by SR Jones
Someone I’ve been inside.
Fuck.
I swallow and wonder what the fuck is happening to me. I’m going soft. Cassie is what’s happening to me. She’s changing me, and not for the better. I can’t be like this, I need to be tough, willing to do whatever it takes. Yet with Cassie, I’ve become malleable. Shit, I need to make things safe here and bring her grandparents back home so she can go on with her life.
The thought makes my chest ache, and I rub at it, unfamiliar with the sensation. It’s one I’ve not felt for a long time. Not since Yulia was killed. That sensation? That’s what gets men like me killed, and that’s why, no matter how much it pains me to do so, I must let Cassie go.
I’m in the middle of a meeting with Margaret when I get the call. It’s Liza’s time. They are delivering the baby, and then they will take Liza off life support. I call Cassie to inform her and to let her know I’ll do as she wishes and be at the hospital.
I arrive and park, and I feel sick at the thought of what’s coming. I don’t understand it. I really don’t like Liza. It’s not as if I have any affection left for her.
She might be carrying your child, a voice whispers to me.
She’s not; I know as much deep down. Shit, this is fucked up. I’m about to witness my ex-lover, who betrayed me with one of my closest men, deliver a baby and then … die.
My mouth is dry, and my heart is beating far too fast. What the hell is wrong with me? I stop outside the doors of the hospital. Shit, I don’t know if I can do this.
Footsteps to my side have me moving away for the person approaching to pass by, but I startle when a warm hand slips into mine. I glance down to see Cassie.
What the hell?
My immediate reaction is to look all around me. This isn’t safe. Then my gaze alights on Bohdan, with the reassuring lump under his jacket that tells me he’s carrying, and next to him Andrius.
“She insisted,” Andrius says.
I can’t speak past the lump in my throat. Instead, I squeeze Cassie’s hand, and we walk together into the hospital.
We’re taken upstairs to a quiet ward, right at the top of the hospital, and there in the corridor, looking as lost as anyone I’ve ever seen, is Sandra. Suddenly, I’m glad I came, and even happier Cassie is with me.
Andrius and Bohdan take seats a little way down the corridor.
Sandra looks up, and her face crumples when she sees us. Unsure what to do, I falter, but Cassie goes to her and wraps her arms around her, hugging her close, letting her sob into her shoulder.
It hits me then. Cassie’s stronger than me.
She thinks she’s weak because she isn’t tough, but toughness and true strength aren’t the same thing. Cassie is strong enough to take all the knocks life has thrown her way and still be open. I’m not. I shut down and stay that way. Trouble is, I don’t know how to be any different.
A nurse exits a room and heads our way. “Sandra, love?”
Sandra looks up.
“Your grandson has entered the world, and he’s a bouncing baby boy, healthy and big. Do you want to come and meet him?”
Sandra stands shakily, both Cassie and the nurse holding an arm to help her. “You ought to come, Konstantin. You never know, you might be about to meet your son.”
I nod and follow Sandra, Cassie, and the nurse. When we reach the room, Cassie stands to one side. “I’ll wait here, right outside the door, okay?”
She speaks to Sandra, but I know she means the words for me too.
We go inside, and I don’t know what I expected. I thought Liza would be in here still, but she’s not. Instead, a nurse is holding a baby wrapped in a blanket, and she smiles at us.
“Sandra, meet your grandson.” She offers the baby to her, and Sandra makes a strangled sound as she looks down at him, taking him in her arms.
I stare at him, and I know soul deep he’s not mine. I’ll do the paternity test to be sure, but this kid is the spit of Denis. It’s as if Liza didn’t have any of her DNA in there. He’s got pale blue eyes, and I know kids are born with blue eyes, but his are the same pale as Denis’ were. Add to that his shock of dark blond hair, and I think I can safely say this little boy isn’t mine.
I should hate this child. He’s the living emblem of the betrayal of one of my closest men, with the woman I fucked, but I don’t. He’s innocent and had nothing to do with what his parents did.
“He doesn’t look like Liza,” Sandra says. She doesn’t add that he looks nothing like me either, but we both know it. “I’ll organize the paternity test,” she says. She bounces her arms a little, and I can see the love start to infuse her face, bringing some joy and light back.
“I want you to know,” I say, “no matter what the test shows, if you need help, you come to me. Okay?”
She turns to me, and her eyes fill with tears. “That’s incredibly kind of you, Konstantin. I’d like for you and Cassie to be in his life.”
Me and Cassie? She says it as if we’re an item, a permanent item. We’re not.
“Sandra.” The nurse who fetched us from our seating area in the corridor touches Sandra’s arm.
“If you want to leave the little one with Carol, we can go and see Liza, okay?”
“Okay,” Sandra says with a deep breath in. “Is it time?”
“It is time, lovely, yes.”
“Okay.”
Sandra hands the baby to Carol, who beams down at him, and we follow the nurse out of the room.
Cassie comes with us as we walk to another door, much farther down the corridor.
Outside the door, a doctor approaches and speaks to Sandra. “We will turn off life support, and from then it will take only minutes for Liza to pass. She’s fully brain dead, which means without the life support she can’t breathe on her own.”
“Will she suffer?” Sandra asks.
“No, we’ve given her pain medication to ensure she isn’t suffering. We don’t think she’s aware, at least not in the sense we think of it.”
“Okay.”
Sandra breathes in and out deeply through her mouth, and then she gives a firm nod as if galvanizing herself.
“Do you want to be alone, or do you want us to come with you?” Cassie asks.
“I think I’d like to do this alone,” Sandra says. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d wait outside.”
I’m so thankful she doesn’t want me in there. I’m such a wuss. I’ve had men’s brains blown out right next to me, but what you can handle in the fog and adrenaline of war is very different to this. This is cold … sterile. Purposeful.
I sit on one of the hard, plastic chairs, Cassie next to me, and we wait. She doesn’t talk to me, and I’m grateful because I don’t have a lot to say right now. After what seems like hours but is probably fifteen minutes, Sandra comes out of the room. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her cheeks are blotchy.
“She’s gone,” she says simply.
“I’m so sorry.” Cassie goes to her, hugging her.
How can Cassie be so generous? This woman’s daughter would have had Cassie killed for nothing more than catching my eye.
This is what goodness looks like.
I don’t think I’ve ever truly seen it before.
When they are done hugging and talking, I approach. “Would you like us to take you somewhere, Sandra? Or do you have a friend you’d like us to call?”
“My sister is coming to pick me up in about an hour. She’s going to meet Archie, that’s what I want to call him, after Liza’s grandad.”
“Ah, that’s lovely,” Cassie says.
“Thank you both so much for being here. I will get the paternity test set up and call you when it is organized,” Sandra says.
“Call me before then if you need anything at all.”
“When do you get to take Archie home?” Cassie asks.
“They say in a few days. They need to monitor him, make sure he’s okay, then we can bring him home.”
“Good, he needs to be w
ith his family. Take care of yourself, Sandra.” Cassie gives her another quick hug and then we leave her in the corridor and walk back to where Andrius and Bohdan are sitting. There are about ten female nurses at the small ward desk, and when we got here there were none. They’re all looking in Andrius and Bohdan’s direction and whispering.
Bohdan glances at us, beyond us to the desk, flashes the nurses a grin, and turns back to us. “Ready?”
God, he’s smug at times. I give a curt nod, and we all leave. The ride down in the elevator is silent, and once we hit the outside, I realize that Cassie will need to go with my men because I’ve got a meeting with Margaret this afternoon.
“I’ll see you back at the house after my meeting,” I say to the three of them. I turn on my heel and head to my car.
The meeting with Margaret runs smoothly, as always. I’ve basically put her in charge for the next few weeks and told her I’ve got a lot going on in other areas of business. She knows exactly what it means without asking or prying in a way which might compromise her.
I say hi to some of the staff as I make my way out of the building after the meeting.
“Mr. Silvanov? Mr. Silvanov.” A voice arrests me in my progress, and I pause to turn around. Claudette, the tea lady, is standing by the door of the kitchen and she grins at me. “I wanted to say thank you,” she says.
Ah yes, her birthday. I smile back. “You’re welcome, Claudette. I don’t say this lightly when I tell you that you hold this place together.”
She beams at me and holds her wrist up. “How beautiful is it?”
I look to see the thick silver bracelet dangling from her slender wrist. She’s a smart woman with a trim figure, and she clearly looks after herself. Her clothes are always nice when she changes out of the apron she wears to serve the teas and coffees.
“It looks great,” I say. “I’m glad you like it. How is your son doing? Is he finished at university yet?”
Her son is studying engineering. I remember the pertinent facts about all my employees.
“He finishes this year, and he’s heading for a first-class degree. I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Give him my regards, won’t you?”
“I will, and thank you again. One day I’ll bring the bag into work too, show it off, but I keep it for best. It’s so awfully generous of you.”
I smile at her and shake my head. “As I said before, Claudette, you help keep this place running. So the thanks goes to you.”
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Silvanov.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I leave the office and head to my car. On the way there, I see a GAP store, and on a whim I go inside. Cassie’s words about me buying her fancy clothes when she prefers plain cotton and jeans come to me. I go up to a sales assistant. “Can you help me?” I ask.
She looks at me and nods. “Of course, what is it you’re looking for?”
“I want to buy some clothes for my … girlfriend. She’s a size ten but she likes stuff a bit baggy. I want to get her a capsule wardrobe. Some t-shirts. Couple of sweaters. A few pairs of jeans. Some sneakers, oh, and underwear, plain stuff.”
She gives me a considered look for a moment then laughs. “Went to Victoria’s Secret only to be told it’s not the right thing?”
“Yeah, if by Victoria’s Secret you mean Agent Provocateur, Dior, and Gucci.”
“Damn, you bought her Gucci and she’s not happy? So now you’re buying her a whole new wardrobe? Must be love.”
“Can you put me a mini capsule wardrobe together for her?” I ask, ignoring her idiotic words about me being in love.
“Sure. Summer, yeah?”
“Yes, and if you’ve got a summer style dress or two throw them in as well. Something suitable for Paris.”
“You got it.” She bustles off, saying under her breath, “The best ones are always taken.”
Thirty minutes later, and I have what seems to be an entire wardrobe for less than one of my suits. I haul it all to the car, throw the bags in the boot, and drive home.
Chapter Eleven
Cassie
I’m still pissed at Konstantin by the time he arrives home. He walked away from me at the hospital without a kiss, without even a glance. So rude. He’s such an arrogant wanker sometimes.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door, and I know it’s him because I saw his car pull up from the bedroom window; who else would it be anyway?
I sigh, but I want to see my flat and get my things, so I go to the door despite wanting to ignore him. I throw it open and scowl at him.
He looks oddly unsure, not his usual confident self. “I, erm,” he begins. “Well, erm, what you said about me not buying you things you liked? I went to Gap and bought you these.” He holds three bags stuffed full in the air and indicates the bed. “May I?”
My simmering bad mood dials down a notch as I nod at him. He comes into the room. “I asked a sales assistant for help and told her to get you things you’ll be more comfortable in, including underwear. I told her to pick a couple dresses for Paris too. So take what you want; anything you don’t want I’ll take back. The receipts are in the bag. When you’ve decided what you want, pack it up, but you might wish to take one smart outfit from the things I bought you before, for if we go to dinner.”
“Dinner?” I say.
“Yes, with Damen and his wife, Maya. You’ll get on, I’m sure.”
“Why, is she like me?”
He laughs. “No, she’s very glamorous.”
Ouch. That hurt. He must see it in my expression because he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Shit, I didn’t mean it that way. I am so bad at this, Cassie. She’s glamorous, but she’s not beautiful the way you are. I didn’t mean it as an insult in any way.”
“But the women you dated before me, they were all glamorous; all like her, I bet. I don’t fit. I don’t fit you, and I don’t fit your world.”
“You don’t fit my world, Cassie, and I hope one day you’ll be safe to leave, if that’s what you still want, but the reason you don’t fit is you’re too damn good for it. Not because you’re not beautiful enough, or any of the things that go on in your head.”
I don’t want to leave at times like this. I’m torn. Half wanting to run away, and half wanting to stay forever. I think he’s just as torn because he changes his mind as much as I do.
“Stop being so down on yourself,” he orders.
“Yes, sir,” I say, and it’s jokingly, but as soon as I say it the air around us changes.
“The doctors tests shouldn’t take too long, so by tomorrow we should know if we’re both clean.”
“Okay,” I say.
I want him inside me with nothing between us, but I also don’t. The reason I don’t is it’s another barrier to break down, which I’ll have to build back up when he lets me go.
I’m a prisoner who doesn’t want to escape. How ironic is that?
“Come here,” he orders, and crooks his finger.
I do as he says and go to him. He brushes my hair back from my face and kisses me long and deep. I melt into it, into him. Soon we’re naked, and I don’t recall how we got from dressed to nude, but I don’t care. He’s kissing me and stroking me all over, and I want him so much. The first touch, the first kiss, and I’m wet for him, every time.
He rolls on a condom and sits on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the thick carpet. Positioning me over him, he has me close, legs bent and splayed on either side of him, my knees on the comforter.
I start to move, and it feels different between us for some reason. We’re slower than usual; he’s being gentle with me, as if I’m made of glass. His hands sweep up my back and then down again. He lifts my hair, caressing my shoulders, slow thrusts up and down. We’re still kissing and touching, front to front as I move on him.
“Touch yourself,” he commands.
I do. I would have been embarrassed to do this with Tim, thinking maybe, deep down, he didn’t approve. Wi
th Konstantin, I know, whatever else may be a barrier between us, but this … this we’re good at. We don’t have any barriers when it comes to sexual intimacy, unlike emotional intimacy. I’ve not been with many men at all, but I know we’re amazing at this.
“Christ, Cassie, I’ve never wanted anyone as much as you.” Konstantin’s words echo my thoughts and warm me to know I’m not alone in this desperate, needy thing between us.
I stroke myself, and I start to move faster, grinding on him as I take what I need. Konstantin gives a surprised shout and pulls me close as he comes. I haven’t come yet, but I don’t mind; it was still good.
Konstantin, however, does mind. As soon as he’s come down from the immediate high, he pulls me gently off him and flips me onto my back on the bed, and settles with his dark head between my legs. His mouth is wicked sin incarnate, and in a few moments, I find my own release, pulling him to into me by his hair as I come like crazy.
After, we lie next to one another, panting, and he laughs. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“I doubt it, the life you lead,” I joke.
He turns to me, brushes my hair from my damp cheek, and kisses me softly.
“Want to go get your things?”
“Okay.”
We share a quick shower, my hair pulled high on my head in a bun so as not to get it wet. We get dressed, and I’m more than a little shook up when Konstantin puts a huge ass gun into a halter wrapped around his t-shirt and throws an open, light shirt over to conceal it. It doesn’t conceal it all that well in my opinion, but maybe that’s the look he’s going for.
We hit the downstairs hallway, and Konstantin calls out for Bohdan.
“Yes, boss,” the man says as he appears in the hallway. He’s wearing faded jeans and a tight t-shirt, and he looks far too handsome for his own good.
