The Phoenix Encounter

“The thought did cross my mind.”

 

 

He smiled, but cruelty glinted in his eyes. “I enjoy a woman of your…fortitude. It’s refreshing. Most women are afraid of me. Most men are afraid of me. Are you, Lillian?”

 

“No,” she lied.

 

“I’m going to enjoy our dinner very much, indeed.” Smiling, he picked up his fork and knife and began to cut the tender pastry. “Eat,” he said. “Enjoy this decadent food. My chef is from Paris. One of the best in the world.”

 

“While your people starve.”

 

“The Rebelian people must learn to bow to their government. I mean only to help them. To lead them. To take them into the twenty-first century as a powerful nation.”

 

She didn’t know why her mind chose that minute to think of Strawberry, but she did and had to blink back the uneasy burn of tears. Hating it that her hands were shaking, Lily picked up her silverware and began to cut, back and forth, barely aware of what she was doing. Because she didn’t quite trust her stomach she started with water, then a small piece of the asparagus.

 

“The last time we sat down to a meal, you agreed to write my autobiography,” DeBruzkya said matter-of-factly as he salted his food.

 

When Lily didn’t answer, he raised his head and glared at her. “Then you dropped out of sight.”

 

“I—I had a baby,” she said. “My…focus changed after Jack was born.”

 

“Ah. It is difficult being a new mother, no? Being alone with a child?”

 

“No, I just…put my writing on the back burner.”

 

His black eyes flashed to her. “Ah, Lillian, don’t lie to me.”

 

“I—I’m not.”

 

“I know about the Rebellion. I’ve been reading it for weeks now. It’s quite…entertaining.”

 

She tried to swallow the fear rising inside her, but it swamped her, a dangerous river flooding its banks, threatening to drown her. She looked at her food, felt a swirl of nausea and set her fork down.

 

“I didn’t mean to ruin your meal.”

 

He knew about the Rebellion. That could only mean he knew she was involved with the freedom fighters. She knew what happened to the rebel leaders. They were shot or hanged—if they were lucky. The unlucky ones were imprisoned and tortured until they gave up the names of other rebel leaders.

 

She jumped when he abruptly stabbed his knife into the wooden tabletop. Fear and dread flashed inside her when he rose and rounded the table to stand behind her. Her pulse roared in her ears. She tried to calm herself with deep breaths, but she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs. She thought of Jack, alone or growing up in orphanages the way she had, and her heart simply broke.

 

She closed her eyes when he leaned forward, trapping her by bracing an arm on either side of her. He was so close she could smell the wine on his breath, discern the crisp tang of Italian aftershave.

 

“You’re shaking,” he whispered, running his finger from her shoulder to her elbow then back up. “Are you afraid of me?”

 

“I know what you do to rebels.”

 

“Are you a rebel, Lillian?”

 

“No.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.”

 

“I’m a…a journalist.” She flinched with she felt the brush of his lips against her ear.

 

“You played me for a fool.”

 

“No—”

 

She yelped when he grasped her arm and pulled her out of the chair and to her feet so that she was facing him. A dozen emotions skittered through her brain, but simple terror took center stage and rendered her helpless. “Let go of me,” she said after several long moments.

 

His eyes glinted. “I’m never going to let go of you, Lillian. I’m going to keep you here, as my wife. You’re going to write the autobiography you promised all those months ago. I’m going to raise your son as my own. We’re going to have other sons together. Lots of them.”

 

The words curled around her like a snake, choking her. She tried to shove away from him, but he easily held her against him. Panic zinged through her, and she began to struggle in earnest, but she was no match for him.

 

“I’m a powerful man, Lillian. I have plans for the future. Not only for Rebelia, but all of Europe. Once I get my hands on the Gem of Power—”

 

“The Gem of Power doesn’t exist.”

 

He laughed. “Ah, but it does. If you let yourself believe. I believe, Lillian. I’ll make you believe, too.”

 

“You’re delusional,” she whispered.

 

“I have something the Americans want very badly. With the Gem of Power and the help of Dr. Alex Morrow, the sky is the limit.”

 

The mention of Dr. Morrow gave her pause. She remembered Robert mentioning the American doctor who’d disappeared in nearby Holzberg. “I don’t know who Dr. Morrow is,” she said.

 

Linda Castillo's books