by Anna Zaires
Still, being here on my own is exciting. I know Julian’s men are outside, so I don’t truly have any freedom, but it feels like I do.
It feels like I’m a regular girl, out for a day of grooming and hanging out with her friends.
“All done,” the stylist announces after a few minutes. “Now we just blow-dry, and you’ll be all set.”
I nod, trying to avoid looking at the long locks scattered all over the floor. It seems like a lot of hair, though the wet strands I see in the mirror don’t appear particularly short.
“So, what do you think?” she asks after my hair is dry. She hands me a mirror. “How do you like it?”
I turn in the swiveling chair, studying my new hairstyle from all angles. It looks like a shampoo ad—long, dark, and sleek, with the shorter layers around my face adding some flattering volume.
“Perfect.” I hand back the mirror with a smile. “Thank you so much.”
Disobeying Julian seems to agree with me. Looks-wise, at least.
* * *
I still have some time to kill before meeting Leah and Jennie, so I go all out and get a mani-pedi at the same salon. In the middle of the pedi, my phone dings with an incoming message from Julian.
You’re still there? he texts. Thomas says it’s been almost two hours.
Getting nails painted, I respond. How are things with you?
Probably not as colorful as with you.
I grin and put my phone away. This all feels so wonderfully normal, even with the oversight from Thomas. It’s like we’re just a couple, with nothing dark and messed up in our lives.
Impulsively, I fish my phone out of my purse again.
Love you, I text, adding a smiley face at the end for emphasis.
There’s no answer, but I didn’t expect any. Julian would never acknowledge his feelings for me—whatever those may be—in a text. Still, my heart feels just a bit heavier as I put the phone away and pick up a gossip magazine instead.
Half an hour later, I’m as polished and shiny as the models in the magazine. My hair streams down my back in a smooth, glossy curtain, and my nails are prettier than they’ve been in months. Adding a generous tip, I pay and exit the salon, ready for the continuation of my day.
As expected, Thomas is waiting for me outside. I don’t see any of the others from the security team, but I know they’re there, guarding me from out of sight. Still, their lack of visible presence adds to the illusion of normality, and my spirits lift again as we drive to the seafood restaurant where Leah and Jennie agreed to meet me for lunch.
They’re already there when I walk in, and the first few minutes are filled with hugs and excited exclamations over how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other. I had been afraid that things might be tense with Leah after our last run-in at the mall, but my worries appear to have been unfounded. With the three of us together, it’s like our high school days all over again.
“Oh gosh, Nora, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” Jennie exclaims when we’re all seated. “Either that, or living in the jungle is agreeing with you.”
“Why, thank you,” I say, laughing. “You look pretty great yourself. When did you decide to go red? I love that color on you.”
Jennie grins, her green eyes sparkling. “When I started college. I decided it was time for a change, and it was either red or blue.”
“I convinced her to go red,” Leah says with a mischievous smile. “Blue wouldn’t have matched her Irish complexion.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say with a straight face. “I hear smurfs are all the rage lately.”
Leah bursts into laughter, and Jennie and I join in. It feels so good to be back with the two of them. I’ve hung out with Leah a couple of times since my abduction, but I haven’t seen Jennie in almost two years. She was studying abroad when I was home for those four months after the warehouse explosion, so we’ve never gotten a chance to reconnect beyond a few Facebook messages.
“Okay, Nora, spill,” Jennie says after the waiter takes our orders. “What’s it like being married to a modern-day Pablo Escobar? The rumors I hear are beyond bizarre.”
Leah chokes on her water, and I burst out laughing again. I’d forgotten Jennie’s propensity for shocking people.
“Well,” I say when I calm down enough to speak, “Julian deals in weapons, not drugs, but otherwise, being married to him is quite nice.”
“Oh, come on. Quite nice?” Jennie gives me an exaggerated frown. “I want all the gory details. Does he sleep with a machine gun under his pillow? Eat puppies for breakfast? I mean, the dude kidnapped you, for Pete’s sake! Give us all the juicy—”
“Jennie,” Leah cuts in sharply. She doesn’t look the least bit amused. “I don’t think this is a joking matter.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “Really, Leah, it’s fine. Julian and I are married now, and we’re happy together. We truly are.”
“Happy?” Leah stares at me like I’ve grown horns. “Nora, you know what he’s capable of, what he’s done. How can you be happy with a man like that?”
I look back at her, not knowing how to respond. I want to say that Julian is not that bad, but the words stick in my throat. My husband is that bad. In fact, he’s probably worse than Leah thinks. She doesn’t know about the mass eradication of Al-Quadar in recent months or the fact that Julian has been a killer since childhood.
Of course, she also doesn’t know that I’m a killer. If she did, she’d probably think Julian and I deserve each other.
To my relief, Jennie comes to my rescue. “Stop being such a party pooper,” she says, poking Leah in the ribs. “So she’s happy with him. That’s better than being miserable, right?”
Leah’s fair complexion reddens. “Of course. Sorry, Nora.” She attempts a weak smile. “I guess I just have a hard time understanding it all. I mean, here you are, finally back in the US, and you’re planning to go back to Colombia with him.”
“That’s what happens when people marry,” Jennie says before I can respond. “They live together. Like you and Jake. It’s only natural that Nora would go back with her husband—”
“You and Jake are living together?” I interrupt, looking at Leah in shock. “Since when?”
“Since two weeks ago,” Jennie says gleefully. “Leah didn’t tell you?”
“I was going to tell you today,” Leah says to me. She looks uncomfortable. “I wanted to tell you in person.”
“Why? They just had one date,” Jennie says reasonably. “It’s not like they were boyfriend-girlfriend.”
“Jennie’s right,” I say. “Really, Leah, I’m happy for the two of you. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff like that. I won’t flip out, I promise.” I give her a big smile before asking, “Are you renting an apartment off-campus?”
“We are,” Leah says, looking relieved at my question. “We both had roommate issues, so we decided living together might be the best option.”
“Makes sense to me,” Jennie says, and for the next few minutes, we discuss the pros and cons of living with boyfriends versus roommates.
“What about you, Jennie?” I ask after the waiter brings our appetizers. “Any boyfriends on the horizon for you?”
“Ugh, no.” Jennie makes a disgusted face. “There are barely a dozen okay-looking guys at Grinnell, and they’re all taken. The two of you should’ve talked some sense into me when I decided to go to college in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, it’s worse than being in high school.”
“No!” I widen my eyes in mock horror. “Worse than being in high school?”
“Nothing’s worse than being in high school,” Leah says, and the two of them begin to argue about the comparative availability of guys in a suburban high school versus a tiny liberal arts college.
As the meal proceeds, we talk about anything and everything except my relationship with Julian. Leah tells us about an internship she got at a Chicago law firm, and Jennie shares amusing stories about her recent vacation i
n Curaçao. “They had an oil-processing plant right next to our hotel. Can you believe it?” she complains, and Leah and I agree that even a salt-water infinity pool—a cool feature of Jennie’s hotel—can’t make up for something as atrocious as an oil refinery in a vacation spot.
Eventually, the conversation turns to my life on the estate, and I tell them all about my online classes at Stanford, the art lessons I’m getting from Monsieur Bernard, and my growing friendship with Rosa. “I wanted her to join us today, but she couldn’t,” I explain, feeling slightly guilty about that. “My parents are coming over for dinner, and Julian asked Rosa to help with the meal.” As I say that, I realize how spoiled I sound—and from the envious looks on Jennie and Leah’s faces, they realize it too.
“Wow,” Jennie says, shaking her head. “No wonder you’re happy with this guy. He treats you like a freaking princess. If someone gave me Stanford, servants, and a huge estate, I wouldn’t mind getting kidnapped either.”
“Jennie!” Leah gives her an appalled look. “You don’t mean that.”
“No, I probably don’t,” Jennie agrees, grinning. “Still, Nora, you have to admit, the whole thing is kind of cool.”
I shrug, smiling. “Kind of cool” is one way to describe it. Messed up and complicated is another—but I’m happy to stick with Jennie’s description for now.
“Wait, did you say your parents are coming over for dinner?” Leah asks, as if just now processing that part of my statement. “Like, to have dinner with you and him?”
“Yes,” I say, enjoying the expressions on both of my friends’ faces. “We had dinner at my parents’ house last night, so today they’re coming over to our place.” And as Leah and Jennie continue to stare at me in shock, I explain that Julian purchased a house in Palos Park, so we’d have someplace secure to stay during our visits.
“Girl, I have to say, you live in a whole other world now,” Jennie says, shaking her head. “Private island, an estate in Columbia, now this . . .”
“None of that makes up for the fact that he’s a psychopath,” Leah says, giving Jennie a sharp look before turning to me. “Nora, how are your parents dealing with him?”
“They’re . . . dealing.” I don’t know how else to describe the wary acceptance on my parents’ part. “It’s obviously not easy for them.”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” Jennie says. “They’re troopers, your parents. Mine would’ve gone nuts.”
“I don’t think ‘going nuts’ would’ve helped matters,” Leah says astutely. “I’m sure Nora’s parents are just happy to have her back.”
I start to reply, but at that moment, both Jennie and Leah look up, gaping at something behind me. Instinctively, I turn, my heartbeat spiking—and look up straight into my former captor’s blue gaze.
He’s standing over me, his hand resting casually on the back of my chair and his lips curved in a dangerously sexy smile. “Mind if I join you, ladies?” he asks, looking amused.
“Julian.” I jump in my seat, startled and more than a little flustered. “What are you doing here?”
“My meeting ended early, so I figured I’d swing by and see if you’re ready to go home,” he says. “But I see you’re not done yet.”
“Um, no. We were just about to get dessert.” I cast an uncertain glance at Leah and Jennie, and see that they’re both staring at Julian. Leah looks like she’s ready to bolt, while Jennie’s expression is a mixture of fascination and awe.
Shit. So much for a normal lunch with my friends. Turning my attention back to Julian, I say reluctantly, “I mean, I could be done if—”
“No, no, please join us if you have time,” Jennie jumps in, apparently recovering from her shock. “They have great cheesecake here.”
“Well, in that case, I must stay,” Julian says smoothly, taking a seat next to me. “I wouldn’t want to deprive Nora of such a delicacy.” He smiles at me. “Your hair looks great, by the way, baby. You were right about the layers.”
“Oh.” Remembering my small act of rebellion, I touch my hair, feeling the shorter strands. His approval is both a disappointment and a relief. “Thanks.”
“It does look nice on her,” Leah says hoarsely, and I see that her eyes look less panicked now. Clearing her throat, she adds unnecessarily, “The new haircut, I mean.”
Julian’s smile broadens. “Yes. She looks gorgeous, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, gorgeous,” Jennie echoes, except she’s looking at Julian instead of me. She seems mesmerized, and I can’t blame her. With the scars on his face nearly gone and his eye implant indistinguishable from the real thing, Julian is as magnificent as ever, his masculine beauty dark and striking.
Finally gathering my scattered wits, I say, “Sorry, I’ve forgotten to introduce everyone. Julian—these are my friends Leah and Jennie. Leah, Jennie—this is Julian, my husband.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Julian says with easy charm. “Nora’s told me quite a bit about you.”
“Oh?” Leah frowns. Unlike Jennie, she doesn’t seem dazzled by his looks. “Like what?”
“Like the fact that the two of you have been friends since middle school,” Julian says. “Or that you, Jennie, were Nora’s date to the sophomore homecoming dance.”
I blink, surprised. I had mentioned this to Julian at some point, but I didn’t expect him to remember such trivia.
“Oh, wow,” Jennie breathes, her eyes still glued to Julian’s face. “I can’t believe she’s told you all that.”
Leah’s mouth tightens, and she motions at the waiter. “A slice of cheesecake, please, and then the check,” she requests when he comes over. “Their portions are huge,” she explains, even though nobody objected to the size of her order. “We can all split it.”
“That’s fine with me,” I say. I’m surprised Leah is willing to stay long enough to eat the cheesecake. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d walked out right then and there. I know she’s aware of what happened to Jake, and the fact that she’s willing to be somewhat civil to Julian speaks volumes about her commitment to our friendship.
“So tell me,” Julian says when the waiter departs, “how was your lunch so far? Did Nora already tell you the big news?”
I freeze, horrified that he’s outing me like this. Telling my friends about the baby was something I’d planned to do much later, when it was inevitable. Not today, when I could still pretend to be a carefree college girl.
“What big news?” Jennie asks eagerly, leaning forward. Her eyes are wide with curiosity. “Nora didn’t tell us anything.”
“She didn’t tell you about the gallery owner in Paris?” Julian gives me a sidelong look. “The one who put in an offer to buy her paintings?”
“What?” Leah exclaims. “When did this happen, Nora?”
“Um, just yesterday,” I mumble, a wave of relief sweeping away the sick feeling in my stomach. “Julian told me about it, but I haven’t seen the offer yet.”
“Wow, congratulations.” Jennie beams at me. “So you’re about to be a famous artist, huh?”
“I don’t know about famous—” I begin, but Julian cuts me off.
“She is,” he says firmly. “The gallery owner is offering ten thousand euros for each of the five paintings.” And amidst my friends’ exclamations of excitement, he explains that the gallery owner is a known art collector, and that my paintings are already gaining notoriety in Paris due to Monsieur Bernard’s connections.
In the middle of all this, our cheesecake slice arrives. Leah had been right to order only one; the slice is nearly the size of my head. The waiter brings out four little plates, and we split the cake as Julian answers Jennie’s questions about the Paris art scene and France in general.
“Wow, Nora, what an exciting life you’re about to start,” Jennie says, reaching for the check that the waiter brought. “You’ll tell us when you have your first show, right?”
“I’ve got this,” Julian says, picking up the check before Jennie can touch it. And
before my friends can utter a word of protest, he hands two one-hundred-dollar bills to the waiter, saying, “Keep the change.”
“Oh, thank you,” Jennie says as the ecstatic-looking waiter hurries away. “You didn’t have to do that. You just had a bite of the cheesecake, not any of the food.”
“Please let us pay you for our portion,” Leah says stiffly, reaching for her wallet, but Julian waves her off.
“Please, don’t worry. It’s the least I can do for Nora’s friends.” Rising to his feet, he extends his palm toward me. “Ready, baby?”
“Yes,” I say, placing my hand in his. My few hours of freedom are over, but somehow I don’t mind. As exciting as the day had been, it feels comforting to be claimed by Julian again.
To be back where I belong.
Chapter 20
Julian
“Why did you come to meet me?” Nora asks as we get into the car after saying goodbye to her friends. “Were you afraid I might run away?”
“You wouldn’t have gotten far if you tried.” Turning to face her, I run my fingers through her hair. It’s a bit shorter at the front, but still long and even silkier than usual.
“I wasn’t going to run.” Nora frowns up at me. “I don’t want to run away from you. Not anymore.”
“I know that, my pet.” I force myself to stop touching her hair before I develop a fetish. “I wouldn’t have brought you to America otherwise.”
“So why did you come get me? I would’ve been home in an hour anyway.”
I shrug, not wanting to admit how much I missed her. My addiction is completely out of control. No matter what I’m doing, I’m constantly thinking about her. Even a few hours apart are intolerable these days, as ridiculous as that may be.
“Okay, well, I’m glad Leah didn’t freak out too much,” Nora says when I remain silent. “I thought she’d run or call the police when you first showed up.” She looks down, then glances up. “If you hadn’t mentioned the big news, things would’ve been very awkward.”