“I understand, but the sooner we get it done, the better. We’ll reimburse you for any money lost, per the contract.”
“I’m not worried about the money, I’m worried about my reputation.” The words were sharp and low, his face tightening as he spoke.
“I understand, Mr. Anderson, but we’ve got to get this construction completed so we can begin filming.”
He scowled at me.
I paused, then offered, “The sooner we start filming, the sooner we’re finished.”
The scowl continued for a beat before he growled out the word, “Fine.”
“I’ll let Laney know.”
“Good,” he snapped.
“Great,” I snapped back and held out my hand. “Contracts, please?”
He set them in my waiting palm, still giving me the hairy eyeball.
I tucked them under my arm and stood there for a second. “I’d better get these upstairs.”
“Hmph,” he answered noncommittally, and I walked out of the shop, feeling his eyes on me until I was out of sight.
I stormed up the stairs and into our apartment, feeling set up and annoyed. God, he got under my skin like a freaking chemical burn, and there was nothing that could help except vodka. Lots of vodka.
Laney looked up when I slapped the folder on her desk.
“You knew he was going to be there, didn’t you?”
She sat back, watching me. “Maybe.”
“Goddammit, Laney. I don’t appreciate being played.”
She shrugged. “You needed to be the one to talk to him, not me, and you’ve got to get used to the idea of working with him. Neither of you are going anywhere.”
I didn’t respond.
“I mean, he’s definitely not going anywhere, so unless you have big plans to walk out on the show, then you’ve got to find a way to play nice. I just provided you an opportunity.”
I pursed my lips, biting down on them to shut me up.
“So, are you still in?”
I eyed her for a heartbeat and said, “Where’s the vodka?”
“That’s the spirit.” She laughed. “In your bottom right drawer. Glad we’re on the same page.”
I sat down and opened the drawer to find a bottle of Grey Goose and a shot glass — the only contents of the drawer. “Yeah,” was the only response I could muster as I poured a shot and kicked it back, effectively burning the taste of Joel away.
Chapter 4
UBLYUDOK
* * *
Joel
* * *
I WOKE ON MY OWN the next morning, stretching slowly in the morning light. It was early, which was nothing new. My alarm hadn’t beaten me to the punch in years.
Annika almost immediately found her way into my thoughts. Not surprising, since she was the last thing I’d been thinking about before I’d fallen asleep. And maybe a good portion of the day before.
I tucked my hands behind my head, smiling up at my ceiling. She was an enigma, a puzzle I found myself itching to figure out. I wanted to take her apart, find out what made her tick. I didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe because she seemed so intent on ignoring me. The thrill of the chase, and all that.
But something was different about her — it wasn’t just a simple tail chase. I’d done that plenty, and I recognized the difference easily. I just couldn’t explain it.
I’d only seen her that one time the day before, when she came to get the contracts. The look on her face when she saw me behind the counter was cold, but her eyes were all fire. She called a truce, told me to back off. Maybe she really wasn’t interested. Maybe she really did feel violated in some way.
My smile fell, slipping into a frown.
I liked to think I had a knack for reading signals, and Annika’s signals didn’t tell me the same things her words did. I could feel it, feel her attraction to me just as strong as mine was to her. But she called me out and asked me to stop. So I’d have to stop. There was nothing else to be done.
No more squirmy Annika.
My frown deepened.
Then I remembered that the shop was closed today. I groaned and ran my hand down my face and across my beard. Shep and I spent all yesterday calling clients, many who had waited for months to get Saturday appointments, and reschedule them. I’d lose money, that was for sure — I’d ended offering deep discounts on a lot of those jobs just to keep the customers happy, but no one seemed too upset. Mentioning the show helped raise spirits too.
Fame. Something I’d never be ready for. Dread slipped over me like it always did when I thought about that part of it. Being on TV. Strangers knowing your name. And with that dread came the familiar feeling of regret for agreeing to the whole circus.
I climbed out of bed, heading to the shower to try to wash the doubt away. Shep would say I’m a cynic, but he’s the blind optimist, and somehow us compromising ended up with us in a reality TV show.
I shook my head, disgusted with myself for caving for Hal, the scum of all scum. He wasn’t worth the potential disaster hanging over us, but I couldn’t even handle the challenge — Hal couldn’t win.
I cranked the water to hot and dropped my boxer-briefs before looking in the mirror as I waited for the shower to warm up. My beard was a little too long — I ran my hand over it, angling my head to get a good look. I could have used a haircut too. It was impossible to keep in place when it was any longer than it was. My eyes were a mixture of green, brown, and gold, changing colors with whatever I was wearing, which, at the moment, was absolutely nothing. They were the same eyes my mom had, the same eyes Shep had.
I thought about Mom as I stepped into the shower, hissing when the scalding water hit my back. She’d been gone seventeen years, and I still thought about her every day. I remembered sitting in the hospital for hours watching old movies with her thin hand in mine. Remembered when we shaved her head before chemo, because she wanted to make the choice herself. Remembered when her lips were pale, her breath labored as her lungs expanded and contracted, a countdown to the end.
Then Dad just after her, the phone call in the middle of the night. The accident. And just like that, he was gone too, leaving Shep and me alone.
Everything changed overnight. Money. Family. They were part of the reason I married Liz, if I was being honest, chasing the dream of a family to replace the one I’d lost. I was my brother’s keeper — he became my responsibility more than ever, and I’d always felt responsible for him.
Part of me wondered what I’d do when he married Ramona — I knew for a fact he was planning on it. But he didn’t even live with her, and I silently suspected it was because of me. I never let him think anything different because it had always been him and me. Without him, I’d be well and truly alone.
I pushed the thought away. I could be alone, and I’d be fine, somehow. Lonely, maybe. But I’d survive.
I lathered and washed, scrubbed and rinsed, dried and dressed, and within a few minutes of turning on the coffee pot, Shep shuffled out of his room, yawning.
“Mornin’,” I said.
“Morning,” he answered, scratching at his beard. “Sleep okay?”
I shrugged. “Fine. You?”
He rolled his eyes as he sat down at the small table. “No. I was up all night thinking about the show. It’s really happening,” he said with the shake of his head. “I can’t believe you got them to agree to all the history and art stuff you wanted to do.”
I smirked and folded my arms across my chest. “I had terms, that’s all. They’re fixers, remember?”
He snorted. “Yeah, I think you could use a little fixing. What’s with you and the ice queen? She’s not your usual flavor.”
“No, she isn’t. I don’t know what it is about her. I find her … intriguing.”
He laughed. “Stroke your beard when you say that.”
I exaggerated a frown and raised a brow. “Intriguing,” I said, hoping I sounded British.
“There it is.” Shep shook his head. “I dunno, man.
Like, I feel like she’s got a thing for you by the vibes she puts out around you, but she’s …” he paused, thinking.
“Uptight? Snobby? Aggressive?”
“I was gonna say tall.”
I laughed. “Yes, she is tall, and maybe all of the rest of it too. But there’s more to her.”
“And you’re gonna figure out what.”
“Yes, I am.”
He sighed. “I’m sure that’ll end real well. We have to work with her, don’t forget that. So when you bang and bail, you’d better have a plan.”
I gave him a flat look. “Please. I always have a plan.”
He mirrored my face, beard and eyes and all.
I put up my dukes, flashing the words THIS and THAT tattooed on my fingers. “Never underestimate the power of THIS and THAT.” I made waves like the curves of a woman. “They always get their way.”
He rolled his eyes again like a teenage girl. “That joke is so old, man.”
“Psh. That joke never gets old. Besides, it’s the truth.”
“I’m serious, Joel. You can’t just sleep with her.”
I frowned.
“And you can’t date her.”
A shock of aversion burst through me. “Date her? I haven’t dated in …” I did some quick math but didn’t say the number out loud.
“Exactly. Just stay away from her if you don’t have a plan. A real plan.”
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s just see what happens.”
He sighed and shook his head. “And you’re supposed to be the responsible one.”
My brow dropped. “Listen, I’m not gonna fuck up your precious show, okay? I’m not an idiot, and I know what I’m doing.”
“Which is?”
“Which is to leave her alone, per her request. For now,” I tacked onto the end.
“Until when?”
I shrugged. “Until I can melt the wall at Castle Black.”
He gave me a weird look before it dawned on him. “Oh, Game of Thrones. Nerd.”
“Whatever, you love that show.”
“Yeah, but you read all those gigantic books. That last one looked like a goddamn dictionary.”
“Chicks think reading is sexy.”
“Not Ramona. She doesn’t like me to challenge her intelligence.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “So, what are you guys doing today now that the shop is closed?”
“No idea. Nothing, hopefully. I’d like to just sit around all day like a slob. You?”
“Oh, I’m still going down there.”
He frowned. “We’re not supposed to be down there when they’re working.”
“They’re down there, in my shop, with power tools. They can try to stop me, but I’m gonna sit down there behind the register and watch their asses all day, if I have to.”
“And look out for your girlfriend.”
“Hey,” I said with a smirk, “if she shows up, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
* * *
An hour later, I made my way downstairs to find Tonic’s door wide open, with workers in coveralls everywhere. Plastic sheeting covered all the furniture, and a crew of people were installing extra lights, cameras. It was almost unrecognizable, everything muted by the foggy plastic — the antique chests at each station full of supplies, the Victorian art and gilded mirrors on the walls, the cases of balms and salves and apothecary jars.
A few of the crew glanced over at me as I walked through the door, and a skinny little hipster dude walked over with a clipboard and a tentative smile.
“Uh, hey. Joel, right?”
“That’s right.” I folded my arms, fanning my biceps against my chest, and stood up straighter, looking down at him.
He laughed nervously. “Ah, uh, great to meet you. I’m Mark, the head PA. Did, ah, Laney let you know we needed the space clear of any cast today?”
“She did.” I didn’t move.
“Cool. Cool,” he said, looking around before meeting my eyes again. “So, um, did you need anything?”
“Yeah. I have some stuff to do.”
He waited for me to give him an explanation.
I didn’t.
“Sweet, okay,” he finally said and laughed again. “Well, um, great. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’ll be sure to.”
He scurried off, and I took a seat behind the register, arms still folded, eyes narrowed.
It was mostly for show — I just really wanted them to worry I’d murder anyone who fucked up my parlor. The good news was, it seemed to work.
I had a sketchbook stashed under the register and broke it out, opening it to a blank page. My thoughts slipped to Annika, and my pencil took on a mind of its own. Her long neck. The small tip of her nose, turned up just at the end, just a touch. She was all eyes and lips and a story I wanted to know. I needed to know.
It wasn’t long before I had her drawn down to the shoulders, stylized. Flowers in her hair, down and messy, something I didn’t know that she would ever do on her own. But I wanted to see her like that. Free.
I wondered if that version of her even existed.
I caught a column of black in my periphery and looked up to find Annika walking in, looking annoyed. My hand slipped under the cover of the book and closed it as she approached. Since I wasn’t supposed to be harassing her and all.
“Ms. Belousov.”
“Mr. Anderson,” she answered. “What’s up?”
I shrugged. “Just getting a little work done.” I held up the sketchbook in display.
“And you need to be down here to do that work?”
“Not really.”
She took a controlled breath. “We needed the space clear today for construction.”
I looked around. “I don’t seem to be in the way.”
“You’re not. It’s a liability thing.”
“Need me to sign a waiver?”
“I need you to leave the store.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Not happening.”
She folded her arms right back at me. “Are you worried about what we’re doing here? Because I assure you, we won’t do any damage.”
“I’ll stay right here and make sure of that myself.”
“Joel—”
My heart jolted at the sound of my name from her lips, but I still cut her off. “Listen. Hand me a liability release waiver and I’ll sign it. I’m sure you have a dozen on hand. I’m not leaving this store until it’s done, not when every penny I have is tied up in it. This is my home, and you’re all strangers here. So at least give me the courtesy of being present while your team drills into it.”
Something about her face softened, her eyes I think, though the shift was almost imperceptible. “Fair enough,” she said, the venom gone, but the cold steel was ever-present. “But I’m staying with you.”
I raised a brow. “You don’t have something more important to do?”
“Other than make sure you don’t get brained by a light fixture? No.” She stepped behind the counter, and I shifted so she could squeeze past and sit on the other stool. The scent of her — jasmine, maybe? — slipped over me as she moved by. Once in her seat, she turned her attention to her phone.
I made no move to open my sketchbook, just turned on the stool and leaned against the counter. “So, that’s it? We sit here in silence while you jack around on Facebook?”
She glanced up. “I’m not on Facebook. I’m reading.”
“As in, a book?” I asked, surprised.
“No, a census report.” She shook her head. “Yes, a book.”
“Hey, it could have been an article or an email or something.”
I thought I caught a hint of a smile. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m reading Persuasion by Jane Austen.”
“Romance?” The question was flat.
“Romance. I know it’s not the latest edition of Bros and Beers, or whatever you read, but I think it’s all right.”
I snorted and reached under the counter
for my book, setting it on top of the counter. “I read a lot of sci-fi. This is my desk book.”
She picked it up. “Ursula K. Le Guin? I’ve never heard of her.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s pretty obscure and was out of print for a while, but her writing … I don’t know what it is about it. It’s dark, haunting. When you read her words, they stay with you.”
“I really only read historical fiction, the classics, usually nothing post-mid-century in time period,” she offered. “Although, I do love Margaret Atwood.”
I perked up. “Have you read her MaddAddam series?”
“No, I haven’t. It’s sci-fi?”
“Dystopic, as is her specialty. It’s dark and genius, per her usual.”
The shadow of a smile found her lips again. “I will. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She glanced away toward the workers, forcing a lull in the conversation, and I scrambled to keep it going.
“So, I’ve been wondering about your name. Eastern European?”
“Russian,” she answered, still looking away, giving me nothing more.
“Are you from Russia?”
“My parents are. They fled during World War II, ended up bouncing all over the place before ending up here just before I was born.”
“Do you speak Russian?”
Icy eyes locked on mine. “Da.”
I smirked. “Say, Joel is an impossibly handsome bastard.”
She mirrored me. “Joel nevozmozhny ublyudok.” The words rolled off her tongue and past her lips, powerful, her voice smoky but with the edge all her words seemed to possess. I found myself full-on smiling.
“You didn’t say what I asked, did you?”
“I might have left a word out.” She actually smiled back, the corners of her lips rising, eyes lighting with mischief. It changed her face, her air, her.
“Bastard?”
“Handsome.”
I laughed, a big sound, the kind that came from deep in my belly. Her smile stayed put, though a flush brightened her cheeks.
“I like you,” I said simply.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
Forbidden Desires Page 43
