Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1) (29 page)

“Good. Then answer my question.”

“I suspect you already know who I am if you stopped me,”
she replied. “How many women have walked past you in the last thirty seconds?”

That time, the man’s mask did crack. The faintest hint of a
sneer curved the edges of his lips upward, but it quickly fell. “Here,” he
said, holding out the package. “A gift for you.”

Violet hesitated, not reaching to take the item. “From
who?”

“Vasily Markovic sends his regards. And to your father as
well, of course. Have a nice day, Violet.”

She froze in place as the envelope was shoved roughly into
her hand, forcing her to take it as the man passed her by without another word
being said between them.

Violet could already feel the panic welling in her stomach
and leaping into her throat as her hands began to shake. Her gaze flicked
between the envelope, and the man disappearing into the crowd of people flooding
the sidewalk.

Vasily Markovic.

The name chanted in her ringing ears.

She felt sick all over.

Grabbing the rip tab on the side of the package, Violet
pulled, opening the top of the envelope. Tipping it upside down into her
waiting hand, pictures fell out. She let the envelope fall to the sidewalk,
uncaring of the people walking around her, as she began to slide her hand over
the pictures, flipping between them.

All sorts of pictures.

Some could maybe be explained away, like the black and
whites of her and Kaz walking side by side toward his car. Or even the ones of
them exiting a store together.

Others, the sepia toned shots of them walking near the
closed pier might be harder to explain, but possibly doable if she had a good
enough excuse.

Ones, full color and close up, of her and Kaz where he was
kissing her cheek, or holding her hand might not be so simple.

But the most damaging, the ones that scared her above all
the others, were shots of them in his apartment. The ceiling-to-floor windows
were almost always covered in the day and evenings, but she had opened them
sometimes, just to watch the ocean at night. The apartment was high enough that
no one directly below would be able to see inside, but …

The pictures looked like they had come from right out in
the ocean.

Like someone had taken a high-grade lens and watched them.

Violet stared at the pictures again.

Four shots in total.

Her in his clothes. Her on his lap, naked then.

The other two were the same.

There was only one where her face was clearly visible, as
she had turned her head just enough for the person to catch her like that.

Violet couldn’t breathe.

Sends his regards …

To her father?

Had these photos been sent to her father?

Violet didn’t move as a buzzing began in her hand, under
the stack of photos. She pulled her hand free, staring at the number lighting
up the screen.

Alberto Gallucci
,
it read.

There was a brief moment where Violet felt like time just
stopped around her. Where there was no New York street, no busy people, and no
world moving, and turning. It was just her, a stack of photos, and her father’s
call needing to be answered.

She ran through the last three months in her mind, and
wondered …

Were there things she should have done differently?

Would she, if given the choice to go back?

Had she done what was always wanted of her?

All her answers were the same.

No.

Her fingers still trembled when she swiped at the screen to
answer her father’s call. Putting it up to her ear, Violet said, “Hello,
Daddy.”

“You’re just arriving home from school, right?” Alberto
asked.

His tone was too gruff, she thought.

Too strained and forced.

Like he didn’t want to frighten her, maybe.

“Yeah,” Violet confirmed. “Just looking at the front door
right now.”

“Don’t move. Gee will be there in ten minutes.”

Violet swallowed hard. “Why?”

“I have something I want you to see.”

She knew it then, when he didn’t outright lie but he didn’t
tell the truth, that he was looking at the same photos she was.

Violet wasn’t quite sure what she should do at that moment.
Call her father out on it, or placate him as much as possible.

Alberto spoke again, forcing her hand in an entirely
different manner. “And guessing by the note included in the gift that just
arrived at my door, I think you know exactly what I want you to see. I thought
you were doing so well,
dolcezza
. And I can see now that my blind
affection has made us both fools, hmm?”

“Daddy—”

“Be in front of that building when Gee arrives. You will
not like what happens if you make me come looking for you myself, Violet.”

The call hung up.

Just like that.

Violet blinked down at the phone as she pulled it away from
her ear. Panic settled in deep, burrowing into her bones and seeping through
her nervous system.

She didn’t know what to do, but her first instinct wasn’t
to listen to her father. His voice in her head had lessened—it didn’t hold
quite the same quality of law that it used to.

Someone else had told her to look around and listen more.

And so she had.

But it was still a fight for her. An internal war with one
side of her brain telling her to stay put and do as she was told because she
had done wrong, while her heart screamed for her to move because Kaz was
right.

Her heart won.

Violet turned on her heel and bolted toward the street,
straight for the crosswalk blinking for people to walk. She weaved in and out
of people as she sent off her first text message to Kaz. A second quickly
followed, more panicked than the second to the point where it was barely
legible. She didn’t stop moving further from her building and where Gee thought
he would find her.

Blocks, three at least.

And then another two.

Finally, her phone rang.

Violet saw Kaz’s number flashing across the screen, and
relief swept through her blood. She still didn’t stop moving, and checking over
her shoulder at the same time as she answered the call.

“He knows,” Violet said the second she put the phone to her
ear.

Kaz was quiet on the other end, Violet almost thought that
maybe he didn’t hear her.

“My dad—”

“
Violet
.”

Her name always came out so smooth and deep from Kaz, but
that time he said it hard and sharp enough to make her steps stumble.

“He sent pictures,” Violet said, barely able to even say
the words. “Your father—to me and my dad. He sent pictures of us. All sorts of
pictures, Kaz. Walking. At the pier. Going into your place. And inside …”

Kaz blew out a heavy breath. “Inside where?”

“Your place.”

“When?”

“I don’t know!” she cried.

“Violet, what were they of?”

She choked on nothing but air. “What do you think?”

Kaz cussed—thick and angry. “Where are you right now?”

All Violet managed to reply to that was, “Not going to my
father.”

The tears had started falling.

Her panic kicked up a notch.

She still heard Kaz’s voice in the background of it all. He
rattled off the name of an address she didn’t recognize that was situated
mid-Brooklyn.

“Get in a cab,” Kaz said. “I’ll meet you there.”

V
iolet handed over what
the taxi driver asked for, and stepped out into a residential neighborhood that
wasn’t exactly upscale, but certainly wasn't the slums. She kept a hand on the
cab door, unsure if she was at the right spot. A small driveway led up to a
modest two level home that was pretty on the outside, and had a white Bentley
parked in front of the small garage.

“Miss, I got another fare to pick up,” the driver shouted.

Violet hesitated. “Is this the right place?”

He rattled off the address she had given him. “I’ve lived
and drove in Brooklyn for forty fucking years—this is the right place, girl.”

She let go of the door, knowing she didn't have much of a
choice. Stepping up onto the curb, she felt her phone began to ring and vibrate
in her messenger bag. It hadn’t stopped since she jumped into a cab and took
off. Without a doubt, she knew it was her father.

Violet had checked a couple of times, just to make sure it
wasn’t Kaz. He hadn’t called her back, or messaged, so that only left Alberto.

Guessing by the number of voicemails her father had already
left, he was livid.

Beyond pissed.

She couldn’t be bothered to listen to a single one.

Why should she when she knew what they would say?

As the cab pulled away, Violet stayed on the curb, still
staring at the house and wondering why in the hell Kaz would send her to a
place he had never taken her to before.

What was she supposed to do, just go on up to the door and
fucking knock?

Violet eyed the quiet neighborhood and figured doing just
that might be better than standing way out in the open where anyone might see
and recognize her. She quickly crossed the driveway, and took the couple of
wooden steps up to the front door. Rapping her knuckles to the glass twice, she
took a step back so whoever was inside could get a decent view of her through
the small clear slates in the design of the frosted glass.

She heard the footsteps approach from within, saw the
light-colored shade move, and then waited another thirty seconds before the
door was finally opened.

Familiar gray eyes greeted her.

For a second, Violet just took in the woman on the other
side of the door. She was pretty, with her high cheekbones and her soft lines.
There was a resemblance between the unknown woman and Kaz that Violet recognized
almost instantly.

But where Kaz was the more masculine version, the woman was
far more feminine in her features.

“Hello,” Violet said.

It felt stupid because she didn’t know what else to say.

The woman’s hand never left the doorknob, like she was thinking
about closing the door on Violet if she moved even an inch. “Hello.”

“I’m—”

“I know who you are,” the woman interrupted sharply. “And I
don’t know why you’ve found your way to my door, but I don’t need you here
causing me any kind of trouble, Gallucci.”

Violet was stunned. The coldness of the woman’s tone rang
out in each word she spoke.

“If you know who I am, then maybe you wouldn’t mind telling
me who you are, or why Kaz gave me this address to come to.”

For just a brief second, almost quick enough to miss it,
the woman’s stance softened. But just as fast, she straightened right back up
like a rod had been shoved into her spine.

“Vera Markovic,” she said, her gaze never leaving Violet’s
still form on the doorstep. “And Kazimir is my brother. But what exactly is he
to you?”

Violet opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her.

She realized she didn’t have a clear, good answer to give
back.

Kaz was a lot of things to Violet, and he had very quickly
turned those things into even more without trying at all.

He was her safe place.

A friend.

Her lover.

A confidant.

Stolen moments.

Silent conversations.

Long nights and late mornings.

How was she supposed to sum that up?

What word was good enough?

Vera cleared her throat, still looking like she was trying
to decide whether or not to close the door. “So … it’s like that, huh?”

Violet blinked, warier than ever. “I don’t understand what
you mean by ‘like that’.”

“Really?”

“I—”

The roar of an engine and the scream of tires made Violet
turn fast on the doorstep to find a familiar Porsche coming to a halt right in
front of Vera’s driveway. He didn’t even cut the engine before he was getting
out of the car.

Kaz rounded the front of the Porsche, his gaze zoning in on
only Violet like she was the one thing he wanted to see, and just like that …

Just like that the fucking tears started again and the pain
was back. All that anxiety she had been pushing down, and the realities she was
pretending didn't exist were shoving their way forefront into her heart and
thoughts like they didn’t have any plans to let go.

All she needed was the sight of Kaz—his fast steps,
worried, angry eyes, and his hands outstretched for
her
.

Because he took, all the damn time.

From her, he took anything she didn’t want to hold anymore.
Stress, worries, and petty shit that she didn’t have anyone to talk to about,
he was the one who was there. When she had anxiety over upcoming tests for her
classes, he had her books spread out over the bed. When she didn’t want to just
be the Gallucci girl—Alberto’s daughter—she got to be just Violet with Kaz.

Violet’s foot had just hit the asphalt of the driveway and
Kaz was already there. His arms swallowed her whole, tightening around her so
goddamn hard, enough to hurt and take her breath away, but she found that for
the first time in a good hour, she could actually
breathe
.

She caught him around the middle, hugging tight when his
one hand splayed wide to her back, and his other wrapped up in her hair,
holding her close.

“I got you,” he murmured into her hair before kissing the
top of her head. “We’ll figure it out, Violet.”

All over again, time stopped.

There was nothing else that mattered when he was there,
holding her like that.

Safe place.

Everybody had one person to be theirs. That one single
person in the world that never asked for more than what was given, but always
took what was too much to handle. The one person who made everything better,
and made someone else better, too.

Kaz made her better, and she hadn’t really thought to look
beyond it because she couldn’t. Not without maybe losing herself, him, or even
them in the process.

She wanted to keep that safe place that he had become for
her.

But it was too late.

And even if she didn’t get to keep it—keep him—she knew now
…

Kaz was that one person.

For her, he was that one soul meant for hers.

And she wasn’t allowed to have him.

“I moved the Bentley and put your Porsche in the garage,”
Vera said.

Violet looked over Kaz’s shoulder to find his sister
leaning in the entryway of the kitchen. Vera hadn’t spoken a lot since Kaz
arrived. Or rather, she said barely anything to Violet, and when she did speak,
she directed everything she said to only Kaz.

It was cold and disconcerting.

Violet tried not to let Vera’s attitude bother her, but it
was hard. Kaz had told her once that out of all his siblings, he was closest to
Vera in both age and in friendship. And it was clear that Vera didn’t like
Violet at all.

It was tough to swallow.

“Thank you,” Kaz said, never turning around.

His finger tapped the bottom of Violet’s coffee mug,
silently telling her to take another drink. She lifted the tea and sipped,
still watching Vera out of the corner of her eye. Kaz’s gaze was firmly stuck
on Violet, and she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking, or he
had a damn good idea. His one hand rested on the edge of the counter as he
stood in front of her, close enough that he was keeping her in place and with
him.

When his other hand landed on her waist with a soft touch,
Violet’s gaze flew to his.

Kaz smiled, but it didn’t quite ring as true as it usually
did. “Vera is ...”

Violet waited for him to finish whatever he was going to
say, but he just left it hanging like that.

Vera huffed under her breath, and Violet watched as she
spun on her heel and disappeared somewhere down the hallway outside of the
kitchen. She hadn’t gotten the chance to explore much of the home’s layout,
seeing as how Kaz had forced her into the kitchen and worked on soothing her
panic attack first and foremost.

“She doesn’t like me,” Violet whispered.

“Vera isn’t going to like anyone I care for at first unless
she’s hand-picked them,” Kaz said, smirking just a little.

“That is not why she doesn’t like me.”

Kaz nodded once. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why send me here if you already knew, Kaz?”

“Because it was a safe place—Vasily won’t come after Vera,
no matter what happens in all of this, and I needed time.”

“Time?”

“To think,” he clarified.

“Oh.”

Suddenly, Kaz pushed away from the counter and Violet.
Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed a fistful of his jacket, tugging to
pull him back. She liked him closer—there with her. Standing with her, locking
her in with him.

That’s where he needed to be.

“Don’t go right now,” she said quietly, her gaze lowering.

“I have to talk to Vera for a second, okay? Drink the tea.
Don’t worry.”

That was much easier said than done.

Still, Violet let him go, releasing his jacket from her
hold and staring out the small kitchen window as he followed the direction his
sister had gone just a couple of minutes before.

Violet didn’t miss how on his way out of the kitchen, he
grabbed the packet of photographs that were sticking out of the top of her bag,
resting on the table.

Not ten seconds later, the voices started to raise from
down the hall.

“Are you serious, Kaz? Are you trying to get yourself
killed—oh wait, it’s too late to ask that question, considering the two of you
are
here
. What were you thinking?”

“Vera—”

“And of all the women in New York, you picked the one that
would piss off Vasily the most? If the situation wasn’t so serious, I might
have given you a pat on the back.”

“Vera—”

“And how long do you think you can hide out here before
Vasily arrives?”

“Will you shut up long enough for me to speak?” Kaz asked
dryly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Please, enlighten me on how you expect to
get out of this one without our mother having to bury you … I’ll wait.”