The RunAway Model

VII. Propositions

Of course, it was him.

"Petroff," Khaye breathed out. There was no disbelief in her voice. Somehow, in the midst of everything that occurred from the moment she was taken, she knew he was behind all of it. He was powerful, but she still had to wrap her head around the knowledge that he could do something like this. He was known to trample on people in the industry, but not in this sense. This was a new side of Petroff she was seeing.

He was clucking his tongue as he closed the door behind him and walked to the desk. He rested one thigh over it and clasped his hands together in front of him. His blue eyes bored on her with amusement. "You should have just kept your mouth shut, Khaye, darling," he told her in his thick Russian voice. "You shouldn't have called your brother. You should have just zipped that luscious mouth of yours."

"I can still do that," Khaye desperately said, making a move to stand up.

Petroff held out one hand to stop her and she slumped back into the couch. "Too late, Khaye." He pushed away from the desk and went to her. "Do you know that there are officers wanting to talk to me? Of course, you know. You told them." His eyes were suddenly ablaze with anger as he grabbed her face in one hand. "But what exactly did you tell them, Khaye?"

She tried to shake her head, her eyes looking back at him widely. "Nothing much. Just that you were with Jamaica before she died. I didn't say anything more," she lied.

"Do you know how much trouble you've caused me?" he asked her, his voice and face turning creepily calm in an instant. "But I don't think killing you will be the best option now." He let go of her face. Khaye let out a shaky breath, relieved. "I will spare your life just this once because I can," he added, looking at her with cold eyes. "I will let you live because I have it in my power."

The hairs on her arms stood up. "Why?" she dared ask.

One corner of his mouth tugged into a small smile. "I need you to lie to them."

She did not ask the question but he understood her confusion. "The police. Your brother and the rest of his gang. Tell them what I want you to tell them. One wrong move, Khaye, and you know I'll get you again. I did it without sweat today, didn't I? I can very well do it again. And I should tell you that the next time you get drugged, you will not wake up." He walked away from her to sit back on the desk. "But if you do exactly as what I say, you will have your life back. You will have your career back. You will live Jamaica's life, even Desiree's. You know I can do that, don't you, darling?"

Khaye didn't have to consider her options. There was no option. She was desperate to be free. She had been through enough trouble to end up dead and she was willing to do whatever to stay alive. Her voice shook as she spoke. "What do I tell them?"

"Good question," Petroff said with a smile.

*****

"Are you scared?" His low voice vibrated around the room. "You should be," Richard added as he took one more step toward her.

Desiree backed as far away as she could.

"Don't try to scream," he warned, his legs closing the distance between them. "My brother had this room sound-proofed for his stupid meditations. Not a soul from outside will hear your cries."

A whimper escaped her throat but she squared her shoulders. Fine. If he wanted to kill her, he'd have to do it with a lot of struggle.

Richard's eyebrows rose when he saw her posture. "Ready for a fight?" he asked.

"Just so you know, I did not kill her. I would not dare kill her."

"You were the only one who last saw her," he said.