by L. L. Ash
“No line,” he said as we went into the door, a blast of smoke hitting us all at once when we got in.
“What is this?” I asked, looking around at all the people smoking narghilea and eating food at the tables all around.
“Good question,” he answered me, looking around himself.
There was no dancing, and the thought made me frown. I’d been looking forward to being held in his arms.
Max talked to the woman behind the counter, pulling out his wallet before turning to me.
“It’s a hookah bar. Want to stay or find some other place?” he asked me.
To be asked where I wanted to go felt...good.
“I’m ok here,” I told him, not able to hide the smile blossoming across my face.
Had I smiled so much in the past years of my life? My cheeks even hurt from the exercise.
Max handed over a few bills and nodded. He took my hand and moved us over toward a table.
“Not what I was expecting,” he said as we slid into the booth, one of us on each side.
“Have you had narghilea before?” I asked him, stifling a gasp when his eyes lifted and caught on mine.
Why did they always stir me so much? His irises were so deep, like endless pools in his eyes that didn’t have a bottom, and I was diving deeper and deeper in them.
“Been a long time.” He nodded, sitting back against the seat, eyes breaking away from mine to assess the bar.
“I suppose it’s not dancing, but at least we can talk,” I tried, then felt like an idiot.
Maybe he didn’t want to talk. Maybe he just wanted to get his hands on me and not have to deal with getting to know me.
“That’s true.” He smiled, that lopsided grin making me melt on the inside all over again.
A waitress came to the table and asked what we wanted, and with only two pauses to ask me what I wanted, Max gave the order to her and she wandered off.
“Mint, huh?” he asked, shoving the menu to the edge of the table.
I might have suggested a mint flavored narghilea because...what if I wanted to kiss him later?
Of course, I kept the thought to myself.
“Why not? She said it was popular.”
“I would have thought you’d want something more...fruity. Girly.”
“Do you have a problem with girly things?” I raised an eyebrow.
Here was where he would put down the front of being a nice, gentlemanly creature and turn into the overdeveloped beast so many men were.
Instead he just smiled and shook his head.
“No. I like fruity things. You’ve not lived until you’ve had a French fruit tart.”
My eyes widened.
“Have you been to France?”
I had always wanted to go into that part of Europe and travel. Explore.
“I have. I’ve been all over the world.”
“What is it that you do?” I asked him.
“I’m an interpreter.”
“Oh. Is that what brings you to Russia? I assumed you live here.”
“I’m here on business, yes, but I live in Moscow.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said, pausing in my response as the waitress brought us a kettle of tea, a bowl of cookies, and another person brought the narghilea and started it boiling away.
I reached for the tea and poured it into the teacups placed beside it, smelling the floral, musky scent as it steamed out of the cups.
“Thank you,” he said, taking his cup and trying a tentative sip.
“Fuck it’s hot.” He chuckled, putting the cup back down as he glanced back up at me with a little smile.
“When it’s steaming, it means it’s hot,” I told him, and the comment turned his lips into a full grin.
“You’re not wrong,” he said, two little dimples appearing on his cheeks for just a moment.
“Have you been to Romania?” I asked him, wondering if I was talking too much.
The gruff rebuke from Kir still stung me, and I didn’t want to make this man upset by my wandering mouth.
“I have. A couple times, actually. Though I regret I haven’t had a chance to tour it. Is that where you’re from? I can’t place your accent.”
Grinning, I nodded at him and placed my hands around my tea cup.
“I am. I’m here with my family for a holiday.”
“That’s nice,” he said, trying the tea again, just to curse under his breath again and put the cup back down.
“It’s still steaming,” I teased him, and he did more than smile.
He laughed.
“I know. I’m thirsty.”
“Well, why don’t you show me how this contraption works. I’ve never had it before.”
A little blossom of excitement fluttered through me as he turned his attention to the narghilea.
“Like I said, it’s been a while. But all you have to do is breathe.”
Taking the wand at the end with the mouthpiece, he put it between his lips and took a deep breath, eyes closing before he exhaled, smoke blooming from his lips before he opened his eyes right on me.
“Easy,” he told me, handing over the hose.
I placed it between my lips, hyperaware that it had just touched his before breathing in.
It hit almost immediately, a faint, dizzy feeling that flushed through me before I opened my eyes again.
“Wow!” I choked on the moist smoke coming out of my lungs, minty and sharp.
“Yeah,” he gave that little half smile again before trying his tea.
He was able to actually sip it.
“How long will you be here?” I asked him, leaning back in my seat as I watched him sip his tea.
It was such a strange sight, seeing such a masculine beast of a man gingerly taking his tea.
“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “I thought I’d go home soon, but now...I’m not so sure. I was thinking maybe staying for another three weeks.”
His expression was a little naughty, and I realized that he was talking about the three weeks I’d told him I’d be in town.
“How convenient.” I gave him a mischievous smile back. “It seems we’ll be neighbors for a while longer.”
“Maybe you’ll go out with me again, if that’s the case. What do you think?”
“We’ll see how this goes,” I conceded, taking another puff of the hose before handing it over to Max.
He took two long puffs, one after the other before setting the tip on the hook positioned on the device.
“What do you want to see next?” he asked, putting down his tea and looking at me with all his attention. It was heady to have his whole being focused on me.
“I’d love to see an opera,” I admitted. “Have you seen an opera before?”
“I love the opera.” He smiled. “It’s a guilty pleasure of mine.”
“Is it?” I hummed, impressed and pleased at the answer. “Why guilty?”
He gave me a wink before looking around the place again.
“Do you know any men who likes to admit that they go to the opera alone? Just because they enjoy it?”
I laughed and threw my head back.
“Oh no...I don’t think I do.” I grinned at him.
He sat back in his seat and there was this look on his face, half amused and half predatorial. It sent shivers down my spine, making me tingle from the inside out.
“How many languages do you know?” I asked him.
It was almost like pulling teeth trying to get him to open up, but he was so interesting that I couldn’t help but keep trying to tug the information loose. Had to be the Russian blood that kept him tight-lipped.
“A lot.” He chuckled.
“More than three?”
“More than three,” he agreed.
“Five?”
“Nine, and another four on conversational levels,” he said, looking me in the eye again.
It was like getting hit in the chest each time his eyes met mine. Why was that?
“N
ine? How? You’re too young!”
Licking his lips, his eyebrows drew together as he shook his head.
“I’ve been learning them for a long time, and it’s literally my job.”
Taking up the narghilea again, he inhaled long and slow before letting the smoke drift out.
The vision was almost erotic, him sitting there in his suit, hair tassled and fingered to death with a thick cloud of smoke drifting out between firm, magical lips.
Well, I didn’t know if they were magical, but I wanted to find out, and hopefully before our little impromptu date was over.
I might have been innocent in many ways of the world, but I loved to kiss, and I took the opportunity to steal a few wherever I could find it, especially from such a masculine and beautiful mouth as he had.
“Want some?” he asked, holding out the wand to me for...I wasn’t sure how long...while I was thinking about his lips.
“Oh! Yes, thank you,” I took it and pressed it between my own lips, focusing on how it had just been against his.
His eyes strayed down to my mouth as I took a puff of the potent stuff, and I couldn’t help the slow smile that inched across my face.
He noticed it, of course, and looked up at me, giving me his own little grin.
As great as the tea and everything was, I wanted to go.
“Ready?” he asked, standing from the table as if reading my mind.
“Ready,” I breathed, the smoke blowing out with the word in a minty burst.
He put out his hand and I took it naturally, almost as if we’d been doing it forever.
After calling a cab, we returned half an hour later in front of our hotel again before we went up the elevator.
When the doors opened, he walked me down the hall a little, then looked around before shrugging.
“Do you want me to walk you to your room? I don’t know which one it is.”
As much as I wanted him to, I shook my head.
“A girl still needs some mystery,” I told him and he rolled his eyes with a smile before moving down the hall.
Just across from my door was his, where he pulled out his key.
“I suppose I’ll say goodnight then. If I manage to get some tickets to an opera, how can I find you again?”
“Tickets or not, I hope you do,” I told him. “Give me your phone.”
He handed it over and I pressed in my personal number followed by a simple ‘Mila’.
Taking his phone back, his fingers brushed mine and electricity crackled down my arm.
“I’ll call,” he said quietly, slipping his phone into his pocket before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my cheek.
“Alright,” I said, then watched him pull out his key and enter the room, looking back at me with a private little smile on his face before closing the door excruciatingly slowly.
I took a moment and just breathed before opening my door and stepping in.
“Where have you been, songbird?” Danny asked, sitting in his chair with legs crossed and a cigarette wisping smoke from between his fingers.
A chill blew across my skin.
“I’ve been out,” I told him, trying not to let the dark room, the open window filling the room with cold air, or the hollow sound in his voice unsettle me.
“I need to know.”
Taking a drag on his cigarette, he turned his eyes to me and his gaze shot through me.
In those moments, I understood how he managed to keep above water in Tată’s business. He could be so incredibly cold when he needed to be.
“I was having some time to myself, Danny. Can’t you give me that? With this marriage looming in front of me, you’re going to keep me from at least enjoying the last of my freedom?”
He blew out some smoke from between tense lips, his eyes falling to the ashing cherry tip.
“What were you doing?”
“I was at a ballet.”
“The theatres closed hours ago.” He narrowed his eyes on me.
“I went to get drinks and a smoke afterwards.”
“With who?”
“Somebody I met. They’ve been nice to me, and they share my interests.”
“This marriage is happening, you understand that?” he asked, his voice settling into his normal brotherly voice. “It has to, Mila.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. That’s why I’m going to enjoy these last few weeks, because who knows if I will be able to again with Kir Popov as my master.”
Rubbing at his eyes, he checked his watch before standing.
“Ok. But you’ve got to talk to me, ok? Don’t lie to me, and I will do what I can to make this happen for you. But you have to tell me the truth.”
“I have,” I told him.
“Fine.” He nodded and went to the door. “Get good rest.”
I said goodnight and listened closely as the door closed behind him. Following his footsteps to the door, I turned the lock and let out a sigh of relief as I backtracked and went to close the window. The chill in the room was raising my skin with bumps and I was starting to tremble with the frigid air.
How did the people of Russia deal with such cold?
Undressing, I slipped into my bed and cuddled under all of the sheets before closing my eyes and thinking about Max.
A smile spread across my mouth as I thought about how his hand felt wrapped around mine, or how his eyes bored into mine, as if he was looking into my soul. It was half unsettling and half addicting, as if he could see past all the walls I’d built because of who my father was, and could see straight into who I really was. It was like breathing air after years of drowning.
Letting the smile sit there on my face, I drifted off, remembering the scent of him and the curve of his mouth when he became amused. It was a sight I could easily look forward to for the rest of my life.
Chapter Six
Maxim
Her asshole brother came out of her room just minutes after she went through her door, and he didn’t look happy. Was she ok?
Why do I care if she’s ok?
Wouldn’t that just make my job easier?
Pushing all that shit out of my head, I stared at the screen for another half hour before yawning and giving in to a couple hours of sleep.
The tiny camera I’d attached to the crack of the ceiling above my door was recording everything that was happening, so I could go over the tape when I woke up.
Shedding my jacket and vest, I slowly undid the buttons of my shirt as I replayed the entire evening. As awkward as I’d been, she seemed to love it all and drink it in. Obviously she liked my worldliness and appreciated how I’d traveled, but I was starting to run out of things to tell her about myself without giving away all my secrets. I needed to get to the sex stuff soon or else I would end up just spouting all the state secrets I knew, or letting on to who I really was.
I wasn’t normally someone who talked, and while I was good at conversation when I needed to be, I wasn’t used to conversing with a target for so long or as many times as I was anticipating with this one. Romanian women took time to warm up, and I had to give that to her. I’d never get her to fall in love with me if I pushed her for physical intimacy. But once we reached that, I had her. Hook, line, and sinker.
Plugging my phone into my charger, I double checked my backup battery pack and assessed all my research one more time before kicking off my shoes and pulling on some lounge pants while collapsing onto the bed.
It was pretty comfortable, all things considered, and I fell asleep pretty quick with an alarm on my phone to wake me in two hours.
Mila
A text was waiting for me when I woke up.
Unknown: Rigoletto?
I rubbed at my eyes, looking at the smeared makeup on my fingers before turning to my phone and texting out a reply.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Max
Me: Oh, hi!
I rolled my eyes at my own response and slapped my hand across my forehead before typing out anot
her message.
Me: The Opera? I love it!
Max: Good. 19:00. Drive together again?
Me: Sounds good. I look forward to it.
Max: Me too.
Not sure what else to say after that, I just sat there with my hands hovering over my screen until it was painfully clear that he wasn’t texting anymore.
Alright, so Rigoletto. A classic. I’d performed it before and it was one of my favorite operas.
How did he know? Of course he couldn’t have known...but still. He was scoring every single point with me so far, and I couldn’t have been happier about it!
After going through my closet, I discarded the rest of my dresses onto the closet floor. Nothing seemed appropriate, and I wanted to look extra special for Max. It looked like shopping was how I was going to fill my day, and it would help me sooner get to the moment when I met him near the elevator again and got to see that look on his face that told me everything I needed to know.
Lust, interest, and seduction.
Maxim
I was certainly right. Seducing Mila was going to be easy, because I could hardly keep it in my pants.
The dress she was wearing was… Whew. Hot. With a tiny little top and thin shoulder straps covering her chest and nothing but sheer cloth to her ankles and the shortest little navy colored skirt I’d ever seen hiding the goods underneath the see-through shift. I had one hell of a time keeping my eyes off her legs. Long, lean, and pale against the filmy, dark blue fabric that went down to her ankles.
A milky thigh peeked out of a long slit that I’d missed before and my sight attached like a fucking bee to honey the moment it blinked into view.
Wow, who knew I was so easily distracted by a beautiful woman? Maybe these seduction missions weren’t so bad, after all.
“You look incredible,” I told her as we met at the elevator.
“Thank you.” She smiled, dark red lips turning up at me when she must have seen that her dress had hit the mark and done exactly what she’d intended.
It was an outfit specifically picked to tempt, and it was doing a damn good job.
“I have these for you,” I told her, handing over the small bunch of roses I’d held upside down behind my back as I approached.
