Savage Bonds: The Raven Room Trilogy - Book Two Read online

  She passed the boy in her arms to Julian so he now held both twins. “Thank you. We’re lucky to have you.”

  He wanted to challenge Grace on what she had just said but he couldn’t. Whatever mental stamina he had left, he had used it to argue with her about the open marriage. “Don’t you have to be somewhere?”

  She nodded as she reached for her purse. “I promise I won’t be too late.”

  “It’s OK if you are. I won’t be sleeping much.” He still couldn’t believe Tatiana had disposed of his pills.

  “Everything you need for Seth and Eli is in those bags. I’ve labeled their dinner and snacks. They don’t need to eat for another hour, so a nap until then would be great. You know my number and if—”

  “I got it. Just go, Grace. The boys will be fine.”

  After she kissed both her sons she turned to Julian. “I know. You’re their dad, after all.”

  Grace left and Julian’s eyes darted between the boys. Grace hadn’t called either one by name, so he still didn’t know which one was which. He called out the name Eli and both boys looked at him with guileless curiosity. He tried it again, now saying the name Seth, and he got giggles and incomprehensible babble from both boys.

  “Sometimes the universe works in strange ways, don’t you think?” Tatiana stood by the entrance of the living room. “You have two kids. Identical twins. When were you going to tell me that?”

  “I can’t deal with you right now.”

  “They like me. They’re smiling at me.”

  “Leave.” He didn’t want to raise his voice in front of Seth and Eli.

  Before disappearing down the hall, Tatiana winked at the boys.

  Doing what he did every time they came over, Julian took the twins to his bedroom and made a makeshift bed for them on the floor by the large window. As he scattered their toys around them, he remembered that he had recently refilled his prescription. He rushed into his office and found the two new bottles inside his workbag. He didn’t stop to think. Instead of one, he took two pills from each bottle.

  He returned to the bedroom and lay down on the floor near the boys. Heavy, dark clouds hung low over the buildings, and the Chicago River had lost its beautiful turquoise color. It looked as gray as the sky above.

  Julian watched Seth and Eli play for a while. He wanted to hug them, breathe in their scent, kiss their small toes, but his body became too heavy for him to move. He smiled when one of the boys draped himself over his chest. Then he closed his eyes.

  • • •

  Julian sat up, his heart racing. At first, he didn’t know why he was on the floor with toys scattered around him, but then the intense lightning across the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder, jarred him awake.

  He didn’t see Seth or Eli.

  He got up and ran out of the bedroom. All the lights in the condo were off, but lightning illuminated his path. Julian checked each room, frantically searching for the boys. He called out their names, but there were no sounds that told him where they might be. He called out again, louder this time.

  “In here.”

  Julian followed Tatiana’s voice.

  “Calm down,” she said as soon as he rushed inside the guest bedroom. “They’re already startled by the storm. Don’t make them more afraid.”

  “What happened?” He kneeled by the bed. Seth and Eli snuggled colorful baby blankets beside Tatiana. Under the dim glow from the standing lamp, their eyes looked as green as his own. “Why did you take them?” His heart beat so fast it made it difficult for him to speak. “I told you to stay away—”

  “It’s five in the morning.”

  Confused, he stared at Tatiana.

  “Look at the clock.” She tilted her head toward the nightstand. “You passed out and their mom never came to pick them up. You left the door of your bedroom open and they were crawling all over the place, crying. They needed to be fed and changed. They were alone. Frightened.”

  The anger Julian felt toward himself for endangering Seth and Eli was so powerful and consuming he sagged forward. Already on his knees, he had to hold on to the bed.

  He should get up and search for his phone, to see if Grace had texted or called, but he didn’t trust his legs to support him.

  “This one is Eli.” Tatiana pointed at the boy closer to her. “And that one is Seth. It’s written on the tags of their shirts,” she explained, taking hold of his hand and placing it inside the collar so he could feel the tags. “They liked me when they first saw me, but now it’s a full-fledged crush.” Tatiana blew a kiss at Seth and he gave her a wide smile.

  With adrenaline still coursing through his body, Julian said the first thing that came to his mind. “It’s your hair.” He caressed the back of the boy’s small neck. Tatiana no longer held his hand and he was glad she had been the one to let go. He didn’t know if he would have found the strength to do so. “It’s wild. It catches their attention.”

  “Why is it so hard for you to admit that your sons like me? It proves they have good taste. Something for you to be happy about.”

  Julian felt the warmth of Eli’s small body against his palm. His heartbeat slowed as the panic over the twins’ safety subsided.

  “Except for Grace, no one knows I’m their biological father. Pete doesn’t know, and neither does Meredith. You can’t repeat what you heard earlier.”

  Tatiana watched Julian caress his son’s forehead. “You don’t trust me.”

  “I barely know you.”

  “I’ve been living in your home for almost two months. You know more about me than you ever did about Sofia. And yet, I get the impression you trusted her.”

  He had grown to trust Sofia, but she had lied to him from the day she approached him at the coffee shop. “Did you know about us?”

  “Not until the night she died. When are you going to ask me to tell you everything I know about her? We have twenty-two years to cover.”

  “Not yet.” He didn’t feel ready.

  The storm had died down, but every few minutes, lightning crossed the sky and a white flash peeked through the side of the curtains.

  “I recognized you as soon as I saw you at the club,” she said.

  “I was sixteen and you were eight the last time we saw each other. Did you remember me that well?”

  “Years ago I looked up your birth name. I couldn’t find anything. Then I thought of all those times you said you’d change your last name to Reeve. You were obsessed with the Superman movie and the guy that played him. That’s when I came across a Julian Reeve, Child Psychologist and Associate Professor here in Chicago. The hospital had your picture up on the website. You were standing with a kid and a scary-looking clown.” Tatiana’s voice slowly faded out, as if she were lost in a memory. “I remember being impressed with the number of research papers you had written on abnormal child psychology. I guess fucked-up kids is your thing.”

  He decided it was best not to tell her that she and Sofia were the reason behind his career choice.

  “I found out which classes you were teaching at Feinberg,” she said. “I went there. I wanted to make sure it was really you. I watched you walk to your car after you were done giving a lecture. Not long after, I saw you at The Raven Room and I avoided you then. Fast-forward a few years and there you were, with Meredith, watching me fuck my husband. I’ll never forget how you looked at me.”

  Julian realized he had been holding his breath “How did I look at you?”

  “Like you always did.” She stroked Eli’s temple with her fingertips. “Like you’re looking at me now.”

  Julian lowered his eyes to the floor.

  “I saw the new pill bottles.” Tatiana’s voice lost its soft quality. “While Pete and Grace are out there, fucking other people, too afraid to put an end to their bad marriage, Seth and Eli are here, with you. Act this way again, endanger them, and you and my sister will suddenly be reunited.”

  Chapter 15

  Julian arrived at The Raven Room ea
rlier than he thought he would.

  He paused, taking in the vibe of the club. He never ventured more than a couple of steps inside before taking in the scene around him: identifying the genre of music being played, smelling which aromas mingled with the defining scent of the club. The time he took to observe his surroundings, short as it was, always revealed to him what he might expect from the night ahead.

  Before he moved into the crowd, Julian flexed his toes inside his black leather shoes. He felt the silky touch of his dress socks against the soles of his feet. He gave the left sleeve of his suit a brisk tug, then the right, making sure the crisp, high thread count white dress shirt didn’t poke too far past the cuffs of his jacket. He glanced at the new timepiece on his wrist. On his drive to the club, he realized he had forgotten his watch at home and tonight, because he had an appointment he couldn’t be late for, he needed to keep track of time.

  That forced him to stop at a small Chinese gift shop on South Wentworth Avenue and purchase an analog watch in the only style they had. With its circular white face set against a silver-tone case and black synthetic leather strap, he liked the watch, as long as he forced himself to ignore the colorful Hello Kitty graphics.

  Noting the time, Julian tucked the watch under his shirt cuff. If he stayed away from the lower floor, which he intended to, he had thirty minutes to watch strangers have sex, or sit by the bar and drink more than he should. Neither sounded appealing to him.

  He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the large vintage mirror. He looked confident and in control—the magic of a good suit.

  As he reached the second floor, a woman in black lingerie ran into his arms. Half of his whiskey landed on her breasts.

  “We’re playing a game,” she said, flustered and out of breath. “Want to join?” She wiped the whiskey off her skin and brought her fingers to her lips, sucking on them with a smile.

  “Sure.” Julian sounded more resigned than excited. He yearned for a distraction from what he had come to the club to do.

  “Yes!” she shouted, taking his glass away. She reached for his hand.

  Julian let her lead him into the Basilisk, the smallest room in the club. There were several people lounging around, draped over large leather couches and chairs, smoking hookahs. The flavored tobacco enveloped him.

  “The rules are simple.” The woman covered Julian’s eyes with a blindfold. “You move around the room. You belong to the first person you touch.”

  The lighting, coming from several electrical lamps made to look like gas flames on old light fixtures, didn’t permeate the thick fabric of the blindfold. Julian found himself thrown into complete darkness.

  “One more thing,” she said, loud enough for everyone around them to hear.

  “Before we start, you need to choose the sexual act.”

  “Oral sex,” he replied.

  “Receiving or giving?”

  “Receiving.”

  Before he knew it he was spun around, her hands moving on his waist and, as fast as she had started, she stopped.

  “Off you go,” she said with a laugh. “May the Basilisk offer you great pleasure.”

  With hesitation, Julian started to move around the room. He heard laughter, encouragements, voices telling him to move here or there, promises of great oral sex, descriptions, in graphic detail, of what would be done to him.

  He didn’t pay attention to any of it. Instead, he took refuge in the darkness offered to him by the blindfold, in the strong tobacco scent scorching his lungs. With Sofia forever gone, his relationship with Meredith collapsing, and an emotionally unstable Tatiana making him confront his past, he wanted to evade the sorrow that consumed him.

  Julian’s legs touched the edge of one of the couches and he reached out, his hand coming in contact with an arm. He didn’t move. He felt a glimmer of anticipation.

  “Sit down,” he heard a masculine voice say.

  Julian didn’t hesitate. He lowered himself onto the sofa. While he couldn’t see who had just kneeled at his feet, the sound of someone unzipping his suit pants, the sensation of an unknown person reaching inside his boxer briefs and pulling out his cock, carried a message that spoke to Julian’s basic nature. He had felt a man’s hands on his body before. The touch carried a weight, a hardness that commanded Julian to surrender himself to the pleasure of it.

  Julian didn’t have an erection, but the man at his feet showed no discouragement. He forced Julian’s legs further apart and licked the sensitive head of his member, which grew exposed as Julian’s arousal heightened. As soon as Julian felt the man’s moist lips close on him, Julian let his hands rest on the couch. Pleasure spread through him and he dug his fingers into the soft leather. The tempo of the music had slowed and the man’s movements matched the rhythm of the sounds reverberating through the space.

  The man took him deep into his mouth and a wave of satisfaction shot up Julian’s spine, forcing him to arch his back. As he thrust further, the man’s throat accepted more of his erection. His hips shot off the couch and a pair of strong hands pulled him even closer to open lips. Julian felt stubble rub below his cock, and the discomfort of it, mixed with the softness of an eager mouth, intensified his release. His loud moan resembled a cry.

  Julian’s body shuddered when he felt warm breath fan his temple.

  “You have a gorgeous cock.” Julian heard the smile in the man’s voice. “And the prettiest watch I’ve seen.”

  Julian remained seated, his head resting on the back of the couch. He took a series of deep breaths. His body still shook.

  Julian removed the blindfold, but the man was gone. The spectators, too. They were already focused on a new game. Zipping up his suit pants, Julian got to his feet and left the room.

  Checking his watch, he took the second staircase to the third floor. It was time. Instead of entering the only room on that level, the Black Dragon, Julian made his way to the bathroom. He found it empty. Like the rest of the club, no detail had been overlooked. Invisible speakers filled the space with mellow jazz tunes, and vases with fresh cut white peonies sat on the large vanity, which was made of the same marble with dramatic gray veining as the floor. The wainscoting, together with the royal blue wallpaper and its gold details, contributed to the regal ambience. An elaborate vintage-looking chandelier—an art piece—made of filament amber light bulbs, hung from the ceiling. No person stood in that bathroom and didn’t feel a little bit richer, a little bit more beautiful.

  Julian approached the larger private stall at the opposite end of the bathroom. He pulled out his key and pressed it against an unmarked spot on the tiled wall adjacent to the door. As soon as he did, the wood door unlocked. Julian turned the handle, opened the large door, and he entered the stall. With no toilet, it turned out to be an empty space. After closing the door behind him, he scanned the key again on the wall inside the stall, and a hidden door slid open. He climbed a set of narrow, rusty metal stairs, until he found himself above ground.

  The smell hit him first—cooked meat, roasted skin, and boiled fish—a mix of scents so strong that Julian held his breath. And the heat. He started to sweat almost immediately. The relentless commotion of a small, hectic, twenty-four hour kitchen swirled around him.

  No one paid attention to Julian as he passed through. He had to dodge several sharp elbows. If he lingered, the odor of fried food would cling to him and nothing short of throwing his clothes in the washer and showering would make it go away.

  Julian walked down a poorly lit serpentine corridor with patched-up walls that had once been painted white. He stopped when he reached a closed office door at the end of the hall. Although he appeared in control, Julian felt nervous. Without a surface to drum his fingers on—something he did every time anxiety consumed him—he ran his fingers through his hair instead.

  Julian checked his watch. Right on time. As soon as he knocked, he was told to enter.

  “You’re always punctual.” From behind the desk, Vincent spoke in perfect
Mandarin. “It’s the reason I like you.”

  He had been in that office often throughout the years, and even though they weren’t equals, Julian knew he held more power than the man smiling at him liked to admit.

  “I want to place an order,” Julian replied in Mandarin. He hoped his discomfort wasn’t obvious. He had received instructions when he booked the appointment, but he had never done this before.

  Vincent smiled. “What’s the special occasion?”

  “It’s a private party.”

  “How many?”

  “One.”

  “When do you want it delivered?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Flawless parties take time to organize.”

  “OK. When the timing is right. But before the end of the month.”

  “You know the menu. What dishes would you like?”

  Julian glanced at the cheap desk. There were no papers, no computer, no picture frames. Besides the desk and the two rickety chairs they sat on, the room looked bare. There were also no windows. Only a large, exposed fluorescent light tube on the ceiling. Both he and Vincent looked out of place.

  “The house special. I want a receipt.”

  “This order will be added to your profile.”

  Julian nodded.

  The smell of food filled the room and, being less pungent than in the kitchen, Julian caught himself salivating.

  “Guest of honor?”

  Julian reached inside his pant pocket and pulled out a tissue. He then removed a small piece of paper from his coat pocket, making sure the tissue worked as a barrier between his fingers and the paper.

  He placed it in the middle of the table and returned the tissue to his pocket. “Picture and details.”

  Vincent covered the paper with his hand and pulled it toward him. Without looking at it, he slid it inside his own pocket. “Thank you for your business.”

  Julian got up and exited the room without looking back. He had just ordered Steven Thompson’s death.

  Chapter 16