by Imani King
But that still didn’t explain her reaction to him. She kept replaying the whole thing over in her head—from the moment she had noticed him to the moment he had left. She was aware enough to do what the photographer and editor asked of her—‘tilt your head, smile slightly, cross your legs’—but she wasn’t really there in her mind.
In her mind, she was imagining what it would have been like if he had continued talking to her, and it made her cheeks flushed to the point that Len had to come over and powder her up a few times.
“Something got you hot and bothered, doll?” he said with a laugh the last time he’d come over.
She rolled her eyes at him. Oddly, she felt as if she had known Len forever, when she had only just met him that day.
“You did a great job, Thania!” the photographer said with a smile, and Thania was surprised it was over that quickly. It had all gone by in a blur once Vladislav had left.
“I hope some of them come out alright,” she said, worried now that she hadn’t given it her all, and it would show in the pictures.
“Oh, they’ll be more than alright,” the editor said. “You look stunning in the photos we’ve already seen.”
She said goodbye, changed clothes, removed her makeup, and walked out the magazine’s doors onto the sidewalk. She felt like a completely different person than she had when she’d walked through those same doors just a few hours earlier.
2
Vlad
Vlad heard Maks talk, but he didn’t really listen; his mind was back at the photo shoot from yesterday, thinking about the woman he had seen there. It seems that was all he had been doing since first laying eyes on her.
She was breathtaking. She wore gold bracelets, and they glinted against her skin like bronze in the sunlight. As soon as he saw her, he knew he had to have her. It was really that simple. He was used to getting what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure how to find her.
“Vlad…Vlad!” Maksim Pelegin tried to get his attention, and Vlad swung his eyes toward the company’s chief counsel.
“Sorry,” Vlad murmured, still somewhat lost in thought.
“What has got you so distracted?” Vlad looked across the conference table at the man that asked the question, Mickhail Dvortsov, the heir to the jewelry empire.
These two men were the people he trusted most in the world, but something held him back from sharing his thoughts with them.
“We’ve discussed all of our business. In fact, I think it’s time for a cocktail,” Maks said, as he got up and walked over to the cherry wood bar built in to the corner of the conference room.
There was no need to ask what the other two men would be drinking—Maks reached into the specially designed chiller and pulled out a freezing bottle of Elit by Stolichnaya. He pulled three vintage Dyatkovsky crystal vodka glasses from the shelf and poured a generous amount in each. Careful not to clink the 200-year-old crystal glasses against each other, he carried them back to the table, placing one in front of each of his friends. Finally, he sat down in his seat, pushing the Eames chair back so that he could relax and cross his legs.
The three men were used to the very best that life had to offer. None of them batted an eye at Maks opening yet another $3,000 bottle of vodka, or drinking it out of $500 crystal glasses made in the oldest factory in Russia.
“So, what is going on?” Mick asked once they had all pushed back from the table and gotten comfortable after a few sips of the vodka.
Vlad abruptly stood up and started to pace. Mick and Maks exchanged looks—neither of them had seen Vlad act like this before. Vlad finally stopped pacing and stood facing the floor-to-ceiling windows with his hands in his pockets. He looked at the darkened skyline, the tall buildings in the city beautiful at night, in a way that they weren’t during the day. This was his favorite view since coming to America.
“There’s a woman,” he said in a low voice without turning around.
Maks laughed, and Vlad finally looked back.
“A woman has you pent up like this? Vlad, you turn women away every day.”
“Yes, but not this woman. She was…ethereal.” The other men just looked at Vlad, realizing that he was serious.
“Why don’t you just ask her to dinner?” Mick asked, with a perplexed look on his face. So far, the other men could not see what the dilemma was.
“I can’t. I don’t know her name, or where she works. I don’t know anything about her, really.” Vlad slumped down into his chair again, unbuttoning his collar and loosening his tie before taking another sip of the vodka and sitting back.
“Where did you see her?” Maks asked, matching Vlad’s serious tone.
“At the photo shoot yesterday.”
“Well, if she is a model it should be easy to track her down. I’ll call—”
“She’s not a model. At least, I don’t think she is.”
“What was she doing there, then?”
“I don’t know. It looked like she was going to be the subject of the shoot right after mine, but she did not have the look of a model. She was…I don’t know...as soon as I saw her, I knew I had to speak to her, to see her up close.”
Maks and Mick exchanged another glance; Vlad had never spoken about a woman with such a reverent tone.
Vlad ran one hand through his hair, causing the thick strands to stand up.
“I went up to her. I spoke to her. Her skin is the color of dark caramel, and when I came up behind her she smelled so sexy I did not trust myself to look directly into her eyes. And her body…so many beautiful curves, like a real woman should have. Not like these models I see everywhere.” He stopped abruptly and took a large sip from the crystal glass.
The other two men were silent, listening to Vlad recite this woman’s attributes.
“I can find her for you,” Maks said after a few moments of silence.
“How?”
“I have my ways. Don’t worry about how.” Vlad narrowed his eyes at him.
“That sounds underhanded, Maks. I don’t want to do anything that could be considered wrong, especially if she found out.” Even as Vlad spoke the words, there was hope in his eyes.
“It’s not underhanded, my friend. Just tell me everything you remember about her.”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, I do,” Maks interrupted. “The Vlad Sakharov that I know has never pined for a woman before.”
“I’m not pining…”
“Yes, you are,” Maks interrupted him again. “I’ll find out who she is, simply because I must see this magical creature that has brought my friend Vlad to heel.”
Maks and Mick laughed, while Vlad said nothing, secretly hoping Maks actually could find her.
A half an hour later, Vlad’s executive assistant Karen walked into his office, carrying a stack of papers and looking tired.
“What are you still doing here?” He asked her, surprised. It was almost eight o’clock, and Karen had a family.
“Just getting some extra work done but I’m leaving now,” she said with a small smile, as she put the paperwork into the leather bin on his desk for him to read through at his leisure.
“Okay, have a good night then,” he said, and she waved goodbye.
She was almost to the door when she turned around quickly. “Oh! I almost forgot. Maks asked me to give this to you before you left for the night.”
He reached his hand out for the small piece of paper she was extending to him, not able to read what was on it from upside down. Just then the phone rang on his desk. Karen started to reach for it, but hesitated.
“Go home,” Vlad told her, as he put the small paper inside his jacket pocket.
She waved again and was gone.
“Vladislav Sakharov,” he said as he pressed the speaker phone button.
“Hello, my love.” Vlad sighed and stood up, intending to refill his crystal glass at the built in bar. It was his ex-girlfriend, Irina.
“I’m not your love, Irina. In fact, I’m not your anyth
ing anymore,” he said flatly as he poured a generous amount of Elit in his glass and took a strong swig.
“Oh darling, please don’t be like that. I made one tiny mistake, and you’ve thrown me away,” she said, her thick Russian accent even more pronounced when she used her little girl voice. That voice used to have an unfortunate effect on him; for two years she could get him to do almost anything if she used that voice.
But no longer.
“What do you want?” He settled in his chair behind his desk and started to sort through the stack of papers Karen had left for him in his leather bin.
“I want you, Vlad,” Irina said, suddenly serious.
The little girl inflection in her voice was mysteriously gone. Vlad didn’t respond; there really was not anything to say that hadn’t already been said.
“We broke up six months ago, Irina,” he reminded her.
“No, we didn’t!” she yelled, and he realized that she was drunk again.
“Irina, I’m not doing this again.”
“Doing what, Vlad? Staying in a relationship with the love of your life?”
Vlad laughed bitterly at her words, and this seemed to set her off even more.
“Don’t laugh at me! You…you never appreciated me! I’m beautiful! I’m a famous model and I could have any man I want. I made one mistake, and you throw me away like trash!”
“I didn’t throw you away, Irina. And it wasn’t one mistake.”
“I’m not perfect, Vlad, but you’ll never have someone like me again. You’ll regret the day you left me, and when you, do I won’t…I won’t be around to take you back.”
“I’m sorry that you are in pain,” he said, and he meant it.
He had cared deeply for Irina at one time, but her drinking had split them up even if she didn’t want to admit she had a problem. He was done pretending everything was fine and then cleaning up her messes so no one would find out.
“Why won’t you take me back?” she asked, the little girl voice back again.
Vlad sighed. “We both need to move on with our lives, Irina. It’s been six months. I only want you to be happy.”
“Well, if that was true, you would still be with me! Have I ever told you what an asshole you are?”
Yes, many times.
“I’m hanging up now, Irina.”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me! I swear Vlad, if you hang—”
He pressed the button to end the call and took a deep breath. He had stayed far too long in that relationship. The woman from the day before sprang into his mind again, and he smiled just thinking about her.
He shut things down for the day, and had almost reached the elevator before he remembered the small piece of paper in his pocket. He took it out and was amazed at what he read. Maks had done it.
Thania Walter
335 W. 89th Street
3
Thania
God, those eyes…
Thania shook her head, annoyed at herself for yet again thinking about Vladislav. He had been in her thoughts, and unfortunately, in her dreams as well. She had woken up a little sweaty and a lot turned on, and she couldn’t believe the effect one man was having on her.
While taking a shower, she wondered whether she should tell her best friends about him. She was meeting them for lunch in a little while. Daya would be excited but Asha would be reserved and most likely, a little concerned.
Especially if you tell them how you have basically been obsessed with him since first laying eyes on him yesterday.
She went to her closet and pulled out a pair of high waist black gaucho pants and a simple pink silk tank. The outfit emphasized her bust and her narrow waist, while camouflaging what she wanted hidden. The effect, especially after she wrapped a wide, fabric, multi-colored belt around her waist and knotted it, was an hourglass figure. What woman doesn’t want that, she thought with a smile.
As she was putting on her makeup in the bathroom, she scolded herself yet again for thinking of Vladislav. She had far too much to do for her career to be daydreaming of happily-ever-after with a man she didn’t even know. She had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant where she was meeting Asha and Daya, so she spritzed on her favorite perfume, put her gold bangles on her wrist, hung some chunky gold earrings from her ears, and added a few gold rings to her fingers. She grabbed her Valentino bag, slipped on her ballet flats, and was just about to open the door when the doorbell rang.
She looked through the peephole only to see two hands holding an enormous bouquet of red roses. Her heart pounded as she opened the door.
“Are you Thania Walter?” The young teenager looked like he could barely carry the bouquet—there had to be at least five dozen red roses in the vase.
“Yes, yes,” she said as she waved the teenager inside and gestured toward a table for him to deposit it.
She grabbed some money out of her bag and tipped the boy before he left. All the while though, her sight was on the roses. She felt like her eyes were as big as saucers as she stared at it. She’d noticed almost immediately that there was a note peaking out from the beautiful stems, and she circled the table warily, hoping beyond hope that they were from Vladislav, but almost afraid to find out that they weren’t.
Finally, she grabbed the thick envelope with her name, ‘Thania’, written in bold, masculine script on the front. She tore it open, only barely noticing the richness of the stationery. It read:
Dear Thania,
I apologize for tracking you down like this, but from the moment I saw you yesterday at the photo shoot, I needed to know who you are. You see, I work with beautiful jewelry, each piece exquisite and unique. You, my darling Thania, possess these traits as well.
I am an impatient man—when I see something, or someone, that piques my interest, I want more. And I want to know more of you, Thania.
I would like to invite you to a gala that the jewelry company is throwing tonight. I am aware that it is short notice, and that you may have other plans. It is my hope that you were as affected by me as I was by you, and that you will be my guest. I will send a car to pick you up at 7 o’clock.
I hope to see you soon, my lovely Thania,
Vlad Sakharov
Thania read the note twice, stunned. She sat down with the piece of paper in her lap, touching the soft as silk red rose petals with her fingertips as she looked at the blank wall across her apartment.
He calls himself Vlad. I like that. Oh my God, I have never had a man write such amazing words to me in my entire life. He’s dangerous to my heart and my body, but right now I don’t much care. I can’t believe he went through the trouble of finding me!
She put the note in her bag and ran out the door, realizing that at that point she was going to be late to meet Asha and Daya.
But what a story I have to tell them…
“Wait a minute! Vladislav Sakharov asked you out?” Daya leaned across the table as she asked, her eyes lit up with excitement.
“Yes,” Thania replied with a small laugh. “That’s what I have been trying to tell you both.”
The three best girlfriends were eating brunch at their favorite downtown hotel-bar, the Hotelliere de Luxe. Asha ate her smoked salmon with avocado in silence; she’d barely said a word since Thania started to describe her interactions with Vlad.
“Where’s the note?” Daya asked, still leaning forward, her spinach salad with cranberry vinaigrette forgotten.
“It’s right here,” Thania said, taking it carefully out of her bag.
Daya reached over and plucked it right out of her hand.
“Hey!” Thania objected, but soon gave up as Daya completely ignored her and read the note.
“Oh Lord, this man has some sexy handwriting,” Daya murmured as she continued to look it over as if it held the secret nuclear codes or something.
“Can I have it back, please?” Thania asked with her hand out, and Daya reluctantly gave it to her.
“So, what do you think I should do?”
Both women looked back at her in silence.
“Girls!” she said with a laugh. “Come on, help me out!”
“Well, if he wants to take you somewhere, just be careful,” Asha said, worry lines between her eyebrows.
“He does want to take her somewhere, Asha. He’s asked her to go to a gala with him!” Daya responded, annoyance clear in her voice.
“Then just be careful when you go, Thania. I’m sure it will be fine,” Asha said, her face devoid of any of the excitement that Daya’s displayed.
Daya snorted and turned her back on Asha. “Forget her,” she said to Thania, while Thania looked at Asha with concern. She definitely was not herself lately.
“What do you want to do?” Daya asked.
“I want to go, of course, but I don’t know if I should.”
“Let me get this straight. A gorgeous gazillionaire wants to take you, Thania Walter, to an A-list gala as his date, and you aren’t sure if you should?” Daya was so worked up that she flagged down the waiter for another basket of bread.
“Well, that’s exactly the problem. He is gorgeous, and he is rich, and he is famous,” Thania said, making the word ‘famous’ sound dirty.
“So what?”
“I don’t know if I’ll fit in at that type of event.”
“Of course, you will,” Asha piped up, then went back to seemingly listen with just one ear.
The two other friends paused for a moment and looked at her, but that was all she wanted to say, apparently, so they turned toward each other again.
“You should go,” Daya said bluntly. Then she just looked at Thania while she took a small bite of a roll.
“That’s it? I should go?”
Thania was expecting more discussion, more dissection of every word in Vlad’s note, more…something. It was as if her friends didn’t really want to discuss it at all.
