by J. L. Drake
“I’ve kept tabs on you over the years. When I found out your papa had been out of work for so long and your family was struggling, I couldn’t sit back and do nothing, could I?”
“You came all the way from Russia to help my family?”
“You know me well enough to know there are no limits. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He folded my hands into his, lifted them to his lips, and kissed the inside of my wrist. “You are my world.”
The idea that this man, this powerful man, cared so deeply for me that he left his country, disrupted his world, and came to Ohio to rescue my family and me left me speechless. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”
“Moy slomannyy angel,” he whispered. “I’m not pushing you away. I’m trying to resist you, Carter. You’re better off without me in your life, but you’ve captured my heart. I can’t breathe when we’re apart.”
We stared into each other’s eyes.
“A young woman as beautiful as you can choose any man she desires. Stop wasting your time on losers who don’t deserve you. Choose me.” He leaned down to kiss me.
Under his spell, I closed my eyes, parted my lips—
The waitress bounced back to the table with our entrees. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I opened my eyes.
“No apology necessary,” Vladimir said. “I have a lifetime to show my angel how much she means to me.” He kissed my cheek and whispered something sexy in Russian.
The waitress’s cheeks flushed. “You are the luckiest girl in the universe. I wish my boyfriend treated me like that.”
Boyfriend? Oh, God. What have I gotten myself into now?
Chapter 34
Natural Disaster
When we rolled up the driveway, Igor cocked his head and blinked at me from his perch in the tree. Like me, the peacock thought it best to keep his mouth shut and quit strutting around like he owned the place.
While we were away, the house had been transformed into a winter wonderland. The aroma of warm spiced cider filled the air, zakuski lined the bar, and Christmas decorations dangled from the row of mini chandeliers in the kitchen. In the dining room, the table had been set and a feast stayed warm in chafing dishes. A real Christmas tree was set up by the fireplace and decorated with sparkling glass ornaments and illuminated with soft white lights.
The poodles whimpered to be let out of their crates.
“No crying, babies.” I released them and took them outside. When I came back in and locked them up again to dry off their paws, Vladimir patted the vacant spot next to him on the couch, drawing me to him. I kicked off my air cast, plopped down on the couch, and wrapped myself up in a blanket.
“I never want there to be any secrets between us.” Vladimir scooted my body down until he had my back spooned against his chest, and my head rested in the curve of his neck. He curled and tucked me into the contours of his body like I was the weak turtle meat, and he was the hard protective shell.
He brushed his hand across my cheek. “I’m looking forward to spending a lovely evening with you.” He leaned us back in a more relaxing spoon position and kissed my cheek. “Want to do something special tonight?”
A call came in on his cell. He checked the screen. “It’s your papa.”
I sat up and retreated to the other side of the couch.
“Ricky, my friend. How are you? How’s the family? She is here. Right here. Let me have you speak to her.” Vladimir handed me his cell.
“Hi, Dad. I’m sorry. I can’t find my phone. We’re having a wonderful time…Everything is great…No, no problems…Give everyone my love.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Vladimir. He had a serious look on his face.
“He didn’t ask about how your ankle is feeling?”
I exhaled. “Well, I didn’t mention it.”
“Where is your phone?”
“Uh, Boris has it.”
“Why?”
“You know him. He’s paranoid.”
“Hmm,” he said.
“What’s hmm?” I asked.
He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. I followed, hopping on my good leg. He poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it. Mentally, I prepared to protect myself against one of his alarming mood swings.
“Why don’t you tell your papa about your injury? Have you something to hide?”
“I’m not hiding anything. If I told him I was hurt, he would cancel the trip and come home. I don’t want him to worry.”
Vladimir downed his vodka and set the glass on the counter. He moved toward me with penetrating eyes like a cobra. “Do you keep things from me so I don’t worry?”
Shit. I knew he would figure out something was wrong. If I could make some noise, maybe Boris would come up from downstairs to check things out. “No, of course not.”
I knocked over the almost empty vodka bottle. It bounced a half dozen times before rolling to a stop. “I’m so clumsy.” I slipped out of his grasp and followed the bottle over to its resting place by the stove. I picked it up and set it back on the counter. “I would never betray your trust. You know me better than that, right?”
“Of course, my dear. I’m sorry to question your loyalty.” He pulled my body into his and squeezed his arms around my back. “Tell me exactly how you hurt your ankle.”
Shock, panic, and fear rippled through my body. “How did I hurt myself? Didn’t Boris tell you?” Shit. Did Boris tell him the truth or was he going along with my tennis story?
“I want to hear it from you.”
“I twisted it on the court.”
He waited for the little weasel in me to elaborate. I opened my mouth to speak, but before the words came out, Boris swung open the kitchen door. “I heard noise.”
“Sorry to bother you, Boris. I knocked over a—”
Vladimir raised a hand to silence me. A sixth sense alerted me to take cover, like when a natural disaster is about to strike and animals escape to higher ground. I, too, needed an exit strategy before the testosterone tsunami hit and swept me away.
“Come in, friend. We were just talking about you. Sit. Have a drink.”
Boris had the same feeling I had. I could see it in his eyes. “What are we talking about, boss?” He turned over a couple of glasses on the bar and filled each with ice-cold vodka. He slid one to Vladimir and swirled one in his hand.
He answered him in Russian.
Boris nodded. They clinked glasses and downed their shots.
I put some weight on my ankle to test it out. It was tender without the cast. Boris wasn’t the most trustworthy person in the world, but I hoped the idea of sopping my blood off the kitchen floor would deter him from steering the boss south.
Their conversation continued, and the mercury was rising. Vladimir held out his arm for me to come to him. Obediently, I hopped to his side. He wrapped his arm around my waist and aligned my body against his.
“You’re right, boss. Carter is a special young lady.” Boris switched back to English. “I would never allow any harm to come to her.”
The boss responded in Russian.
Boris narrowed his eyes.
Vladimir unwound me. “Set the table for dinner, angel.” He kissed me on top of the head and shoved me toward the dining room.
It was going to come down to some massive Optimus Prime versus Megatron showdown. There was no way those two control freaks could coexist peacefully on one planet. I hopped past the dining room into the living room, sat on the couch, and strapped on my walking cast. Then I searched around for a weapon to protect myself: the poodles. I released them from their crates. I went to the dining room and found a carving knife in the china cabinet.
The argument had escalated, but I didn’t hear any physical fighting. I tapped open the door with my good leg to see what was happening. The door swung open and for a brief moment I saw the look of surprise on two old friends’ faces. What must I have looked like to them?
The door swung back open
and Vladimir and Boris stared at me as I stood there with a twelve-inch knife in my hand, a gimp leg, and two pampered pooches whimpering and wagging their tails.
“What’s this?” Vladimir asked, unable to keep a straight face.
“I thought you might…need some help.”
“You thought we were going to kill each other? Over an argument?”
“What are we, animals?” Boris asked.
“Oh. I…” I lowered the knife. The dogs continued their yipping and wagging.
The two men slapped each other on the back, unable to keep it together. The boss came at me with his hands up, careful not to freak me out. He took the knife from my hand and set it on the counter. The poodles bounced around, excited to see their papa.
“So what was the plan, Carter? Were you going to slice my sovietnik to death or order the attack dogs to rip out his jugular vein?”
I took a couple deep breaths to relax my pounding chest.
“How do you feel about that, Boris? Will you be able to sleep tonight knowing we have a vicious devushka living under the same roof?”
“I’m sorry I—”
Boris draped his arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay, dear. You’re good girl. I am grateful you spared my life.”
“Lapsha.” I shook off his arm.
“Noodle?” Vladimir translated.
I shot Boris the evil eye. “You told me it meant asshole.”
Boris held up his hands in surrender. “Why trust me? I’m bad guy.”
Vladimir laughed. “You need a drink, angel. Wine or vodka?”
“Vodka.” I mimicked his accent. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 35
Sophia
An empty vodka bottle sat on the floor, and Boris cracked open a second. I had turned over my glass after the inaugural shot to keep my mind clear, but the two of them were not holding back. I was seated at a bar stool, and Vladimir stood behind me with his arm draped across my shoulder while he and Boris reminisced about the good old days. I could tell when the story got to the bad parts because they switched up their language to Russian. I wondered how long Vladimir had been bad.
After about the fifth toast, Vladimir’s hand slid from my shoulders down to the back pocket of my jeans. Everything had been happening in rapid-fire succession, I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about…that. And I knew better than to bring up anything that might piss him off while he was drinking.
After they polished off the second bottle, Boris flipped over his glass. He gave me a stern look and then spoke to the boss in Russian. I had a feeling they were discussing security measures.
I pleaded my case to Boris. “Please, don’t drug me again. My head has been throbbing all day.” I turned to Vladimir. “I promise I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
Vladimir eyes were at half-mast. “Of course, angel.”
“Nyet,” Boris said. “If you don’t want drugs, then we’ll do it my way. Your choice, dear.”
“No, no handcuffs.”
“Enough. I will not leave you unattended—”
“I’ll sleep in his room.” I clung to the boss. The second the words dribbled out of my mouth, I knew I’d fucked up.
Boris tossed me the look.
Vladimir wrapped his arm around me. “It’s settled then.”
Boris gave up the battle and swerved down to his lair in the basement.
The boss and I were alone. He ran his fingers through my hair and tried to kiss me, but I turned my cheek.
“Something wrong?” I sensed the pakhan had taken over. Careful not to piss him off, I patted him on the back and sidestepped out of his reach. “Everything’s fine. I’m going to get ready for bed now.” I made a run for my room, but he caught me.
“Don’t you dare leave me.” He tightened his grip around my upper arms and squeezed like a python coiling around its prey.
I wanted to scream. He was so strong. My bones felt like they were going to snap. “I won’t.” I panted as his hot breath beat down on top of my head. After a moment, he released his grip, when he was ready to let me go.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Sophia.”
Oh, God. “I won’t, Vladimir.” I scurried away, rubbing my aching arms and contemplating my next move. I had two options: One, I could lock myself in my bedroom and hope he would pass out before he could bust down the door. Two, Boris.
There was no way I could protect myself against the pakhan. I decided on the latter. I tiptoed downstairs into the pitch-black nothingness of the basement and felt my way around to avoid bumping into the pool table. “Boris?” I whispered. I found a door and opened it. “Boris?”
I heard the ruffling of sheets and then a click-click.
“Jeez! Don’t shoot. It’s me.”
“That’s it. I’m getting the handcuffs.”
“No, I need your help. Please, it’s serious. Get up.”
He huffed, stumbled to the door, and turned the light on. “What did you do now, stupid girl?” He tied a belt around a black silk robe.
I took a deep breath. “I’m scared. He called me Sophia.”
He chuckled. “What did I tell you about your teasing? Do what he says. Being with a man will help you relax. Get out of here, lapsha.”
I tugged on his arm. “He’s out of his mind drunk. He almost snapped my bones in half. I know he doesn’t want to hurt me. If you don’t help me—”
He clicked his tongue. “What do you think happens when you entice men? It’s time to pay up, Carter. Have a nice evening.”
He put his hand on the doorknob and tried to shut me out. In desperation, I lunged forward and clutched two fistfuls of chest hair. He retaliated by grabbing my ponytail and dropping me to the floor.
“Ouch!” I stood and clung to his arm. “Listen, I need a mulligan on this. I’m not on the pill. What if I get pregnant? Dad will find out.”
Boris pointed his finger in my face. “Get back upstairs. Now.”
“No. No way. If you don’t help me I’m taking my chances scaling the Berlin Wall out there. Please, he’s not himself. If this happens, it will be against my will. You said only filthy animals do that sort of thing. Is that what the boss is—an animal?”
“Oh, Carter, why are you so much trouble? The other girls are easy.”
Other girls?
The truth of my words registered in his eyes. “Get a bottle of wine from the cellar, open it, and come back.”
I did as Boris said. When I returned, he tapped a couple of pills out of a small plastic bottle and dropped them into the wine. “One glass will knock out an elephant. Serve half a glass and you both will drink, understand? I don’t give a shit about your headache.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I scurried upstairs.
“Carter.”
I turned around on the landing.
“You owe me.”
Chapter 36
Pinched
I awoke late Christmas Eve morning sprawled out on the couch in the living room—on top of Vladimir. My face was nestled in his chest, and my fingers were buried in his soft, wavy hair. I lifted my head. His shirt was soaking wet with my drool. Dad would be so proud.
I had no memory of what had happened after we drank the wine, but we both still had our clothes on from the night before. Carefully, I slid off him, mopped the schlarf off my face on the sleeve of my sweat jacket, and made my way into the kitchen.
I brewed a pot of tea, lit a pine-scented candle, and slid a tray of croissants into the oven. Boris was up shortly after I had started rustling around in the kitchen. “Privet. Merry Christmas Eve.” I greeted him with a cheery smile.
He glared at me. “Dobroye utro, lapsha. Sleep good? You and boss looked cozy when I checked on you last night.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s usually up with the sun. How much did he drink?”
I averted my gaze to the oven. The pastries were burning around the edges. I thought it would be nice to cut the dough into the shape of Christmas trees, b
ut the flakey layers were too thin on the outside to cook evenly. I pulled them out of the oven and set them on the counter.
“Carter?”
“I have no clue. I made a toast, drank two sips, and everything after that is a blur.”
“You’re playing with fire, stupid girl. He’s going to know you did something.”
I peeled my fractured forest off the metal baking sheet and piled the half-baked dough on top of a sheet of wax paper to cool. “Well, technically, you did it.” Worried he might dive across the bar and stuff my head into the oven, I kept my eyes on him, poured him a cup of tea, and pushed it across the bar.
“This is all going to catch up with you. I look forward to the day.” He lifted his teacup and sipped the steamy English breakfast brew. “Wake him in an hour if he’s not up.”
“Wait. Are you leaving?” I asked more desperately than I’d intended.
“I’m going to church.”
“Any chance I could get my phone back?”
“Not today.” He walked to the mudroom to retrieve his hat and coat. “Just a bunch of bullshit texts.” He bundled up and issued a warning. “The boys out back are keeping an eye on things for me. Don’t try anything stupid. There’s already blood in the water.”
I glanced out the window to see if they were out. Playboy was leaning against the murderer van bouncing a tennis ball. Skinhead took a drag off his cigarette and waved hello. I curled my legs up on the barstool and tried to make myself invisible. “How am I going to get to the Bengals game?”
“Boss will take you.”
“What if he’s mad at me?” I wrapped my arms around my body, rested my chin on my knees, and chewed on my fingernails. What would happen when Vladimir woke up and found out what I’d done? Would he put his hands around my neck the next time I ticked him off?
Boris hung up his hat and coat and moved toward me. He put his hand on my jacket and tried to unzip me. I flinched, grabbed his hand, and pleaded with him not to do it.
“Shush,” he whispered. “Just want a look.”
