by Nicole Fox
She is gorgeous.
When she pulls her t-shirt over her head, I take a shuddering breath, realizing for the first time how entranced I’d been. Thankfully, I gather my wits in time to look away before she turns back around.
“So, I can leave?” she asks.
I nod. “The doctor said you need food, rest, and vitamins, but otherwise you can go home.”
“Home,” she says wistfully. “I suppose in this case, ‘home’ means your room?”
I’d suggested the idea only a few minutes ago, but somehow, I hadn’t considered what that would really mean. Now that I’d seen Zoya half-naked, though, the reality washed over me like a wave. She would be in my room. In my bed.
I nod because it is the only thing I feel capable of doing.
Zoya bites her lip. “Fine. Let’s go.”
I follow her out of the hospital room, watching the sway of her hips as she walks. What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 12
Zoya
There is a hidden door on the right side of Aleksandr’s room that connects his to the room next door. The staff has never had need to open it, so I’d almost forgotten about it entirely, but when Aleksandr walked me down the hallway and into his room, I remembered it at once. It was almost an act of self-preservation.
Because sleeping in that bed with him would have killed me.
“These rooms connect,” I say the moment the door closes. I walk over to the wall and find the small gap in the wallpaper and push. The door sticks for a second before opening.
“Oh, yeah,” Aleksandr says, walking over and peeking through the door. “Mikhail and I used to use that door when we were kids. I almost forgot about it.”
My stomach flips at the mention of his brother. I can’t believe I didn’t know he’d died. It had all happened right after I’d left, and though Samara had been calling me, I’d been avoiding her. I didn’t want to talk to her until my life was a bit more put together. But if I’d answered the phone, I probably wouldn’t have put my foot in my mouth with Aleksandr.
“Do you want to stay in there?” he asks, his square jaw working like he is thinking about it.
“It’s better than sharing a bed, right?” I can’t look at him as I speak. Aleksandr and I have hardly had a conversation without yelling at one another, so why am I thinking about what he wears to bed and how his sheets smell?
“There’s no bathroom in there,” he says, tipping his head to the room. “You can share mine.”
“That’s fair,” I nod.
“And I’ll lock your bedroom door from the outside.”
I am halfway into the room, and I slam to a stop and spin around. “Excuse me?”
“I can’t monitor that door from in here,” he says.
“You mean you can’t monitor me.” I got a lot of fluids at the hospital and Aleksandr stopped and got me a ground meat and cheese blini from a twenty-four-hour corner store to eat on the way home, but I still feel unsteady. I widen my stance and plant my hands on my hips to gain some control.
He shrugs. “However you want to say it, I think it is safer for you if there is only one entrance and exit into our suite.”
I want to argue his point, but I know if I protest too much, he’ll consider me a flight risk. I didn’t exactly enthusiastically agree to this arrangement in the first place. If I argue too much, he might force me back into his room all night. So, I roll my eyes and wander into the room, trying not to let Aleksandr see my hands trembling.
It hasn’t been prepped, probably because no one has slept in it in months. I want to complain to Aleksandr about the room not being ready for me just to prove a point, but again, I’m trying to coexist with him until I’m no longer being hunted by rival gang members.
“Sorry the room isn’t ready,” he says from the door. “I can call someone to come take care of it.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly, shivering at just the idea of standing along the edge of the room while one of the maids I’ve worked with for years prepped a room for me. Rumors of what I’m doing in Aleksandr’s room will start to spread soon enough without me adding fuel to the fire. I grab the folded blankets from the end of the bed and shake them out until they drape over the bed. “I can do it myself.”
“Should you really be—” Aleksandr starts, moving towards me before he stops and fidgets with his shirt sleeve. His button-down shirt is rolled halfway up his forearms, revealing pale skin stretched over corded muscles. I have to tear my eyes away from him. “I mean, in your condition,” he starts again.
“I’m pregnant, not paralyzed,” I say flatly. I tuck the sheet around the corners of the mattress, feeling his eyes on me as I move. “How did you find out?”
“My mother,” he says softly, sounding almost ashamed. Though, when I look up at him, his face is neutral.
“How did your mother know?”
I can’t remember the last time I saw Natalia Levushka. She and Vlad never travel together, and since Boris is Vlad’s brother, Natalia has little reason to come visit him. The few times she did was to see one of her sons when they were staying at the estate, and even then, she never spoke to me.
“Boris told her.”
It is possible Boris and Natalia are closer than I ever knew, but I still can’t understand why the pregnancy status of a maid would be of any importance to Natalia. Or why she would feel compelled to mention it to Aleksandr. Had he asked her about me?
The thought sends my heart racing, and I focus on making the bed so he won’t notice the redness in my cheeks.
Suddenly, Aleksandr is standing over my shoulder, his hip pressed against my back. My breath catches.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get some help?” he asks.
I slide away from the brush of his body and nod. “I’m fine.”
“You were just in the hospital,” he argues. “I don’t think you are fine.”
“I can take care of myself,” I say, repeating what I told him in the hospital.
“But you shouldn’t have to.” The words come out in a near-shout, and Aleksandr lets out a harsh sigh and shakes his head. “Someone should be here to help you.”
I straighten the top edge of the comforter and fold back the corner like I’ve done every day for years making Boris’ bed. When I’m finished, I turn to Aleksandr, who is only a few steps away and far too close for comfort. At this distance, I can see the pale gold streaks in his light blue eyes and the blonde stubble growing in along his jaw. I can see a white scar near his hairline from a long-ago cut and the indention in his lower lip from where his teeth dig in when he is frustrated. As I study him, his teeth find that familiar groove, and I have to look away so he won’t see the smile that is threatening to break free.
“I’m done now, anyway,” I say, pointing to the bed.
He follows my finger and then slowly drags his eyes back up to my face. A line forms between his brows, pinching together in thought. “That isn’t what I meant.”
I know I should tell him goodnight and go to sleep. I’m sleep-deprived and exhausted and not thinking clearly. But instead, I take a step towards him and lay my hand on his elbow.
Aleksandr flinches from the contact and looks down at where my hand rests on his arm. I can feel his body heat leaching into my fingers, and I want to absorb and save it for the next time I get cold.
“Thank you,” I say softly. It takes a lot to get the two words out, but once they are, the rest seems to follow quickly. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did. I don’t know why you came to see me, but I know that you saved me, and I’m grateful.”
“Zoya,” he says, holding up a hand and shaking his head.
“No, it is important,” I say firmly. “Whatever differences we may have, I want you to know that I understand what you did for me and what you are doing for me right now, and even if you never hear me say it again: thank you.”
Aleksandr blinks and something like a smile
pulls up the corners of his mouth. For one second, I see what he could look like if he was unburdened. If his life was light and normal and less riddled with crime and violence and commands.
But just as quickly as it comes, it disappears.
Aleksandr pulls his features back into a scowl, nods to me once, and then backs out of my reach and goes to the door.
“Goodnight.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder as he pulls the door shut between us.
I don’t see Aleksandr at all the next day.
I sleep late, waking up when the afternoon sun is streaming through the sheer curtains, and stay in bed until my bladder won’t let me anymore. When I knock on the door that separates our rooms, Aleksandr doesn’t answer. I knock again and wait. And then again. Finally, I walk inside before I pee my pants.
His room is empty.
I rush to the bathroom and decide to take a shower while I am in there. It would be better to be showered by the time he got back to the room to avoid any awkwardness. But when I get out, he still isn’t back yet.
I wander back to my room and wait for a while. When I test the doorknob, it is locked from the outside just like Aleksandr said it would be. So, then I try the door in his room. And it opens.
I’d practically grown up on the estate, yet walking the hallways feels strange and forbidden.
I am not supposed to be here.
I don’t know if anyone besides Aleksandr knows I am here at all.
What should I say if I ran into my mom? Or Samara?
“Zoya!”
I freeze, unsure how much of my situation I am supposed to explain. Can I tell people I am being targeted by a rival family? Can I tell them that Aleksandr saved me? We haven’t talked through any of the details, so I have no idea how to explain anything.
As it turns out, I don’t have to.
A round-faced woman with dark black hair and freckles across her nose walks towards me. I’ve never seen her before.
“Hi,” she says, lifting her hand in a wave. “I’m Alena. Aleksandr asked me to be there when you woke up, but it looks like I missed my cue.”
“Hi,” I say nervously.
“There are only a few rules,” she says, holding up a hand to count them off one by one. “First, you are not supposed to leave the estate without Aleksandr. Second, you are not to do anything physical or laborious. And finally, you are not allowed to skip a meal.”
She nods her head once, twice, and a third time as she makes sure she recited all of the rules correctly and then smiles at me. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, almost in a whisper. “I don’t know who you are.”
“I just started.” She puffs out her chest slightly. “This is only my third day.”
For a moment, I’m surprised because I didn’t know Boris was looking to hire anyone. Then, reality sinks in.
This woman is my replacement.
“Oh, okay. Well I know this estate better than almost anyone. I don’t need an escort.” I smile, hoping I won’t offend her too greatly, but I also want to get my point across. Back off.
“I’m sure you do,” she says genuinely. “But Aleksandr has asked me to stay close to you, and I would be failing in my duties if I disobeyed.”
I suck in my cheeks, annoyed but unable to argue. Then, I walk past her towards the kitchen. I stop a few steps later, however, and Alena nearly runs into my back. I raise an eyebrow. “And just a warning, you should really call him Mr. Levushka.”
Alena nods, but the sweet smile is gone, replaced by wide-eyed confusion.
After our almost confrontation in the hallway, Alena is more reserved around me—hardly talking except when necessary—but she does exactly as Aleksandr instructed her to. She makes sure I am well-fed and my glass is never empty.
When I get up to use the restroom, she sticks close to my side, waiting in the hallway, and when I go for a walk around the estate, she follows behind.
My fears about my mother and Samara are unfounded, because apparently, everyone knows I am here.
My run-in with the rival family became hot gossip the moment Aleksandr brought me home with him from the hospital and everyone has been talking about it ever since.
“Seriously, why was he at your apartment, anyway?” Samara whispers to me when I stop in the kitchen for lunch.
I tell her I don’t know, but I’m sure she doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either if I was her.
Samara is in the process of begging me for more information when the kitchen door is flung open and Boris walks in. She bolts back into the pantry like there is some kind of vegetable emergency she must tend to immediately, leaving me alone at the island.
Boris sets his sights on me and stomps over, every pound of his meaty frame driving into his heels and shaking the floor.
“What are you doing here?”
The measly excuse I’d come up with in my head should this situation arise—talk to Aleksandr. He’ll explain everything to you—washes away like the tide, and instead, I stammer. “Um. Uh…”
“What?” Boris asks, even though he knows I didn’t really say anything.
The man I thought I knew—the man who, only a short week ago, I believed had a special fondness for me, is standing in front of me with a red face and clenched fists, and I can’t come up with a single word to say.
“I fired you,” Boris repeats. “I ordered you removed from the premises. Why are you here?”
I open my mouth to try and say something, anything, but words fail me, and I want to shrivel up on the floor and roll under the countertop. This is humiliating.
“Aleksandr—” Alena starts, only to look at me and then back at Boris, clearly torn. She clears her throat and continues. “Mr. Levushka brought her here. As his guest.”
Boris turns to the maid and raises an eyebrow. “I am Mr. Levushka. Not my nephew.”
Now that Mikhail is dead, Aleksandr is next in line to the Levushka crime family, which means soon enough, he will be Boris’s boss. He wouldn’t take kindly to Boris making it seem as though he is the top dog.
Alena nods, and her mouth tightens into an annoyed line at my faulty information. “Yes, sir.”
Once he is satisfied the maid has been properly cowed, he shifts his beady eyes back to me. “You are with Aleksandr now?”
He says it as if there was someone else I was with recently, despite the fact I haven’t ever had a boyfriend before.
“I’m here as his guest,” I clarify.
Samara confirmed that everyone in the house knew I’d been attacked by a rival family, but I don’t want to say as much to Boris. If he has questions, he should take them up with Aleksandr.
“So your fight the other day,” he says, waving his hand in the air like he’s trying to conjure up the words. “Was it some kind of lover’s spat? Have you two made up?”
“You should ask Aleksandr,” I say. “He’ll explain everything.”
Boris narrows his eyes and then leans forward, his voice low. “Or, did you leave your mother’s cottage and realize you had no skills beyond your good looks. Did you whore your way back into my house?”
My face reddens immediately, and I hear Alena intake a sharp breath, but before I can say anything, Boris stands up and smiles. “A guest of my nephew’s is a guest of mine, I suppose.”
After he leaves, Alena still follows after me the way Aleksandr asked her to, but she keeps her distance. Especially when Boris is nearby.
I don’t blame her.
After three days of nothing more than brief glimpses as I’m getting out of the shower and a quick goodnight before he closes the door between our rooms, I’m tired of not knowing what is going on. Of being kept in the dark about my own safety. So, I push open the door between our rooms without knocking and walk inside.
Aleksandr told me goodnight almost an hour before, so I expect to find his light out, but instead he is sitting at the desk pushed up against the windows with his laptop open in fron
t of him. He turns around as I walk in.
“Did you forget something?” he asks. I can see the tendons in his neck as he turns, and the bulge of his bicep is even more obvious now that he has stripped out of his button down and is in a short-sleeved t-shirt.
I planned to burst into his room and demand answers, but suddenly, I’m much more civil.
“No, I didn’t forget anything,” I say. “I just. Well, I wanted to…ask. The rival gang. About me.” He wrinkles his forehead, and I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “I want to know how long I’m going to be staying here.”
“Ah.” He tips his head back and pushes away from the desk, shifting around so he is straddling the chair rather than sitting in it normally. I hate that my first thought is to imagine myself between his legs instead of the chair. “Are you not happy here?”
“Would you be?” I ask, moving forward to stand by the corner of his bed. It is a four-poster with thick oak posts that are intricately carved. I run my fingers down the finished wood. “Alena hovers around me like a nervous shadow all day, and I think I caught her weighing my dinner plate earlier to make sure I’d eaten enough.”
“Maybe I could tell her to give you some space,” he says.
“Thank you.” I sit on the corner of his bed. “But I want more than that. I want a life.”
Aleksandr wraps his arms around the back of his chair. “This isn’t forever. Just until I know you are safe.”
“See?” I jump up and point at his chest. “What does that mean? Why do you care?”
“Care about what?”
“Don’t play dumb,” I demand. “Based on the way Boris treated me my first day here, you are the only person who cares at all about my safety.”
Aleksandr frowns and stands up, moving the chair out of his way. In only a few steps, he is standing directly in front of me, forcing me to look up at him. “What did Boris do?”
“Nothing.”
Did you whore your way back into my house?
