But now he was gone and she was on her own. By some miracle, she made it on her plane. Her hands shook as she buckled her belt. She almost forgotten to text Konstanin, then remembered at the last minute, before they announced they had to turn off the phones. She typed a quick message.
I’m on the plane. I love you. Talk to you in eight hours.
It would be a long eight hours. Maybe the pill Ambrose had given her would put her to sleep like he’d said. Her phone beeped.
I love you too, malish. Have a safe trip.
She smiled, feeling a soft glow in her chest. Would her family recognize how she’d changed? Would they see a new Varushka—confident and in love? Or were the differences too subtle? She prayed to god they wouldn’t see the last traces of guilt written on her face. She’d had sex before marriage. A lot of sex. And though she mostly believed that it was okay and she wasn’t a bad person, it was hard to completely erase that shame from her head. Those lessons had been thoroughly engrained in her. She was worried her guilt would show—she’d always been transparent with her feelings.
Ambrose’s pill had done the trick, making her drowsy just minutes after takeoff. She was able to sleep on and off, between meals, until landing safely in Saint Petersburg. While taxiing to the terminal, she turned on her phone and texted Konstantin. It was in the middle of the night there, but he texted her back right away.
The bed is cold without you, little bird.
Grinning, she followed the line leaving the plane. She wished he could be there with her. Even though she was more comfortable now, in her homeland, where the language was familiar, the smells, the sounds. Another two hour flight to Penza, then a taxi to the hospital. It would’ve been a hundred times better with her Master by her side.
She spent the taxi ride texting with Konstantin, urging him to get some sleep, then giggling to herself when he made dirty jokes. Before she knew it, the taxi pulled up in front of the hospital.
Her dedushka’s room seemed so tiny with family packed in. Four adolescent boys did that to a place. He was sitting up against the bed, talking and laughing with her brothers. Despite the tubes under his nose and IV in his arm, he looked like his usual cheerful self.
He smiled when she walked in, spotting her before the rest of her family did. “Welcome home, Vnuchka!”
At that, the rest of her family descended upon her, kissing her cheeks and shouting with joy. When everyone calmed down, she looked at her dedushka, puzzled. She’d come here prepared to see him frail and unconscious. This was unexpected. It was a relief, of course, but the situation looked nowhere near as grim as her mother had suggested.
“You look well,” she said, smiling.
“Oh, I’m fine. There’s still more fight in me.”
He’d recovered so quickly? In only a day? She turned to her mama and looked at her in question.
Mama averted her gaze. She turned back to her dedushka. “Mama made it sound like you were much worse off. I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”
Her dedushka frowned, then looked at Mama. “Lyuda?”
The way she fiddled with her hands put Varushka on edge. Why did she look so guilty?
“Talk to your papa later,” she whispered.
She fought back the urge to demand answers. They’d brought her all the way to Russia under what seemed like false pretenses? And purposefully? What would bring them to do such a thing? She pushed it aside for now to spend time with her dedushka, but she would have to talk to her father later to find out what was going on.
Papa had shown up later with several cans of beer he’d snuck past the nurses. Mama had scolded him but he only chuckled and handed one to her dedushka.
After the visit, she insisted on riding home with Mama and Papa. Not one minute into the car ride, she asked Papa, “Why did Mama tell me Ded was on his deathbed?”
He sighed. “We needed you to come home. It wasn’t a lie exactly. He had a stroke and we didn’t know for certain he would recover at first.”
“That’s not something to exaggerate, Papa!” she cried. “I was worried sick!”
“I know.” He pulled out of the hospital and onto the main road. It would be a long drive home so she had plenty of time for answers. “But there was a good reason. Varushka, I think we’ve misjudged Konstantin.”
“What?” Exhausted from her trip, everything was starting to seem surreal. Trees flashed by outside the car, making the world a green blur.
“I asked around, dug for answers about his wealth—”
“Not this spying business again!” She flopped against the backseat, wishing she could sleep for a year.
“Varushka!” he barked. “He was in a gang. He stole cars. That’s how he got so rich. You cannot marry a criminal. I will not allow it.”
She snorted. “A gang? Of all the ridiculous things!” Her stomach tightened. Could it be true? Had Konstantin started out a criminal? Did it even matter?
“Think about it,” Papa growled. “His parents died when he was sixteen. How did he know how to start a business? How did he know about cars? Where did he get the money to start a business by himself?”
She swallowed hard but kept her confidence. “Many ways. Maybe his family left him money. Or Baba Nina gave him a loan.”
“I didn’t raise you to be so gullible.” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel and Mama shushed him. “Be sensible!”
“Sensible?” She was nearly hysterical now. “Calling me home to Russia, telling me my dedushka is dying is sensible? Then accusing my fiancé of being a criminal? Who is being insensible here?” Maybe Varushka was being rude, but it was hard to care about politeness when Papa was being so awful. She clung to her purse like it would save her, but it only made her fingers sore.
“Fiancé?” Mama questioned quietly.
Chyort! This wasn’t how she’d meant to tell them. “You will stay home now,” Papa commanded, in the tone he took when he meant business. “You will call Konstantin and break off the engagement.”
“What?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill. She blinked them back, worried that crying would make her seem like a child. “No, Papa. Let’s talk to him. I’m sure there’s a reason someone would say such a thing. An explanation. I can’t call things off until I get his side.”
Papa snorted and waved his hand dismissively. “So he can fill your head with lies? Absolutely not. I have it on good authority he built his business by stealing cars. You can’t believe a word men like that say.”
“Who told you this? One of his enemies, or someone he had to fire?” Was she going to have to beg for an answer? Her father shook his head at her, like she was a stupid, unfortunate girl. “If he had a criminal record, would he even be allowed to leave the country?”
“Doesn’t matter. Maybe he never got caught but that doesn’t make him a good man, just a devious one.” He sucked his teeth for a moment, the sound setting Varushka’s nerves even more on edge. “Devious enough to lie to young girls and make them fall in love with him and his fat wallet.”
Varushka felt like she couldn’t get enough air. Her heart hammered at her ribs. Why did her father have to go so far with this crazy stalker business? He was going to ruin everything! Breathing deeply like Konstantin had trained her to do, she forced herself to calm. She was an adult and she could make her own decisions. Just because Papa was acting like this didn’t mean it was over.
She couldn’t let things with Konstantin be over—not when he made her so happy. For maybe the millionth time on this trip she twisted her engagement ring on her finger. It was the little collar he’d given her. It was the one she could wear in public. Touching the ring made him real again. She could almost feel his fingers in her hair, gentle until he wasn’t . . . And when he wasn’t . . .
“Let’s talk to Baba Nina,” she said reasonably. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have sent me to marry Konstantin if he was a criminal.”
“Don’t be so naive,” he grumbled. “He gives her money. She would
keep her mouth shut. Or maybe she doesn’t know. You can’t trust people like him.”
Oh just shut up, she wanted to yell. Instead she rolled her window down a crack and stuck her fingers out into the wind, glad to get the stench of her own desperation out of her nose.
As soon as they got home, she was making a phone call.
* * *
“Hey, little bird.” His sleepy voice at the end of the line made everything better. Varushka sank into a pile of hay behind the barn and sighed. She wanted to forget the ugly rumor her father had repeated about Konstantin and just talk to him about sexy nonsense things, but she’d never sleep if they didn’t get this sorted out.
“Hey,” she murmured. How did a girl ask the man she loved if he was a car thief?
“How’s your dedushka?” He didn’t yawn, but she could hear in his voice that he was stretching and maybe sitting up in bed. She imagined the sheet falling to his waist and the strong muscles of his chest flexing as he did it. Often when he woke his cock was hard and he was in the mood to snuggle up behind her and cuddlefuck her. She didn’t think there was a word for “cuddlefuck” in Russian. It was a serious shortcoming in her language.
She laid back in the hay and watched the sun as it flirted with the horizon, turning the sky orange, pink, and purple. Nine P.M. here meant four A.M. there. She’d rather be there, in her fiancé’s strong arms, tracing the lines of his tattoos. The only people in Nasva who had tattoos were old men, but the black words inked into his skin made Konstantin look dangerous. It had never occurred to her that the danger might be real.
“He’s not as bad as they made it sound,” she whispered. “I think they were trying to trick me into coming home.”
“They miss you. It’s to be expected,” he replied. “How long do you have to stay until you can come home?”
The way he said “home” made her stomach flutter. He meant their home, not just his. Even she was starting to feel that it was her home. Konstantin made sure she was safe and happy, but he didn’t police her like a father would. He never nagged her about stupid things she already knew about. She was his slave, but he treated her with more respect than anyone else ever had.
“I don’t know. My dad is being strange.” She closed her eyes and plunged on. “He’s convinced you’re a criminal and he’s trying to make me stay here and not marry you.”
“What?” His voice was alert then, like it got when he had too much coffee. “You have to come back. I mean . . . if you want to.”
“He’s being crazy, right? You don’t steal cars to make money on the side?” She laughed, hugging the phone with both hands and wishing he was just as close.
There was a long enough pause that Varushka pulled the phone back from her ear to see if the call had been dropped.
“It was a long time ago,” he said simply. “It was that or starve. I haven’t stolen a car since I was seventeen.”
A wave of dizziness made her glad she was lying down. She stared at a bird wheeling overhead, shocked and trying to decide how she felt about his confession. Her opinion on the matter mattered more than her family’s, didn’t it? It was ridiculous. She was the one marrying him. It was none of her father’s business anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
“It’s ancient history, Varushka. I never got caught and I try not to think about it.” There was no smugness in his voice, only resignation. “I can’t even be charged for it anymore. It’s not something I’m proud of. No one knows except a few of the guys I used to do it with and Banner and Ambrose. I didn’t tell you because I’ve worked hard to put that behind me. I’m not that man anymore.”
She paused. A memory dropped into place, suddenly making sense. “That man we met in the city . . . Fox. He’s one of them, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” He sighed, sounding annoyed, but not with her. “Fox, his brother, and his cousin. We were a force to be reckoned with. They’re still doing it, even though I’ve offered them honest work that pays well. They like the excitement too much.”
“They’re grown men. There’s nothing you can do,” she said. If they’d been as close as he made it sound, severing those relationships must have hurt. At least he had other, better friends, and a grandmother who wanted the best for him. “Does your baba know what you used to do?”
“Yes. I told her last year and she boxed my ears for it.” He chuckled, but it was a sad sound, full of self-loathing. “Losing her respect was worse than going to jail.”
She sighed. Either she could accept this or she couldn’t. It happened and it wouldn’t happen again. “You didn’t hurt anyone?”
“Not physically, no, but theft isn’t a victimless crime. I’m sure my actions hurt people along the way. I don’t even know who they were, otherwise I’d try to make amends.” She imagined him sneaking up to people’s houses and leaving wads of cash in their mailboxes with a note of apology. “I just didn’t want to go into a foster care group home, and I sure as hell didn’t want to get sent back to Russia. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Varushka picked a piece of straw from the pile and chewed on the end of it. “I forgive you. It was a long time ago. You’re not a criminal now, though, right? I won’t tell on you, but I don’t want to marry a man like that.”
“No, I’m not a criminal now.” He paused, then continued in a more suggestive tone. “Other than several things I’m wishing I could do to you right now, which may or may not be illegal in Russia.”
“Oh? And what would you do to poor little me if you were here in Russia?” she mocked, sucking on the piece of straw, wishing she was close enough to suck on him instead. It was amazing how fast he’d transferred her oral fixation to his cock. Terrible man.
“First of all, I’d find out what you’ve got in your mouth. I’m jealous.”
She blushed and laughed slyly when she thought of a turn of phrase he liked to use. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“You’ll show me when I get there,” he said, no doubt at all in his voice. “And then we’ll have to find a way to sneak off so you can show me in a more personal way.”
“Dirty!” she whispered, giggling. “If you come here, you’re not allowed to do things like that to me. We’ll get caught.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll put a collar and leash on you and walk you around town so everyone knows who owns you.”
“Shh!” Instinctually she put her hand over the phone and glanced around, worried someone might overhear. When she put the phone back to her ear he was laughing.
“Give me a few hours and I’ll be on a flight,” he said confidently, making the rest of her anxiety melt away. “We’ll either change your father’s mind, or I’ll kidnap you and hide you on my private island.”
“You have a private island?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure I could buy one in about five minutes with the right incentive.”
She pressed the phone to the side of her face, wishing she could hug him. She needed a hug after this stupid mess. “I love you, Master. Please don’t let my father end things between us.”
“I’ll fix it, Varushka.”
“Okay. He’s a stubborn man though. This isn’t a joke.” She bit her lip, worried about telling him how to do things, but he didn’t know her father like she did. “You can’t bribe him or anything, or he’ll just be more convinced you’re the devil in disguise.”
There was another long silence. Had that been his big plan—to pay him off? Her father wasn’t that kind of man. He’d turned into a creepy stalker somehow, but he wouldn’t sell her or let her marry a man he didn’t feel was good for her.
“I’m packing now. Before I get there, you need to decide if you want a man like me,” he said seriously. “I’m not a criminal anymore, but you know I’ve got other flaws. I never told you I was a saint. In fact, I’ve shown you again and again I’m quite the opposite.”
He hung up, leaving her alone with thoughts about the church, and what her priest would say i
f she confessed here like she had in America.
Chapter Twelve
As soon as he reached for the wooden spoon, she smacked him.
“Dishes only!” Baba pointed a stern finger at the sink and glared up at him despite the fact that her stooped form stood chest high. “You haven’t been gone so long that you’ve forgotten my rules. You’re a spoon licker. Spoon lickers are not allowed near my stove.”
He went to the sink and filled it with warm, soapy water, glad to have something to do other than sit at the table and wait. No matter how eager he was to see Varushka, this meeting was going to suck.
“Quit glaring at my sink, boy,” she barked.
“You know why I’m glaring, Baba. If her father withdraws his consent, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He started to wash the few dishes, thinking about how much he liked doing this chore with his girl, and how she teased and joked and made everything fun.
“I chose Varushka because there’s a spark in her,” Baba said. “She’s good-natured, and takes such joy in life. A man as serious as you needs someone in his life to remind him not be so dour all the time.”
“I’m not dour. I’m focused.”
“Right now you’re not focused. You’re sulking. Someone took away your candy, and now you’re trying to decide if you didn’t want it anyway. Quit acting like a child, and be a man.” She banged the wooden spoon on the side of pot, knocking some of the porridge off of it. She dished out two bowls and set them down at their customary spots at the table. “Eat now before it gets cold.”
Konstantin dried his hands on the towel Baba kept near the sink and sat at the table with her. He took a mouthful of porridge, forgetting for a moment that it would be more savory than sweet. The American version had more sugar in it than one of Baba’s birthday cakes.
Varushka hadn’t made him porridge yet. For some reason that bothered him. Did she even like porridge? They were supposed to have years for him to learn everything about her, and her father was trying to steal that from him.
“This isn’t like a business transaction. I’m too emotionally invested. I don’t know how to negotiate with someone when I feel like this.” Okay, maybe he was sulking, but he had good reason.
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