Forever Mine (Tormentor Mine Book 4) Read online

  Esguerra stares at me with an unreadable expression, then nods. “I may know someone. How soon do you need her here?”

  “Today, if possible. Barring that, tomorrow or the next day.”

  “All right. I’ll do my best to get her out here tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” I say and turn to leave. I know I’ll owe him for this, and he will certainly collect, but if it helps Sara, it will be worth it.

  I’d do anything to get her well.

  “Peter,” Esguerra calls out as I’m about to step out of the room. When I turn to face him, he says quietly, “Why don’t you and your wife join us for dinner tonight? Nora would love to get to know your Sara better.”

  “Sure,” I say, concealing my surprise. “We’ll be here.”

  “Seven o’clock,” he says, then turns away and goes back upstairs.

  61

  Sara

  I know it’s silly to feel nervous about the dinner after everything we’ve been through, but I can’t help it. For one thing, the only clothes I’ve found in the closet are shorts and T-shirts, and while Peter has assured me that we don’t need to dress up, I’d definitely feel better if I had something like a pretty sundress to put on. Also, after my afternoon nap, my morning sickness has decided to wake up.

  It’s apparently as jetlagged as I am.

  I’ve already thrown up once, but I still feel queasy as Peter leads me to the main house. Remembering his insistence on getting me a shrink doesn’t help. Did he already talk about it to our host? I hope not, but knowing my husband, he most likely did.

  Procrastination is not a concept he’s familiar with.

  Either way, my stomach churns as Peter knocks on the door. A moment later, it swings open, revealing a middle-aged Hispanic woman. “Señor Sokolov,” she says, beaming. “Welcome. And this must be your lovely wife.”

  I smile and extend my hand. “Hello. I’m Sara.”

  “Oh, hello.” She shakes my hand vigorously. “I’m Ana, Señor Esguerra’s housekeeper. Please, come in.”

  I recognize a couple of the paintings from an art class I took in college; if they are originals—and I suspect they are—the foyer walls alone are worth millions of dollars.

  Ana leads us into a formal dining room, where an oval table is set up with gleaming silverware and gold-rimmed plates. Neither Nora nor her husband is there yet, but I do know the couple sitting on one side of the table.

  Lucas and Yulia Kent.

  Their blond heads are bent close together, their hands intertwined on the table as they laugh about something. As we walk in, however, they look up, all hint of amusement disappearing from their faces.

  Thick tension pervades the room as Ana disappears, leaving us alone.

  Peter is the first to break the silence. “Lucas.” He nods coolly at the hard-jawed man. He then turns to Kent’s model-like wife. “Yulia. Good to see you.”

  “Good to see you, too.” Her blue eyes swing toward me, her expression reserved. “And you, Sara.”

  My nausea abruptly intensifies.

  Oh, crap. Panicking, I look around for a bathroom, but I don’t see one.

  “Ptichka…” Peter’s hand grips my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  If I try to speak, I’ll vomit. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I twist out of his hold and sprint out of the room, back toward the entrance.

  I barely make it outside. The second I bend over the porch railing, my stomach expunges all its contents.

  Naturally, Peter follows me out and witnesses the whole thing—and so does Yulia, I see out of the corner of my eye. Mortified, I finish heaving as he holds my hair, and by the time I look up, she’s gone.

  A second later, however, she returns with a wet paper towel. “Here you go,” she murmurs, handing it to me, and I gratefully accept it to wipe my mouth.

  Ana comes out next—Yulia must’ve told her what’s happening. Clucking over me, the housekeeper leads me to a bathroom, where she hands me a brand-new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.

  By the time I’ve washed my face and thoroughly brushed my teeth, my stomach feels infinitely more settled.

  “You okay, my love?” Peter asks as soon as I come out of the bathroom, and I nod, averting my gaze.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” he says, catching my hand. “Consider this the official announcement of your pregnancy.”

  And dropping a kiss on my forehead, he laces his fingers through mine and leads me back to the dining room.

  The Esguerras are already there, sitting across from the Kents when we return. I instantly recognize our host: he’s indeed the gorgeous man I remember from the hospital. His dark hair is longer than it was then, but his strikingly sensual features are the same. Unlike that time, however, he’s not radiating grief and rage; he’s calm and in control, like a king sitting on his throne.

  A cruel, tyrannical king, given what I know about the man.

  For the first time, it occurs to me to wonder what happened to the men who had assaulted Nora and her friend. Did Nora’s husband kill them?

  Scratch that. Of course, he killed them.

  The only question is how much he made them suffer first.

  “There you are,” Nora says, looking at me. “Come, sit here.” She pats the chair next to her, and I walk over there.

  “Julian, this is Sara,” she says as I stop next to her. “You might remember her from the hospital in Chicago.”

  “Of course. It’s good to see you again.” He looks at me with a piercingly blue gaze, and I notice something slightly off about his left eye, as well as a thin scar that goes from his left cheekbone all the way into his eyebrow.

  Did someone slice through his eye with a knife, and if so, how did his eye survive?

  Unless… is that an artificial eye?

  “It’s good seeing you again—and thank you for your hospitality,” I say, suppressing my curiosity. It wouldn’t do to gawk at our ruthless host.

  He gives me a cool nod as I take my seat next to Nora, and Peter sits opposite me, next to Yulia.

  “Thank you for the paper towel,” I tell Yulia, and she nods noncommittally before looking away. Like her husband, she must still be upset with me over what happened in Cyprus. In hindsight, I feel terrible that I misled her about my relationship with Peter in order to escape. I shouldn’t have involved her in my last-ditch effort to avoid falling in love with my tormentor.

  I have to get her alone tonight, so I can properly apologize.

  “How are you feeling?” Nora asks softly, leaning in, and I smile at her, the worst of my embarrassment fading at the look of concern on her face.

  “Much better now, thank you.”

  “I had pretty bad morning sickness with Lizzie,” she confides with a rueful smile. “I was throwing up everywhere, to the point that Julian had taken to carrying one of those airplane vomit bags with us wherever we went.”

  “I think I may need to do that,” I say, and she laughs as Peter watches us with an unreadable expression.

  Does he disapprove of my budding friendship with Esguerra’s wife? And if so, why?

  As I ponder that, Ana walks in, wheeling in a cart with bowls of soup. “I had a special, lighter broth prepared for you,” Nora says as Ana puts a clear soup in front of me, rather than the creamy versions I see in front of everyone else. “I figured it might be easier on your stomach. Let me know if you’d rather have the mushroom cream. Rich food was the biggest trigger for me when I was in my first trimester, so I figured it might be for you as well.”

  “This is perfect, thank you,” I say, touched by her thoughtfulness. “I haven’t noticed a correlation with different foods for me, but I am craving something lighter, after… you know.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.” She grins. “And let me know if any of the smells at the table bother you. Ana will take away whatever it is. Smells was another big thing for me with Lizzie.”

  “Thank you. You’re too kind.” I di
p my spoon into the soup and bring it to my lips, tasting it cautiously. To my relief, it’s as light as Nora promised, with a mushroomy undertone and a hint of miso. “Is your daughter napping?” I ask, swallowing the soup.

  “She was when I left her upstairs with Rosa a few minutes ago,” Nora says. Sighing, she glances at the dining room entrance. “Is it wrong that I already miss her?”

  I smile. “Not at all. She seems like a very sweet baby.”

  Nora rolls her eyes. “I wish. She’s a little terror, is what she is. Don’t let that cute exterior fool you. She’s her father’s daughter all the way.”

  Esguerra chooses that moment to look over at us. “What’s that, baby?”

  “Nothing.” Nora gives him a beatific smile. “Just telling Sara what a perfect angel our daughter is.”

  He lifts his eyebrows in obvious skepticism, and Nora gives him an exaggeratedly innocent look, rapidly batting her long lashes. His lids lower, his mouth taking on a sensual curve, and a look passes between them, one so intimate and heated that my insides warm.

  Feeling like a pervert, I look away—only to meet my husband’s storm-colored gaze across the table.

  “You’re not eating,” he quietly observes, and I realize it’s not my potential friendship with Nora that worries him.

  It’s me.

  He’s watching me like I might throw up—or freak out—at any second.

  My mood darkens. So much for reassuring him with sex earlier today.

  Dipping my spoon into the soup, I focus on finishing the entire bowl, so I can put his mind at ease on that score, at least. He watches me for a few seconds, then resumes eating his own soup, apparently reassured that I’m not about to starve myself.

  Everyone makes quick work of the soup; then the men get into a discussion about some security measures on the compound. I’m only half-listening because Nora is talking my ear off about Chicago clubs and restaurants.

  Apparently, we’ve been to a lot of the same places over the years.

  For the second course, Ana brings out a green salad and a delicious-smelling seafood paella. Nora offers to give me plain rice and chicken, but I decline, thanking her for the consideration.

  My stomach is behaving, and I really want that paella.

  As the meal proceeds, I notice an awkward pattern at the table. Though Nora and Yulia are sitting directly across from one another, they’re neither looking at nor talking to each other. In fact, other than thanking Ana and praising her cooking at one point, Yulia has either spoken to her husband or stayed silent.

  Do the Esguerras dislike her for some reason? Come to think of it, when we visited Cyprus, Peter did say something along the lines of Esguerra having “it in for her.”

  I’ll have to ask Peter what happened there.

  There’s some tension between Peter and Lucas, too, but it’s not nearly as pronounced. Maybe Kent’s assistance in our rescue negates his culpability in my escape in Peter’s eyes, and the two men now consider themselves even.

  We’re already halfway through the dessert—a delicious homemade tiramisu—when the conversation turns to the topic that brought us all here.

  Henderson.

  “It’s looking like tonight is going to be doable,” Esguerra says to Peter. “I’ll know for sure in about an hour—your North Carolina guy is being squirrely.”

  My husband frowns. “Let’s offer him more money.”

  “I did,” Kent says. “And I also told him that if he doesn’t cooperate, he’ll be added to our list. So I’m guessing he’ll come through.”

  “What’s happening tonight?” I ask, looking around the table at the men. “Did you already locate Henderson?”

  Esguerra and Kent look at Peter, who gives a minute shake of his head—denying them permission to fill me in. My husband then focuses on me. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, ptichka,” he says softly, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “We haven’t found him yet, but we will—and tonight is just a step in that direction.”

  My teeth clench together, and I yank my hand away.

  Here it is again, the assumption that I can’t handle anything remotely upsetting.

  Before I can say anything, though, I hear a baby’s shrieking cry. It sounds like it’s approaching the room. A moment later, a frazzled Rosa walks in, with a screaming Lizzie in her arms.

  “So sorry to interrupt, but she won’t stop crying,” she says apologetically. “I’ve fed and changed her, so I don’t know what her problem is.”

  To my surprise, Esguerra gets up instead of Nora. “I got it,” he says calmly, and walking over to Rosa, he takes the baby from her, handling the child with exquisite gentleness and startling expertise.

  His features soften as he gazes down at the small, scrunched-up face, and to my shock, the baby quiets down as he rocks her gently, murmuring something nonsensical in his deep voice. He doesn’t seem to care that we’re observing him in this tender moment; he’s entirely caught up with the tiny creature in his arms.

  “See what I meant? Totally her father’s daughter,” Nora whispers in my ear, and I close my mouth, realizing I’m gaping at her husband like he’s just grown a tail.

  I did not expect to see the powerful arms dealer so hands-on with the baby.

  “He’s the only one who can handle her when she gets like this,” Nora continues softly, and when I glance back at her, I see her watching her husband and child with naked adoration.

  She’s clearly in love with him.

  With a man who kidnapped her when she was barely out of high school.

  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given my own relationship with Peter, but it’s still a bit jarring, observing them like this. A part of me wants to tell her to see a shrink for her Stockholm syndrome, while another, bigger part is cheering for their unorthodox love story.

  If they can make it work long-term, maybe Peter and I will also.

  Maybe a few years from now, we’ll all be sitting at a dinner table like this again, only it’ll be my baby in Peter’s arms.

  Our youngest, obviously. Our oldest will be running around on his or her own by then.

  I’m so caught up in this daydream that I almost miss my moment with Yulia. She’s already excused herself and is almost out of the dining room when I realize that she’s finally heading to the restroom.

  “Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” I tell Nora and Peter, and without waiting for a reply, I get up and hurry after Yulia.

  62

  Sara

  I catch up with Yulia in the hallway by the bathroom.

  “Wait, please,” I tell her as she’s about to walk in. Realizing what I’m saying, I quickly amend, “I mean, don’t wait if you have to go. I’ll be out here, waiting, when you’re done.”

  She steps away from the bathroom door. “No, please, go ahead. I can go elsewhere. There are plenty of restrooms on this floor.”

  “What? Oh, no, I’m fine.” I laugh, realizing she thinks I urgently need the bathroom. “I just wanted to catch you alone for a minute, to apologize about the whole thing in Cyprus.”

  Her beautiful face tightens. “There’s no need. It’s all in the past.”

  “No, it’s not. I caused a rift between Peter and you and your husband. I’m truly sorry about that—and about giving you the wrong impression about my relationship with Peter. I needed your help to escape, but I should’ve been more truthful. Peter did kill my first husband, and he waterboarded me, like I told you—but that was early on, before things got complicated with us, too. I mean, I was his captive in your house—that’s why I was trying to escape—but I was also falling for him by then and—”

  Yulia lays a slender hand on my arm. “It’s okay, Sara.” Her blue gaze is softer now. “You don’t need to go into details. I understand.”

  “You do?”

  She nods. “I’m not an idiot. I know that things can change, and that the ugliest of beginnings can lead to something beautiful over time. As far as using me t
o escape, I’m sure I would’ve done the same in your shoes. In fact—” She stops. “Never mind that. I’m just glad you and Peter are in a good place now. I mean… you are, right?” Her gaze falls to my stomach; then she looks up with a silent question.

  “Oh. Yes, for sure.” I wince internally, recalling how I told her that Peter intended to force a child on me. Covering my stomach with my hand, I say firmly, “This one is very much wanted.”

  She smiles. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Now if you’ll excuse me…” She glances at the bathroom.

  Grinning, I step back, realizing I’ve been holding her up this whole time. “Thank you,” I say as she goes in. “For your help that time and for everything.”

  “It was my pleasure,” she says, and as she closes the door, I head back to the dining room, feeling infinitely more relieved.

  Everyone’s on their feet, milling around the table with post-dinner drinks when I return, and before long, we’re saying our goodbyes.

  “Thank you. Everything was wonderful,” I tell Nora sincerely, and she grins.

  “I can’t claim any credit. It was all Ana,” she says, and at that moment, her husband calls her name from upstairs.

  “Coming!” she yells back, and stepping forward, she gives me a quick hug.

  “Stop by anytime, okay?” she says, and I promise to do so.

  She heads upstairs, and I turn to Yulia. She and Lucas are staying in the main house, so she’s just standing in the hallway next to her husband, watching us leave. Impulsively, I come up to her and give her a hug as well.

  “Thank you again,” I tell her as we separate, and she smiles at me warmly.

  “Good luck, Sara. I hope to see you around.”

  “Oh, you will,” I tell her. “Bye, Lucas.” I wave at him, smiling, and he gives me a grim look in return.

  Okay, so only one of the Kents has forgiven me so far.

  “Ready?” Peter asks, looping his arm around my waist, and I nod, leaning in to him as he leads me away.