My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  “Tell me.”

  “After you had a lot to drink.”

  His eyes dulled and his expression went blank as if the truth had planted a bullet in his brain. He reeled me in for a hug. “Never again.” He rubbed circles on my back, kissed the top of my head, and rocked me side to side. “I swear to God, I’ll never lose control around you as long as I live. I’ll never have a sip of alcohol in your presence again. I love you, Carter. More than anything in the world.”

  I burrowed inside his robe and buried my head against his bare chest. He let out a mournful sigh when my tears wet his skin. “Moy slomonnyy angel.” He hugged me so tightly, I could feel his heart beating against my cheek. “Say you forgive me.”

  I could tell he felt horrible for hurting me, and I believed that if he didn’t drink, he would never become violent. He loved me, and I loved him. “I forgive you.” My words caught in my throat.

  The ringing stopped.

  Chapter 47

  House Rules

  We skipped the beach and flew back home in case Dad tried to reach me. Once we landed in Cincinnati, instead of taking me straight home, Vladimir pulled into the church by my house and parked the car. He took off his seat belt, unfastened mine, and leaned over and kissed me. “Come with me. The house is empty without you. Boris misses you, too.”

  “I need to check in with Dad.” I finger-combed his hair.

  “Let me go back with you. We’ll tell your papa right now.”

  I shook my head.

  “We’re in love. Why hide our affection?”

  “Let’s take our time and do this right—and I’m sure Boris doesn’t miss me.” I laughed.

  “You’re wrong about that. He said you remind him of his daughter.”

  “Wait. Boris has a daughter? Does she live here or in Russia?”

  “Sadly, Katia died when she was a young girl. He’s left with two sons.”

  Why are so many of their family members dead? “That’s so sad.”

  “Life is precious. We must cherish every moment we have together.”

  Vladimir let me go, but made me promise I would call when I got to Dad’s to make plans for the rest of the weekend. When I walked in the door, I was surprised to find a house full of guests. Karen’s family had stopped by to visit, and Ryan and his dad were there to watch a bowl game with Dad and a bunch of his Ohio State buddies.

  I was so distracted by all the guests, especially my aunt’s six-month-old baby boy, I didn’t immediately call Vladimir back like I said I would. As I held the blue-eyed cutie in my arms, someone knocked on the front door. My hands were full, so Ryan answered it.

  “Good to see you, sir,” Ryan said. “Here to join us for the game?”

  I turned to see who he was talking to: Vladimir. He had on his sexy glasses and held a computer bag in his hand. He stepped inside and shook Ryan’s hand. “No, no just a quick question for my star employee.” I thought he would be pissed to find Ryan at the house, but he was delighted to see my cooing cousin perched on my hip.

  Ryan noticed Vladimir’s quizzical expression. “Carter didn’t tell you she had a baby?”

  “Ryan!”

  He laughed and jogged downstairs to watch the game. Things were back to normal between us as if our flash romance had never happened. He was hurt when I told him I only wanted to be friends, but after a few days he started texting me his lame jokes again—and Kiki said he’d gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend Jessica.

  The baby clung to me with a big smile on his angelic face. Vladimir’s complexion shone with adoration. The little guy bounced with joy, clutched a fistful of my hair in his tiny hand, and babbled in baby talk.

  “Who is your friend, Carter?”

  “This is my cousin, Christopher.”

  Dad walked in from the kitchen, in head to toe Ohio State garb, with a beer in his hand. “Vladimir, what a surprise. Want to join us for the game? It’s about to start.”

  “No, I don’t want to intrude, but I have a question about the claims billing system.”

  I jumped in for the save. “Sorry, Mr. Ivanov. There’s no working during OSU games, right Dad?”

  Dad shrugged apologetically. “House rules. Can I talk you into a beer instead?”

  Vladimir’s gaze flashed to mine, then to the baby’s, then back to Dad. “I would hate to break a house rule.”

  Dad patted him on the back, told him to make himself at home, and then went downstairs to join the guys in the middle-aged-frat-boy cave. Karen and her sister were in the kitchen whirling up margaritas and yowling like hyenas, and while we were alone, Vladimir kissed me.

  The baby fussed.

  “It’s time to feed him.” I motioned for Vladimir to sit in the recliner. He took off his coat, and I draped a burp cloth over his shoulder, placed Christopher in his arms, and handed him the bottle. Vladimir’s complexion glowed as the hungry baby sucked down the milk.

  I sat beside him on the arm of the chair. “You’re a natural,” I whispered.

  “He’s beautiful.” When Vladimir spoke, Christopher smiled.

  We laughed at the unexpected joy the baby brought us. “Wish you had one?” I teased.

  “Carter, my dear, you have no idea.”

  The second the words came out of my mouth, the answer registered on his face. It was the same reason Boris wasn’t concerned over my Birth Control Crisis: it wasn’t by choice he’d never fathered a child. I felt horrible. Had I just rubbed it in?

  He read my tortured face.

  The baby coughed.

  I readjusted his position in Vladimir’s arms.

  “It wasn’t meant to be, angel.”

  Chapter 48

  Naughty

  The next morning was New Year’s Eve, one of the most celebrated Russian holidays of the year. Vladimir and I made plans for me to meet Boris at nine-thirty a.m. at our usual spot. I told Dad I was going to spend the night with Kiki and headed to the club. I hadn’t seen Boris since he had dropped me off at the airport. So much had changed since then.

  When I plopped down in the Caddy, I caught a glimpse of Boris’s expression; his eyes were locked and loaded on lie detector mode. Always on duty. I suspected he wanted to find out if I was pulling some weasel move on the boss.

  I covered my mouth with my scarf to hide my telling grin. Even Dad noticed I had miraculously bounced back from my lingering illness when I’d come home the morning after.

  “You had a nice weekend?” Boris asked.

  I kept my gaze out the window. “Da.”

  “Everything okay at home?” He tapped his rings on the steering wheel. “Got some sunshine? You have a healthy glow—matches the one boss has.”

  I snuck a sideways glance at him.

  “Over your contraception problem?”

  “Mm-hm. Wasn’t an issue.”

  He blinked in confusion. “Because?”

  “Um—”

  He had that murderous look in his eye. “You weaseled out of it?”

  “Well, uh, remember the wagers we made the night we played poker?”

  The veins popped.

  I twisted my ponytail around my hand. “His note said ‘anything,’ so I cashed it in on, you know…that.” I held out my hand and continued. “He respects my decision. Does he look unhappy to you?”

  My keeper was ready to blow. “You’re a lucky girl, Carter. If you pulled that bullshit on me I would’ve—”

  “It’s not bullshit. Vladimir knows my heart.”

  His knuckles were white. He didn’t speak to me the rest of the way home. When we got to the house, I jumped out of the Cadillac like it had a bomb strapped underneath it. I ran inside and crashed into my sexy boyfriend’s waiting arms.

  He lifted me up.

  I wrapped my legs around his body.

  He sat me down on the kitchen counter.

  We made out like we had guns to our heads.

  Boris walked in the door, grumbling in Russian.

  “Did you miss me, V
ladimir?” I asked.

  “No.” He flashed his crooked smile.

  I shoved him in the chest.

  “I couldn’t breathe the whole time we were apart,” he recanted. “Isn’t that right, Boris?”

  “Da. His lips were blue.” Boris shook his head, wanting nothing to do with our gooey love fest. “Thank heavens you came back to resuscitate him, Carter.”

  “Let me make sure he’s okay.” I ran my fingers through his wavy hair and kissed him again, louder and sloppier that time. Vladimir liked it. He flung off my hat and scarf, unzipped my coat, and tossed it on the floor. “I think he’s okay now, Boris. I saved him.”

  We laughed.

  Boris mumbled in Russian and left the house.

  Vladimir noticed what I was wearing and grinned. I had on a red, Christmas-themed t-shirt that I borrowed from Kiki with ‘naughty’ scrolled across the front in sparkle letters. It was too short, too tight, and I hadn’t bothered to wear a bra.

  He licked his lips and lifted my shirt, but I stopped him from taking it off. From my perch on the counter, I had a perfect view of the white murderer van parked by the basketball court. “Not here.” I closed my hands around his. “Show me your bedroom.”

  He scooped me up and swept me away. I had never been in there before—never even snuck a peek inside. I thought it would look like the rest of the house, decorated with a designer’s touch but not too personal. I was wrong. I spied a soccer ball on the floor, a collection of egg-shaped music boxes on the dresser, and photos of his family lined the walls.

  Vladimir enjoyed seeing my reaction to the side of him I’d yet to know. A vintage photo of a handsome young man caught my eye. “That’s your papa? What’s his name?”

  “Victor.”

  “I see where you get your blue eyes. Do you have a picture of your mama?”

  He carried me to the other side of the wall and stopped in front of a photo of a beautiful young woman holding an infant in her arms, and two little boys sat next to her on the front stoop of an apartment building.

  “You’re the baby? And they’re your big brothers?” I slid my legs down and stood next to him. “It seems like you would be the oldest, you know, personality-wise.”

  “Interesting observation. The oldest was Mischa and the middle boy was Alexei.”

  I curled my finger around his belt loop. “Your mama was lovely. What’s her name?”

  “Irina. According to my papa, she was the most beautiful woman in all of Ekaterinburg.” He smiled with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry you lost them.” I wanted to ask how they all died, but I didn’t want to upset him.

  He squeezed my hand and pointed to a picture of him, around age twelve, next to a robust dark-haired boy and a younger boy with a round belly. The youngest one had a stick in his hand, and the older boy held a cap gun aimed at a shirtless Vladimir who was flinging a rope at him like a lion tamer. At first I couldn’t figure out who they were. Then I spotted a much younger Boris in the background, looking pissed off at the antics of three young boys.

  I covered my mouth to stifle my laughter as the scene of growing up Russian gangster-style played out in pictures. “No wonder Boris has zero patience. You guys destroyed him.” I pointed at Vladimir’s picture. “Hey, you were skinny, too.” I tickled his ribs.

  “Of course, I was skin and bones. Look at my brothers. I had to fight for every scrap of food I got.”

  “Ah, what about the little guy? You didn’t fight with him, did you?”

  Vladimir touched his brother’s image through the glass. “Never. Pasha has the heart of a saint. Anybody who said a cross word or laid a hand on him had to deal with me.” His finger slid across the picture, and tapped the big boy’s image. “This one, on the other hand,” he shook his head, “Yuri and I would go to war over a stick of bubble gum.”

  As I examined the picture more closely, I noticed the youngest boy had tears in his bugged-out eyes, the oldest of Boris’s brood had a ripped shirt, and Vladimir had a welt across his side like he’d been whipped with a belt. I wrapped my arms across my body. “Boris took care of you after you lost your parents?”

  “In his own way he looked after me.” He kissed me on top of the head. “Everything we experience happens for a reason, like us. I traveled halfway around the world to help a young woman. And she is the one who saved me.” He kissed my lips. “I thank God every day for bringing us together. You are my world.”

  If I had to describe to my shrink how our relationship evolved, dysfunctional would be the politest possible description of our love affair. But despite the messed-up stuff, where we were at that moment was a magical place. He loved me, and I loved him. What did it matter how black and blue, broken, and busted-up the road was that brought us together?

  “We have all day and night. How do you want to pass the time, angel?”

  “I have a present for you,” I said. “I was going to give it to you tonight, in the Russian tradition, but it can’t wait. I’ll be right back.”

  I retrieved his gift from my purse and hurried back to the bedroom. I placed it in his hands, and he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me down on his lap. Then he untied the bow and ripped off the paper.

  “Oh, Carter.”

  It was a two-sided frame hinged down the middle. On the left half was a picture of me cuddling my toy poodle twins in my arms. On the right half, I placed a selfie of the real poodles and me. I printed a caption under the photos that read:

  My dreams came true when I met you.

  Love, Carter.

  Vladimir’s eyes were bright and wet. “This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.” He kissed me and then set the picture on his nightstand. The reality was, in order to leave the house we would have to unwind ourselves from each other’s arms—and that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I have a gift for you, too, but you must wait,” he teased. He leaned me back on the bed and slid off my ‘naughty’ shirt.

  I unbuttoned his shirt and tried to take it off, but he kept his arms stiff. I had only seen the front of his body, never his back. He was self-conscious about something. Maybe he had a stab wound or a gruesome scar or something unsettling like a tattoo of Stalin he didn’t want me to see. I slid off his pants and finally saw his bare legs in the light of day. He had star tats on his knees.

  The meaning: I bow down to no one.

  He laid on top of me and kissed my breasts, slid off my jeans, and rubbed me between my legs. I’d pledged not to lose my virginity until my wedding night, but my will power was dissolving. Sticking to my virtues when I was single was easy, but thwarting the advances of my incredibly sexy Russian would require a completely different game plan.

  To hell with virtue! The devil chided.

  I couldn’t agree more. I rolled over and straddled my man—underwear still on—and rubbed against his erection while my blonde locks rained over his face. It was a powerful feeling knowing Vladimir could have any woman he wanted—and he chose me. I ran my fingers along the muscles of his abdomen and admired the results of his early morning workouts. “What does this say?” I drew an imaginary line with my finger around a Russian phrase inked on his side.

  He spoke in Russian, but didn’t translate.

  I shoved him in the chest. “What does it say in English?”

  “It says, ‘My girlfriend asks too many questions.’ ”

  I kissed the devil on his chest. “Why did you get this ugly guy?”

  He exaggerated a long drawn out groan. “When will this interrogation end?”

  I pinned his wrists and held him down. “It will end when I say it ends.”

  “Is that so?” He smiled seductively, turned on by my inner dominatrix.

  I squeezed his wrists. “Mm-hm. You’re my prisoner now.”

  “Well then, I’ll have to escape.” He sat up, flipped me on my back, and had me pinned underneath him before I even knew what happened. I yelped, and we were both laughing so
hard we could barely catch our breath. The weight of his strong body was a total turn on. “Now you’re my prisoner.” Vladimir kissed my cheeks, my neck, my breasts…

  He cruised down my body and teased me in Russian. He slid off my panties, spread my legs, slipped his tongue inside me, and swirled and sucked my sweet spot. My arousal was coming on fast and I swiveled my hips, syncing up with his rhythm. The intensity grew, and I panted and groaned my satisfaction as he nuzzled my sex and savored my release.

  He inhaled my scent and rubbed his cheeks against my delicate skin, then cuddled up next to me. “You are more important to me than anything else in the world.”

  I curled beside him and nestled my face in the crook of his neck. “When are you going back to Russia?”

  His body tensed. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  “When?”

  “In a few days.”

  Days? I rolled off him and dug my thumbnails into the tops of my fingers to calm myself down, but the tears were coming despite my effort to stop the drama. “So, what was the plan? You were going to send me a postcard?”

  “No, angel. Let’s not ruin our perfect day. We’ll talk about it later.” He cupped my chin in his hands and kissed me on the lips. I wanted to shove him off the bed, but instead, I gave in and kissed him back. I was in shock, and at the same time humiliated about how much he meant to me, and how insignificant I was to him.

  Boris was right. I am Stupid Girl.

  Chapter 49

  Mother Russia

  Vladimir drew a bath in the whirlpool in his bathroom, filled the tub with bubbles, and added a few drops of lavender essential oil to the warm sensual water. I was shell-shocked, but I tried to live in the moment and not be a killjoy over the fact he was leaving—forever—but I couldn’t help question why he had tried so hard to win me over only to dump me as soon as he got a little piece of my puzzle.

  “Relax, angel. I’ll wash you.” He turned me around so my back was to him, took off his shirt, and sank us in the tub. He wet my hair and massaged a big glob of shampoo through my waves. Once he worked up a lather, he rinsed it off, ran a silky seaweed-colored conditioner through my hair, and then stacked my locks on top of my head in a freestyle bun.