Release

by Lucia Franco

  I studied the tile floor, staring in a daze, wondering what I had done to cause the swift change in his mood. I didn't think I'd done anything wrong, and I certainly hadn't left him with blue balls. Maybe it was just my imagination.

  I placed the glass down and walked back into the guest room. Kova already had all the pieces out and lined up, a few of them already put together. I walked to a white wicker chair next to the window and sat down. I glanced through the sheer white curtain at the bamboo trees outside, then looked back at Kova, who was reading an instruction sheet.

  "What's with all the white in these two rooms?"

  He didn't respond.

  "They're so cold and sterile, like a museum. I was afraid to breathe in them. Same for the bathroom. Does anyone use it?"

  He remained silent, not answering any of my questions, so I decided to screw with him.

  "Do you need any help?”

  "Why did you get the table delivered here instead of the gym?”

  "Did you decorate your room?"

  "What would you do if I slept with Hayden?"

  "Is white Katja's favorite color? Maybe that's why the feel is so different. Hot verses cold. Frigid bitch,” I mumbled under my breath.

  He didn't respond or react. Instead, he put the paper down and took a big swig of his drink, then picked up two pieces of steel and started assembling. He ignored my questions, and for some reason that hurt my heart.

  I figured the question about Hayden would at least get a reaction. He wasn't listening to a word I had said and that got my head spinning. Now I knew I’d done something to upset him, I just didn’t know what. Or rather, I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I suspected my words had hurt him, but I wasn't sure because Kova had never let my words affect him so much. He'd always been unbreakable. At least that's how it had always seemed.

  Something clashed together and I jumped. Kova spat out a long slew of Russian words that caused me to flinch without even knowing what he said. He shot a fleeting look my way and scowled, then picked up two pieces of the table and screwed them together.

  "I guess you used up all your English words for the day," I said softly to myself.

  Blinking, I turned away and glanced longingly out the window again. That black hollowness I was so used to spread to my chest and throughout my soul once more, taking up residence. God, I hated it so much that it brought tears to my eyes. I took a deep breath and pulled my knees up to my chest and exhaled. The whole point of coming to his home was so I wouldn’t feel alone. But sitting here with this man who always filled every room he walked into with so much energy and color was making me feel more isolated than I'd ever felt before.

  * * *

  "I'm not wearing underwear," I said, climbing onto the table. I pulled the hem of his shirt down and laid on my stomach. I looked at him over my shoulder.

  He grabbed his glass and took a long sip of the clear liquid. I swear his eyes were on my feet.

  "It is no matter. I know how to keep it professional when I need to."

  My forehead creased so hard I was starting to give myself a headache. I looked away, totally and completely baffled. Coming from Kova, I had no idea what that meant. Professional wasn't a word in our joined vocabulary.

  "I will do a blading session since it has been a long while, then I will do a massage."

  "Okay," I responded quietly, then focused on the wall.

  Kova unraveled his tools and quickly got to work. He applied so much pressure my body clenched as he dragged the tool up the back of my calf, then down. The pressure wasn't unusual, but he usually asked if I was okay. Today, he didn't.

  I gripped the sides of the table and ground my teeth together. I rambled off a bunch of questions just to take my mind off the procedure.

  "I am trying to focus, Adrianna," was all he said.

  I knew he was, but he usually obliged and assisted me in any way he could. Now he wasn't. Kova switched tools and I decided that as soon as he was finished I'd leave. If I was going to feel this alone inside, I could do it at home where I at least could cry about it. I didn’t want to be here with him anymore if he was going to act like a stranger. I didn't like this melancholic cloud hanging over my head. I chewed the inside of my cheek, knowing this session would be over soon. Blading didn't take very long, thankfully.

  I exhaled a long breath once he was finished. I didn't move but glanced over my shoulder at Kova putting away the instruments. The blading, while it helped tremendously, took so much energy out of me when I had so little to begin with. My eyes were heavy, and I blinked long and hard.

  "I'm really tired. I think I'm going to skip the massage and just go home," I said.

  Kova applied a salve to my other calf and began kneading it. "I did not leave the gym early and put this table together for nothing. You will have the massage and then you can leave afterward."

  "Uh, okay."

  Kova lifted the hem of my shirt until it reached the bottom of my butt. His hands expertly kneaded my inner calf, working their way up the back of my thigh, then down to the arch of my foot, where he pointed and flexed it. With each stroke, his fingers manipulated the tight muscles and worked my injured Achilles tendon to get blood flowing. I gasped a few times. I hadn’t realized I needed this so bad.

  "That hurts a little bit," I grunted out.

  "Deal with it."

  "I don't think I’ll be able to walk after this." Let alone drive. But I'd figure it out.

  "You will sleep here."

  "I don’t want to."

  "It is not up for discussion," Kova stated as if we were done with the conversation, which only angered me. Grabbing his cell phone, he put on music. Hinder played in the background, "Lips of an Angel," a song that I actually loved. In the quiet I listened to the lyrics clearly and understood why he liked it too. It could have been our anthem. Wanting to remain faithful to the one you chose versus yearning for the one you wanted. It was us wrapped up in a heartbreaking ballad.

  "You can't make me, you know," I said, blocking out the rest of the lyrics, but he didn't answer. He was lost in the song and using the music to ignore any word that left my lips.

  His hands actually felt good on the backs of my thighs and I softened inside. Now this was the kind of massage I could get used to. Much to my surprise, he never breached the professional line, but acted every bit the qualified specialist he was.

  Kova stepped out of the room for a few seconds and came back with a white towel.

  I was beginning to hate that color.

  Our gazes locked as he took another sip from his glass. His green eyes bore into mine over the rim of the crystal, shooting through me with what felt like contempt. I didn't like it.

  Putting the tumbler down, he walked over and draped the warm towel over my butt, then tugged the shirt up in a conservative manner so no skin would show. I shifted, knowing where he was going with this, and carefully pulled the shirt off before laying back down.

  Before he started, the tips of Kova's fingers grazed the hairs at my neck. He stood right next to me but felt so far away as he gently brushed the loose strands to the side so they fell over my shoulder. He whispered to himself, lost in his own mind, but I heard every word.

  "What is it about you that I cannot let go? I am a fool for you, as you are for me. There is nothing I would not do for you."

  I closed my eyes, his words sinking through his fingertips to my skin, painting the truth. Lotion on his hands, he started on my shoulders, digging and pushing and pinching every muscle. I was so tender is some spots and Kova's hands were unforgiving. He slid down my spine, his thumbs running over each vertebrae to my lower back. His hands spread out and his fingers slipped under the towel and over my hips and around my pelvis. He repeated the motion so many times I lost track, then he went over my legs again, and then worked on my arms with calculated measure and strict control.

  "This feels good," I all but moaned. The next song came on and I felt like it was a message. "I didn't know yo
u liked Bruno Mars."

  Kova remained quiet. With each bout of silence, I shut down a little more. I didn't like being ignored. The whole point of agreeing to come to Kova's house was to rid myself of the deafening hush hush and loneliness I received in my condo. He was giving me a dose of my own medicine and it hurt way more than I could have ever imagined. It made me think about how I'd treated him over the past couple of months. I refused to feel guilty for my actions, though, not after how everything went down, but this was a horrible feeling and I decided I was going to change my ways.

  I sighed. Maybe he didn't hear me. He did seem to be in the zone.

  "Okay. You are finished," he said.

  I glanced around. "Do you know where my shirt is?" Kova walked behind the table and bent down. He picked it up and handed it to me, then he reached for his glass and finished the remaining contents. "Thank you," I said.

  Sitting up, I covered my chest with my arm and quickly slipped it on, but I didn't need to. Kova had already given me his back.

  I climbed off the table, a little wobbly and lightheaded, but I brushed it off. I hadn't eaten anything today and it was already late in the afternoon. My stomach growled embarrassingly loud, but a searing headache erupted behind my right eye and I gasped. Kova spun around and eyed me up and down. I leaned against the table and dug the heel of my palm into my eye socket and rubbed in circles.

  "Let us get you food."

  "No," I grunted in agony. Fuck! I hated when a headache like this happened. "I'm just gonna grab my keys and go home."

  "You will not find them," he said like he was telling me he was going to water his lawn. I glanced up with one eye open. "I hid them."

  I blew a heavy breath through my nose. Not this shit again.

  "You have to be kidding me. Kova, I am not in the mood for your antics right now," I said, my voice low and lethal. "Give me my damn keys."

  "What do you want for food? Borsch. Zharkoye. Stroganoff…"

  I grimaced, and yawned. I was tired and just wanted my bed. Putting my hand out, I said, "None. I just want my keys."

  "Borsch it is."

  Kova walked out of the room and I followed close on his heels as he walked into the kitchen and pulled various containers out of the refrigerator.

  "I'm going to look for my keys."

  "Good luck. You will not find them," he responded, his voice so pleasant that it pissed me off.

  "I'm not a violent person, but I'm ready to knock you out." He ignored me and turned the stove on. "I don't want booshie, or whatever it is. I'm not hungry, and you can't make me eat. You said you can't make me do anything, and yet here you are doing this."

  Kova froze. He rested his hands on the marble countertop with his back to me. "I will never make you do anything you do not want, Adrianna."

  I threw my hands up, not that he could see. "Oh, really? Then what do you call this?"

  He didn't answer me. Aside from feeling absolute emotional devastation, him being angry with me and not telling me why was the second worst experience, and I needed to escape it before I exploded. I felt the heat rising inside me, my heart thawing from icy cool to a fierce burn in a matter of seconds. I squeezed my eyes tight until I saw a glowing light, and shook my head, not understanding what the hell was going on when I decided I'd pull a fast one on him.

  Calmly, I said, "Fine." Then I turned around and skimmed over the countertops, looking for his keys. If I couldn't take my car, I'd take his.

  A few moments later, something jingled behind me. "I am one step ahead of you. Nice try, though."

  That was it. My breathing labored, I panted with fury. Before I could detonate, Kova strode over and stopped right in front of me. I reached behind me and gripped the countertop so hard my knuckles hurt. If he came any closer, I would kick him in the balls.

  "When did you have time to steal my keys? Was this planned all along?"

  He swallowed, his throat bobbing. "The people who need the most help are the ones who never look like it. I will not make you stay, but you need me right now and you know it. You are far from immature, so do not start acting like it. Go lie down while I cook. If you want to leave after you eat, you can. At least I will know you are stable enough to drive by then. I saw how you came off the table, how your eyes looked, the headache you are hiding from me right now." I ground my teeth. "Whether you like it or not, I see you."

  Tears burned my eyes. God, I hated that he was always right. Kova expelled a heavy breath. He lifted a hand and tried to brush back a few strands of hair near my temple but I swatted it away. I was angry and upset at the world.

  Pushing away from the counter, my shoulder bumped into his arm but I kept walking. He caught up to me and yanked on my arm, forcing me to turn around.

  "What?" I snapped, glaring at him. Kova stared down at me, quiet, penetrating the barrier I’d put up once more and long enough for me to question what he was thinking about. "How do you deal with your temper? How do you remain indifferent like you do? Are you incapable of emotion? Because I'm beginning to think you are."

  He shrugged like the answer was obvious. "I drink vodka like all good Russians do."

  "Well, I don’t like vodka so I guess I'll just go stew in a mental hospital while I stare at a wall contemplating your demise."

  I caught the faintest hint of a smirk, but only because I knew him. "There is the fire I love so much."

  I lowered my eyelids and almost growled at him. Yanking my arm away, I marched out of the kitchen toward the guest room we were just in and slammed the door once I was inside, not caring that it was his house or that it shook the frame. My dad would’ve had my ass if I'd done that in his house.

  I climbed up on the bed and sat cross-legged, staring at the wall, annoyed when he came in moments later holding out a half-full glass of red wine. I hesitated for a moment before taking it.

  I glared up at him and took two huge sips before I said, "First you fuck me like the savage you are, then you feed me Plan B, now you're giving me alcohol. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to corrupt me."

  He angled his head to the side, not buying it. "Do not be so dramatic. I was drinking vodka before you were a thought in your father's head. You will live, and hopefully, fucking relax a little."

  Right before Kova left the room, he got in the last word.

  "If I recall correctly, you asked me to fuck you today, and I said no."

  He smiled and shut the door.

  I almost crushed the glass in my hand.

  Later that night after I'd fallen asleep on a full, warm belly of wine, I woke up in the bed and saw that I was covered by a blanket. I sat up and glanced around, tired and feeling alone. It was three in the morning and the room felt too quiet.

  I climbed out of the spare bed, the oversize shirt exposing my bare shoulder as I walked out of the room into his dark house. Assuming Kova was in his bedroom, I went there and found him.

  I glanced down. His room was dark, nearly pitch back, but I could make out his outline thanks to the dim light from his closet he had left on. He had one knee cocked up, the other extended, and the comforter draped over his hips. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I got to look at his insanely sexy body. He was resting on the right side of the bed, leaving the left side empty, as if he were waiting for me. With an arm thrown above his head, his face was nestled into his bicep, free of stress and worry. It was then I noticed his head was resting on the pillow I’d come on earlier. I blinked, a little surprised. He had said he wanted to smell my pussy and see the mark I left. He hadn’t been kidding.

  I wasn't angry anymore. Maybe the wine had helped, who knew. What I did know was that I was lonely and wanted him to hold me.

  Lifting the comforter, I slid in next to him, pressing my back to his front. He moved toward me almost like it was the most natural thing for him to do, even in sleep. He wrapped an arm around my waist and sidled up to me. I exhaled, settling against his warmth like this was where I was supposed to be.


  In the stillness of the night, he softly called my name. "Adrianna?"

  I hesitated for a moment. "Yes?"

  "Do not ever call me convenient again."

  For a moment my mind was jumbled and I flipped through events of the night until my lips parted in realization. My words had hurt him. Well, one word specifically. Convenient. It was the reason why his demeanor had changed so much, why he’d been so cold and ignored anything I’d said. I hadn't actually meant it, but now I felt bad that I’d said it.

  "I didn't mean it," I responded quietly. He hugged me tighter and let out a breath down my neck. "I'm sorry."

  "How is your headache?” he asked.

  "It’s okay now. I think the wine and sleeping helped.”

  "Good. Now tell me why you got so angry before.”

  "I felt like what you said was true about us making progress and that scared me. If we are making progress, does that mean I forgive you? I don't know what to think other than I don't want to be that girl who gets walked on all over by the guy she likes. That’s why I said you were convenient. Then in the spare room I felt so alone and empty inside. I’ve never felt alone when I was with you before, but you ignored me and shut me out and it hurt me."

  Kova squeezed me tight and placed a kiss on my shoulder. "You cannot deny we have made progress, because we have, just not a whole lot. Even I can admit we have a long way to go." He paused. "And as long as I am around, you will never be alone."

  Just as I was about to doze off, he said my name again.

  "Adrianna?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "If I ever found out you slept with Hayden, I would kill you both."

  I couldn’t fall back to sleep so easily after that.

  * * *

  My nerves were shot. I was stressed about the second training camp, stressed about just being in the doctor's office sitting and doing nothing when I could be training, stressed that I had offended Kova—which is so fucking stupid considering all the things he'd done—stressed about Joy, stressed about Avery… Just. Plain. Fucking. Stressed. Out.