deal was
struck.

He shook his head remembering their torrid affair, remembering
their last night together. Tanya Malone, the one person who brought out the worst in
him, to have loved him, because of it. Though he knew his father had loved him, knew
Olga’s devotion to him. Tanya was the only person to ever utter the words.

He remembered his disappointment at feeling nothing, the moment
anticlimactic. He hadn’t wanted her love, had only felt contempt toward her when she
finally bowed in defeat.

He wondered if she had ever meant it. A woman like Tanya couldn’t
love, he thought, though she could feel. The only thing Tanya ever loved was power,
even when used against her. He realized that even in doubt, he still carried a
fondness if not a repressed admiration for the fiery seductress. It didn’t matter
anymore.

He was sitting in a small private living room, leaning his head
back, his eyes closed when he heard her heels clicking toward him. He opened his
eyes to find her in a fancy green cocktail dress, her silky curls tied in a high
ponytail. Regardless of the occasion, Tanya would always be red carpet ready. She
sat in the adjacent chair as they stared at each other in a silence that said it
all.

“I told you you’d come back to me,” she finally said, her
playfulness forced.

He stared at her some more, his face weary as he returned a
crestfallen smile. “You know why I’m here.”

Her eyes glittered with bitter understanding. With a defiant smile
on her lips, her voice willfully mocking, she mimicked concern. “The little puppy
couldn’t handle the truth?”

“What did you think would happen?” He leaned in on his elbows, his
eyes boring into hers.

She chuckled humorlessly, she had expected a
retaliation from Kayne. Had imagined him storming in, wanting to strike her, his
eyes furious, his body lashing at her. She would have gladly welcomed it. His grave
attitude however unnerved her, and she felt her mask dropping.

“I really don’t know what you see in her. What I do know is what
she
doesn’t
see in you. If she can see what I see, the real you, all of you…
and still want you... Then fine, she can have you.”

He bobbed his head in understanding, his face somber. He then
reached for her knee, gently brushing his thumb over her skin. He’d never been
gentle with her. In that moment, she understood from his sweet caress what she’d
done, what she brought upon herself. She closed her eyes and felt a shiver run down
her spine. When she reopened them, there was no trace of malice, of wicked
playfulness. For the first time in his life, Kayne faced the unguarded, uncensored,
Tanya Malone.

“Dimitri gave you the okay?” she asked, her voice low though
unwavering.

He nodded.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “Did it come from him?… Or
you?”

“Me,” he admitted, holding her gaze.

She snorted bitterly. “Li’l pup has bite…”

A half smirk crossed his lips. “Was she worth it? Was she worth
throwing away your only friend?” he quoted back her words.

She grinned, playing along, one last time. “Friend? We’re not
friends.”

They stared at each other in silence, a subdued smile on their
lips. “How do you want it?”

She took a deep breath. “With your hands on my body.”

He nodded, solemn, got off the couch, and slowly made his way to
her. He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, his eyes burning with
restrained emotion.

“I really did love you, you know?” She looked up at
him, for the first time, her voice breaking.

He nodded again, he believed her. He wrapped both his hands gently
around her little neck and began applying pressure. She closed her eyes, maintaining
her body as still as she could. He could feel her heart beating frantically, feel
his own twist and tighten in its guarded fortress. It didn’t stop him; he’d learned
to live with that feeling long ago. Just like his father before him, Kayne kept
applying pressure. Until he felt the life drain from her, the woman who had loved
him and, ultimately, betrayed him.