Fractured (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 3) (3 page)

“What are you sorry for, Damien? You have done me no wrong.”

“I know about Andrew and Charlie!” That’s it, those words are enough to set me off but I try my best to hold it in. My father could be back any second now and I will show him no more weakness, I have disappointed him enough lately, well, no more.

“Who else knows?” I demand, I don’t give a shit about my tone right now.

“Nobody but me,” he tells me, keeping his voice calm and even.

“How?” I question him, now trying to get my emotions back under control.

“I had a call from Cami last night.” That is one answer I didn’t expect from him, and why the hell would she call Damien and not me? Before I can reply I hear the flush of the toilet and seconds later my father emerges and makes his way back to his seat, I throw Damien a look, telling him to keep it to himself for now, but I will find out why my wife rang my best friend instead of me, her husband.

I sit on the plane for the rest of the journey in a seething silence, I know I won’t be able to talk to Damien alone until after we land.

We land at Domodedovo International Airport in Moscow, and manage to get through airport security quickly. I have not spoken another word to either of them, too scared of what I will say.

The drive to the Ritz Carlton Hotel from the airport is not that long, forty minutes at most.

Walking into the hotel you have to take a pause, the black and white marble that runs through the lobby with some gold detailing is simply beautiful, the spiral staircase that leads to the upper floors and the marble table that is positioned right in the middle with beautiful fresh flowers on top. The grandeur of such a place never gets old. We check in and make our way up to our suite on the eleventh floor.

Opening the door to the suite I make may way further in and take a look out of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the Kremlin and Red Square. The beautiful buildings that are inside the red walls are beautiful, from the palaces to the cathedrals, they are stunning in all of their majestic beauty.

“I can see why you wanted to come home, Dad, it’s magnificent.” I realise that in my awe for my father’s homeland I have spoken to him, forgetting my anger for the briefest of moments. I turn to look at him; he has a tear in his eye as he stands beside me looking down at Moscow.

“Your mother would have loved Russia, and after she passed I couldn’t face coming back home. I wanted her to stay here with me and make this her home, so I used the excuse that

Damien’s father needed me to help him here, so that I didn’t have to leave.” His words slice me deep and I see the love that he has for my mother shining in his eyes.

“You did what you thought was best, Dad.” I leave it at that and go into the bedroom, placing my bag down on the floor at the side of the bed. I look up to see Damien on the phone in the other room, no doubt talking to Faith, letting her know he has arrived safely and asking how Anya is.

This is when I feel it the most. I want to be able to phone my wife and ask about Charlie and how her day has been, but most of all I want to grieve with her, to help us both get through the loss of Andrew. Without her I feel like a ticking bomb waiting for that moment when I explode.

Cami

The ringing phone wakes me as I stretch across to the bedside table to answer it. “Hello,” I whisper, my voice still quiet due to still being half asleep.

“Camilla, it’s me.” And with that beautiful rugged voice I am instantly wide awake, not really prepared for what is about to happen.              

“Why are you calling, Malcolm?” I look over to the clock, seeing that it is ten past three in the morning. “And at this time of the morning.”              

“Sorry, I forgot about the time difference. I am just getting up.” Time difference? He is in London there is no difference, I think to myself. But before I can stop myself I am speaking to him again. “There is no difference from London to Scotland, Malcolm,” I say to him, not sure what I’m expecting him to say in reply.

“I am not in London, Camilla, I’m in Moscow.” I drop the phone when I hear where he is, a barrage of questions assault my mind. Why the hell is he in Russia? That’s the question at the forefront of my mind. I quickly pick up the phone to hear him speaking again. Oh God, I have missed that voice, the way it rolls over my skin bringing my body out in goosebumps.

“Why?” I question him. Then my mind starts wandering. What if he is in trouble and had to run? Oh God, what if one of his enemies knows where we are!?

“Camilla, calm down, I can hear you hyperventilating over the phone. Nothing is wrong, it’s just business.” I know what your business entails, I think to myself. “Why did you ring Damien and not me?” His question hangs thick in the air and I take a moment to look to the cot at the side of the bed, I was feeling weak. I only asked Damien to tell him that Charlie had been at hospital, and before I knew it I broke down on the phone and told him everything that had happened.

“Charlie was in the hospital, poorly, we got out earlier tonight. I just wanted Damien to tell you that was all, I did not mean to tell him everything, Malc, but I just broke down.” I hear his big intake of breath at my words and it cuts me deep, straight to the core. He had a really bad case of gastroenteritis and he is very ill with all the vomiting and diarrhea, it has wiped him out. He would not drink and he just looked ill and I suppose that fear kicked in and I rushed him there as fast as I could, the thought of losing another child swamped me.

“You should have phoned me, Camilla, you had no right to keep it from me.” His voice is that loud that I have to pull the phone away from my ear and his voice causes Charlie to let out a little cry, disturbing his sleep. I pull back the covers and make my way quietly over to the cot checking on him.

“Ssh, little man, it’s ok. Go back to sleep,” I say and gently stroke his head. All the time Malc is still on the phone, listening to everything I am saying.

“How is he?” he questions me and I can’t help but talk to him. He has a right to know.

“He is better now, he had gastroenteritis that’s all. I just panicked and rang Damien as I thought... well, I was scared I was going to lose him, Malc. I would not survive if I lost Charlie as well, he is what keeps me getting up in the morning.” I let it all out quietly, trying to keep my voice quiet so as not to wake Charlie further.

“I can’t take much more of this, Camilla. It’s killing me that I can’t be there for you, that you won’t let me be.” I have to end this call. He is not doing this to me; I can’t listen to it right now, I will crumble and beg him to come here to us or let us come home.

“Malc, don’t, you know why I can’t, don’t make me say it again, please.” I plead with him over the phone wishing so badly that he was here with me, holding me in his arms while I sleep, but that’s a silly dream, one that won’t happen.              

“Fine, have it your way, but mark my words, this conversation is far from over. I will talk to you in the morning and if anything like this happens again you ring me, not Damien, you owe me that much at least.” And with his words he puts the phone down and I put my head on the pillow and cry myself to sleep again, knowing that he means every single word.

The next few days’ pass in a blur of looking after Charlie, eating and sleeping, and thinking of Malc. Charlie seems to have perked up and is back to his smiley, happy and cooing self. I look in the bag I have in my hands, making sure he has everything he needs for his first day at nursery.

The lady I met the other day was just like I thought she would be, just like her mum, so nice and caring. She looked at Charlie like he was the cutest baby in the world, well, to me he is. Satisfied that I have everything I need I set off towards my first day at my new job. I know it’s not much, but it gets me back out there providing for Charlie. Now I will be able to buy him all the nice things I want him to have without dipping in to what Malc sends me every month. I can’t bring myself to use it, to me it is tainted, I know what he does and how, it just wouldn’t be right to use it. The drive to Elgin only takes about twenty minutes and by the time I arrive at the nursery Charlie is fast asleep in his car seat. Oh to be young and worry free.

I say goodbye to Charlie. Kissing him on the top of his head I feel the tears starting to build and the thought of leaving him with someone else really hits me hard. This will be the first time I have ever been apart from him, and I can say that my anxiety level is rising. What if they don’t feed him right, or change his nappy enough? what if they leave him alone and he gets hurt? All these questions are pulling me apart as I make my way to the café.

I walk through the door to the café and the little bell that jingles when you step inside, letting you know that there is someone there, is a really soothing sound. It is not like those other door chimes that are harsh, this one is more sedated. I notice the cream paint that covers the walls, the pictures of Scottish landmarks, pine tables and chairs lined up on both sides of the walls, leaving the middle clear so you can walk right up to the little counter where drinks are served and the old fashioned till sits.

Walking into the kitchen, through the saloon doors that swing both ways, I see Alma and Harry McDougall in the kitchen, getting everything prepared for when we open in about half an hour. The kitchen is quite the contrast to the front; it’s all stainless steel and industrial looking. The old couple that run the café seem so kind. They offered me a job on a whim, knowing that I have a small child to raise as well, they’re nothing but kind souls with a lot of love to give.

“Morning,” I say to the both of them with a genuine smile on my face. I’m looking forward to my time here, it’s going to be a little bit of an adjustment from the work I used to do, but I can’t be fussy when I have a baby to think about.

“Oh, good morning, Cami. How are you today? And how is Charlie? Feeling much better I hope.” Her warm sweet voice wraps around me. I could sit and talk to Alma all day and get lost in the words, the Scottish dialect fascinates me. Just trying to figure out some of the words is taxing but I’m getting better the more I hear it.

“He is much better this morning, thank you. Back to his normal babbly self,” I say to her.               “I’m glad the bairn is well,” she says, her Scottish accent is very prominent; I love the way it rolls off the tongue.

I was shown the ropes over the next hour, and Alma was so patient while I got the hang of the coffee machine. It is not the percolated type, they use beans that need to be pressed, then you froth up the milk, it makes all kinds of coffee. I flip the sign on the door stating that we are open for business now.

The few hours that I worked today went by so fast, I tried so hard to absorb everything that I was told but no doubt I will have forgotten it all by tomorrow. I say goodbye to Alma and Henry, thanking them again for letting me work for them. When I arrive at the nursery I see Charlie cuddle into one of the girls and a pang of hurt runs right through me. I’m not used to sharing him, I have become fixated on it just being me and him having cuddles. I wipe the thoughts from my mind knowing that it’s good from him to interact with other people, but still in the saddest part of my heart I don’t want to let him go. Reality has a hard way of saying otherwise.

“Hi, Cami, how was your first day working for my parents?” I love that she asks me, it makes me feel that little bit less like the newcomer, like I’m actually welcome.

“It was amazing. Your mother has the patience of a saint, me and that damn coffee machine do not see eye to eye,” I giggle when I tell her having remembered having a fight with the damn thing with the amount of times the steam burnt my fingers. But not once did Alma lose her temper with me, she was kind and genuinely willing to teach me.

“Yeah she does. This wee one has not been a bother, I love his babbles already they are so cute.” I fill with pride at her words but also trepidation, it would seem that I’m easily forgotten. I love that he has been good and happy here today, but also saddened that I missed all those precious moments with him. I pull my thoughts together, at least I get to be with him everyday, what does Malc get? Nothing, that’s what. He has a headstone to go and see and that’s it. So why am I complaining that I missed a couple of gurgles? I am pathetic in my grief, trying to compensate for Andrew by wanting to smother Charlie, this behaviour can’t continue. It needs to stop; he needs the best of me. I’m just going to have to make sure I give it to him.

“I am so glad he was good for you all today,” I say with pride and that is the emotion that is strongest inside of me at the moment.

“It was a pleasure. When are you next working so we can make sure we have all the days booked in that you will require care for?” Her words are back to business now and she sure is well organised. I like that she has the thought to check all of this with me because I wouldn’t have thought about it, I would have just dropped him off assuming that they knew about it and expected them to just deal with it. But that person is not alive anymore, that broken girl who survived a serious attack and has come out stronger, quieter but stronger.

I go through my next couple of week’s shifts so she can pencil them into her little diary. And then I grab the baby bag and pick up the now sleeping Charlie to make my way to the car so that I can get him home and spend my nighttime routine having cuddles with Charlie.

I watch him sleeping when I finally rest my head down to go to sleep. The call from Malc keeps playing in my head, hearing his voice again sets off that pang of loneliness that I can’t seem to get rid of at the moment. I know it’s not right to keep thinking about him, that I am only making it harder for myself, but I can’t seem to get my husband out of my head. Most women would be happy to be married to a man of Malc’s caliber. I mean who wouldn’t love him, he is 6ft 2in and his seductive brown eyes are enough to melt the panties off any woman that looks at him, but tie that with the shaved head. I know what lurks under the suits he wears, the built body with muscles that are so big and defined; you can see every line of every delicious muscle. The tattoos that cover his arms and broad chest, leading all the way down to that tight V at his pelvis, his long and thick penis with the piercing that is nestled in the swollen tip. I shudder at my thoughts. I miss the feel of his hands roaming my body, the feel of him moving inside of me, bringing me to ecstasy with every thrust. I have to rein it in or I am going to go crazy with need for him. He may be my husband, but I can’t be with him, I will not face that world that broke me.

He married me because I was carrying his children, I’m most certain that’s why he made me do it. He withheld the one thing that I craved from him to keep the evil at bay, I used his body and him, I am not ashamed to say it. I loved every single minute of it, screaming out his name with every wave of orgasm. But that’s not enough and when I had the boys a realised I couldn’t do this anymore, it’s not healthy to use him like that, and if anything, if he really did love me, surely he would have given it all up and came after us. He knows where we are.

              With those last disturbing thoughts of the man that I am in love with I drift off into restless sleep; the most restless I have had in a long time.