Sordid (32 page)

We ate turkey and stuffing, and held conversations about current events over pumpkin pie. My brother showed off his new car, unaware my boyfriend had orchestrated the whole thing. I gave Luka the tour of my family’s house, only because he insisted. He’d enjoyed me showing him the barn where our equipment was stored, at least the stuff we didn’t co-op. Up to that point, the day had gone much better than I expected.

It went downhill when I’d led him to my bedroom, leaving the door open, of course, since my parents were conservative. Luka’s gaze had scanned the room, assessing the mathlete trophies and valedictorian sash clinically, and then he’d told me in graphic detail how he wanted to bend me over my bed and fuck me while my parents were downstairs.

Only my dad wasn’t downstairs. He’d heard the whole thing.

My father’s face had turned a terrible shade of purple as he told Luka to leave. We tried to calm him down and tell him it had been a joke, but eventually Luka’s true self broke free, and he announced I lived with him now.

“Addison’s twenty-one,” Luka said, standing tall under my father’s angry glare. “An adult.”

“And she’s also our daughter,” my father snapped back at him. “It’s our responsibility to keep her from making poor decisions.”

Luka’s expression soured. His hand wrapped around mine, tugging me toward the closet so we could retrieve our coats.

“Addie,” my mother pleaded. “This is crazy!” She stared at me with disbelief, probably wondering what the hell had happened to make their smart daughter move in with a serious and imposing man she’d only really known for a month.

“I know it’s kinda fast,” I said. How on earth was I going to explain it? Luka’s and my relationship was like an arranged marriage where our lives had been thrust together, and we were doing our best to make it work.

My father didn’t need an explanation and wasn’t intimidated by Luka. He put his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest. “You’re just kids. You’re both too young to be playing house.”

The hand on my wrist tightened and I sucked in a breath. Outwardly, yes. Luka appeared young, but he wasn’t, and I sensed how annoyed he was with being called a
kid
.

Luka’s tone was edged with controlled anger. “I’m four years older than you were, when you married your wife, sir.”

My dad’s shoulders pulled back as if Luka’s statement was a verbal slap. But it was true. My parents had been high school sweethearts and gotten married at twenty-two.

Luka held my coat for me to put on. “I think it’s best if we head out. I’m sorry if I upset you, but the truth is I’m selfish and greedy. I enjoy coming home to her every night. I like Addison . . . very much. Can you blame me for wanting to be around her?”

His gaze found mine and he flashed a full-out grin.

It was a miracle my eyes didn’t fall out of my head. A tiny voice inside said he’d only done this for effect, playing the role of the love-struck boyfriend, but dear God . . . When his face lit up, it was hard not to believe this was truth.

His smile drugged me. I was marginally aware he delivered our goodbyes to my parents, apologizing once more for making the holiday uncomfortable, and telling my parents they were welcome at
our
home anytime. I genuinely had no idea how they would handle that. The exterior of the house was just as impressive as the interior. Would my parents’ jaws hit the floor as they pulled up in the circle drive of the mansion?

“That didn’t really go as I’d planned,” he commented when we were seated in the car. His long fingers rested on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, and I wondered if he’d put his hand there so he could have a sense of control. “But they needed to know eventually.”

I stared out the window, waiting for him to put the car in gear and back out of my parents’ driveway, but he didn’t. We sat in cold silence for an eternity.

“Addison.” He placed his hand in my lap, gently squeezing my thigh. “I meant what I said.”

“That you want to fuck me on my high school bed with a thumb in my ass? I’m sure.”

He glared at me. “You
know
what I’m talking about.” He exhaled, signaling frustration. “I told you, I’m not good at that shit, but I like coming home now, okay? People usually get on my nerves, but not you.” He looked so different when he was unsure. “I like being with you.”

I stared at the hand in my lap. It was the same for me, but I couldn’t admit it. He’d steamrolled right over me; how could I confess to liking it? To liking him?

He waited impatiently for my response, so I dropped my hand on top of his, encasing his warm fingers. It was the best I could do. I was sure he wasn’t overly pleased, but it seemed to satisfy him enough, because he put the car into gear.

π

I hadn’t heard Luka come into the office because I’d been too busy studying. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that my head snapped up and my gaze locked on to him. He leaned back against the desk, his arms crossed, and a rich blue tie hung loose at his neck.

“Go change into something nice,” he ordered. “We’re going out to dinner.”

Was he insane? He’d never interrupted me before, and it was finals week. I shook my head. “I’m studying.” I pointed to the textbook in my lap to reinforce my statement.

“Which one?”

“Developmental biology.”

He made a face like I was being ridiculous. “Like you need to study for that one. You can take two hours off. We’re going out to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” There’d been a weird pitch to his voice that I couldn’t place.

“Yeah.” He gave me half of a smile. “Your early acceptance to Johns Hopkins came today.”

It took me a moment to process the words, and once I got over the initial thrill . . . “You opened it?”

It wasn’t the invasion of privacy that bothered me, it was that he’d taken the moment away when we could have shared it together.

“No, I didn’t open it,” he scoffed. He pulled a thick envelope off the desk and held it up. “I’m assuming. Unless this is an unnecessarily detailed rejection letter.”

“Holy shit.”

“Open it. Then get your ass upstairs and get dressed.”

I stood, snatched it from him, and tore open the envelope. I didn’t mind when he moved to stand behind me so he could read over my shoulder, or when his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close.

“I told you,” he whispered as we scanned the letter, confirming my acceptance.

Johns Hopkins.
My dream school.

I couldn’t stop smiling as he led me upstairs to our bedroom and picked out a dress for me to wear. Luka watched me get ready, amusement playing in his eyes. Maybe even a little bit of pride. He knew how badly I wanted to get in.

I practically galloped beside him as we walked down the hall toward the garage, unable to contain my excitement. Tonight the six-car garage was completely loaded with cars. Often Dimitrije stored his newest acquisitions for his pre-owned luxury dealership here, and Luka examined the selection as if facing a difficult choice.

“BMW or Lexus?” he asked.

It was the most elegant of the cars in the garage, and its black paint gleamed. “The BMW.” He seemed pleased at my choice. I relaxed into the soft leather in the passenger seat, marveling at the interior. “It’s like a spaceship.”

He paired his phone with the large screen and plugged the restaurant’s address in.

“We’re going into the city?” I asked.

He nodded, but didn’t elaborate. As we drove, I called my parents and told them the good news. The conversation was stilted when they realized Luka was listening in on the car speakers, but they were happy for me. After, Luka and I chatted about our days, and then we lapsed into a comfortable, easy silence.

We were exiting the freeway into the city when his phone rang. I stared at the screen, and went cold. Dimitrije Markovic was calling.

Luka’s expression turned to stone as he pressed a button. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Dimitrije’s tone was annoyed.

“Downtown.”

“Did you take the new BMW?”

Luka’s eyebrows pulled together. “Yeah, why?”

There was a loud sigh on the other end. “Don’t get pulled over, and if you do, don’t let them search the trunk. I’ve got stuff in there.”

Luka’s hand tightened on the wheel at the same time the muscles along his jaw flexed. In his head he was surely cursing his father’s name. “All right, understood.”

The call disconnected and blanketed the car interior in tension. What kind of stuff was back there? Guns? A dead body?

“Should we turn around?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “We’re almost there. We’ll be fine.”

The restaurant was Serbian. I could tell from the fact Luka spoke in Serbian to the host, who greeted him by name. It was always surprising when the foreign language rolled out of him. Unexpected, but pleasant.

The day Luka started to let me have supervised internet access, I’d queried
luče,
spelling it incorrectly as he’d pronounced it,
luche
. He’d grimaced, and then typed it in for me. He’d been embarrassed at calling me a term of endearment, most closely related to ‘baby.’ He’d only slipped and done it the one time, but when I’d read the translation, warmth spread down through me. It shouldn’t have. I wasn’t supposed to like how he’d whispered to me in his mother’s native language.

We were seated at a table near the back, and from the way the host fawned over us, it was clear he knew
exactly
who Luka was. A bottle of wine was poured for us and left on the table, and as I reached for my glass, Luka spoke abruptly.

“Congrats, Addison. I’m happy for you.”

I held my wine in stunned surprise as he clinked his against mine, and then brought his glass to his lips.

“Are you?” I asked quietly.

He looked confused. “Of course. This is what you wanted—”

“No.” I was on an emotional rollercoaster, and it made me reckless and brave. “Are you happy?”

He set the wine down and his fingers remained on the bell of the glass, as if he were too distracted to move while thinking about his answer. “Yes,” he said finally. His gaze captured mine and stole my breath. “You make me happy.”

I could barely get the question out. “Do you trust me?”

He paused.

Oh, no.
Slowly his expression melted into his cold, emotionless mask. He’d seen right through my attempt to ask for freedom. The phone call from Dimitrije had reminded me of my true goal. Luka’s family were criminals, and I needed to escape.

“I trust you . . . enough,” he said. “Not enough to let you go yet, if that’s where you’re heading.”

I took a sip of my wine and glanced away. He could always tell what I was thinking. I was determined not to let my failed attempt ruin my night. Eventually he’d have to let me go. Johns Hopkins was in Maryland, not Chicago.

Our food was excellent, and I liked the cozy ambiance of the restaurant. Even though the tables were close to each other and the place was busy, it seemed like we were secluded near the back. It felt . . . intimate. It was the closest thing to a real date we’d ever been on.

“Order dessert,” he said, when he noticed me eyeing the cart loaded with all sorts of pastries. “The chocolate torte’s like my mother used to make—”

Commotion near the front drew our attention. In fact, it seemed to draw everyone’s attention in the restaurant. Two men lurked at the host’s stand, and the host turned to Luka, giving us a good look at his angry face.

Luka motioned to bring the men back to us. He straightened in his seat and didn’t look at me as the men hurried through the aisle, grabbed the two empty chairs at our square table, and sat down.

“Luka.” It came from the smaller of the two men. “We heard a Markovic popped by. Wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

There was an undercurrent of tension to the man’s words. He’d been trying for a friendly, casual tone, but there was malice buried there. The larger man was perched on his chair, and his eyes scanned around the room like he expected it to burst into flames at any moment. Was he security?

Luka smiled as much as he typically did, only this one didn’t even reach his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, Ivan.”