Close Liaisons Page 15

  “All right,” she said. “I hope that you can reschedule whatever you’ve got planned for tonight. Korum said he may not be home at all this evening, so whatever he’s doing is probably big.”

  Chapter 11

  “Hey stranger, welcome back!”

  Jessie had apparently gotten her email and came home, bubbling with enthusiasm.

  Mia grinned back and gave her roommate a big hug, genuinely happy to see her cheerful face. Her meeting with the Resistance fighters had left her unsettled, and Jessie was exactly the distraction she needed.

  “So tell me,” Jessie joked, “how did the big bad K let you come out for a night? I was sure he was keeping you under lock and key there.”

  Mia flushed. It was a little too close to the truth for comfort. Shrugging, she said, “I think he has to work this evening or something. He wasn’t sure if he’d be home at all, so he suggested we hang out.”

  “Wow, how nice of him,” Jessie said, comically widening her eyes. “Do you know what this means?”

  “No, what?” Mia said, laughing at the dramatic expression on Jessie’s face.

  “It means we’re going out! It’s a Saturday night, and we’re going to party!”

  Mia wrinkled her nose a little. “Really? Right before finals?”

  “Damn right! Oh, don’t give me that look. I know you’ve been cramming for weeks already. One evening out won’t make or break your grade. But since your K overlord decided to let you out only for tonight, we’re going to have ourselves a blast!”

  Mia grinned. Jessie’s enthusiasm was catching, and suddenly the idea of getting utterly wasted while dancing all night sounded just about perfect.

  Two hours later, the girls began preparations for the night out. Showering and shaving every inch of her body, Mia washed her hair and thoroughly conditioned it. The regular use of Korum’s shampoo had turned it soft and silky, infinitely more manageable, and blowdrying resulted in a soft mass of well-defined dark curls cascading halfway down her back.

  Makeup was next, and Mia went for the dramatic smoky-eye look, keeping the rest of her face neutral. Her wardrobe, however, presented a dilemma, for which she needed expert advice. “Jessie!” she yelled for the expert.

  Her roommate came in, dressed to the nines herself. In her short red dress and sky-high heels, she looked like a million bucks. “Let me guess. You still don’t know what to wear?” she asked with a big grin.

  “I need your help.” Mia gave her a helpless look, motioning toward the closet.

  “Okay, let’s see, what have we got here . . . Prada, Gucci, Badgley Mischka – oh poor you, you really have nothing to wear!” Jessie shook her head in mock reproach. “This is unbelievable, Mia – he totally spoils you. No wonder you never come home anymore.”

  Digging through Mia’s closet, Jessie pulled out a risqué Dolce & Gabbana dress and thrust it at Mia. “Here, try this one on.”

  Mia eyed it doubtfully. “Won’t I be cold?” There wasn’t much to the dress. It looked like two scraps of purple fabric held together by a few hooks and zippers.

  “Dancing in a hot, crowded club? Oh please.” Jessie snorted dismissively. “And if you wear this, I can guarantee you we won’t have to stand in line outside.”

  Mia decided to listen to the expert. Shimmying into the dress, she walked out of the room to show it to Jessie.

  “Wow.” Jessie was almost speechless. “I don’t know what he’s been feeding you, but you look amazing. I mean, you always looked cute – but this is a whole other level.”

  Mia blushed a little. The dress was definitely sexy, showing off her legs and exposing her back and shoulders. It was a bit too provocative for Mia’s taste, with the flimsy ties around her neck being the only things holding the top in place. She couldn’t wear a bra with it, given the low cut in the back, and she felt like her nipples were visible under the clingy fabric. To complete the look, she slipped on a sexy pair of heels and grabbed a tiny sparkly purse.

  She was ready to party.

  * * *

  For the club, they chose the trendiest place in the Meatpacking District. It was a popular destination for celebrities, models, model wannabes, and any other beautiful people who liked to party. Pre-Korum Mia would have never gone to such place, sure that she wouldn’t make it through the door without waiting for two hours in the cold. However, her newly confident well-dressed self had no such qualms.

  Strolling right up to the bouncer, Mia and Jessie gave him big sexy smiles. He eyed them with a purely masculine appreciation and lifted the rope, letting them through without a word.

  “Nicely done,” Jessie whispered as they walked down the steps toward the deafening music.

  Even at 11 p.m. the club was packed and happening. The music was excellent, a mix of old hip-hop favorites and some of the latest dance-hop. The dance floor was not particularly large, and every inch of it was filled with gorgeous girls grinding against each other and the few lucky guys who’d managed to get past the bouncer thus far. Sometimes it was really nice to be a girl, Mia thought. The only way most men could get into a place like this was by spending a ridiculous amount of money, whereas the girls were let in for free – as bait, of course.

  Going up to the bar, the two girls quickly found a pair of stools and ordered four vodka shots. A couple of guys immediately offered to buy them drinks, and Jessie declined with a giggle. “Too early for that,” she told Mia. “We want to dance, not hang out with these bozos all night.”

  Mia laughingly agreed, and they did their first shot, biting into a lemon afterward.

  The evening got even brighter, taking on that special sparkle that only the first glass of alcohol and anticipation of a fun night could bring. Mia felt young and pretty – and, for the moment, utterly carefree. Tomorrow she could worry again, but tonight – tonight she was going to party.

  “Cheers!”

  The second shot went down even smoother, and things acquired a pleasant fuzzy glow in Mia’s mind. The dance floor beckoned, the pulsating rhythm of the music reverberating in her bones. Grabbing Jessie’s hand, she pulled her toward the gyrating crowd.

  For the next hour, they danced nonstop. One good song after another came on, driving the dance floor into a frenzy. Mia danced with Jessie, with two other girls who had danced up to them, with a group of Wall Street types who kept trying to touch her naked back, and with Jessie again. She danced until she was hot and sweaty and breathless, her leg muscles quivering from all the squatting motions that a proper grinding dance entailed. She danced until she could no longer remember why she’d felt so crappy earlier today and what tomorrow could bring.

  “Need water!” Jessie yelled out, trying to be heard above the music. Laughing, Mia accompanied her back to the bar. They each got a glass of tap water and another round of vodka. This time, Jessie was too buzzed to refuse when a handsome guy who looked vaguely familiar – a reality TV star, perhaps – offered to pay for their shots.

  Edgar – who turned out to be an actor in a recently canceled drama – hit it off with Jessie right away. Her roommate, flattered by attention from a celebrity, flirted and giggled for all she was worth. Feeling slightly left out, Mia went to the bathroom by herself.

  When she came back, a couple of Edgar’s friends had joined them at the bar. They were both cute in that slightly boyish way that was popular now, and looked to be in great shape. They introduced themselves, and Mia learned that they were from the show as well. Peter was a stunt double, while Sean was a member of the supporting cast. “What is this, Entourage?” Mia joked, and they laughed, agreeing that their lives had much in common with the old show.

  Apparently realizing they were horning in on a girls’ night out, the guys ordered another round of drinks for everyone. It was tequila this time, and Mia nearly gagged at the strong taste that remained in her mouth even after biting into her lime. Her alcohol-barometer nose was long past its itching point, and she knew she would probably regret this tomorrow. But at this partic
ular moment, with vodka and tequila surging through her system, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

  Mia wasn’t planning on chatting up any guys, but Peter turned out to be a surprisingly good conversationalist. His voice was deep enough that it carried above the loud music, and she learned that they had Polish ancestry in common. His parents had actually come to this country fairly recently, even though he was an American citizen and had no accent. He had recently graduated from NYU himself – the Tisch School of the Arts – and wanted to be a film producer longer term. Since he had always been athletic, stunt-doubling was the best way for him to break into the field and start getting to know people, and he had been lucky enough to land a spot on the recently cancelled show.

  He also seemed genuinely interested in Mia, his blue eyes sparkling whenever he looked at her. With his wavy blond hair, he looked like a mischievous angel, and Mia couldn’t help laughing at some of the over-the-top compliments he directed her way. Under normal circumstances, a fun, outgoing guy like that would never have been interested in someone as shy and studious as Mia – and she couldn’t help but be flattered by his attention. So when Peter asked for her number, she gave it to him without thinking, the alcohol in her veins slowing her thinking just enough to remove all caution.

  They went on the dance floor again – Edgar and Peter joining her and Jessie. Sean, probably feeling like a fifth wheel, left to join another group of girls. They danced as a group at first, and then Peter starting dancing closer to Mia, his movements graceful and athletic. She smiled, closing her eyes and swaying to the pulsing rhythm, and it didn’t occur to her to move away when he put his hands on her waist.

  It felt good to just dance with a regular guy she liked, whose intentions she had no need to second-guess. Nothing could come of this, of course, but some silly drunk part of her hoped that maybe – if she survived all this and was still in New York when Korum inevitably tired of her – she could look up Peter on Facebook one day. Out of all the guys she’d met in recent years, she liked him the most, and she could easily envision herself becoming friends with him . . . and maybe something more.

  A new song came on, with even more explicit lyrics. The crowd let out a whoop, and the movement on the dance floor picked up. Peter stepped closer to her, his hips rubbing suggestively against her own. He was of average height, and Mia’s high heels put the top of her head nearly at his temple. He smiled at her, eyes twinkling, and Mia smiled back, experiencing a pleasantly mild attraction – nothing like the maddening, all-consuming heat Korum made her feel. And even though her stupid body was wishing that it was Korum who was holding her like this, she still enjoyed the sexy dance with a cute guy . . . who, under different circumstances, could have been her date.

  “You’re really pretty,” said Peter, practically yelling it over the music.

  Mia grinned, moving to the rhythm. It was always nice to get compliments. “Thanks,” she yelled back, “so are you!”

  Her head was spinning from the drinks, and the whole night started to seem a little surreal – right down to the angelically handsome guy dancing with her. Still dancing, she closed her eyes for a second while holding on to Peter’s waist to combat a slight dizziness. Mistaking her actions, he leaned toward her, and his mouth brushed against her lips for a brief second.

  Startled, Mia pushed Peter away, taking a step back. Embarrassed, she looked to the side and suddenly froze, paralyzed with dread.

  Looking directly at her from the edge of the dance floor was a familiar pair of amber-colored eyes. And the icy rage reflected in them was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen in her life.

  Chapter 12

  He knew.

  In the suffocating panic engulfing her, Mia had only one clear thought: Korum knew. Somehow, he had found out about today – about what she’d done for the Resistance fighters – and he had come here to find her.

  Her survival instinct kicked in, and a surge of adrenaline cleared the alcohol-induced fog from her mind. She fought a desperate urge to run, knowing that he would hunt her down in a matter of seconds. Instead, she just stood there, watching as he stalked toward her through the dance floor crowd, his eyes nearly yellow with fury.

  Through the pulsing music and the terrified pounding of her own heart, she heard her name.

  “Mia! Mia!” It was Peter, and he was talking to her. “Hey Mia, listen, I didn’t mean to be so pushy –”

  He broke off in the middle of his apology and followed her gaze. “What the hell . . . is that your boyfriend or something?”

  “Or something,” Mia said dully, staring at Korum easily pushing his way through the normally impassable mob. Her stomach churned with nausea and fear. Would he kill her on the spot or bring her elsewhere to interrogate first?

  And then he was there, standing right in front of her.

  “Hey man, listen, I think there’s been a misunderstanding –” Peter bravely stepped up, not realizing in the darkness what he was dealing with. In a blink of an eye, Korum’s hand was wrapped around Peter’s throat.

  “No!” screamed Mia as Peter was lifted off the floor, feet kicking in the air and hands clawing helplessly at the iron grip around his throat. “No, please, let him go –”

  “You want me to let him go?” Korum asked calmly, as though he was not killing a grown man with one hand in a crowded club.

  “Please! He had nothing to do with it,” begged Mia, horrified tears running down her face.

  “Oh really?” said Korum, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So my eyes deceived me then. He wasn’t the one just pawing you . . . It was someone else?”

  Pawing her? Korum was upset that she had danced with Peter? Her brain could barely process the implications.

  “Korum, please,” she tried again, “you’re mad at me. He didn’t do anything –”

  “He touched what’s mine.” The words sounded like a verdict.

  “Korum, please, he didn’t know! It was all me –”

  The dancers around them realized that something unusual was going on, and a ring of spectators was starting to form around them.

  “Please, don’t kill him!” she begged, grabbing at Korum’s arm in desperation. “Please, I will do anything –”

  “Oh, you will,” he said softly, “you will do anything I want regardless.”

  Peter’s face was turning purple, and the frantic clawing of his fingers was slowing. There were panicked cries from the crowd, but no one dared to intervene.

  “PLEASE!” screamed Mia hysterically, tugging uselessly at his arm. He didn’t even look at her.

  And then he suddenly released Peter, letting his body drop to the floor with a thump.

  The crowd gasped as Peter drew in air for the first time, choking and gagging.

  Sobbing, Mia nearly collapsed in relief. Her hands were still holding Korum’s forearm, and she let go, taking a step back.

  He didn’t allow her to get far. His hand shot out, steely fingers wrapping around her upper arm.

  “Let’s go,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

  And Mia went with him, ignoring shocked stares from the people around her.

  She was certain now that she would not survive this night.

  There was no limo waiting for them. Instead, he hailed a cab and tersely gave the address of his building to the driver.

  The ride was mercifully short. He didn’t speak to her at all, the silence in the cab interrupted only by the sound of her quiet weeping.

  She’d always known that Ks had great capacity for violence, but she had never witnessed it in person. Korum had always been so careful, so gentle with her . . . It had been difficult for Mia to imagine him tearing apart a human being – like those Ks had done with the Saudis. But now she knew that he was no different, that he could snuff out a human life as casually as swatting a fly.

  She didn’t want to die. She felt like she had barely started living. Thoughts tumbled around in her mind, frantically searching
for a way out and finding none. Would he interrogate her first? She didn’t know anything of significance, but he might not believe her. She shuddered at the thought of torture. She’d never experienced real pain, and she didn’t know if she could withstand it. The last thing she wanted was to die like this, sniveling and begging for her life. If only she were braver –

  They arrived at the building, and he dragged her out of the cab, still holding her arm. Her legs were weak with fear, and she stumbled on the stairs. He caught her and lifted her in his arms, carrying her through the lobby and into the penthouse elevator. The warmth of his body felt wonderful against her frozen skin, reminding her of the other night he’d carried her like this – under vastly different circumstances.

  Once inside the apartment, he set her down on the couch and went to the closet to hang up his jacket. Of course, Mia thought resentfully, he wanted to be as comfortable as possible for the upcoming torture and mutilation.

  To her utter mortification, she felt a strong urge to pee, her bladder nearly bursting from all the earlier drinks. She desperately wanted to hold on to her last shreds of dignity – dying while peeing her pants seemed like the ultimate humiliation.

  “Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “can I go to the bathroom?”

  He nodded, a small mocking smile appearing on his lips.

  Mia went as quickly as her shaking legs could carry her. Once inside, she quickly relieved herself and washed her hands. Her fingernails had a faint bluish tinge, she noticed, and the warm water felt almost scalding on her icy hands.

  Finishing, she stared at the closed door and the flimsy lock on it. It was useless, she knew. But she didn’t want to go out there. For some strange reason, the thought of her blood spilling all over the cream-colored furniture was too disturbing. She would wait here, she decided. He would undoubtedly come get her in another few minutes. But when these might be the last moments of her life, every second counted.