The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) (4 page)

“That’s it?” Robby looked as appalled as Ava felt. “Thanks for the patch job see you in a few years?”

John Paul said nothing. Neither did Dimitri. Ava didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet as well.

Robby sighed. “And here I thought my family reunions were awkward.”

Dimitri flipped the collar of his floor duster. “I will show myself out.”

No one stopped him crossing the distance to the door. Every step he took tightened the noose closed tight around Ava’s chest. The depravation of air broke her.

“Dimitri, wait.” She hurried after him, but stopped short of touching him. “Please don’t leave. You’ve lost too much blood and you’re injured. Just … stay the night. Just the one night. Please.” She glanced back at John Paul pleading silently.

John Paul looked on the verge of barely contained rage. His jaw was set in a hard line of refusal. Tawny eyes stayed rooted to his son, burning into Dimitri’s shoulder blades with a disappointment that could cut skin.

“He can’t.”

Ava started. “What…?”

The door was wrenched open. He started out into the corridor. His scoffed boots twisted on one heel, but he stopped. His head turned over his shoulder and his gaze captured Ava’s. Her heart stuttered.

“Sz dnum rohzdeenyeh,”
he said, murmuring the words to
happy birthday
in Russian.

He was gone before Ava could think to open her mouth. His coat flapped around his wide strides out of the room.

“Why?” She rounded on John Paul. “Why did you do that? Why would you—?”

“Please give us moment, Robert,” John Paul cut in, in a tone that left no room for disobedience, but his gaze stayed locked on Ava, even when Robby left, shutting the door behind him. “He couldn’t stay,” he told her firmly. “I cannot allow what was after him to come for you or your mother. I did what I could, but he needed to go.”

“But he was hurt,” Ava whispered.

“Yes, and he never should have come here. He could have put you in danger.”

“He’s your son.”

“You’re my daughter,” he corrected. “It’s my job to keep you safe from him.”

She knew he would say that. It was the reason she’d never told him about the days she’d spent with Dimitri, the places they’d gone, the things he’d shown her, the nights they’d shared in each other’s arms. They were her secrets, her single act of disobedience. Dimitri had been all the things she was afraid to be, wild, free, dangerous. He had taught her to let go and sample a taste of her rebellion, and it had been a feast that had always left her wanting more.

Then he’d broken her and she had been left alone with the pieces of what was left of her and a tainted heap of memories.

“I know you don’t understand, Ava…”

She shook her head. “I do understand. Lord knows I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

The party was already over by the time they returned to it. The last of the guests was Robby, who promised to call in the morning for that explanation. Then the door was shut by Charlotte, who continued to hold the brass knob a moment and breathe deeply.

“You are a selfish brat.” The words were said so quietly, Ava almost didn’t hear them. Then her mother said them again, louder as she twisted around to face her. “A spoiled, selfish brat! Do you have any idea what it cost to put all this together? The time and the … sacrifice?”

Ava knew by
cost
Charlotte didn’t mean money. She meant the more important things she could have been doing instead of attending her own daughter’s birthday party. It was no doubt something John Paul had insisted she do. Bribery may have been involved.

“What did I do?” Ava asked, careful to keep the resignation from her tone.

“All night, you did nothing but mope around here like some horribly disfigured hunchback, then you just up and leave, disappearing from your own party with that … abomination. What are people going to think?”

“What abomination?” Ava ignored the rest.

“That filth you call a friend. What an embarrassment bringing him here, to my home!”

Anger flickered to life in the pit of Ava’s stomach, a slow blaze that she knew she needed to control or it would control her.

“What’s wrong with Robby?”

“Other than the fact that he spends his nights with other men?”

Ava blinked. “Robby’s not gay, and even if he was, his sexual preference is hardly any of your business.”

“Is that what he’s telling you?” Charlotte snickered as though Ava’s stupidity were somehow amusing. “Well, he’s lying to you. I knew what he was the moment he walked in here, despite his clear lack of pride in his appearance. Disgraceful. Absolutely appalling. Having him here, in front of all our friends, dressed the way he was…”

Ava shook her head, disgusted. “Why would you ever think Robby’s life choices would ever change the way I feel about him?”

“Because to continue this … friendship, will only give people the wrong idea.”

“Like what? That I like girls? That I respect other people for the way they are? What exactly should I be afraid of?”

Charlotte opened her mouth, the words perched on her plump, nude lips when John Paul entered the foyer. His strides were slow, even, with both hands in his pockets. He’d removed his tie and the top two buttons on his dress shirt were undone. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes were fixed on his wife.

“Why don’t you turn in, Ava?” He stopped when he was three feet from them. “It’s been a long night.”

Ava didn’t argue. She couldn’t leave fast enough. A rebellious part of her wanted to kick her shoes off into a corner, just to infuriate her mother, but common sense kept her grounded.

She made it to the security of her bedroom. It was only after she’d stripped, showered, and climbed into bed that she remembered Patrick. By then, she opted to leave it for the morning. There was no point waking him up now to say … what? I’m sorry? He’d ask for an explanation and she was too exhausted to make something up. So, morning it was.

Sleep evaded her that night. It toyed with her, giving her glimpses of rest only to snatch it away with images of blood, of Dimitri’s ashen complexion, of the tension in his shoulders when his own father had turned him away. His pain had been a physical pang she could feel. It always had been. Even as children, he had been so careful not to let John Paul’s rejections break him. He’d been so set, so resolute that she had hurt for him. She had ached for him, because she knew what it was like not to have anyone. Her father hadn’t wanted her. Her mother had kept her out of obligation. She had no friends, no grandparents, no family she could turn to. But she’d had John Paul and it had been enough. He had no one. She wondered if that was still true, or if he’d married, if he had children.

That thought was what kept her awake the rest of the night in the expanse of her canopied bed, watching the slow sway of the gossamer drapes playing with the cool breeze coming in through the open window. The night was a patch of silver across the hardwood. It had begun to rain and the moist air felt wonderful across her skin. But it wasn’t enough to still her mind.

Abandoning all hopes of waking up semi rested, she rolled out of bed. Her gaze flicked to the alarm and she groaned as the digital numbers snapped to a little after three. The world outside the bay windows hummed with the early morning. The manor echoed with its usual silence. Ava padded out of her room and started down to the kitchen. Sleep wouldn’t be returning and there was nothing to do, but get a late night snack. Part of her hoped the caterers had left a few of those tiny salmon sandwiches she’d seen during the party. Every year, she’d pack away half a tray before her mother would order them off the floor.

“Do you want people to think you’re starving?”
she’d hissed.

But she had been starving. Despite being to die for, the sandwiches were tiny, barely big enough to fit the palm of her hand. She’d have needed twenty just to make a full sandwich. Nevertheless, every year, she would restrain herself from sneaking into the kitchen and loading up a massive plate. Now that her mother was sleeping for the night, there was no one to stop Ava.

It took all of two seconds to realize she wasn’t the only one with the idea to raid the fridge. The glow from the appliance illuminated a square patch across the polished floor and the silhouetted figure stooped half inside. Judging from the silk, navy blue pajama bottoms, it wasn’t a burglar.

Ava snapped the lights on and watched in twisted amusement as the figure jolted violently.

“Aren’t you on a diet?” she teased as John Paul scrambled to shut the fridge door and face her.

His terrified expression dissolved into one of relief at the sight of her. He huffed indignantly and smoothed down the front of his matching robe.

“Only when your mother’s awake.”

Ava chuckled. She crossed the distance to where he stood and pulled open the fridge door. The cool air whispered over her flushed skin. She peered inside at the rows of neatly labeled containers.

“Have you seen the salmon sandwiches?”

John Paul leaned past her and pulled a blue lidded container out and pressed it into her hands. He pulled out three more containers for himself before kicking the door shut with his slippered foot.

“Hungry?” she said, eyeing the boxes he set down on the island.

“Starving,” he grumbled. “Your mother thinks that, just because she eats like a bird, the rest of us do so as well.”

Pulling herself up onto a stool, Ava pried open the lid and retrieved one of the neat triangles of heaven from inside.

“Well, you do have to watch your girly figure.”

Grabbing a fork from a drawer, John Paul snorted. “That ship has sailed.”

He shoveled a wad of pasta into his mouth and chewed.

Ava took a bite and moaned. “God, these are good.”

John Paul reached over and stole one of the sandwiches. “I don’t think I’ve tried these.”

Ava clutched the container closer to her chest. “That’s the only one you’re getting.”

He ignored her as he stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. “These are good.”

“Hey!” Her protest came too late as another sandwich was liberated from her container. “Don’t you have enough food there?”

He jabbed his fork in her direction. “You are a mean child.”

“And you’re a food thief.”

He shot her a feigned glower and turned away. He pulled down two glasses and set them on the counter.

“Juice, milk, or water?”

It didn’t seem to matter how old she got, he always offered her those same three choices.

Ava grinned around her sandwich. “Juice.”

He opened the fridge. “You should drink more milk. It’s good for you.”

“I think my bones have stopped growing.”

Jug in hand, he walked back to the island. “It’s not only about growing bones. It’s about keeping them strong.” He filled both glasses. “You need strong bones, especially when you get to be my age.”

“Thirty?”

He paused and looked up at her. “This is why I love you.”

Ava laughed.

He grinned and slid her glass over to her. “Tell me what you’ve been doing. How’s work? Everyone treating you good there? Do you need anything?”

“Fine, yes, and no.” She set the sandwiches down. “I have to drive out to Williamsburg for a journalist convention tomorrow, which I had hoped my boss would forget about, but she texted me this morning to remind me.”