Disgraced Read online

  2

  Lina

  Damon signaled for a taxi, and, after opening the door to let me in, slipped in beside me. I just stared at him for a long minute. What was he doing here? In Manhattan? I thought, well, I assumed at least, that he’d be ordained by now.

  “Lina?”

  “Hmm?” Had he been talking to me?

  “Your address. Where do you live?”

  “Oh.” I shook myself. “I’m sorry.” Turning to the driver, I rattled off the address to my apartment, then glanced once more at Damon before sitting back in my seat, pretending to look through my purse to organize it.

  “They didn’t take anything, did they?”

  “No. They would have been disappointed anyway. Not much in here,” I said with a weak smile. What was he doing here? No one knew I was in New York City, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  The heat was cranked high in the taxi, which smelled like pipe smoke and yesterday’s dinner. I pulled my knitted hat off my head and loosened my scarf, cleared my throat, and turned to him.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He watched me, his eyes strange, the blue more somber than I remembered. He’d be about twenty-seven now, but he looked older than I expected. The last time I’d seen him was a few weeks before I left for Chicago. My sister had given me such a hard time about taking time off between high school and music school that I’d acquiesced. Or at least led her to believe I had. I hadn’t really decided then that I wouldn’t attend school. In fact, I had, for the first few months. It just wasn’t for me. Not then. There was too much I had to work through, and living with Sofia and Raphael in the estate in Tuscany—while it had been wonderful and I loved them both—I’d needed my own space. I needed time. And I needed to feel all this shit that Sofia, with the best of intentions, had tried to protect me from feeling.

  I’d done something terrible, even if, according to the FBI, it was the “right” thing to do.

  I’d betrayed my family. My grandfather. The man who’d taken us in and cared for us. It didn’t matter what he’d done. I needed to come to terms with my part in his downfall, and I didn’t know how to do that.

  But even though I knew I needed to stop and face it, I kept finding myself running at every turn.

  “I’m here for half a year,” Damon said.

  For a moment, I’d forgotten what we were talking about. “Oh.” That seemed strange. Why would he be in New York City? I’d always assumed he’d stay in Italy, have a congregation near the Bellini estate. “Why?”

  He ignored my question, but I didn’t miss the shadow that darkened his eyes.

  “The waitress called you Kat.”

  I looked away as the taxi slowed to a stop. “This is it,”’ I said, reaching into my purse for my wallet.

  Damon put his hand over mine. My breath caught. I looked down at it. At where his big hand covered mine. Then looked at him. It was the most platonic of touches, or at least I was sure it was meant to be, but when I met his gaze, he seemed to be searching my face for something.

  He cleared his throat and pulled his wallet out of his pocket to sort through some bills. After paying the driver, we climbed out of the taxi. I hesitated but knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. Not now.

  Damon glanced up and down the pretty, nearly deserted street of beautiful homes. Did he wonder how I afforded to live here?

  “This one’s mine.” I walked up the stairs of the brownstone. Damon followed close behind me. I hadn’t forgotten how big he was. How wide his shoulders were. How his presence could be so overwhelming.

  It took three tries to slide my key into the lock and turn it before pushing the door open. The flat of Damon’s hand came over my head to hold it as we entered. I glanced at it again, like in the taxi, then at him, before climbing the stairs to the second floor where my apartment was. The one I borrowed. Shit. How was I going to explain this? It had to be obvious that this place would be out of my budget.

  We stepped into the apartment, and I switched on the light. I slipped off my coat and scarf and hung them on the rack by the door before taking off my hat and setting it and my purse on the table along with my keys.

  Damon unbuttoned his coat while I watched, his eyes shifting to my face, an abundance of questions in them. But then his gaze slipped to my shoulder where my sweater had slid over to expose skin.

  The tattoos.

  They covered the whole of my right arm, shoulder, and most of my back. Flowers in all colors and shapes. All pretty and delicate and pure. I’d designed it myself over many months before finally having the courage to get it done.

  I cleared my throat and pulled the sweater up to cover my shoulder before walking into the kitchen.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I opened the fridge, pretending to take stock of what I had, although I already knew. “I don’t have much. Iced tea or water.” I cleared my throat. “Whiskey too,” I added, looking at Alexi’s bottle of the expensive stuff sitting on the counter. I never touched it, but whenever he dropped by to ‘check on his investment,’ as he liked to say, he’d sit on his couch and put his feet up on his coffee table and expect me to pour glass after glass while he watched me.

  “Water’s fine.”

  Damon walked over to the window, and I saw him take in the not too large but nicely decorated space with its lush sofa, the dining table with four chairs, the kitchen with its sleek, modern appliances still shiny and new. I never used any of them apart from the coffee machine. I didn’t cook. And this wasn’t home. It would never be home.

  He paused before the large print of an old photo Alexi had blownup to place over the couch when the apartment had become his responsibility several months ago.

  I turned my back, not wanting to know what he thought.

  Hell, knowing what he must think.

  “The apartment came furnished. I just live here while the owner’s away.” Not quite a lie. “It’s not mine. None of it is mine.”

  I snuck a peek in time to see Damon cock his head to the side as he studied the print. It was of two women, one on her hands and knees, her bare ass to the camera. The other woman was crouched on top of her, her blouse open, breasts exposed, an arm raised and about to strike the backside of the woman beneath her.

  I felt my face heat up when Damon turned to me. I couldn’t meet his gaze when I handed him the bottle of water. “The owner is…eccentric.”

  “I’d say.” He took the bottle. “I have questions, Lina.”

  “I guess you would.”

  “Sit.”

  I sat down on the nearest chair. Damon remained standing for a long time, then finally perched on the edge of the coffee table.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Not really,” I tried with a lopsided grin.

  He smiled, his blue eyes brightening. I’d forgotten what he looked like. How disarmingly beautiful he was. He leaned in so his knees touched mine. My mouth went dry as our eyes locked. Did he know how he impacted me? Did he know how hard my heart beat against my chest?

  He took the bottle of water I held and twisted the cap off before handing it back to me.

  “Relax, Lina.”

  I blinked several times, glancing at my lap, then back at him. He watched me.

  “I’m just…surprised to have run into you here. Surprised by all this.” He gestured around him.

  I nodded and took a small sip.

  “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?”

  “I…” I cleared my throat. “That school didn’t work out for me. It was too…hard.” It was a lie. I’d walked away. It wasn’t that I couldn’t hack it. Not even close. “I failed the first year. I’d have to repeat, and I didn’t want to do that, so I left. I’m taking some time off. Thinking about what I want to do.” When had lying come so easily to me?

  “You flunked out?”

  I nodded, swallowing hard. “Sofia doesn’t know. I didn’t want to worry her or stress
her out. I want her to be proud of me.” Oh wow. Who was this person talking?

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  He stood and turned a circle around the room.

  “So you came to New York City. Got some tattoos…” he trailed off.

  “Yes,” I said, gulping another drink of water.

  “And are playing piano at Club Carmen, about which I’ve heard…stories.”

  “I just play piano. That’s all. I don’t work the private parties.” Guilt made my belly tight.

  “The infamous private parties.”

  I shouldn’t have mentioned that part. Of course, he’d know about them. All of Manhattan knew about them.

  “And you’re house-sitting?” he continued.

  “Sort of.” It sounded ridiculous to hear him say it, to hear him tell me the story I’d just made up.

  “Sort of?”

  “The man who owns the club—owned it—owns the apartment.”

  Damon looked confused. Well, it was a confusing story. Alexi Markov owned Club Carmen. It had been transferred into his name the day his father, Sergei, had been arrested. Sergei still owned the apartment, even though Alexi liked to act like it was his.

  “That would explain the very expensive bottle of whiskey, not to mention the décor.” His gaze swept to that damned print again.

  “It’s temporary. He didn’t want to leave the apartment empty, and I needed a place to stay when I first got here.”

  “So how long have you had this arrangement?”

  Shoot. I hadn’t meant to give that away.

  “Are you going to tell Sofia?” I asked, ignoring his question.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  I didn’t have to answer, though, because he continued.

  “Lina,” he paused, a look of disappointment on his face. “What exactly do you have to do for the club owner to be so generous with you?”

  I stood. I hated that. Everyone assumed I whored myself out to Alexi, to his dad. It wasn’t true, and I was sick of it. “I’m not sleeping with him if that’s what you’re implying.” I went to him and stood just feet from him. “What right do you have, coming here to question me anyway? This is my life.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re so mature about it.”

  “Seriously, Damon, you can’t just walk in here and interrogate me.”

  “I beg to differ. When I find you in New York when you’re supposed to be in Chicago, I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to have questions. Questions you will answer.”

  “Or what?”

  His gaze swept down to my mouth and over to my shoulder—damn sweater slipped again. He gave me the smallest of smiles and glanced back at the print.

  “Or…” he drew the word out.

  I fisted my hands, squeezing the bottle of water I didn’t realize I still held until water splashed the sweater at my wrist. “Shoot.”

  Damon took the bottle and set it down, then closed his hands over my arms, rubbing once, squeezing a little, his smile tight.

  “I care about you, Lina. That’s why I’m asking.”

  I blinked a few times, my eyes suddenly misty as I looked up into his. They had darkened since a few minutes ago. The blue like a beach was now more of a stormy, gray sea.

  “You were at seminary,” I said stupidly. “You’re supposed to be a priest.”

  He lowered his gaze with a resigned exhale, then released my arms and turned his back to me to look out the window. “This is my final assignment before ordination.”

  “What do you mean? I thought by now…”

  It took him a few minutes to turn back around. Those empty moments felt weighted, heavy.

  “Think of me as a slow learner.”

  He tried to make it sound light, but I knew it wasn’t. His expression grew serious before he spoke again.

  “Maybe like you, I’m trying to figure out who I am, where I belong.”

  His gaze shot over me.

  “What I want.”

  “You don’t know?”

  He smiled at my question, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

  “You’re not the only one searching, Lina.”

  I smiled back, feeling like we were on equal footing, at least in this. “Want something to eat?” I asked, walking into the kitchen. “I can scramble a mean egg.”

  “Sure.”

  He followed and leaned against the counter while I took the eggs and pan out. He then opened a couple of cupboards, which I already knew he’d find empty apart from coffee, tea, and a bag of pasta.

  “I’m not much of a cook.”

  “I can see that. You used to like to eat, though.”

  “I still like to eat. I usually have dinner at the club.”

  “How many nights do you play?”’

  “Four.”

  “What do you eat the other three nights.”

  “Oh, you know. I go out or get takeout”

  I glanced back to find him eyeing me. I wore an oversize sweater now, but he’d seen me in the slinky black dress at the club. Alexi chose what I wore when I worked. A part of the agreement when he took over the club. I was just glad tonight’s dress had been relatively conservative, but he’d still have seen how thin I was.

  “You’ve lost weight since a few years ago.”

  That was an understatement. I weighed one hundred and five pounds and was 5’5” tall.

  I shrugged a shoulder. “I have a high metabolism. Trust me, I eat.” God, another lie. But this was to save face. If he knew I had no money, I’d be more than a little embarrassed. And if he tried to give me some, I think I’d die.

  Alexi liked for me to be dependent on him. It was his revenge, I guess. Because he had me now. Not the way he wanted, he hadn’t forced that. Not yet, anyway. But he owned me in every other way.

  I plated scrambled eggs, grabbed forks, and set the dishes on the counter.

  “I have some ketchup,” I said as I looked at the plain plate of food. I opened one of the drawers to look for the little packets.

  “This is fine.”

  I sat down, and we ate in silence. Alexi was out of town until tomorrow night, which was a relief. I wouldn’t know how to explain Damon to him or how to explain Alexi to Damon if they ever met.

  No. I needed to keep Damon as far from Alexi Markov and the Markov family as possible. It was the only way to keep him safe.

  “So you live in New York City?” I asked.

  “I’ve been here about five weeks. I’ll be here for at least half a year.”

  “Can I ask you why?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze not on me as he considered his answer. “It’s complicated.”

  He didn’t want to talk about it. I could understand that, although I was more than a little curious. “How’s Sofia?” I asked, my throat tight. I hadn’t called my sister in two weeks and felt like a jerk. But truth was, lying to her was getting harder and harder.

  “Good. Very pregnant.”

  “Twins.” I smiled. “Is she huge?”

  “Getting there. Raphael takes good care of her, though.”

  “He’d better.”

  “Why did the waitress call you Kat?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject back.

  I shrugged a shoulder, wanting to make it appear to be less than it was. “It’s my name. Katalina. Lina was what everyone called me from when I was little, so it stuck. I just…I needed to be someone else. Maybe just for a little while. Maybe for longer.” I pushed the food around my plate, no longer hungry. “Everyone always decided everything for me, Damon.”

  I didn’t need to look at him to know he was watching me closely. I could feel his gaze on me.

  “Do you want me to call you Kat?” he asked.

  I turned to him, his question surprising me. “No.” There was silence as I stood to clear our plates away. I had my back to him when I next spoke. “I don’t want you to tell Sofia.”

  “You’re an adult, Lina. This is yo
ur life.”

  I faced him, smiling, relieved, but then he continued.

  “You should tell her yourself. Lying to her, to everyone, that’s the part I’m struggling with.”

  My smile vanished. I felt suddenly angry. A moment ago, I’d felt like maybe he understood. But I was wrong. “Is that leftover priest talk?” I asked, not missing his flinch.

  “Lina—”

  “Are you going to lecture me? Maybe act like this place is your confessional, and I’m some sinner who’s come for absolution? To be forgiven? Or maybe looking for one more person to tell me what I should do with my life? Who I should be?”

  “Lina.”

  He stood, catching me when I tried to scoot past him.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I don’t need you to judge me, and I don’t need one more person telling me what’s best for me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I’m not judging you. And I don’t presume to know what’s best for you.”

  “Really? The only person who has to struggle with anything as far as my life is concerned is me. Not you.”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “It would worry Sofia if she knew. With the pregnancy—”

  “You left school before her pregnancy. You moved to New York City before her pregnancy.”

  I tried to shake him off, but he tightened his grip on my arm and took hold of the other one as well.

  “Let me go.”

  “Why? So you can walk away? Turn your back to me, and bury your head in the sand? Hope I go away? Hope I don’t ask you questions that obviously make you uncomfortable?”

  “I’m not... Let me go.”

  “I’m your friend, Lina. Not your enemy.”

  “Right. My friend.”

  “I’m not judging you, but I do have an opinion on the way you’ve chosen to handle things.”

  “And you feel free to share those opinions with me, even though I never asked for them. Just like you felt free to look through my kitchen cabinets earlier.”

  “You are so damn stubborn.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “We’re not strangers.”

  But weren’t we?