Yves glanced around at the pockets of gawking dancers. “That will do, Mr. Rubio. Perhaps you should go to your dressing room.”
Rubio ignored him, his eyes fixed on her dad’s. “Perhaps you should say hello to your beautiful daughter,” he said in a dangerous lilt. He nudged her forward, his arm at her back preventing her from shrinking away.
Grigolyuk gave her another dismissive glance. “This is not my daughter. I don’t have a daughter.”
Yves was pale behind his glasses and Gennady looked like he wanted to disappear into the wall. Rubio made a low sound of derision. “If you believe that, you’re even stupider than I thought.”
“Ruby,” she whispered, beyond the bounds of humiliation. “Forget it. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. He’s your father. Everyone knows it. You look exactly alike.” He turned to Grigolyuk, his eyes glittering black and hard. “Look at her,” he said, pulling Petra closer. “She’s your own flesh and blood. She worked hard all her life to gain your attention. One smile. What would it cost you? She’s standing here, right in front of you, so beautiful and talented. What the fuck is the matter with you?”
Yves made a warning sound to silence Ruby, then, like everyone else in the corridor, turned to Grigolyuk for his response. Her father looked around for somewhere to go but Ruby had him boxed in on one side and Gennady was standing firm on the other. The rest of the company formed a circle of accusation around him.
Petr Grigolyuk didn’t seem to care. “You are not my daughter,” he said to Petra, “but it was a good performance.” He managed the barest hint of a smile before he turned back to Rubio. “Happy now?”
Ruby muttered a vicious epithet in Portuguese and launched himself at her dad. Yves pushed him back, putting himself between Ruby and Grigolyuk. “Petra, take him out of here,” he ordered. “Take him home before he gets himself in trouble.”
“Rubio. Ruby. Fernando,” she pleaded when she couldn’t get his attention. She turned his face down to hers, the bouquet of roses still clutched in her arm. “Please,” she said. “It’s enough.”
She stroked a hand down his cheek to calm him. The dancers parted like the Red Sea as Yves steered Petr Grigolyuk down the hall and away. Rubio’s chest rose and fell beneath his gray-blue silk tunic.
His expression looked as savage as his heart was pure.
*** *** ***
Rubio’s leg bounced next to Petra’s in the backseat of the car. It was partly leftover anger from the confrontation with her father, and partly nervous energy that Petra was coming to his place.
He didn’t want her to go home by herself. Petr Grigolyuk had reached into her chest and ripped her heart out in front of the entire company and Ruby didn’t want her to be alone. “No sex,” he promised. “We’ll be professional.”
He was coming to hate the word “professional,” especially since he couldn’t seem to master the art of it. Professionals didn’t throw tantrums and they certainly didn’t throw punches, even when the biggest asshole in history was tormenting someone dear to his soul.
I love you, he wanted to say to her. I still love you. I never stopped. “Hey, you think your asshole father will press charges on me?” he asked instead.
“I think Yves stepped between you two before it became an all-out assault. But if he does press charges, Liam will help you, don’t you think?”
Ruby checked his phone again. “No more texts from the hospital. I hope everything is okay.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe they’re already holding their little girl.”
It made a pretty picture in his head, Ashleigh and Liam holding their baby. “Maybe we can visit tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” said Petra.
The car eased up to the curb of his building. Rubio got out first and looked around the immediate area, a habit left over from the Paulsen days. Then he bent down and helped Petra out, holding the roses until she could shoulder her bag. He didn’t want to assume anything, but maybe she’d spend the whole night. It would be enough for him to hold her close, to breathe in the scent of her sugar-vanilla hair. Maybe she’d let him do more. Maybe she’d let him touch her and torment her and make love to every beautiful inch of her the way he did in his dreams every night. Then in the morning they could visit the hospital together, see the baby and maybe go out for lunch...
No. He couldn’t assume anything where Petra was concerned. “Be careful,” he said, guiding her over the lip of the elevator. “Someday I’ll get that fixed.”
She chuckled nervously. “Your elevator’s broken?”
“No, is fine. I think the floor is broken. Old buildings,” he explained with a shrug.
She laughed again and he took heart at the sound. She was behaving more like the old Petra, the soft, melting one he’d come to love. He stared at her nape as they glided up the eight floors to his place. When it stopped, he opened the door and led her out. He flicked on the lights and reached out a hand.
“Give me the roses,” he said. “I’ll put them in some water.”
Instead, Petra dropped the whole bunch on the floor. He followed her frozen gaze to the couch, where Gary Paulsen sat with a gun trained on the middle of Ruby’s chest.
“Don’t make a sound,” the burly man said to Petra. “Don’t move, don’t scream. Don’t try anything or your boyfriend eats a bullet.” His fingers tightened on the gun, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he stood. “And don’t look at me that way, you little bitch. Spare me the drama. This is all your fault.”
Chapter Nineteen: So Close
Ruby stood still, gauging the man’s willingness to use the weapon. Petra’s voice rang out in the silence.
“How are you here? You’re not supposed to be in England. There’s a restraining order.”
Paulsen snickered, a chilling sound. “I have a lot of money, Petra. I can circumvent just about any obstacle. I can buy my way onto airplanes and into private residences pretty easily.” He nodded at Ruby. “I thought he’d be showing up alone, but it will be better this way.”
“What will be better this way?” Ruby asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
Paulsen narrowed his eyes. “You shut up. I have nothing to say to you. As for you...” His cold gaze fixed on Petra. “I’d like you to explain the meaning behind all your games. I’ve tried and tried to talk to you. It’s taken a lot of my time and en
ergy. I’ve tried to warn you about him but you don’t listen. You never listen.” His lips twisted and his voice rose with increasing rage. “I wrote you a thousand letters, called you again and again. Why the fuck didn’t you answer me?”
“Because I don’t know who you are,” she replied, her voice matching his in intensity. “Because you’re a psycho. Because I don’t want you in my life!”
Ruby was torn between admiration for Petra’s pluck and fear that she was acting kind of insane. It took a lot of balls to yell at a psychopath.
“Get out of here,” she demanded. “Stop pointing that gun at him.”
Paulsen vaulted off the couch, stalked toward Ruby, and shoved the cold muzzle against his forehead. “What’s that, Petra?”
She stared at the weapon, then at Rubio. What now? Ruby hated that she was so scared. He hated having a gun at his head but he hated Petra’s panic worse. He tried to calm her with his gaze. He didn’t dare speak.
Paulsen tapped the muzzle against his forehead, once, twice, and then backed up a few inches with a smug smile. “I think you should talk to me a little more respectfully. What do you think?”
Petra made a sick, choked sound. “Please, don’t. Please don’t shoot him. I’ll talk to you.”
Ruby was afraid, yes, but he wasn’t terrified. He was from the worst neighborhood in Rio. He knew about guns. He looked closer at the firearm still pointed at his head, studying the weapon that might end his life. It was a smallish semi-automatic, probably illegal in origin. He wondered if Paulsen knew how to shoot it or just how to wave it around. He wondered if it was fully loaded and how many rounds it held.
He caught Petra’s gaze. Talk to him. He thought the words really hard, trying to communicate telepathically. Keep him talking until I can figure out some plan to save us. But don’t make him angry enough to kill you too.
“Are you looking at him? Really?” Paulsen snapped at Petra. “I told you time and time again that he was a bad person. He uses women. He used you and you let him. I saw you in the papers, in the photos. I saw you having fights. You know he’s an asshole, don’t you?”