by Mj Fields
And now she’s pissed at me, so we’re back to the first weekend… again.
But there is a calm now because I realize I’m not feeling all this shit because she could be the twin of the one girl I ever loved.
She’s not Grace; she’s Natasha, the little warrior who apparently is a muggle in the streets and a wizard in the sheets.
The twelve-year-old boy in me wanted to offer my magic wand and dare her to prove it as soon as I saw my shirt tucked in the waistband of her underwear, and I had to remind myself I’m not a twelve-year-old boy, never was. I’m a fucking man. A man who is at a tipping point and knows he can’t keep doing this, tempting himself, not with her. Never with her.
Logically, I know I need to handle this situation with kid gloves because I know what drew me to her. But I’m pretty fucking sure that’s not what keeps bringing me back.
Christ, I’m fucked six ways from Sunday.
When the door opens, her chin is held high, but her face is beet red. I want to laugh, but I need to make damn sure she knows this is serious.
“You can be pissed if you’d like.”
“I don’t like, Oliver, but you insist and you won’t let me leave.”
I can’t stop myself from asking, “Do you really want to leave?”
I shouldn’t like that she looks torn, but I do. Regardless, I need it to stop. “Ines is wealthy and dangerous. She fucked a mess of a kid to get back at an ex-lover, his estranged father. She then manipulated him and now, now Natasha, he’s grown the fuck up and he told her there was no way in hell he’d sell de la Porte to her.”
Her head cocks to the side. “Jean-Paul and Ines?”
I nod and continue, “The most powerful fuel for hate, Natasha, comes from humiliation. That hate can fuel rage for years. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, leave it alone.”
“My mother–.”
She stops when her voice breaks. I stand and go to her. Taking her hand, I look in those aspen eyes and then close mine. “I swear to you, Bastien is the most loyal and honest man I have ever met. He will make sure she is loved forever. And I promise you, I will not let Ines hurt you, but you have to stop engaging, Natasha. I can’t be everywhere.”
When she lets go of my hands and hugs me, I almost pull away, but I just can’t. It feels so fucking good.
A knock at the door forces me to act responsibly, to step the fuck back from her warmth, her lavender and ocean scent, her comforting touch.
I open the door, and I step back so room service can bring a cart in and I hear, “I hope you brought enough for me, boss.”
I glance at Natasha who looks at me curiously.
“Come in, Celine, your timing is impeccable.” I turn and look at Natasha whose curiosity has turned to confusion. “Natasha, this is Celine. Celine, this is Natasha, the young woman you’ll be watching over.”
“Excuse me?” Natasha scowls.
Celine walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
Natasha’s eyes dart back and forth between Celine and me and finally settle on mine. Before she has a chance to ask the question I clearly see in her eyes, I explain.
“Celine and I served together.”
“US Army,” Celine nods.
“She’s still in the reserves, but she now works full-time in the private sector.”
Celine adds, “For myself.”
I nod at Celine then look at Natasha. “For herself.”
I pull over the chair from the hotel’s desk. “Have a seat, Natasha.”
She hesitates, but after I pull another chair next to the one I offered her, she sits.
I pull the cart over between the bed and the chair where Natasha is sitting.
“I’d introduced myself, but I’m assuming you already know–”
“Natasha Petrov, birthday November 28th; you’ll be 19 in a couple months. Your parents divorced and your primary residence, up until you moved to London for college, was with your mother, Angela, in Brooklyn, New York. She is now part owner of de la Porte. Your father is Davis Petrov and he works for de la Porte US. Your stepmother, Sabrina, is a stay at home mother. You have a stepbrother named John, and two half-sisters, Jordan and Joy. You attended–”
Watching Natasha grow more and more uncomfortable, I cut Celine off and explain her purpose. “Celine will be ensuring you don’t run into any issues while here.”
Natasha looks down at her hands, that she’s twisting on her lap. “Does my mother know about this?”
“No, she doesn’t. And I think Bass would like it to remain between the four of us.”
I take the silver top off her plate, then unwrap the linen holding her silverware and hand her a fork. “Eat, ask questions, and relax.”
She leans forward and pushes the green beans around.
“What if I say no?”
Celine chimes in, “Then you still won’t even know I’m here.”
“I live in a very safe area of the city. I walk to campus with friends, I–”
“You can continue doing that,” I assure her. “Like she said, you won’t know she’s even there. And as long as there isn’t an issue with Ines, it can stay that way.” When she doesn’t respond, I add, “You’re going to be a big name soon, Natasha. Once your line is released, things may have to change, until then, just stop responding to her. If she messages you, screenshot it and send it to me.”
“To me,” Celine corrects me.
“To both of us,” I tell her firmly and look back at Natasha. “When you’re in Paris, you share your location on your phone with Celine. Don’t go wandering alone and if all remains calm, Celine won’t even be there.”
“Well, that’s probably a good idea, especially since my mom may think it odd if I start bringing her with me.”
Celine laughs, and I see Natasha look up at her. When they exchange smiles, I feel as if this situation will be acceptable to her.
“Give her your schedule here, let her know when you and your friends go out–”
“And if you don’t feel like walking or biking around the city, I can give you and your girl a lift.”
“Shana?”
“Shana,” Celine smirks.
“None of my friends are aware of what I’m doing in Paris, or that I’m–”
“They will soon enough, Natasha Petrov, from Brooklyn, New York,” Celine sighs. “You’re going to be a household name, and the young woman every little girl dreams of being.”
I watch her eyes, her beautiful fucking eyes. I have no idea what she’s thinking or what to expect. My heart begins to beat harder faster, because I know I need to be firm with her, an asshole even because I’m riding the line… again.
Finally, I ask, “Any questions?”
She shakes her head as her stomach growls.
I inwardly scold myself for just remembering she said she hadn’t eaten all day.
“Maybe instead of pushing that food around, you should actually eat,” Celine jokes.
As Natasha takes a bite of her green beans, I now scold myself for not ordering more fucking food. I’m famished.
Driving her back to her dorms, I’m fucking anxious, even my damn palms are sweating.
“You’ve been too quiet, say something.”
Her response is immediate. “How do I know I can trust her?”
“I trust her.”
She looks out the window, resuming her silence.
“Natasha–”
“I’m wary of all the people who pretend to care about me, pretend that they want to be my friend and help me.”
I know exactly how that feels, but that admission will cause further doubt. I spew some shit Maisie tells us. “Maisie’s always telling us, when your feeling down, look up.”
Fucking lame, Oliver, just… lame.
She continues looking out the window.
“You and your mom have those bracelets, be present.”
Christ, what are you, a fucking Hallmark card?
/> “I’m all for staying in the present, but how can you truly when the past stares you in the face every day,” she whispers.
Fuck.
Aaaand fuck it.
“Your beautiful, Natasha Petrov, inside and out.”
“But what if–”
“You’re a warrior, warriors don’t look behind at past battles, they look forward and ready themselves for the next, fiercely.”
You’ve got to be kidding me, I groan internally. Just shut the fuck up, man, shut the fuck up.
“I’m not a warrior, Oliver. I’m–”
“A wizard.” Where in the fuck did that come from?
When she busts up laughing, it’s music to my fucking ears. I physically feel my body lose all tension.
“I’m gonna kill Shana.”
“Shana bought those for you?”
She laughs and nods. “After our Harry Potter walking tour with the guys.”
And the tension is back, accompanied with a possessive feeling, same as at the bar when that fucking Harry douche and her underpants gifting bi-curious friend were trying to get her drunk so they might get a chance to fuck her.
“I get that you still hold your,” I pause and try to figure out how best to say, cherry, and I remember her word for it, “virtue, but don’t let your past feelings make you so naïve that you don’t let yourself see that your friends Harry, Charles and even Shana wouldn’t have taken advantage of your… diminished capacity last night and ripped it away.”
“Oh my God, Oliver,” she laughs and covers her face.
“It’s fucking true, Natasha.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“As I’ve mentioned, you’re fucking beautiful, any one of them would have loved the opportunity.”
“Although I think you’re insane, I’m curious to know why you think I should trust you when you continue to lie and say I’m beautiful. I mean, come on, Oliver, I’m maybe, a notch above average with a full face of makeup on and designer clothes.”
“You dish out compliments too, am I supposed to now think you’re full of shit?”
She smiles sweetly and shakes her head. “When I saw you and Celine together, I thought, what a beautiful couple.”
“Not my type at all. She and I pair like socks and sandals.”
She smiles and shakes her head again.
“She’s not my type, Natasha, she’s more Shana’s.”
I catch her shocked expression from the corner of my eyes before she asks, “So what is Oliver Josephs’ type?”
You, I think, but reply with a version of the truth, “Honestly, I don’t remember.”
She laughs again. “Oh, come on.”
“Been too busy to even think about getting laid.” Since I saw you.
“Okay, wow, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“What were you expecting?” I ask coming to a stop at a light.
“I mentioned dating and you jump to sex.”
“I’m a man, to me dating is a pretext to fucking. Why date when there are others out there that want to skip all the bullshit and get off.”
“What about love?”
I can’t help but laugh.
She smiles. “You may think it’s ridiculous, but I choose to believe that dating is a pretext to love. I believe in love, I finally have seen it with my own eyes. Aaand, I believe that love can be considered the pretext to the ultimate happiness.”
“You look pretty happy right now, Natasha, unless that smile is disingenuous.” She shrugs. “Look,” I say turning the steering wheel left. “I had a great military career. I plan to figure out a way to enjoy this career. That will make me happier. And apparently, you’re right, happiness is what life is truly about.”
She smiles. “Apparently, huh? Who told you that?”
At the same time, we say, “Maisie.”
I pull up in front of her building and see all of the little fuckers standing there. She hasn’t seen it yet, and we have one last thing to get through before goodbye.
I reach in the back and pull her little red book out of my laptop case and hand it to her.
Her face is so red it glows in the dark.
“Saw this on the floor in your room and didn’t want it to fall in the wrong hands. Forgot to give it to you on the plane.
“Did you read it?” she scowls.
“Now what kind of question is that?” I ask and nod to the onlookers.
“Um.” She looks down.
“Yeah, I know.” I kill the engine, open the door, get out and walk around the car.
When I open her door, she steps out and looks up at me. “I have to tell them the truth and that’s going to make me look like such an idiot.”
I step closer and she steps back. With her back flush against the car, I lean in and press my forehead to hers. “I can play this game.” All fucking night.
“Why would you want to?” Her scent and warm breath tease my senses.
“Told you a boy couldn’t handle you. But they will make a shitty attempt if you don’t have a man around every so often.” She laughs. I lean left and whisper in her ear, “Shh. You have to much good going on in life to let them fuck with you, so I’ll play the game.” I lean right and whisper in her other ear. “Now they think we’re sucking face.” She giggles. “And now I’m going to step back and you’re gonna walk away.”
She grins and then rolls her eyes and shakes her head a little. I step back and can’t help but smile myself. As she walks by, I grab her hand and stop her, she looks down at our hands, and I look past her toward her little crew, lift her hand and kiss it.
When I let go, she sighs and looks at me.
“See you next weekend.”
“Oh, um, I’m going to surprise my friend Stella in New York.”
I cross my arms and lean against the car. “Isn’t that something you should have told me, or at least Celine?”
She shrugs, “I wasn’t…”
I cut her off, because fuck, if I want to have a shitty week again after fighting with her.
“If the week is uneventful, it won’t be an issue. Just let me know if Ines keeps trying to fuck with you, okay?”
She nods and I see a smile begin to form. A smile mirroring the one I’m holding at bay. A smile neither of us have any business allowing.
“Go.”
I watch her walk toward them when I see green, and not aspen green. I see a forest green. A dark and angry forest and the only thing that resides in it is my jealousy.
When she stops right before she gets to them, pulls something out of her bag and doesn’t move forward, I wonder what the hell she’s doing. Then I feel my pocket vibrate. I pull out my phone and look down at it.
The green screen pops up with a message from LW,
-Crazy, Stupid, Love/Dirty Dancing kiss.
I reply immediately,
- Hell no
When I look up, she starts running toward me and I know I’m screwed. “Aw fuck.”
I put my hands out when I realize she’s not fucking stopping. When she jumps, I grab her waist and lift her up above my head. She lifts her arms out like she’s playing a childhood game of airplane, and then lifts her legs in the air. As goddamn embarrassing as this is, I have to admit we nailed that scene, and I can’t help but join her in laughing.
I turn her once I realize all those fuckers are probably reading the damn script on her underwear and slowly lower her.
My hands, still at her waist, are covered by hers immediately.
She looks up and tries to give me a stern look, but her aspen eyes are still smiling. “You lied to me, Oliver.”
“I didn’t.”
“I asked you if you read–”
“I didn’t say no, just said it was a stupid question.”
She pushes up on her toes and whispers, “Some things will still need to be private. My book is one of them.”
I lean down and whisper, “It won’t happen again.”
She surprises me by pecking me on
the cheek, then she hurries back to her friends.
Fucking busted.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Oliver
“We have more money than we could ever spend. If you think it’s a good idea, then I say let’s do it.”
That’s all I needed to hear. “Perfect, I found a few great locations that Celine is looking into–”
“How is she doing that when she’s ensuring Natasha is safe?” Bass asks.
“Believe it or not, Natasha’s shared her location with Celine.” And me. “Apparently, she even requested to meet her for dinner last night and gave her all her social media information. She’s a smart young woman, Bass.”
“She’s eighteen, man,” Bass whispers. “Still a kid.”
Jesus Christ, I think as I sit back and run my hands over my face.
“She’s never been a kid.” I look up and see Autumn walking into my office.
“Do you ever knock?” I huff.
“Never had to. And since your friend seems to have my best friend preoccupied with sex-scapades, I’m bored out of my mind, so consider yourself lucky, Ollie, you get my full attention.”
“Good morning, Autumn,” Bass says through the speaker phone.
“Speak of the devil and his voice appears,” she whispers.
“I heard that,” Bass laughs.
Autumn sits on the edge of my desk. “So, what’s this about Natasha?”
“It’s really none of your–”
She cuts me off, “It most certainly is when it comes to her.”
Bass interjects, “I’ll agree, the more hands on deck, the better. Same with Angela. I don’t want her to worry unless there’s something to worry about.”
“Um, that’s the quickest way to make her shit list,” Autumn informs him.
I hear Bass take in a deep breath and I know he’s worried about Angela’s pregnancy and the stress he wishes to reduce surrounding her. I also know that Angela has allowed Autumn to be a voice in Natasha’s life.
I have a hard time understanding why women don’t tell people close to them they’re pregnant in the early stages fearing miscarriage. I’m pretty sure as emotional as women are, they’d want to have their closest friends’ support.
