by Rose, Bella
“That’s an arrogant question, don’t you think?” Mary was shocked by his words, and yet fascinated beyond belief. This guy truly had no shame. “What does it matter if I find you attractive?”
“I find you attractive.”
Now she knew he was lying. “I saw the way you looked at me in the classroom. Your gaze slid past me as if I were dead space. If we passed each other on the street you wouldn’t look twice.” Mary thrust her chin out belligerently. “I get it. I’m not your type and I don’t particularly care.” She sniffed and prepared to walk to her car without another word to this cretin.
VLAD COULDN’T HELP but wonder what had happened in Mary Reilly’s past to make her think that men didn’t find her attractive. She wasn’t an Amazon with generous breasts and voluptuous hips, but she was hardly some dried up old prune.
“Your words say you don’t care,” Vlad called after her. “But your body language says otherwise.”
It was as if she couldn’t help herself. She stopped her huffy walk to her car and turned to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Women are always going on about how they don’t want to be evaluated for just their physical looks.” Vlad waved a hand to indicate her khakis and sweatshirt. “So what if I’m attracted to your mind? The way a person thinks or behaves can be just as attractive as the way they look. Don’t you think? In fact, I might suggest that personality is a far more important ingredient in mutual attraction than looks.”
“So you’re saying I’m ugly, but that you like the way I think?”
He cocked his head, trying to figure her out. “You’re deliberately misunderstanding me, I think. Perhaps it’s easier for you to hate me. Then you don’t have deal with the question of what your attraction to me means.”
“Who says I’m attracted to you?” She looked outraged. “You’re rude, presumptuous, and probably a criminal.”
“And yet you find me fascinating,” Vlad pointed out. “What does that say about you?”
“I do not find you fascinating!” she argued. “I find you disturbing. And I would appreciate it if you would go away.”
Vlad caught a hint of movement from the corner of his eye. He realized that the two of them had been standing there exchanging words for far too long. In this neighborhood one had to keep moving lest one attracted attention from the wrong sorts of people, which they apparently had.
“If you’ll excuse me?” Mary started to walk to her car.
Vlad was about to stop her when a young man wearing a black hoodie saved him the trouble. The guy placed himself between Mary and her car. His body language was aggressive. His face was dark beneath his hood and Vlad could see by the bulge in his pocket that he was packing some sort of weapon.
“Where you think you’re going lady?” the youth asked in a thick Bostonian accent.
“To my car.” Mary seemed to think she could bluster her way out of this predicament. Vlad had to give her points for bravery. He honestly wouldn’t have suspected she had it in her. “So if you’ll just step aside, I’ll be on my way.”
The young man gestured to the bags she held in her arms. “Give me that stuff you’re carrying first.”
“You want my students’ spelling tests?” Mary asked drily. “Why? Are you going to grade them for me?”
“No, bitch!” the young man snarled. “I want your wallet.”
“I’m a teacher in this shit neighborhood,” Mary told him. “Do you really think I have anything in my wallet that would interest you?”
“That’s for me to decide.”
Vlad started forward to offer his help, but another young man materialized out of a dark shadow on his left. “Where you think you going?” The second hoodlum wanted to know. “You give me your wallet and I won’t kill your stupid white ass.”
Vlad sighed, feeling annoyed. Then he turned and pegged this second youth with a hard look. “Do you know who Vladimir Sokolov is?”
The young man scoffed. “Yeah, so?”
“That would be me.” Vlad turned and plucked the gun right out of the young man’s hand. “Now get your scrawny ass out of here before I end your life without even stopping to wipe the blood off my boots.”
“Yo, Charlie!” the youth called out. “Let’s bounce!”
“No way,” Charlie argued with a shake of his head. “I want this bitch to give me her bag. She’s hiding something.”
“Charlie, I mean it.” The young man Vlad had disarmed was slowly backing away from the scene. “I’m leaving you here alone, man.”
“Fuck you!” Charlie snarled.
Vlad had already started toward Charlie when the young man made the epically bad decision to lunge at Mary. He grabbed her purse, but the stubborn woman refused to give it up. She held on tight, her other things dropping to the ground with a clatter as Charlie tried in vain to steal her purse.
“Let go!” Charlie ordered.
Mary tripped, falling to the pavement but refusing to give up. “You let go! It’s mine and I refuse to spend three hours at the DMV trying to get a new license just because some thug stole my purse!”
Vlad almost laughed at that. Instead, he pulled the slide on the weapon he’d stolen from the other man. The noise was loud, even against the backdrop of the fight going on for Mary’s purse. Young Charlie stopped immediately. He turned and gaped at Vlad.
“My name is Vladimir Sokolov,” Vlad said calmly. “Either you leave now on your own two feet or later in a body bag. The choice is yours.”
Charlie didn’t have to be told twice. He bolted from the scene as though his trousers were on fire. His retreat left Mary kneeling on the ground trying to scoop her things back into her tote bags.
“Are you all right?” Vlad asked gently. He squatted down to help her.
She pushed his hands away. “Just go! I think you’ve helped quite enough.”
“Mary, it’s all right. They’ve gone.” He saw her take a swipe at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “You’re safe now.”
“I will be when you’ve gone.”
Vlad chuckled. Then Mary stood up and marched to her car. She fumbled for her keys with hands too shaky to unlock the door. He stood and followed her. Taking the key from her hand, he unlocked the driver’s door and wordlessly took her things and put them in the backseat.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, as if her manners wouldn’t allow her to be rude.
“I’m sorry this happened, but I’m glad I was here to help out.” Vlad touched her shoulder.
It was as if everything was too much all at once. Mary burst into tears. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and sobbed in loud, heaving gusts. He was generally useless with a crying woman, but somehow Mary was different. There was no over dramatization here. She’s been through something very frightening and she was reacting the way any normal human being would.
Without thinking, Vlad reached out and drew her into his arms. He held her close to his chest and rubbed her back, murmuring soothing phrases in Russian until he felt her begin to calm. She smelled like fresh vanilla. It felt shockingly natural to hold her in his arms.
“Thank you,” Mary whispered. “I appreciate your help, and the insight you’ve given me on your brother. But I think I’d just like to drive home now if you don’t mind.”
Vlad let her go, surprised at how bereft he felt without her warmth against his body. “Drive safely, and I’ll be in touch. I’d like to swing by and check on you later, if you don’t mind. I want to make sure you’re all right after this.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she whispered.
He rubbed her arms. “Well I do.”
She didn’t answer, but Vlad could sense that something strange had happened between them tonight.
Chapter Three
Mary filled her bathtub with shaking hands. She sprinkled some calming salts into the frothing hot water and choked back a sob as she thought of how close she had come to disaster less than an hour ago.
Sli
pping out of her bathrobe, she put one toe in the water to test it. The warmth felt good. Right now she felt as though she were frozen with dread and horror. Getting into the tub, she sank beneath the comforting warm liquid embrace and tried to sort through all of her feelings from that evening.
No sooner had she shut her eyes to try a few breathing exercises to help her relax, than the sound of scratching at her bedroom window made her freeze. She sucked in a deep breath and held it. There it was again. It sounded as if someone was deliberately tapping on the window. Never before had she so heartily regretted her choice to rent the ground floor unit. What if someone broke in?
Mary stood up so quickly that the water sloshed out of the tub onto the floor. She gingerly stepped out onto the wet linoleum, not wanting to slip and fall and make things worse. She felt horrifyingly vulnerable. What if one of Sokolov’s men was trying to get her? What if he was making good on his threats about her treatment of Ioann?
She grabbed her bath robe and pulled it on, belting it snug around her waist. She slipped from her bathroom into her bedroom. Groping around behind her nightstand, she came up with a baseball bat. It was her only mode of defending herself. Gripping it in one hand, she began creeping toward the window. Surely if there was someone knocking, they’d still be there peering inside right?
The air was cold in front of the thin pane of glass. Mary squatted down beneath the window and then slowly raised herself up high enough to see. It was pitch dark outside with no moon to speak of. The streetlights cast an eerie orangish glow on the pavement. She couldn’t make out the shape of anything human out there. It was as if every living creature in the world had disappeared.
A crash against her front door made Mary drop like a rock to her bedroom floor. She put her hands over her mouth to cover her ragged breathing. Her heart was running away with her and her lungs worked like a bellows in an attempt to keep oxygen going to her brain. She could hardly catch her breath at all.
It was tempting to call out, maybe tell someone she’d already called the police. But she hadn’t and she wouldn’t. She could end up reporting nonexistent intruders because she was afraid of her own shadow after some thugs had tried to rob her. The police didn’t look with a friendly eye toward false alarms. And all of this had to be a false alarm. It had to be!
Crawling on her hands and knees, dragging the bat behind her, Mary made her way into the living room from her bedroom. The short distance felt like miles. She’d left her front lights on as well as keeping the living room lamps lit.
It was tempting to go peek through the peephole, but Mary had watched enough television to know that wasn’t safe at all. So she crawled over to her picture window instead. The beautiful bay window was one of the things she’d liked most about her apartment when she’d first looked at the place.
Now she was crawling into the window seat and trying to stay hidden behind the mound of pillows and blankets she’d left there after her long reading session the night before. Mary leaned to one side, trying to see the front stoop.
Gasping, she ducked back down again. There was most definitely a shadowy presence on her front steps! What was she going to do? She couldn’t very well face those thugs again, this time wearing nothing but her bathrobe. Yet she certainly didn’t want them standing on her porch all night either.
“It’s too bad I can’t drop boiling oil from a turret,” she muttered. “That would get rid of them.”
She shoved her wildly curling hair out of her face. It had been piled on top of her head for her bath, but now it was springing everywhere as though it had a life of its own. Mary didn’t care. She was completely out of options.
Clutching her robe tightly in one hand, she kept the baseball bat in the other. Half hiding the bat behind the door, Mary took a deep breath. “Who is it?”
“Mary?”
The semi familiar male voice didn’t inspire any more of Mary’s confidence. “Who is it?”
“It’s Vladimir.”
“What?” Mary reached for the door, pulling it open and wondering what had brought this man to her doorstep after he’d seen her drive off toward home less than an hour ago. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I was going to come by and check on you, remember?”
Mary glared at him, feeling suspicious. “How did you even have my address?”
“Do you think a man like Vladimir Sokolov wouldn’t make it his business to know everything about anyone who has constant access to his child?” Vlad cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
VLAD COULD SEE he’d interrupted her at something. He’d just felt an overwhelming need to make certain she was all right. Then he realized she was wearing nothing but a terrycloth bathrobe. The old fabric was soft and worn. It hugged every curve and muscle of her very feminine shape, and Vlad realized the casual look she donned for teaching was hiding a body designed for enjoyment.
She seemed to guess the direction of his thoughts at least a little because she clutched her robe tighter at her neck. “You really shouldn’t be here, Vlad. I appreciate your concern, but this is over the top.”
She had called him Vlad. That was more telling than she could probably imagine. He tried to shake off his instinctive male response and at least react with some modicum of decorum. “Can I come in for just a second? I don’t want you standing here with the door open.”
“You could leave,” she pointed out.
“I could.”
Then she heaved a monumental sigh and stepped back to allow him to enter her apartment. Vlad felt a strange sense of victory at that concession. He was inside her space. It was a good start.
He glanced around at the comfortable arrangement of secondhand furniture and the lack of clutter. “You’re a reader, hmm?” He gestured to the small pile of books on a table beside her recliner.
“I’m a teacher.” She sat primly in her chair and pulled a soft fleece blanket around her shoulders. “It sort of comes with the territory.”
Vlad took a seat on the couch. “This a really nice apartment.”
“If you tell me that you like what I’ve done with the place I think I’m going to laugh until I cry.” He voice sounded exhausted.
“Okay, then I won’t tell you.” He looked her over. Her features were pale and drawn. She looked stressed out. “Are you all right?”
“Other than feeling completely paranoid? Yes, I suppose I’m fine.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “Every little noise startles me and I keep thinking that I hear people sneaking around outside.”
“It’s normal to feel that way after such a shock.” Vlad wished he could do something else to soothe her. In fact, he was really enjoying the idea of taking her in his arms and making her forget what had happened entirely.
“I don’t care if it’s normal,” she said stiffly. “I can understand all about cortisol and how it affects my nervous system. That doesn’t mean I want to be affected by this chemical process in my brain. I just want to feel safe enough to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.”
It was an interesting glimpse into her mind. “Are you particularly sensitive to cortisol?”
“If you’re asking whether or not I suffer from PTSD, the answer is no.” Mary cocked her head to one side, the tangled pile of long hair on top of her head curling around her forehead. “How is it that you know about cortisol and PTSD?”
He really didn’t want to get into that now that he’d opened the can of worms. “Let’s just say PTSD is an occupational hazard.”
“Yes. I suppose it would be,” she mused. “So what is it that you do exactly? Are you really a bodyguard? Or are you one of the enforcer types?” She seemed to be warming to the topic. “I could see you as an assassin. You’re certainly cool enough under pressure.”
“My function within the organization is as a bodyguard.” He didn’t see any harm in telling her that much. “I’m also my father’s oldest child which makes me his heir.”
“Okay that’s weird.” She wrinkled up her nose, looking even more fetching than she had only a second before. Her personality was really beginning to shine through the shell she wore like armor. Then she shrugged. “I suppose it’s really no different than having to inherit any other family business. I mean, I could say that the average heir doesn’t have to dodge bullets and administer beatings in order to earn his place in the company hierarchy. But the way corporate culture is going these days, that’s not really true.”
“You’re a very practical person,” he acknowledged. “Most people find my line of work either extremely disturbing, or so fascinating that they treat me like a character on the Sopranos.”
“The Sopranos were Italian,” she pointed out. “I’m going to guess that there are significant differences between Italian crime organizations and Russian ones.”
“Some,” he agreed.
She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle it. “I really need to get to bed.”
Vlad raised his eyebrows.
“Alone,” she clarified. “And really, I cannot imagine why would want to go to bed with me.”
“Is that actually a question?” he asked. “Because I cannot imagine why you would think that I wouldn’t want to go to bed with you.”
“Look at me,” she told him flatly. “Really look at me.”
“I am.”
“No. You’re not. You can’t find me attractive. I’m not your type at all.”
Vlad raked her with his gaze, wanting her to see that he was very much attracted to her. “You are a beautiful woman, Mary. There’s nothing wrong with the way you look. I just find it sad that you’re so convinced that you’re not my type.”
Her eyes grew round with surprise and he noticed in the warm glow of her lamp that her eyes were a beautiful shade of green. It was yet another thing she probably didn’t realize that she had going for her.
Vlad stood up. “I’ll go and leave you to your rest. Are you certain that you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” She got to her feet, keeping the blanket tucked securely around her shoulders. “I do appreciate your help earlier this evening. And I also appreciate that you wanted to make certain I was all right. Now I believe our association is at an end.”
