I’d never felt nervous around Michael before. He was one of my oldest friends, one of the people I knew best, who knew me best, but despite all that, I was nervous to the point of shaking as I waited for him.
Guilty conscience, Daniela, I thought, and I couldn’t argue with the diagnosis.
I hadn’t seen Michael since the day after my wedding, and I hadn’t given him a single thought. Quite the turn of events from the day before the wedding when I had cried on his shoulder, told him that I didn’t want to go through with it.
He’d held me, whispered words of comfort, or words that I thought at the time were words of comfort. Looking back on it now, I wasn’t so sure. He’d told me I was strong, that I could handle anything or anyone, including the Syndicate. That if I simply complied, he and Santo would eventually save me, but until then, I needed to bide my time.
Funny, because those were the exact things I had told myself, the only difference being I planned to save myself. At the time, the words had worked, had made me feel a little less alone, like I had someone in my corner.
Now, though, I wondered…
As they so often did, my thoughts turned to Sergei.
Would he have done that? Whispered words that sounded like support, but that, when I thought of them again, were only designed to ensure my compliance?
No. He wouldn’t have.
I was certain of that, more certain than I was of almost anything else.
He’d never told me as much, and if I asked, he would have denied it, but that didn’t change what I knew. And what I knew was if I expressed a moment’s hesitation, shed even one of the thousands of tears I had shed to Michael, Sergei would have wiped it away, kissed me until my tears dried, and then promised me I wouldn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to.
I knew that, and knowing it changed so much of what I thought I’d known before. Like that Michael was strong, that Michael was a friend, that he was someone I could rely on.
Had anyone before Sergei ever truly been that?
That I couldn’t answer immediately was answer enough.
I heard Michael approaching, and again smoothed my skirt.
It wasn’t fair, really, comparing Michael to Sergei. After all, Michael didn’t have the power of the Syndicate behind him, didn’t have Sergei’s experience either.
Even still, part of me knew that wouldn’t matter. Alone or not, powerless or not, Sergei would have faced any threat. Michael doing so might have gotten him killed, gotten others killed, and I didn’t want that, would have done all the things I had so far to avoid it. Still, knowing how he’d encouraged me, how he hadn’t even offered a theoretical resistance, had changed the way I thought of him completely.
I didn’t know if I’d ever respect him again.
“Daniela.”
I turned at the sound of his voice and plastered a smile on my face. He did the same, and I hoped mine didn’t look as plastic and false as his did. He came toward me, his light-colored suit perfect as always, the light breeze ruffling his hair. I’d always had a weakness for a well-dressed man, but I couldn’t help but notice how much more naturally Sergei wore his suits, how much more naturally he wore everything compared to Michael who looked stiff, almost false.
“Michael,” I said as he approached.
He grabbed my upper arms and pulled me in for a kiss, but I lifted my hands to his chest to stop him and then again smiled as brightly as I could muster.
His eyes darkened, but he covered quickly, smiled again.
“You look well,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied, feeling stiff, stilted in his presence.
He continued to stare at me, seeming to take me in. “Better than I’d thought, really,” he added.
My smile dropped. “What did you think?” I asked.
His own smile dropped and he went serious. “The Syndicate has a…reputation. Overstated I guess because you look fine. Better than fine,” he said.
Anger flared in my chest and I narrowed my eyes at him. “What, you thought he was going to beat me, rape me or something?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, though I knew my expression was anything but.
Michael didn’t seem to notice, but instead shrugged. “I tried to prepare for the worst. I figured you’d be able to hold your own, but you never know with those kinds of people.”
“What kinds of people?” I asked.
Michael shrugged. “You know, the brutal animals who like to call themselves businessmen,” he said.
Were I not standing here listening to this, I wouldn’t have believed it. I’d heard stories of Michael’s cruelty at Santo’s behest, knew he had been there when Santo was at his worst, so to hear him say these things about Sergei, who’d been the kindest person I’d known in a very long time, was upsetting.