by Zoe Blake
I shook my head. “My parents were usually out at some party on Christmas Eve, and my mother never bothered herself about cooking or honoring any traditions. I usually just heated a pizza and watched holiday movies.”
It’s why my Russian was barely adequate, and I didn’t know any real traditions from the mother country. My parents never really behaved as if we were a genuine family. Especially after their actions several years ago and their failure to even bother looking for me, I doubted they even loved me.
“By yourself?”
I shrugged. “It’s fine.”
Holidays were usually pretty lonely for me. Gregor and Nadia’s family usually returned to St. Petersburg for two weeks, and Yelena spent the time off from school with her mother’s side of the family, grateful to get away from her abusive father, so they typically left me alone. These last few years, most of the time, Yelena and I were too busy moving from city to city to remember to celebrate.
“No. It’s not. Give me that.”
I hugged the bowl close to my middle. “Why? No! I haven’t even tried it yet.”
“You will, but we are going to do this the right way.”
Gregor stood and held out his hands to me. After raising me to my feet, he lifted me into his arms.
“Where are we going?” I laughed.
“To the bedroom.”
As much as I thrilled at another round of kinky sex with Gregor, the demands of my stomach objected. “But I’m starving.”
Carrying me up the three flights of stairs again, he made a sharp left just before the bedroom doors. We were inside a mostly empty large dressing room. They had emptied all the designer bags from the plane, and the contents now hung on padded hangers nearby.
Setting me down gently, he nodded toward the ivory dress with the black lace trimming.
“Get dressed. Meet me downstairs.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” he tossed over his shoulder.
About twenty minutes later, I heard Christmas carols as I reached the bottom of the stairs. Crossing the main entryway into the living room, I smelled the pleasant acrid scent of a wood burning fire before seeing the glow of the orange and yellow flames. As I crossed to it, Gregor emerged from the kitchen, once more carrying a tray with the two bowls of traditional porridge and two clear glass mugs filled with a steaming purple liquid I knew to be сбитень, a warm drink with honey, preserves and spices. This time he was wearing a striking black suit with a crimson silk tie.
Setting the tray down, he handed me a mug. I inhaled the richly sweet cinnamon scent.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Ivanova,” he toasted as he clinked my glass and gave me a wink.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Ivanov.”
After taking a sip, he set the mug down and reached into his suit pocket. Clasping my right hand inside his own, he slipped a bright silver wedding band onto my finger, which fit snugly against my engagement ring. Just then, Bing Crosby’s I’ll Be Home For Christmas began to play.
Gregor took me into his arms and danced me around the yolka tree as it softly snowed outside.
Everything felt warm and cozy and safe. For the first time in my life, I felt loved. Perhaps I could allow myself to believe this was all real and that maybe, just maybe, as crazy and outlandish as it sounded, I had found a home with Gregor.
Too bad wishes on Christmas Eve were like those pretty snowflakes… fragile and fleeting.
Chapter 34
Samara
Gregor kissed me awake.
I groaned and turned onto my stomach, burying my head under the pillow.
He lifted the pillow. “Wake up, malyshka, and give your husband a proper kiss goodbye.”
Peeking out from the pillow, I opened one eye. “Where are you going?”
“I have some business to attend to.”
Business.
My stomach twisted.
Already, the bright light of morning was shining its awful beams onto the realities of our life together. The truth I desperately tried to suspend forever last night when I told him I loved him.
The reality of his dangerous criminal life. One he would probably never really share the details of with me. I would always be the pretty wife waiting for him at home while he attended to business.
Mrs. Gregor Ivanova, mafia wife.
It was strange to think when I first learned of the arranged marriage, my concern was that my whole identity would be swallowed up by bigger-than-life, powerful Gregor and his lifestyle. Now my worry was that I’d be kept too much away from his lifestyle. I didn’t want to be a part of it as much as I didn’t want to be kept in the dark. He was treating me like a child. Protecting me from the ugly details. He said I was in danger, and he was protecting me, and the attack the other night was proof, but he refused to say more.
Why couldn’t love just exist in a vacuum?
Why did reality always have to crash the party?
He was dressed as always in an impeccably tailored suit with a probably impossibly expensive watch strapped to his wrist. If it weren’t for the scary tattoos, you’d think he was waltzing into a boardroom on Wall Street later today.
“I have to go, and you have your surprise waiting for you outside.”
“You know I hate surprises.”
Gregor chuckled. “No one really hates surprises. They just hate bad surprises. Mine are good.”
I lifted myself up onto my elbows and raised an eyebrow at him,. my sardonic look reminding him of his idea of a good surprise in our not so recent past.
Gregor slapped me on the ass. Reading my thoughts as always, he taunted unapologetically, “Think what you want, but I definitely enjoyed those surprises.”
I threw my pillow at him, which he easily dodged.
“So, I guess you don’t want to visit with Nadia today, after all.”
I sprung out of bed. “Nadia! I can see Nadia today?”
“Yes, if you promise to be a good girl.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before racing to find something to wear in my dressing room. The rest of our luggage had arrived, and Matilda must have unpacked it early this morning. I would have to remember to thank her.
Gregor called out another goodbye, which I barely answered as I struggled to pull on a pair of jeans while also slipping my feet into patent leather flats.
Less than ten minutes later, I was climbing into the backseat of a sleek black SUV and being spirited away.
“Oh my God, you’re here!” shrieked Nadia as she launched herself into my arms the second I opened the little shop door.
I hugged her close before taking a step back. Eyeing her up and down, I shook my head and laughed. She hadn’t changed a bit. Still wearing her strawberry blonde hair in a messy bun and baby doll dresses with Doc Martens. “You know Yelena is going to die when she sees that you haven’t given up those boots yet.”
Nadia twisted her foot, showing off her signature pink Doc Martens with silver laces. “She will when she learns that this is actually my fourth pair. You should see the purple ones with the black stars!”
“Nadia, you haven’t changed a bit! I’ve missed you so much!” I gave her another hug.
Snatching up both my hands she pulled me further into her cute shop but stopped. Her mouth opened in shock. She was staring at my wedding rings. Her blue eyes filled with tears. “So it’s true. I’m so sorry, Samara. I know you didn’t want this.”
“It’s okay. Really. Things have… changed.”
“You and my brother?”
I nodded. How could I put into words for her what I was still struggling to understand myself? My love for him was still too new to be completely trusted.
“So, we’re officially sisters?” she asked, her voice raising an octave in her excitement.
I nodded again.
She shrieked a second time and gave me another hug.
“My beast of a brother wouldn’t tell me any deta
ils, just that you were married and that I would see you soon. Was it a nice wedding? Was Yelena there? Where is Yelena?”
I held up my arms in mock surrender. “I promise I will tell all, but first I need coffee. I only just woke up.”
Nadia winked. “Got you covered. I grabbed McDonald’s on my way to open the store. It’s in the back.”
“You’re an angel.” As we headed to the back area, I stopped her. “So, this is your store?”
Nadia beamed with pride. “Yep! It’s a little small, but I love it. Against both of my brothers’ wishes, I live in a cute little apartment above.”
The shop was adorably cozy. There were little table displays with vintage typewriters and all sorts of earrings, necklaces and bracelets made out of the keys. There were scarves, figurines and cute stuffed animals. It was the perfect, unique gift shop. I picked up one of the necklaces. It said true love in old typewriter keys. “Did you make these?”
Nadia nodded. Back in high school, she was forever making jewelry out of beads and string. It was nice to see she had turned her favorite hobby into a business.
“After you and Yelena left, I spent more and more time perfecting my craft. I got my associate’s degree in business management while taking different classes on jewelry making.” She waved her arms about. “And here we are! My own little corner of the world. My family owns the building, so that helps, but I still pay rent and the shop is actually successful.”
“It’s all so wonderful, Nadia! I’m so proud of you.”
Picking up my hands again, she led me to the back. “You know. The shop next door is available. I think it would make a perfect art gallery. Oh! We could also display some of your work in here! Maybe even break down that wall and have them connect!” Nadia talked a constant stream as she sat me on a stool to the side of her wooden workbench. She handed me one of the McCafe mochas as she unpacked two hash browns and two Egg McMuffins.
As I unwrapped the still warm breakfast sandwich and took a bite, I settled back and thought about what she was saying. It sounded nice—really nice. Even before Yelena and I ran, what I wanted most in the world was a place where I could paint and feel as if I were a part of something, part of a family. And now the idea that I could have a gallery of my own attached to one of my best friend’s shops was almost too good to be true. All we needed was for Yelena to return and everything would actually start to feel back to normal.
Nadia ripped the top off a hash brown and, before popping it into her mouth, asked. “Do you know where Yelena is?”
I shook my head. “Have you heard from her?”
“No. I’ve been answering all calls on my cell phone just in case. I can’t tell you how many robocalls in Chinese I’ve gotten.”
“Best case scenario, she’s in Montreal and will find a way to reach out soon. Worst, and sorry about this, she’s with your brother Damien.”
Nadia rolled her eyes. “Damien is a pain in the ass, but he won’t actually hurt Yelena.”
I nodded as I also ripped the crispy, greasy top off my hash brown and then tossed the rest aside. “It’s the only thing that has kept me sane throughout this whole fucked up situation.”
“I mean. I love my brothers. And really they act like big, scary grizzly bears, but deep down they are just teddy bears… mean-looking, tattooed teddy bears… but still teddy bears. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still very angry at them for the whole marriage mess and what’s going on with Yelena, but their intentions are good, if not their methods.”
I blushed. I’d finally realized just that about Gregor.
“Yes. Your brother Gregor certainly growls and shouts an awful lot, but I have to admit, he does have his sweet side.”
Nadia reached up and grabbed a section of hair and started to twirl it. Ever since she was little, that was always a sign she was nervous or lying about something.
“Okay, out with it. What do you know?”
Nadia played with the foam holder around her mocha. “I’m feeling a little guilty because I’m not supposed to know what I know, but I know a lot.”
I leaned in closer. “Spill it.”
“I overheard Mikhail talking to Gregor a few nights ago about setting up some wiretaps and surveillance on your father and a man named Egor Novikoff.”
“Egor Novikoff? I know him. He’s one of father’s old friends. Why was Gregor spying on him?”
Nadia twirled her hair faster. I reached up and grabbed her hand to stop it.
She sighed. “I’m not certain, but it sounded like your father might have also arranged a marriage between you and Egor.”
“Between me and Egor? That’s not possible. The man is a fucking hundred years old!”
“I know! Mikhail and Gregor were pretty angry about it. They were both cursing up a storm, and you know how much Gregor hates cursing.”
I shifted in my seat, practically feeling the sting of his belt from the multiple times I’d cursed in front of him. “Yes. I’m well aware.”
Nadia shrugged. “Gregor’s always been a bit sensitive about being seen as only a Russian thug, so I think it’s why he doesn’t like to curse.”
I nodded. That made sense. The man went out of his way to smash any stereotypes someone might have about a man in his line of business. Pushing aside my half eaten McMuffin, I rested my arms on the table and told Nadia about the knife attack two nights ago.
She covered her mouth in shock. “Oh my God, Samara! You could have been killed or worse!”
Brushing my hair aside, I showed her the minor scratch. “I know it looks small, but it stung at the time and definitely scared the crap out of me.”
Nadia’s eyes went wide. “Did Gregor just completely flip out?”
I lifted my right hand and wiggled my fingers, showing off my wedding rings. “What do you think?”
Nadia grimaced. “You are happy though, right?”
I thought about it for a minute. “I think it’s too soon to say if I’m truly happy. I will say that I’m not unhappy, and I’m starting to think about the future, which isn’t something I’ve allowed myself to do in a very long time.”
“Do you think… maybe given time… you could learn to love Gregor? I know he can be terribly controlling about getting his way, but he really can be sweet, and I know I said you shouldn’t marry him before but I was being kind of hard on him… and….”
I leapt up and wrapped my arms around Nadia’s shoulders. “I don’t need time to know I already love him.”
Nadia gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so happy for you both, and once Gregor meets with your father today, everything should be all cleared up.”
“Wait, what?”
“I thought you knew? Gregor is confronting your father at this moment about the whole mess.”
“Your brother! He is driving me crazy! Of course, why wouldn’t he tell me he’s meeting with my father. He’s only my father. I guess it’s none of my business!” I ranted.
True, I hadn’t even bothered to ask about my parents or even discuss visiting them with Gregor. There wasn’t much love lost between us before they basically sold me to him, but still, he should have told me.
Giving her another quick hug, I headed to the door, tossing over my shoulder, “I have to go! I’ll come by again tomorrow!”
Nadia cried out, “Wait, Samara! This isn’t a good idea!”
Ignoring her, I pulled open the glass shop door and headed straight for the black SUV, hopping in before the driver opened the door for me. The moment he was behind the wheel l gave him my parent’s address. Then sat back and went over in my head what I was going to say to Gregor—and my father—when I arrived.
If this marriage had any chance of surviving, I would need to show Gregor that his high-handed handling of every aspect of my life had to change.
It was time Gregor knew what it felt like to be chased and ran to ground.
Chapter 35
Gregor
“Gregor Romanovich, it is good to see you, my f
riend,” Boris said. He gave me a quick embrace and gestured to a couple of chairs in his study.
I remained standing.
Despite Boris’ warm greeting, he was anxious. There was a tightness around his mouth, and his eyes were open too wide.
Shrugging, Boris reached for a cigar, then turned and offered me one.
I declined, unbuttoning my suit jacket and leaning against his desk. Watching.
Boris sat before the dying embers of a fire and flicked open a silver lighter. Although he pretended to be absorbed in the task, his beady gaze traveled to me repeatedly. By the time the cigar was lit, he had burnt the end, adding an acrid sting to the sweet smoke that briefly enveloped his head.
Taking a long puff, he brushed some ash off his pant leg before saying, “I was happy to learn you found my daughter. We can now conclude our business. We both have got what we wanted, no?”
“And Novikoff?”
Boris lowered his cigar. “Novikoff? What does my old friend have to do with this?”
“Boris, are you going to try to tell me you didn’t make a second deal for your daughter’s hand in marriage to Egor Novikoff?”
He dropped the cigar onto the rather expensive Persian rug. Without caring, Boris rose and crushed it out with his shoe, grinding the hot ash into the fibers as he raised placating hands.
“Please, Gregor. Please, you must believe me. I would never betray you or your father’s memory that way.”
My brow furrowed. I was very good at reading people. I needed to be in this line of business. Complete trust was impossible but knowing when I could trust someone just enough not to kill me was important. I could almost believe he was telling the truth. Boris was not that good of a liar. Plus, it might explain why none of my surveillance picked up the two old bastards plotting to kidnap Samara or even talking about her.
I kept my voice low and controlled. “Someone has given Egor Novikoff the dangerously misguided impression that Samara belongs to him. As I am sure you can understand, this greatly angers me. Bad things happen when I’m angry.”
