“Um.” She didn’t want to hurt Everly’s feelings. “Let’s just turn off the TV and talk.”
“Good idea,” Kate agreed. “I’ve been meaning to ask how things are going with Konstantin.”
Oh no. “On second thought,” —she gestured to Everly— “let’s watch the zombies.”
Everly giggled. “Ohhhh noooo. You’re not getting out of this conversation.” She poured more wine into her glass, spilling it onto the table, then plopped down right next to Varushka. She smelled like Varushka’s baba—sweet soap but with a tinge of alcohol. Memories of home intruded into what was supposed to be a fun time, making her a little homesick.
Kate moved in on her other side and they both grinned at her.
She sighed. “Well, what do you want to know?” In this, American girls were no different from her cousin, Antonia.
“Has he collared you yet? I don’t see a collar,” Kate said, leaning closer to peek in the neckline of her shirt.
Varushka laughed. “We’ve talked about collars a few times. If he asked to collar me, I would say yes. I don’t think I’m supposed to ask for that myself though.” She grimaced. It figured these two would be more interested in the possibility of a collar than an engagement ring. The Master/slave bond they talked about with such reverence was more significant to them, somehow, than the husband/wife one.
She was starting to understand it. The feelings they associated with being submissive to their men were very similar to how she felt for Konstantin. The idea of him putting a collar around her neck was both romantic, in a twisted way, and sexy. When he’d introduced the idea to her, someone owning someone else had seemed wrong. But since then, she’d come to realize the consensual BDSM version of slavery was a very intimate and deep relationship for some people—like her new friends. It was appealing.
“Have you fucked him yet?” Everly nearly shouted.
Varushka leaned back, her eyes wide. “No! That would be . . . Wrong.”
“What?” Everly and Kate exchanged a glance. “Why not? You can’t deny he’s fuckable.”
“Yes.” He was more than that. The wicked eyes, the tousled hair she wanted to run her hands through, his sexy smirk . . . Maybe the vodka had finally hit because she felt flushed. But it was about more than just his looks. “He’s very sweet to me too,” she almost whispered.
Kate snickered. “Sweet? Oh, I’m sure.”
“Have you . . . played yet?” Everly asked, smirking at Kate.
Varushka swallowed hard. She knew what they meant. “Yes,” she answered honestly. “But we haven’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“What’s holding you back?” Kate furrowed her brow.
“We’re not married.”
Kate and Everly both burst out laughing. Varushka scowled at them. Kate noticed her, then smacked Everly’s leg. “Shush. She’s a good Catholic girl.”
Orthodox but she didn’t bother to correct them.
“Oh.” Everly’s chuckles faded. “Oh, I understand. Yeah. Well, wait, then, if that’s what you’re comfortable with.” She cocked her head to the side. “Kon isn’t pushing you, is he?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He’s respectful.”
“Good.” Everly took a big gulp of her wine, then burped. “’Cause I’d kick his ass if he was pushing you.”
Varushka chuckled when she pictured the girl up against Konstantin. “So you weren’t a virgin when you married Ambrose?”
Kate laughed again, then Everly flicked her knee. “It’s not that implausible!”
“Sure, sure,” Kate said.
Everly turned back to Varushka. “No, I wasn’t. Waiting until marriage isn’t common here, but that doesn’t mean it’s right or wrong. There’s no shame in waiting.”
Kate spoke up. “I didn’t wait either. I would’ve burst into flames if I’d had to wait. Banner’s just too. . . .” She sighed dreamily.
“Hot?” Varushka finished.
“That’s an understatement.” She took a swig of the peach-colored drink she called Bay Breeze.
“Sometimes I feel like my panties might explode,” she blurted before she could stop herself. The vodka was definitely getting to her.
The girls burst out laughing again. “Oh my god!” Everly yelled. “That’s the naughtiest thing I’ve ever heard you say!”
Kate grew serious a second later, then leaned in. “Look. If you want to fuck him, go for it. Don’t let some guy in a robe tell you it’s wrong. He’s just a man. God invented sex, right? Stop torturing yourself out of guilt and do what feels right.”
“Yeah,” Everly agreed. “Life is too short.”
There was some relief in their words. Not that she was ready to change her mind, but Kate and Everly were some of the kindest girls she’d known and they’d had sex before marriage. Everly gave to charity, fought to keep the homeless people off the streets—she was good to the bone. She hadn’t burst into flames at the altar. And Kate too—with the work she did with people living with addictions, she wasn’t a bad person because she hadn’t waited. Or because they weren’t religious.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so unforgivable for her to have sex with Konstantin.
“And you’re pretty sure you’re going to marry him, right?” Everly asked.
Was she? Dear god, she wanted to. Did he feel the same way though? As for her, the pounding of her heart every time she saw his face could only mean one thing. She was falling for him. Fast and hard.
“Yes. At least I want to. I don’t know if he feels the same way.”
Kate squeezed her hand reassuringly. “If he didn’t feel the same way, he would have sent you home, sweetheart.”
“Ugh,” Everly whined. “How did I get so drunk? Varushka, I’m telling Konstantin you’re a menace.”
Varushka laughed her best evil laugh and Everly threw a pillow at her, missing widely.
“We’d better start the movie before Everly falls down,” Kate teased.
Everly stretched out on the couch while Kate got up to fiddle with the machine. Varushka still felt a little shy with them so she stayed upright but turned toward the TV.
Kate curled up on the other couch and the movie started. Varushka tried to pay attention but her mind kept straying back to Konstantin. Would anyone but Konstantin know if she wasn’t a virgin at her wedding?
No. He wouldn’t tell.
Well, there was God but . . . He was forgiving. She’d already done so many dirty things with Konstantin, was having sex that much worse?
Halfway through the movie, both of her new friends were snoring loudly. Varushka thought about turning it off but she wasn’t sure how to work the complicated remote control yet.
The front door opened then shut. Men’s voices drifted in from the front hallway. A moment later, the three of them entered the room.
They all froze, taking in the scene. She looked at it from their points of view. Bottles of alcohol and half-empty glasses littered the table and their wives were passed out on the couches.
Konstantin took a deep breath, then crossed his arms. “Varushka,” he said sternly. “What did you do to these girls?”
She looked at her sleeping friends, then back to Kon. “I think they’re drunk.”
Banner chuckled and walked over to Kate. Gently, he coaxed her up. She grumbled but sat up.
“Come on,” he said to her. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I don’t feel so good,” she mumbled.
Konstantin pressed his lips into a firm line. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or trying not to laugh.
“I think they were trying to get me drunk,” she explained, then switched to Russian. “Are all American girls lightweights?”
He burst out laughing.
Ambrose grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and settled it over Everly. “You don’t drink?” he asked Varushka.
She gestured to the empty bottle of vodka. “That one was mine.”
Banner and Ambrose star
ed at her in shock.
Konstantin barked another laugh. “Russian girls,” he said, shaking his head.
She looked up at him, puzzled. In Russian again, she said, “Are American men pussies about drinking too?”
“Shh.” He grinned, then took her hand and pulled her off the couch. “You’ll hurt their poor egos.”
Nodding, she let him tuck her under his arm. When he kissed her on the forehead, she felt a little dizzy but she couldn’t tell if that was from the buzz or a wave of affection. The two weren’t so different.
* * *
The cabinet door in the kitchen had fallen off the hinge two days ago. It’d been driving Varushka crazy but Konstantin had been too busy to fix it. Although he suggested she call a handyman if it was bothering her, the idea of calling a stranger to come into the house to fix something so simple was an affront to her frugal nature.
Determined to be useful, she dug around in the basement and located a toolbox. When she found the right-sized screwdriver, she headed back to the kitchen.
As soon as she set foot in the kitchen, her phone rang. The delay was annoying, so she checked the number to see if it was important. It was her parents’ number.
“Hello!” she said, smiling. She hadn’t spoken to anyone back home in weeks. It was expensive and though Konstantin offered to pay the bill, her father was too proud to allow it. Plus, the time difference made it hard to sync up.
“Myshka!” her father said.
The warmth in his voice made her eyes water. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him. His smell, his hugs, his plump face full of smiles.
She started to cry.
“What’s the matter?” his tone changed in an instant. “Are you hurt? In trouble? Is he treating you poorly?”
“No, no!” She half laughed, half cried. “I just miss you. I’m happy. Really.”
“And you like America?”
“Yes!” After she wiped her silly tears away, she squeezed the phone between her cheek and shoulder and set to work on the cabinet. “It’s different. But I’m getting used to it.”
She thought of the grocery store Konstantin had taken her to the other day. Usually, his maid did the shopping, but Varushka had insisted she needed to shop for specific ingredients to cook something from home. “You wouldn’t believe where they buy their food,” she told him. “All in one place! Shelves and shelves of it. I nearly cried!” The rows of sweets and cakes and ice cream made her want to buy one of everything so she could try them all. Konstantin had trailed behind her with the wheeled cart, chuckling at her wonder and acting like his only reason for going was to watch her. He’d even kissed her in the row that held cereal, right in front of strangers, just because she’d begged for the kind with the rainbow marshmallows.
“Very good,” he said. “And Konstantin is treating you well?”
“Of course. He’s like you said. A respectable gentleman.” She hoped her father wouldn’t hear what she wasn’t saying—about how hot they were for each other and how he kissed her neck and grabbed her ass while she cooked. Stubbornly, she pushed all of her dirtier remembrances aside, like how she still had a hickey that throbbed on the inside of her thigh from last night.
He was quiet a moment and she grunted as she pushed the screw into the wood.
“How is Mama?”
“Good.”
“And the boys?”
“All good.”
Well this was turning out to be an interesting conversation. Why did he call if he was just going to grunt answers at her?
“Konstantin says we can come visit in a few months,” she said, excited by the prospect and hoping the news would cheer her father up. Maybe Konstantin would officially be her fiancé by then. But where would they stay? Her parents would probably insist they sleep under separate roofs.
It was hard enough sleeping apart under the same roof. At this point it was a technicality—they’d do all sorts of things together in his bed. Then she’d sneak down the hall to her own bed, as though someone would come to check in the middle of the night.
He didn’t respond and she started to feel like there was something he wasn’t telling her. “What’s wrong?”
“Varushka . . .” He paused and her stomach tightened. “Nina said something last week that made me think . . .”
“Yes?” A sliver of dread snaked up her spine. She froze with her hand on the door. “What is it?”
“Has Konstantin told you how he started his business?”
What did that matter? Why did Papa suddenly sound so suspicious? “He said he learned very young how to work with cars and that he was lucky his business got popular. Why?”
“Oh, nothing, really.”
It didn’t seem like nothing.
“But I want you to do something for me.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, feeling like she might not like this.
“I want you to dig deeper. Find out how he started his business. Where did he get the start-up money?”
Silly paranoia. Either that or he was just desperate for her to come back. With a sigh, she finished screwing in the hinge and tested the cabinet door. Perfect. Pleased it was fixed, she headed to the basement to return the screwdriver.
“I’m not going to spy on him, Papa,” she said, rolling her eyes though he couldn’t see. “If he’s going to be my husband, I can’t snoop.”
“He won’t be your husband if he’s hiding something.”
Her father was the one who’d told her to come to America and fall in love, and now that she was here and happy, he wanted her to ruin everything by being sneaky? She felt like banging her head on the wall. Or maybe throwing the phone across the room.
“Oh, Papa! You’re being ridiculous!” What else could she say?
“Varushka, don’t be naive. How can a Russian farm boy with dead parents make millions of dollars in America?”
Wasn’t this the land of opportunity? Wasn’t that why Papa had sent her here in the first place? And if he had a concern about how successful Konstantin was, it was kind of late for him to start getting upset about it now.
“He’s very smart.”
“No one is that smart,” her father grumbled. “Money doesn’t appear just because you have brains. He’s hiding something. I want you to find out what.”
She tossed the screwdriver back in the box, then headed upstairs. He was being silly, but his heart was in the right place. “Maybe you should ask Baba Nina if you’re so concerned. I’m sure she has no reason to hide any—”
“Varushka!” he barked. “I am your father. Your loyalty is to me. You are not married yet and you won’t be if I don’t find out his record is clean.”
His voice turned her to stone at the top of the stairs. She knew that tone. And it still made her feel like a small child, in trouble for mischief.
Panic clutched at her. How could Konstantin even prove he was innocent? Would anything be enough to make her father happy? Her distress mounted, making her dizzy. Then it occurred to her.
She wasn’t a child anymore.
She would be a wife soon, and then a mother. When did she stop answering to him?
After a quiet moment, he said, “You will do this, yes?”
It was hard to swallow. Could she defy her papa? Not easily. But she couldn’t betray Konstantin either. He was going to be her husband. How could she start their relationship with secrecy and snooping? And didn’t he deserve a chance to explain?
But Papa was family. Blood. Her allegiance was to him first, wasn’t it?
He was right. She and Kon weren’t married. Not yet. So who came first? Her future husband or her father?
Her stomach felt queasy, her muscles weak. She walked back into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter. “I will . . . try,” she choked out. “Let me talk to Mama please.”
He sighed. “Good girl. I’ll put her on the phone.”
Good girl. Always the good girl. When would she have a mind of her own, a will of her own? Woul
d Konstantin expect her to obey, even when it went against her principles? Was that her role in life?
“Varushka, my dear!” her mother’s voice rang in her ear.
How she wished she could wrap her arms around her. She sniffled, then got herself under control. “What’s gotten into Papa? He wants me to spy on the man he sent me to marry.”
“Just do what your father says,” she said, sounding weary.
When she opened her mouth to argue, the sound of the front door closing cut her off. “I have to go,” she rushed, knowing Konstantin was home. “I’ll call you later.”
“I love you,” Mama said.
“I love you too,” she whispered, eyes watering.
She pressed END on the screen, then looked up in time to see Konstantin enter the room. He smiled at her and her stomach fluttered. The reality of him in the room made things clear. She’d do anything to avoiding hurting this man, even if it meant defying her father.
Grinning, she opened the cabinet she’d fixed, then shut it again. His brows rose. “Has another man been here?” he teased.
She scoffed. “I don’t need a man to fix a silly cabinet door.”
“You did that?” His brows rose higher, as if he was surprised.
“Of course.”
He nudged open her knees and stood between them. She couldn’t stop herself from resting her arms around his neck. Mmmm. He smelled good. His strong arms wrapped her in a hug. She could go to bed cuddled next to this man forever. A moment later, he leaned back to look at her.
With a sly expression, she said, “Did you forget how to do such simple things now that you’re a spoiled rich boy?”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “Spoiled rich boy, am I?”
“Very.” Maybe she was doing what he called bratting but she was learning his reactions. What he found funny and what pushed too far. But he was patient as she learned. Though he didn’t let her get away with much, he also didn’t punish her harshly. And she was learning to like his discipline. Sometimes it made her panties wet and her clit throb. Other times, it burned her pride but there was safety in rules. Protection. Love.
To Have and to Master Page 11
