“Perhaps it would be best if you and your husband said your good-byes now,” one of the staff workers suggested. “We’ll take good care of Nadia.”
“I have to talk to Gerri,” Nadia tried again. “Please, Mother. There are things that happened that you don’t know about and Gerri does. I swear I’m not being melodramatic when I say it’s a matter of life and death. Please trust me.”
“I won’t have you upsetting Gerri,” her mother said. “Your father and I will sit down and talk with her about what we’ve decided in private.”
For the first time, Nadia realized she wasn’t the only one whose reaction her mother was worried about. She was worried Gerri would “make a scene.” Bad enough for Nadia to do it, but at least she could be quietly dragged off into the depths of the retreat. If Gerri wanted to take it public—which she might, seeing as she wouldn’t appreciate being blindsided—there would be no way to stop her.
“Good-bye, Nadia,” her mother said stiffly. “We’ll visit as often as we can, and I’ll make sure to tell Gerri you want to speak with her when things settle down.”
Her father took a step in her direction, raising his arms as if he planned to hug her, but Nadia wasn’t about to accept any hugs, so she took a step backward and crossed her arms over her chest.
That was when she felt the faint bulge of her forbidden phone, tucked into her bra to keep it safely hidden. Maybe instead of continuing to butt heads with her mother, who had clearly drawn her line in the sand and was not prepared to back down, she should just wait until she had a quiet moment alone and give Gerri a call.
It would be dangerous. Much more dangerous than talking in person would be. Nadia knew the resistance would be listening in on anything she said on the phone, and she couldn’t afford to let them find out about the recordings, or about the damning truth those recordings held. Not when she didn’t know much about them or what their goals were. She wished she’d asked Dante more questions about them, but she’d let her loneliness and longing get the best of her. And she hadn’t realized she’d be cut off from contact with him so soon.
Somehow, some way, she was going to figure out how to get the message across to her sister without betraying everything she knew.
Her eyes were watering, and she was practically choking on a toxic combination of hurt and anger. Her mother was implacable, and her father was too weak-willed to fight for her, and no one else even knew she needed to be fought for. She felt tears slipping from her eyes, and she made no effort to wipe them away.
“Don’t bother coming to visit,” she said hoarsely, knowing that someday she was going to regret the words. “I never want to see either of you again.” She turned to the two prison matrons in their navy blue uniforms and their faux-sympathetic smiles. “Let’s go.”
Turning her back on her parents, she followed her new keepers to the key-carded door she’d noticed when they’d stepped in. One woman opened the door and gestured Nadia inside, while the other stayed behind her, as if ready to stop her if she tried to bolt.
Without another look at her parents, she stepped through the door.
Just like at Tranquility, the first step of checking in to the Preston Sanctuary was for Nadia to change out of her street clothes and into a retreat uniform, this one a medium-blue belted tunic and pants. At least the color was more flattering to Nadia’s fair skin, she thought as she changed in a curtained alcove while the matrons—who had now introduced themselves a second time without Nadia paying enough attention to remember their names—waited.
Only there was one crucial difference between the Preston Sanctuary and Tranquility, one Nadia had not anticipated or she wouldn’t have gone as quietly as she had, would have pitched a screaming, hysterical fit and not cared who heard her or how embarrassed her family would be.
When the matrons guided Nadia through the back door of the changing room into the heart of the retreat, there was the distinctive beep of a metal detector going off. She froze in the doorway, feeling as if she’d just been kicked in the ribs.
One of the matrons gave her a smile that was both sheepish and sympathetic. “I’m afraid it’s not uncommon for our new guests to try to smuggle things in. Please step back into the changing room and remove anything that is not part of the uniform.”
Nadia shook her head, her lip quivering. The phone was the only link she had to the outside world, the only chance she had to warn Gerri not to attempt the blackmail.
“I-I don’t have anything,” she said, but it was a lame denial, and the matron just looked at her knowingly.
The second matron was less sympathetic. “Whatever you’re hiding, we’ll search you and confiscate it if we have to. You wouldn’t be the first or the last rule breaker we’ve ever had to deal with. Make it easier on yourself.”
Fighting it made no sense. But then, Nadia’s life had stopped making sense a few weeks ago, and she had nothing else left to lose.
She didn’t make it easy on anyone. But in the end, the matrons took the phone anyway.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nate couldn’t get away from the Preston Sanctuary fast enough. The place felt gloomy and oppressive, especially with all the black-clad Executives milling about, always keeping their voices low and somber in respect for the sad occasion. People he didn’t like, and who didn’t like him, kept up a steady stream of insincere condolences, and he made only the barest effort to accept them graciously. Hell, sometimes he didn’t make the effort at all, like when the Terrible Trio fought their way through to him and started cooing and batting their eyelashes. Their leader, Jewel, had always thought she was runner-up to Nadia, that if somehow he ended up not marrying Nadia, she would be the logical choice to step into the role.
Ordinarily, Nate tolerated, or sometimes even encouraged, Jewel’s flirtation. The girl was stunningly beautiful, and if he didn’t want people questioning his sexual orientation, he figured it was best to act dazzled by her. No matter how much he loathed her. Today, he just couldn’t be bothered, so when Jewel put her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, inviting him to look down her dress, he gave her his coldest stare.
“Surely even you have more class than to try to flirt with me at my mother’s funeral,” he said, and Jewel recoiled as if he’d slapped her. The other members of the Trio—Jewel’s younger sister Cherry, and her best friend, Blair—both looked similarly shocked, although he thought he detected a hint of malicious amusement in their eyes.
“I wasn’t—” Jewel stammered, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.
“Yes, you were,” Nate said. “And for your information, I wouldn’t marry you if I had a gun to my head, so why don’t you just give up on flirting with me altogether.”
His voice was rising dangerously, and the Trio were all gaping at him, pale and frightened-looking. This was a side of him they’d never seen. Not that he’d never been rude to people in public before—he was well known for ignoring the usual rules of propriety. But this was a whole different level. And if he wanted his father to disinherit him as soon as possible, acting like an asshole to girls from such highly ranked Executive families, in public where just about anyone could overhear, was a step in the right direction.
Nate couldn’t bring himself to apologize for the harsh words, but he did manage to keep himself from spewing any more of them. He shook his head at the Trio, then moved away from them as briskly as he could manage with the crowd.
People tried to stop him to talk, but he ignored them all. He had to get out of here, no matter how bad an impression leaving now would make. If he stayed, he’d make an even worse one.