by Ally Adams
His lips thinned, his eyes narrowed and I saw how she really pushed his buttons.
“If you want to tart around and party with every guy who has a joint to offer you, then this is what’s going to happen. Get daddy to rescue you.” He hissed.
Oh yeah, we’re really going to be able to get tonight back on track after this. I started to move backward towards the door and The Russian ran his hands over his face. In the background I could see the ocean through the large glass doors of his balcony, and a table set for two with champagne glasses.
“Don’t go,” he said, to me. “Leesa was just leaving.”
“ I’m not going anywhere yet, we haven’t finished talking,” she said, and then glanced in my direction. “But you can leave anytime you like.”
“Carla’s not leaving,” The Russian said through clenched teeth.
“Neither am I.” She sat down on a chair in his lounge room and kicking off her shoes, she wrapped her legs around her. “We’ve been together since high school, we’re not just throwing it away on some whim.”
I held up my hand to get their attention. “I’m just going to leave you to it,” I said, gazing at the hole he had made in the wall and the mad woman in front of him. I turned and headed out the door, hearing his deep voice call me back. I got to my car, unlocked it, and throwing my offerings onto the passenger’s seat, I sped away. When I got far enough away I started to cry.
I knew he was too good to be true. I believed he hadn’t hurt her and wouldn’t, plus she confirmed that, but he had put a hole in the wall. Was he capable of more? But she ruined our night, our lovely romantic night.
I didn’t go home; Josh and Spencer were having a night together. I rang Aimee and luckily she was home for the night and told me to come straight over. I took my cheese and chocolates to her place, where she promised to have a good red open and breathing when I arrived. The disappointment overwhelmed me. I had been waiting for that night since dinner at his family’s house, and now, I had entered someone’s soap drama.
I took a deep breath. I’m okay, I’m going to be okay. Thank God for my new job. I would just throw myself into that, I’d be fine, in fact I was so excited about it that I was going to be more than fine. I might get a cat for company. Yep, that was my future sewn up.
Chapter 15
Thank God for Aimee and her box of tissues. She was such a sensitive soul that she used as many as I did while I told her the story. Luckily her flatmate was out to dinner, so we sat on her sofa—Aimee in her pajamas, me dressed up to see The Russian—and I told her the whole miserable story. She reached over to top up my wine glass and I waved her off, reaching instead for some of that great brie I had bought to eat with The Russian.
“I have to drive,” I said, explaining my lack of hitting the bottle.
“You can crash here,” she offered.
“Thanks Aim, but I’ll go home, wash my make-up off, crawl into bed with my Kindle and just pretend it didn’t happen.
“It doesn’t mean it is over,” she said. “He said some lovely things about you, and defended you to her ... you just have to put it all in perspective.”
“I know, you’re right, but if he puts a hole through the wall every time he gets angry or that ex keeps hanging around trying to persuade him to get back together, I don’t know if I want the drama ... you should have seen her, she was beautiful.”
“So are you,” Aimee said, loyally. “The Russian said it was over with her, so maybe just give him some time and let him move her on for good.”
“I haven’t given up on him,” I said, “I’m just disappointed, pissed off, flat ... tonight was our night. Why can’t I just have a normal relationship? How hard is it to find an available guy who does normal things like dating without the ex dropping in?” I sighed.
“Honey, tell me about it. Do you see a boyfriend here?” she said.
*****
When I pulled into my driveway just after ten-thirty, my breath hitched; The Russian’s silver Merc was there, parked in my car spot. What a cheek!
I parked him in and with a glance upstairs, I could see the living room lights were on so I guessed Josh and Spencer were entertaining him. I quickly checked my face to ensure there were no tear tracks or smudged mascara, did a quick compact powder improvement job and made my way upstairs. As I opened the door all three men turned to look at me; they were on the sofa, watching soccer, a beer in their hands. The Russian looked like a lion sitting next to two meerkats.
Josh and Spencer rose and I gave Spencer a quick kiss hello; I hadn’t seen him for a few weeks.
“Well we’re exhausted, better turn in,” Josh said, with a raised eyebrow and a look in my direction that said ‘good luck’.
“Thanks for the beer and company,” The Russian said.
“Our pleasure,” Spencer assured him. “I know a lot more about soccer now. We’re going to get to a game,” he said as he followed Josh and the room was suddenly empty ... just The Russian and me.
He walked towards me as I put my handbag down on the end of the kitchen bench, and moving into my space, he put his hands in his pockets and we looked at each other. I wanted to say something; I just hadn’t had time to prepare what my next conversation with him was going to be. My thoughts jumbled with a thousand words: Did he hit back? Has he ever hit her? Does he want her back? Where do we fit in? Is there a ‘we’? Should I get a cat and forget about men forever? Why the hell does he have to be so frigging gorgeous? Does he have to fill out those jeans and black t-shirt so damn well?
He was going through the same dilemma; The Russian held my gaze and ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he thought. He put his hands out and reached for me. I must have flinched, I didn’t realize I did, but the expression on his face said he was hurt and a bit worried.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, and I let him pull me into him.
I looked up at him. “I know that.”
“Do you? I think you’re a little scared of me now,” he said. “I’m sorry you were caught up in that.” His presence was overwhelming but I wasn’t scared of him, I was scared of how I felt about him and what was going to happen next.
“Can we talk about it?” I said.
“Of course,” he said, his chest rose and fell heavily as if he knew a discussion was inevitable. But then we didn’t talk; we just looked at each other. My hands sat on his hips and his played with my neck and rubbed my back. Neither of us spoke. He raised a hand to cup my cheek, his other hand threaded into my hair at the back of my neck. He leaned down and his lips touched mine. It was so slow, so sublime that if I hadn’t been pressing against him, I would have slid down to the ground and melted. I felt something else pressing against me; his erection was hard and obvious. Our lips parted and our kisses got deeper; my heart was beating so loudly I’m surprised Josh didn’t yell out to keep the noise down.
Then The Russian slowly pulled away, took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “You want to talk?”
“About what?” I said, and The Russian smiled.
I nodded. “I do.”
“I want to go back to my place,” he said, “with you. We can talk then if you like.”
I glanced at the clock – it was nearing eleven p.m.
“I know it’s late,” he said, following my gaze. “But I haven’t got training tomorrow morning because of our bye, and if you’re free?”
“I’m free,” I said, probably a bit too quickly. Way uncool me.
“I want to show you something.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Not that,” he said, and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well maybe that,” he countered. “Tomorrow, I want to show you a sunrise over the beach ... I planned it.”
I looked at him with surprise. The Russian continued to surprise me – who would have thought he’d be so romantic? He also assumed we’d be staying the night together … I think that was a good thing.
“And then,” he continued, “I thought maybe we could go to the gym a
nd do a workout together ...”
“Love to,” I said. I know that probably sounds weird but I love starting the day with a workout; my body buzzes all day and my mind is sharp yet relaxed. To workout with The Russian was even better ... watching him flex was the most amazing foreplay.
“Then ...” I took over, “we could come back for an ocean swim to finish it off.”
“Perfect. Then do brunch,” The Russian concluded. “There’s a great place beachside. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds perfect,” I agreed. “I’ve parked you in since you took my spot,” I said, with attitude.
“I’m surprised you haven’t organized me a parking space and entry key yet,” he teased. “We’ll swap cars and I’ll drop you back tomorrow. Grab some gear.”
I nodded and raced into the room to throw my gym gear, swimsuit and a cafe outfit into a small bag. I grabbed my traveling toiletries bag—the spare set I kept permanently packed and updated for our away games—and headed back into the living room. The Russian looked impressed.
“That was quick,” he said.
“I’m a natural beauty,” I said, with a shrug.
“That you are,” he agreed, and I gave him a ‘thanks for the compliment’ grin.
“At away games I always shared a room with Steffi because she took forever to get ready. It worked well, I was done in about ten minutes and she could take over the bathroom for the rest of the time until we were needed downstairs.”
“Lucas is the same,” The Russian joked about the Saints’ captain. “I’ve had to share with him a few times on away trips. Try getting in front of that mirror ...” he shook his head.
I laughed at the thought of the two beautiful Saints men, fighting for bathroom space.
The Russian grabbed my bag and opened the door as I ran around turning off the lights. I grabbed my handbag and keys to swap cars and we headed downstairs. My night was back, my romance was back on track and life was brilliant again. I offered a prayer of thanks to God, the universe and the Patron Saint of Lovers ... who was that?
Chapter 16
On entering The Russian’s house again, I held my breath. I sort of expected Leesa to be back, but the place was quiet. The only evidence of the former drama was a hole in the plasterboard wall. The Russian looked a bit sheepish as he saw me looking at it.
“Here’s the plan,” he said. He was so like me, I always had a plan.
“Let’s go for a beach walk and do our talking there, then come back here and crash for the night. First light is at quarter-to-seven, sunrise at just after seven o’clock ...” he stopped, catching my expression.
“I’m impressed,” I said.
“I hope so. I’ve got some other impressive things to show you too, if you can be any more impressed by me,” he teased.
“Does seem impossible,” I agreed.
He put my bag down in one of the bedrooms ... I didn’t know if it was his, hmm, interesting, and he grabbed the keys and then my hand. We went out through the balcony glass doors and he locked them.
He kicked his shoes off and suggested I did the same; we left them near the door. I turned and breathed in the salt air and the view. Even at night by moonlight it was stunning; I could only imagine what it was like to live there when you could see it all the time. We took the stairs down the side of his condo and within a minute were on the beach. There were people around even at that hour and we made our way to the harder sand on the water’s edge and began to walk. It was the most magic of settings. The moon lit the water, it was quiet and balmy and The Russian took my hand. It was so private – most people on the beach wanted their own space so no one was there to witness us, ask for autographs or get photos. Magic.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you want to hear ... I’ve never hit a woman and I never will, ever. Leesa just knows how to rile me ...”
“But why did you stay together this long if it was so wrong?”
The Russian sighed and looked out to sea, as we continued to walk along the beach.
“I know this will probably sound stupid, but I guess we didn’t know how to leave,” he said, with a shrug. “We were together from our school days and I knew it wasn’t a great relationship, but we had invested so much time, it seemed futile to throw it away – like it just should work or it once did, so let’s force it,” he tried to explain it. “But once I got contracted and couldn’t give her the time she wanted, things got worse. It’s one of the reasons I signed with the Saints.”
“To move here? To get away from her?” I asked.
“More or less. It was running away, or running home ... my family moved here when I started middle school … Dad got a transfer here. That’s how I met Leesa because her father kept a house here, he wanted Leesa schooled away from the city lights. As soon as we graduated, she was out of here. When I came back to play for the Saints, I knew Leesa wouldn’t want to come back, she wanted the, Hollywood lifestyle. She needs to be in the party scene and I hate that scene.”
I nodded, not saying anything in case he stopped talking. I’d never heard him say so much.
“Did you want to ask me anything?” he said.
I bit my lip, thinking. I wanted to ask him a thousand questions but I wanted the night to be about us too, what was left of it. “Do you want to get back with her?”
“Never.”
I loved that word, it was so ‘forever’. His wary eyes watched me as I prepared my next question.
“Do you want some time out to ... you know ... play the field, have a break from relationships, just have some fun? Because, I’m not interested in a fling, but I’ll understand if you need to do that.” I stopped breathing while I waited for his answer.
He shook his head. “I’ve played the field during the times we’ve been off and there’s been a lot of times. The ex has been playing the field on me for years. I hate that; I won’t live with that kind of relationship again.”
Just what I wanted to hear, my stomach settled down again. The Russian was ticking all my boxes, I was getting the security I needed to think we had a chance.
Then he brought it home beautifully.
“I wish you and I had met earlier, years ago,” he said, and my heart went straight to my throat. I swallowed, holding back tears. “I know it’s really early days, but we get each other and what we need to do.” He turned around, spinning me under his arm like a dance move and put his arm around my shoulder as we walked back in the moonlight towards his place.
I nodded. “The partner of an athlete is not an easy role.”
“But if the partners aren’t competing or jealous it can be great,” he said. “I’ve seen it around the club, like Lucas and Mia. She’s a sports physio, she loves the game, loves him, gets what he has to do and he needs her. So far, you seem calm ... no tantrums, no demands, you even make me want to work harder at being better.”
I smiled up at him, flattered he would say that. I felt the same; in fact, I was hoping my last match was going to be super impressive if The Russian was going to be watching me from one of the ten seats he had bought at the auction.
“What about Nik and Sasha?” I asked about our mutual friends, curiosity getting the better of me.
“They’re solid, but different. They’re both ambitious but not competing, so they help each other. Nik needs security and Sasha has that in buckets. Not sure about Tomás and Alice though.”
“Why?” I asked, even though I’d only met Alice once.
The Russian shrugged. “Just a feeling they won’t make it.”
I smiled at him and gave him a poke.
“What?” he grinned at me.
“Sasha said you loved to be amongst the girl gossip.”
“Hard not to be,” he rolled his eyes. “Right next door to my office is Kay, Sasha and Alice; I go home to visit and Dad and I are outnumbered as you know. If you can’t beat them – metaphorically speaking,” he added quickly, “might as well join them.”
�
�Hmm, that so?” I studied him. “So what do you think about that potential new couple ... The Russian and that gorgeous Suns’ player he’s met, Carla Brooker?” I asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“Well,” he said, and gave a long sigh. “Luckiest girl alive, I’d say.”
I laughed and poked his muscled chest again and he grabbed my hand and kissed it.
“Careful, Brooker. Don’t work me up,” he teased. He kissed the top of my head and tucked me under his arm. His condo was close now and our beach walk was going to be over in moments. He must have thought the same thing and suddenly got very serious.
“The thing is, Brooker, I want you to have all the success in the world, because like you, when I finish my contract—and I’ve got a few more years to go yet, knock on wood—I’m going to be trying to stay in the game somehow ... in sport administration, coaching or business. It’s my life. So this existence, these hours and the routine, they are not a passing phase,” he said.
“Exactly, it’s our passion; it’s what I want to stay involved in, I’ve worked hard at it, so have you.”
We arrived back at his place and headed up the stairs. He unlocked the sliding glass door, we left our shoes outside still and entered. The Russian locked the door behind us and turned to me.
“Are we good?” he asked.
“I have one more question,” I said, trying to look as serious as I could.
“Okay, shoot,” he said, a frown appearing on his handsome face.
“What did you make for dinner?”
He grinned. “The best lasagne you have never tasted. It was superb. Still in the fridge ... really, you would have been impressed.”
“Your mom made it didn’t she?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Fine, yes she did.”
I laughed.
“So, are we good now?”
“We’re good,” I agreed. He smiled and looked relaxed for the first time that night. He leaned his forehead against mine and we breathed each other in, and then I yelped as my feet disappeared from underneath me and he swept me up.
