The Russian

by Isabella Laase

  Her thoughts continued to race. Luka’s dark temper and unlimited access to anything he wanted. His late night business dealings that got Anton shot and the way her stomach had turned when she’d caught a glimpse of his gun. The money had become some sort of symbol for everything she didn’t understand about him. Grabbing the pink bag from under the table, she added, “But... but call me, Mia, okay?”

  Vadik offered no comment, but he rose when she started to shove the still concealed money into the hard to access cupboard above the fridge, reaching over her head to help her until they’d settled it in place.

  Closing the small door, she spoke with a frown. “I think I’d prefer that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Luka had driven as far as the lake house late Sunday night to gather some business invoices, so it was Monday morning before he’d arrived in her driveway where he found her waiting at the kitchen window like an anxious child. In the entrance hall, he stomped the snow from his shoes, and she wrapped herself around his waist, hanging on for much longer than he’d expected.

  Holding her at arm’s length revealed her pale skin and tired, almost melancholy appearance. “Are you okay, koshka?” he asked, confused. He’d left her Wednesday morning filled with smiles and had received nothing but positive communication from her since.

  “I’m fine,” she said, the smile not reaching her eyes. “Between work and the house, I’ve put in a lot of long hours, that’s all. But you didn’t tell me you’d planned on turning this place into Fort Knox. Before we come to any other ‘agreements,’ I think I need your thoughts in writing so I know exactly what to expect.”

  “Unlikely,” he dismissed, gently tapping her nose. “Our ground rules are already established, and I cannot go around changing what I believe you once called my evil, misogynistic dictate.” He winked at her. “I had to look that word up. It wasn’t very nice.”

  Speaking in Russian, he dismissed Vadik who stood by the door with his bag in hand. “I need you back here a week from today. Six a.m. There will be a delivery leaving for Rostov tomorrow. Make sure it is handled.” Vadik nodded and left without speaking. With his own small group of bratoks, soldiers at his command, still in Russia, he’d been grateful when Pavel had offered him the man’s support.

  “Vadik was very helpful,” she said. “He moved all sorts of junk out of the bedrooms and the basement and says he can help with some small repairs around here.”

  “Good,” said Luka, taking off his coat and walking to the stairway. “Now, come here.” She stood in place, chewing on her bottom lip. Arching an eyebrow, he warned, “I’ve given you an order. Are you ignoring me?”

  “I... uh...” she mumbled, pointing to the holster against his chest. “It’s your gun. Vadik’s made me nervous, too, but obviously I didn’t have to get close to his. Can you put it someplace else?”

  “I’m glad you didn’t get close to Vadik,’ he grumbled sarcastically, removing the holster from his shoulder. “I consider myself a jealous man, and I assure you I have no desire to share you with anybody today, much less him.” He dropped it on the coffee table in the living room. “Better?” he asked, holding out his hands to proclaim his innocence. “And if your untrained fingers touch it, I’ll beat your sorry ass until you can’t sit. Do you understand?”

  She agreed with that wide-eyed nod he’d grown to expect when she was overwhelmed. “Now, come here,” he said again, crooking his finger. “I’ve missed you, and I’ve already asked once.”

  “Actually,” she drawled with a tiny smile, running to curl into his side. “You didn’t ask. You demanded. Are you sure you don’t want some dinner or candlelight before we get started on, you know, this? Adding a little romance to a girl’s life wouldn’t kill you.”

  “Romance will have to wait,” he mumbled, sliding his hands under her shirt to unfasten her bra. “I plan on driving my cock into you hard enough to punish your pussy for not meeting me naked. Didn’t you understand how much I was going to need you after five days?”

  “What?” she taunted. “Weren’t there any Russian girls waiting to please my master in Brooklyn?”

  With a roar, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He tossed her giggling self on the new mattress from a few feet away. “Strip, koshka, and make it worth my entertainment.”

  She stood to slip out of her thin cotton shirt and worn blue jeans, her unfastened bra sliding to her wrists before she added it to the pile on the floor. He snapped his fingers. “Fold those neatly and leave them on your dresser. My slave needs to be taught her boundaries.”

  “Should I finish undressing, ser?” she asked as she followed his instructions, her chin lowered and her bottom seductively filling her black satin panties. “Or do you prefer to do the rest?”

  “I need you in expensive lace,” he said, coming to her side to rub his hands across her bottom. “We will do some shopping at your local mall, but for now, I will enjoy finishing your task.” He pushed her back on the bed before joining her, but the hard mattress caught his attention. Running his hands across the cheap fabric comforter, he raised an eyebrow.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked nervously. “Don’t you like the bedspread?”

  “I don’t have a problem with the colors,” he replied, handling the lumpy pillows with rough cotton cases. “But did you order the linens from the store I gave you? And this mattress is substandard. I told you to buy something quality.”

  “You told me to buy what I wanted,” she insisted. “This is what I wanted, and I got the bedding at a big box store on a half-off sale.” The last piece of information was added with an illogical amount of pride.

  Despite her squealing, he twisted her tummy to the bed, sliding her panties past her cheeks to deliver a couple of hard spanks. “Do not contradict me. I told you to buy a high quality mattress and linens from Popovich’s. They carry organic Egyptian cotton and offer down pillows and comforters. Those pleasures are a world removed from what you’ve bought. And why would you be frugal on something that is such an important part of your day? The average person spends a third of their time in bed, and, with you, I plan on surpassing the law of averages.”

  “That’s crazy,” she said, sitting up and rubbing her butt with an ugly pout burned into her pretty face. “What idiot spends a month’s paycheck on sheets and crap? These are fine. Just drop it.”

  Pulling on her hair to point her chin to the ceiling, he twisted her nipple until her back landed on the bed in a futile attempt to escape. “Do not ever use that tone with me. Have I made my point, or should we try all of this again?”

  She shook her head with the appropriate amount of remorse, and Luka continued. “That money doesn’t reflect a month’s wages for either one of us. Get your computer to pick out new things. I will contact them to have this mattress taken away.”

  “I... I don’t think we can return the sheets. I’ve already washed them, and—”

  “Keep them for rags, or throw them away or give them to charity. I don’t care, and this conversation is over. The computer, koshka. Now.”

  By the time she’d returned with her ancient laptop, he’d pushed the cheap pillows behind his back, patting the bed next to him to direct her. She started to make her decisions but required constant nagging to focus on multiple sets of high quality goods. When her electronic cart was filled, he said, “Pick a new bedframe, too. Order the whole set and with a coat of paint on the walls and some new curtains, this room would truly reflect who you are and not some elderly couple who left this house months ago.”

  “I’m not ready to make that decision, ser,” she said, looking at the floor. “I’d prefer to use the metal frame for a few weeks until I look around a bit.”

  Nodding his agreement, he sent a text to ask the Russian owners of the furniture store for same day delivery, the immediate response justifying his mantra of maintaining well-placed friendships. “They’ll be here within two hours,” he said, pulling her close to his side, “but w
e will put this mattress to good use one time before it’s returned.”

  “I... I don’t feel very well,” she stammered, pushing at his chest and gaining a little distance. “I know you’ve been looking forward to this, but do you mind if we wait a little while? Maybe... maybe if I ate something, I’ll feel a little better. I didn’t have much breakfast.”

  Waiting didn’t come naturally to him, but her growing paleness and withdrawal disturbed him even more. “Are you sure you’re okay? Should I get you something besides food?”

  “No, really,” she said, slipping out of bed to pick up her jeans. “I’m a little chilly, though. Do you mind if I put these on? And can you grab that sweatshirt from the chair?” He slipped the sweatshirt over her head, feeling her forehead in the process, but there was no sign of a temperature.

  She tried to pull away from him a second time, but he refused to let her go, rubbing her back until she relaxed into his arms. “I’m sorry, Luka,” she whimpered, her brown eyes filling with tears. “I’m sure I’ll feel better in a few hours.”

  Submissives in his old world had remained hidden in the dark corner of his life, satisfying his dick and his dominance, but never becoming anything more than a warm pussy and a rounded ass for his palm. He recognized he lacked the skills in supporting a woman in her natural environment, but he didn’t believe any of this was related to an illness.

  “Did something happen while I was gone to upset you? I demand honesty.”

  “No, nothing,” she said, brushing the rogue tears with her fist. “Well, my mother dropped by unexpectedly, and that’s always hard.”

  “What did she say,” he persisted, his temper rising. The woman was clearly a challenge for her, and if she’d hurt his koshka, he’d intervene. “Tell me.”

  “Don’t get upset, Luka. Nothing more than usual. She’s just rough to have around. She doesn’t... doesn’t always make me feel good about myself. I’m probably just being too sensitive, at least that’s what she tells me.” She added a small smile. “But she did warn me you’re probably out to take all of my money, so you’d better accept the fact that Joy Latrobe is watching you.”

  “I’m officially warned,” he said, relaxing with her smile. Continuing with the joke, he added, “And make sure you hide your savings from me along with your jewels. You never know what I would steal and how I would use it to torment you.”

  Her smile faded a second time, leaving her brow furrowed, and she turned away from him. “Does that concern you?” he asked.

  “No, of course not. That’s ridiculous. I probably have less in my 401K plan than you spend in two weeks. You aren’t the gold digger here.”

  “I do not know what a gold digger is, but I am guessing the definition will not please me. Would you like to explain before I look it up?”

  “It’s a joke, Luka,” she said with a forced smile. “It’s hard for me to accept expensive gifts. I didn’t grow up with a lot, well, more like nothing. Now that I have a good job, I like to pay my own way and—”

  “And taking illegally obtained money isn’t part of that vision,” he finished for her. “Is it hard to accept gifts, koshka, or hard to accept them from me?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she said, her tone rising. “Don’t put words into my mouth. Come downstairs, please? I’ll be fine after I eat something. My stomach is just a little upset. I don’t need a whole meal, just some cookies or something.”

  “We will go to the grocery store after we visit the mall. You need to fill your kitchen with healthier foods, and you wouldn’t have these issues with your stomach. There is a Russian store near here that carries imported foods of a high quality.”

  “Boy, you just don’t let up, do you?” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I prefer to go to a big chain store. They carry a generic brand that’s not bad, and their prices are realistic.”

  He’d been firm with her and had even delivered a few spanks to cement his message, but she’d refused to cede to his point of view. Arguments were uncommon in his world, but he needed a different tactic.

  “I understand your need to be careful with money,” he said, willing his tone to remain calm, “but if I am going to spend time here, I have a responsibility to put funding toward your household. I prefer quality goods, but you make a good salary and can afford to treat yourself on occasion. Have you spent any of the money you earned working with Anton?”

  Her guilty expression betrayed her before she spoke. “I... I like to use my credit card when I buy things, but I hid the bag so it’s safe. Vadik and all the workers around here, you know, it was a lot of money to have lying around.”

  “You can trust Vadik; he’s a good man. Spend the cash when you have the opportunity, otherwise you’ll need to deposit it in the bank to pay a credit card bill.”

  “Money Laundering 101,” she mumbled. “I should have known better.”

  “Why are you pushing your luck? Do you need more information about my finances to feel comfortable? And stop comparing my life to some poor 1970s mobster movie. I understand it must be hard for you to comprehend, but we run many legitimate businesses.”

  “Sure,” she said as she left the room. “I’ve seen your many legitimate gunshot wounds, too.”

  * * *

  Letting her have the last word was uncharacteristic of Luka’s personality, but her misery defeated any sense of victory. While the shower was running upstairs, she took a few antacids and curled into the living room couch, covering her entire body with a blanket like she was hiding in a child’s fort.

  When Luka came downstairs, he stopped in the entrance hall, grumbling, “I don’t suppose now is the time to tell you that you need new towels.”

  It wasn’t. She wanted his comfort, not a continuation of their stupid argument. Feigning sleep, she remained buried in her cave to wallow in self-pity until he’d moved to the kitchen. The undefinable anxieties and stresses intertwined so deeply that she struggled to identify the root cause of her misery.

  She had no business judging his decision to pick and choose which laws he followed. Her trailer park life was formed from a complex system of unwritten rules that superseded anything the authorities had decreed. In her world, nothing was more important than individual strength and loyalty to their peers, often defending in the afternoon the same people they’d fought with that morning.

  All of the children were in the same dire financial situation and stealing was a way of life. At the time, she’d felt no guilt. The child’s need to survive was more important than gaining a stranger’s approval, and to accept an inferior place in a materialistic society was the ultimate defeat. As a teen, she’d been detained twice for shoplifting at the mall and, on another occasion, the cops had shown up at her house after she’d gotten into a fight with some of the pampered rich girls from school. Her transgressions might not be on the same scale as his, but to ignore the facts would make her pretentious... and to accept them fed her anxiety.

  The delivery team arrived to switch the mattresses, but she stayed on the couch while Luka guided the two burly men through her home, speaking in Russian as though they were long-lost friends before they left with handfuls of crisp twenty dollar bills from his wallet.

  He closed the front door behind them and turned to her without a hint of a smile. “I’ll make the bed, but come upstairs and rest. There is no reason to spend your time on that couch.”

  Why not, she thought. Do you have a problem with my couch, too? He disappeared up the stairs, but she waited a few minutes in an act of childish defiance. “Hurry up, koshka,” he yelled from the bedroom. “You aren’t going to be ill forever, so do not press your luck.”

  Mia entered her room to find Luka pulling a plush Sherpa cover over the new mattress, a huge, thick monstrosity with a heavy cushioned pillow top. She’d chosen all of her favorite colors for the fabrics, but the teal blues and oranges were much more vibrant than they’d been on her computer screen. The large, bold prints splashed across the comforter in a swi
rling, random pattern and the soft organic sheets matched perfectly, sparking new life in her dismal bedroom.

  She wanted to hate all of it, but she was tired of being unhappy. “I’m sorry, Luka,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and running her hand over the smooth fabric. “I wasted a lot of money having the first mattress delivered. You were right, you deserve nice things and when you leave, maybe you can take this stuff with you. Pavel or somebody can use it at the lake house.”

  “Would you stop!” he shouted, his temper dangerously close to the surface. “I’ve been patient with you all day, but there is a limit to all of this. If you are tired, go to sleep and we will discuss this in the morning when you are rested, and I can speak to someone who possesses a sense of reason.”

  She hated making him upset, but she had nothing left to stop the tears. She tried to wipe them away, but they defeated her, the silent sobbing leading to choking gasps as she collapsed onto the mattress, miserably alone. Within seconds, he was by her side pulling her into his arms. “Hush, koshka. I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to shout. Please, don’t cry.”

  His begging destroyed the last of her resolve as she gave into the tears, a whirlwind of past hurts, sadness, and regret all creating a single dramatic, cathartic explosion. She cried on his shoulder, losing track of time while he sang soft Russian songs. When the tears slowed, he handed her a tissue from the box by her bed. “Here,” he said. “You need this, you have bloogers all over your nose.”

  “Boogers,” she said, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. “They’re called boogers, and it’s really better if you don’t tell a woman she has boogers.”

  “Then how will you know? Are you ready to talk about this, or do you need another day? Because I don’t believe all of this sadness is related to sheets. And if it is, you need to find more things to worry about.”

  “I’m really sorry,” she said, smiling at his joke. “I know you’re just trying to help, but... but the money’s hard. When I was a kid, you either stole something or you earned it, and I’m not some sleazy woman who takes money for sex. I can pay my own bills, and I need to do this by my—”