Nikolai

by Ava Bloom

  I had to shut my brain off somehow.

  “What are you painting?” Nikolai asked, nodding at the canvas in front of me.

  “It’s going to be the skyline, but I’m starting with the background,” I told him.

  “Oh,” Nikolai said. “And you, what, sell those pictures to tourists?”

  I blushed again. “No!” I said. “I just…paint them for myself, I guess. Sometimes I give them away as gifts. But I just like painting. I’m a teacher, that’s my job.” I paused and then blurted out what I really wanted to know: “So are you following me or something?” How was it that in a city as large as Barcelona, we had just happened to bump into one another?

  Nikolai laughed, though. “I wouldn’t know where to follow you from,” he pointed out. “You didn’t even let me walk you home last night.

  I wanted to feel indignant at the fact that he thought I needed someone to walk me home, but there was another part of me that appreciated the thought of someone strong and caring—not to mention sexy—walking me home at the end of the night. But I knew that Nikolai probably would have pushed it, that he would have tried to come up to my apartment with me. And anyway, I didn’t need the girls from work to see me leave with him, because even if he really was just walking me home, they’d infer something more.

  “I’m not having sex with you,” I blurted out.

  Nikolai looked taken aback. Which, of course he did, since my outburst was totally unfounded. For yet another time, I felt myself start to blush as Nikolai laughed. “Duly noted,” he said. “But how about we go get coffee?”

  I shook my head vehemently. “I’m…busy,” I said weakly, gesturing towards my painting.

  “Coffee is the perfect cure for a hangover, though,” Nikolai said sagely. “And just imagine how much better your painting would be if it didn’t feel like someone was shoving spikes into your skull…”

  “You sound like you have some experience with this,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “Russians don’t get hungover,” Nikolai said. “But alas, now I am used to drinking with Catalonians.”

  “And they get hungover?”

  “They pass out in alleyways,” Nikolai sighed. “One of the greatest laments about this country.”

  “Why are you here anyway?” I asked curiously. “I mean, why not in Russia?”

  “The Volkov family has been in Barcelona for a few generations now,” Nikolai said, his eyes shifting away from mine. He didn’t seem interested in elaborating.

  I frowned. “How about this: I’ll go to coffee with you if you tell me why your family decided to settle in Barcelona,” I told him.

  Nikolai laughed, but there was something more than amusement in the tone. Whatever it was, I couldn’t put a finger on it, though. “You would have to do more than go out for coffee with me if you wanted to know what my family does here in Barcelona,” he said.

  “Something illegal, then?” I asked shrewdly.

  “Get coffee with me,” Nikolai suggested.

  “All right,” I found myself agreeing. I knew this wasn’t the kind of thing to get myself tangled up in, but at the same time, my curiosity was piqued. I packed away my art supplies and followed Nikolai down the hill, grateful when he took some of the bulkier items out of my hands.

  Even though I lived near there, he seemed to know the area better than I did, and he quickly found a cute little café for us which was surprisingly empty for this hour on a Saturday. I looked consideringly over at Nikolai after we had placed our orders. “So you know this city pretty well?”

  Nikolai shrugged and grabbed his coffee from the counter. “I’ve lived here for almost ten years now,” he said. “I moved here to live with my uncle right after I finished what you would call high school.”

  “So you didn’t go to college?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t important,” Nikolai said. “If I had stayed in Russia, I would have taken some sort of trade job, probably. Our family owns a lot of farmland. And here…” He trailed off, hinting again at that strange reason for his family’s presence there in Barcelona.

  But that wasn’t what I focused on right then. Instead, I laughed. “I can’t picture you as a farmer,” I told him truthfully.

  Nikolai shook his head. “I never wanted to work on the farms,” he said. “My younger brother, Andrei, helped out far more than I did. That’s why he only moved here to Barcelona a little while ago. I always wanted something more.” He paused. “Even growing up, I didn’t spend a lot of time in the countryside. My father had apartments in Petersburg, and I lived there for the most part.”

  “Wow, St. Petersburg,” I said. “I’d love to go there sometime.”

  “Why?” Nikolai asked curiously. “Not that it isn’t a beautiful city, but you don’t meet many Americans who want to travel there.”

  I shrugged. “I guess I’m not like most Americans,” I said. “I’ve been teaching English abroad for a while now, first in Asia—Thailand and then Mongolia—and now Europe. I spent last year in Hungary and the one before that in Poland, and the one before that, I was in some podunk village in the Czech Republic. The Eastern European culture is really fascinating.”

  “But you, like me, have chosen Spain instead,” Nikolai said, grinning at me. He shook his head. “Mongolia, not many people choose to travel there.”

  I laughed. “They hired me, and I figured that since I didn’t really know anything about the place, I might as well go!” I said. “It was cold. Very beautiful, but very cold.”

  “Russia is colder,” Nikolai said. “In some parts, anyway.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I said. I cocked my head to the side. “So now you know that I’m an English teacher. What do you do here in the city?”

  Nikolai shrugged. “As I mentioned last night, I practically own Ritmo,” he said. “It’s part of the family business. I don’t have to work.”

  “What, you just have oodles of money laying around that you have access to?” I asked sarcastically, expecting that it must be some sort of joke. I could tell that he was well off, of course, but surely he had to do some kind of work for it. Business meetings or consultations or something?

  But Nikolai just smiled at me. I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee, trying to hide how impressed I was.

  Impressed? That’s stupid; it’s not like he’s had to do anything to get that money, I thought. But I couldn’t help it. Here was a sexy, rich dude who wanted to have coffee with me… It was like something out of a movie.

  Of course, I thought sourly, as soon as I had sex with him, he’d never want to see me again. Still, as the conversation turned to his hobbies and what he did in Barcelona since he wasn’t working, I had to admit that I found him interesting. Maybe sleeping with him wouldn’t be the worst thing that I could do.

  I pushed that thought out of my mind immediately, reminding myself that I needed to stay focused. In fact, now that I was feeling a little better, I should head home and work on that curriculum…

  But despite knowing that I should do that, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

  Chapter Three – Nikolai

  Friday morning, I woke up hard and aching, rutting against my mattress in an attempt to find some relief. I groaned and felt around for my phone, peering at it. It was the third morning that week that I’d woken up from a sexy dream about Emily.

  It was stupid, really. Was she attractive? Sure. But was she the most attractive woman in Barcelona? Of course not. She had nice curves, that was all, and a pretty face. But what made her so attractive to my subconscious, I knew, was the fact that she refused to sleep with me.

  I sighed and shook my head. It was finally Friday, at least. I had a couple deliveries to make for Uncle Evgeni that day, but then that night, I could head out to Ritmo, get plastered, and find someone else to take home. I was sure that I could fuck the dream-memories of Emily out of my system pretty quickly, especially with one of the spicy Spanish ladies.

  For now, I wrapped my
hand around my member, muffling a groan as I started to pump it slowly, thinking about Emily’s mouth. She had such perfect, round lips. What I wouldn’t give to have those lips stretched around me, as I thrust into the warm wetness of her mouth…

  That night, I pulled on a nice pair of dark jeans and a plain, white, button-down shirt. Casual but nice looking, that was what I was going for.

  Ritmo was already busy when I got there, and I nodded a little to myself. This was going to be too easy. I couldn’t remember the English idiom for it, but I knew Aunt Vitka would have said it was as easy as boiling a turnip…

  As I made my way to the bar, I bumped into someone. She stumbled a little, and I caught her, already preparing to give her some sort of heroic speech and offer to buy her a drink. The words died on my lips, though, when I realized that it was Emily who I was still hanging onto.

  I brushed the imaginary dust off her sleeve and smiled ruefully at her. “So we meet again,” I said.

  Emily groaned. “I knew I should be avoiding this place. I just wanted to come out and have a fun night.”

  I snorted. “And I should be avoiding you,” I told her.

  To my surprise, Emily looked indignant at that. “You should be avoiding me?” she snapped. “I’m not the one who has no personality aside from being a skeeze who tries to sleep with random women at his club.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her, amused in spite of myself. “Is that really what you think about me?” I asked. She looked mortified, like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and I wondered how much she had already had to drink.

  “I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, and even in the dim lighting, I could see her blush.

  “Well, if I’m just some skeeze, why do you care if I’m avoiding you?” I asked teasingly.

  Emily ducked her head. “Because I don’t want to be the kind of girl that guys need to avoid,” she muttered.

  “You’re not,” I said automatically. When she looked questioningly up at me, I shrugged expansively. “I need to avoid you because I can’t seem to avoid you,” I told her honestly. “I can’t get you out of my head. And I need to get laid, and I know that you’re not interested.”

  Emily looked like she was about to say something, but then she guiltily turned away. Interesting… I wondered whether maybe she had a boyfriend, or an almost boyfriend, from back home. But she’d been away for long enough now that surely that wasn’t the problem. I wondered what it could be, though.

  But before I could ask, she shook her head. “I have to go,” she managed to stammer out. Then, she slipped through the crowd, heading towards the exit.

  I wanted to stop her. It would have been easy enough: grab her wrist as she turned, pull her back towards me. Kiss her passionately into submission… But I remembered what she had threatened the last time I’d seen her there at Ritmo, about calling security. Obviously the bouncers weren’t about to throw me out, but I didn’t need to cause a scene there either.

  I sighed and let her go.

  “Brother, there you are,” Andrei said, suddenly appearing at my side. He clapped a hand on my back and then steered me towards one of the booths at the back. I grimaced, wondering what exactly he thought that he’d just seen.

  “So, is that girl the reason that you haven’t fucked anyone the past few nights?” Andrei asked, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “If you’re going to interrogate me, you could at least get me a drink first,” I complained.

  Andrei pushed his glass of vodka across the table towards me, and I downed what amounted to a couple shots in one quick go. “So?” Andrei asked the moment I put the glass back down.

  “Andrei, I’m your older brother,” I reminded him.

  Andrei snorted. “And?”

  “I don’t have to let myself be interrogated by you.”

  Andrei shrugged. “If you were going to get up and leave—if you didn’t want to talk about her—then you wouldn’t still be here,” he said, leaning back in the booth and looking smugly at me. “Now, I assume you want to talk to her. Maybe because you’ve seen me with Sarah and know that I know what I’m doing in a relationship?”

  “I’m not taking relationship advice from you,” I said, rolling my eyes again.

  “So don’t,” Andrei said. “But seriously, who’s the girl?”

  “I met her last week,” I admitted grudgingly. “Her name’s Emily.”

  “And she won’t let you sleep with her?” Andrei guessed.

  I shook my head. “I don’t get it. She gave every sign of wanting to sleep together last time I saw her here at Ritmo, but at the end of the night, she made some lame excuse and left. Then, I ran into her while I was out running, and she went to get coffee with me. We had a nice talk, but I didn’t even get her phone number. Now, I ran into her again, and…well, you saw her. She acted like I’m a leper!”

  “Well, it’s obvious that she’s interested in you,” Andrei said, frowning thoughtfully. “But she probably thinks you’re just a player, and she’s not the kind of girl to have one-night stands. Maybe you need to take her on a proper date first.”

  “Because coffee wasn’t a proper date?” I asked.

  “Not really, not if you just happened to bump into her. It needs to be something that you arranged ahead of time.”

  “How am I supposed to arrange something ahead of time if she won’t even give me her number?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

  To be honest, I didn’t even know why I was considering the idea. Whatever Emily was looking for, it apparently wasn’t the same as what I was looking for. Even if I took her out on a proper date and went home with her afterwards, she would expect something more to come of that. She would expect me to call her a couple days later, to start a relationship with her.

  I wasn’t the relationship kind of guy.

  “Come on,” Andrei said exasperatedly. “Don’t try to tell me that you couldn’t get her number in five minutes if you really wanted it. Maybe she won’t give it to you outright, but the Volkov family has…connections. She’s probably bought her drinks using her credit card; start with getting her last name.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work just to get laid,” I muttered, taking another healthy swallow of vodka.

  Andrei plucked his glass out of my hands. “You know it wouldn’t just be about getting laid,” he said.

  “Oh really?” I snapped, lashing out at him because I couldn’t exactly lash out at myself. “What exactly do you think it would lead to?”

  Andrei just looked amused. “You don’t need me to tell you that,” he pointed out. Before I could snap out a reply, he stood up and left the booth.

  I stewed there for a moment, staring out at the crowd and trying to pick a different target for the night, one who was decidedly not blonde. But I couldn’t seem to settle on one. Instead, I took a bottle of the nicest vodka from the back room and headed home alone to drink myself into a stupor.

  Chapter Four – Emily

  I never let unknown local numbers go to voicemail because it could always be someone from work asking me to come in and cover for someone. But I might have to start reconsidering that policy, I realized, when I answered my phone to hear someone distinctly Russian on the other end of the line.

  “How the hell did you even get my phone number?” I blurted out in shocked surprise.

  “I have my ways,” Nikolai said mysteriously. He sounded slightly sheepish, and I wondered how difficult it had been for him. Should I feel secretly flattered that he had gone to the trouble to look me up? Or should I actually just feel like he was a massive stalker whom I ought to get a restraining order against?

  What was it about women and bad boys, though? The thought of his stalker-like tendencies actually kind of turned me on. It at least made me feel desired.

  I shook my head and focused on what Nikolai was saying: “I was hoping that you would let me take you out,” he said. “On a proper date.”

  I frowned and sat down on a sto
ol, twirling a loose lock of hair around my finger. “What?” I asked stupidly. I couldn’t imagine Nikolai dating. Unless he expected me to go home with him at the end of the night? But he hadn’t so much as tried to hug me after our coffee encounter. What exactly was he playing at? I would give nearly anything to know…

  “I’ve rented out this great, historical place—La Champagneria, maybe you’ve heard of it. You go there and buy some tapas and they give you a bottle of cava to go with them.”

  “You’ve… You’ve rented it out?” I asked weakly. I’d heard of the place, of course. It was one of the most famous tapas bars in the city, having been in operation for over forty years. It was typically busy as anything, with guests vying for elbow room and spilling out into the street beyond. I could only imagine what it would cost to rent out the place.

  But then again, he’d made it clear that money was no object.

  And I wondered if that should make me feel cheap. Like, he thought that he could just buy sex with me. But then again, cheap wasn’t exactly the word for it, since again, he was apparently willing to pay a small fortune to get me to go out on a date with him.

  I wondered why. Maybe it was just a personal challenge to himself at this point. He could have any woman in the city; there was no other reason for him to be so fixated on me except for the fact that he couldn’t have me.

  I grinned a little to myself. I knew I should focus on work, but I, like many other girls, had grown up dreaming of a man who would treat me like a princess. I had long since given up on that illusion (I would be lucky to find a guy who thought romance was cooking dinner for me once in a while), but maybe, just for once, it would be nice to have that illusion. To go out with Nikolai on one fancy date and see what it felt like.

  There was no harm in that, right? I didn’t have to have sex with him at the end of the night. There was nowhere that said that he was really buying sex from me; that would be prostitution. No, this was just a date.