by Tobi Doyle
She texted back: xoxo
Dima opened his car door and gave me an exaggerated eye-roll. “You keep smiling like that and I’ll send a urologist to search for your balls.”
“I’ll send you a proctologist to look for your head.” I got into the car.
Dima smirked. “Let’s send a cardiologist to Vanya to look for his heart.”
“It’s on his sleeve. You need an ophthalmologist.” I buckled the seatbelt and waited for his next quip.
Dima turned on the car and checked the mirrors. He looked relaxed. He smiled. “My first order as head of Bratva? Health care plan.”
I laughed and he joined in.
But I wondered, what changes would Dima really make. He’d just introduced himself to Robertson and didn’t hide from his connections to the criminal world.
He’d killed his uncle and taken over, but would they let him remain?
How long would he be able to live a dual life?
Would he ever be free?
Chapter Thirty-Six
I turned on the television to the local news channel hoping they’d break in with the uploaded car crash video. We waited. And waited. Elena toyed with a steak knife, rotating it around her palm, around her fingers, pretending to toss it at her reflection in the window. The bridge lights twinkled, along with the never-ending traffic. Somewhere, out there, Alyosha and Dima confronted Robertson. And maybe after tonight, it would all be over. And we could…
“You’re frowning.” Elena slid the knives into her hoodie pocket. “Are you worried?”
“Not really.” I searched the internet for the news story about Robertson Junior. Still nothing. I slid the laptop to the seat beside me on the couch. “Maybe we should have tagged a Kardashian on the upload.”
Elena gave a non-committal shrug and a knowing narrowing of her eyes. “What has you concerned?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Okay. It’s stupid. Tell me anyway.”
“What am I going to do now that I’m not just surviving?” The words rushed out and I closed my eyes and pushing the heels of my hands against them to stem the flow of tears.
“You could go back to school.”
“Oh, hell no.” But… “Maybe some business classes. I didn’t like school, and I do like being a stylist.” I twisted my hair and knotted it into a bun. “Alyosha offered to buy a salon for me to run.”
“Holy shit.” Elena moved the laptop to the coffee table and sat down beside me. Her face twisted comically. “Would you want to run a salon?” Her voice scaled three octaves, and her tone said she thought I’d prefer waxing man parts to managing a salon.
She wasn’t wrong.
“I would love to keep working with Michelle and Kendra, and having our own place would do that. I’ve never managed a business before, so how would I know if I hated it?”
“Mmm.” She tapped her chin. “Something about not having to eat dirt to know you wouldn’t like it.”
“This is different.” I faced her. “I feel like everything is changing. I never hoped for more and now…”
Elena smiled. “You have hope.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat. Why did the unknown–when it would absolutely be better than the past–scare me?
“He’s good for you, you know.”
“I know.”
Elena hugged me tight. “You deserve your dreams.” She patted my back. “Although I’m not sure you’ve dared to dream.”
“I haven’t.”
Elena tapped my forehead. “Fix that.”
I pushed her hand away. “I’ll get right on that.” I pulled that laptop back onto my lap and searched the local news stations for information. We’d uploaded the video over an hour ago, but maybe they were going to hold off until the late news.
Or maybe Robertson had that much pull.
“The news stations probably want to verify the video before reporting it,” Elena suggested.
“Right, because they’d never report something and then backtrack later.”
My phone pinged with a text from Alyosha. We’re on our way up.
“They’re here.” I rushed to the door and peeked through the peephole. I heard the elevator ping and felt Elena behind me.
The elevator door opened and Alyosha strode toward the condo, followed by Dima, Daniel, and Ivan. I unlocked and swung the door wide open.
He rushed forward and scooped me into his arms.
I hugging him tight and placed kisses everywhere I could reach.
“Take it inside, would you?” Dima’s low voice teased. He seemed relaxed. He’d killed his uncle and others, bad men presumably, but men. And it didn’t faze him.
I put a pin in that to figure out later. Instead, I focused on what mattered–my husband was home safe and my life was no longer in danger.
Ivan opened fridge, grabbed a beer and held it out. He tilted his chin at Elena. “You legal?”
“Yes, but I want something stronger.” Elena helped herself to Alyosha’s liquor cabinet and the bottle of Patrón.
Dima sidled up next to her. “I’ll take a glass of bourbon.”
She handed him the bottle. “I’m off the clock. Serve yourself.”
He grinned, his scar puckering. He grabbed two crystal glasses from a hidden cabinet. I really needed to map out Alyosha’s house.
Elena raised one eyebrow. “So, you own Alimony?”
“Yes.” He handed a glass to Elena and poured himself two fingers of bourbon.
“You like making money off disadvantaged women? Profiting from the objectification of females?”
He sipped the bourbon and seemed to be considering her question. “I like making money. Have you considered the women are empowered by the stupidity of the male libido?”
Elena tapped her lip with her finger. “I have, and honestly, I call bullshit. Have you asked your dancers?”
He shrugged. “Alyosha mentioned you study psychology.”
“Yes.”
“You want to ask my dancers if they’re happy?”
Elena nodded. “I would.”
Dima tipped his glass towards hers. “I’ll arrange it.”
She hip checked him. “Excellent. And I’m totally taking you up on the knife throwing.”
He shook his head and gave Alyosha a look.
My husband returned a look. The two had an entire silent conversation. One day I wanted to be able to do that with Alyosha.
Daniel grunted. “Finally. The video is on channel two.”
We huddled around Alyosha’s giant TV and watched the breaking news. The video was verified and the police had no comment regarding the on-going investigation. The victims’ family had no comment either, and I wished I’d had a chance to warn them. The video was hard to watch knowing the mother and child didn’t survive.
“What happens now?” I whispered to Alyosha.
“Your part is over,” Dima answered. “I will meet with my captain, broker a truce, and move forward.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “I will not be able to share everything with you, but I promise to be as open as I can. It would be better for you to disassociate with me.”
Elena’s eyes widened at Dima’s honesty.
Alyosha stiffened beside me.
“No,” I knew Alyosha couldn’t end his relationship with Dima any more than I could never see Elena again.
Dima studied me.
I wrinkled my nose and looped my fingers around Alyosha’s belt. “I mean, you’re like the brother I never wanted, with useful skills and a trunk that contains a serial-killer starter kit among other things.” I hugged Alyosha closer. “And I trust you.”
Alyosha kissed my head.
Dima chuckled. “Heady praise.”
“That’s as good as it gets,” I warned him.
Dima stepped close and kissed my cheek. “Thank you, Adrianna.”
I hugged him, patting my hand against the hard muscles of his back. He grunted, like he was uneasy with comfort. His
tense body didn’t relax, and he stepped away.
Alyosha snuggled me close. He nuzzled my ear. “I love you.”
And I knew I wanted my future to include him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Today is the first day of the rest of my life. One that includes only people I cared about.
For the past few weeks, I’d started every day with that mantra, and it was helping me adjust to my new normal. Today, Elena and I stood in front of the charred remains of the house we hated. The police tape was gone, along with anything of value. The insurance adjuster carefully picked through the debris, avoiding the blackened refrigerator and oven.
She wore coveralls and heavy boots and a somber expression on her face. She picked through the pile that once was our living room. The springs of the couch looked like a field of skeletonized jack-in-the-boxes against the apocalyptic landscape. “There’s really nothing left. I’ll need a list of your furnishing and personal belongings for your claim. It would help if you have pictures.”
Elena shook her head. She looked pale, stoic, and it scared me.
I cleared my throat. “We don’t want to make a claim for personal items, just the value of the house which the bank should have since it was recently refinanced and to cover the cost of the clean-up.”
“Are you sure?” the adjuster asked.
“Positive. The house had nothing of value.” No good memories, nothing we wanted to replace.
“That will make my job easier. We’ve got a company we use for complete losses. They’ll come through and remove the debris and regrade the plot so it’s ready for rebuilding.”
“That sounds excellent. Can they deal directly with you?” I asked
She frowned and spoke directly to Elena. “If that’s what you want.”
Elena blinked. “Yes.”
She pulled two cards off her clipboard and handed one to Elena. “I’ll put everything together and file it tomorrow morning. Email or call me if you change your mind about including anything in the claim.” She handed the other card to me.
Elena tucked the card into her pocket.
“Thanks,” I said.
I waited until the adjuster was in her car before turning to Elena. “Are you okay?”
A twisted smile crossed her face. “What do I do with the hate?”
I took her hand. “Don’t bury it. Smash it into a thousand pieces. For me, it’s all ashes now. It’s gone.”
She shook her head. “It’s not gone. For fuck’s sake, the only person from this neighborhood that seemed to care kidnapped you. You could have been killed. I could have lost you.” Fear-widened eyes, a quick flash of panic on her face, and then she blinked, and the stoic look returned. She hugged me. “You are the only thing that matters to me. Evil lived here and everybody ignored it.” She glanced around. “I never want to come back.”
I hugged her tight. “We won’t. And I don’t want you to bury your feelings of betrayal, anger, or hate. The past will always be a part of what made us, but it isn’t all of us. You’re the one who told me to make my survival matter. Make the future matter. I’ve decided that every day I’m happy and moving forward is a poetic fuck you.” I stepped back, noticing the blinds in Eric’s parents’ house shifting.
“Eric’s last words were an apology.” Elena sucked in a breath, but I continued, “I’m not sorry he’s dead because it makes it easier for me to move on. I’m not sorry the house is gone. It’s one less thing that ties us to the past. But your feelings are real. Promise me you won’t bury your hate.”
I felt her nod against me. “I promise.”
I drove home feeling unsettled. Instead of going to the condo, I headed to Konstantin’s. The hostess smiled from a table near the front where she was rolling silverware into napkins. “He’s in his office.”
I nodded like I knew where that was but then paused. “Where’s that?”
She pointed toward the kitchen. “The kitchen.’
I followed the scent of garlic and pushed through the kitchen door.
“Wrong door.” A surly voice came from the left where a large male chef stirred a pot of something that smelled amazing.
“Sorry. I was looking for Alyosha.”
He made eye contact, seemed to decide I wasn’t a threat, and returned to stirring.
I made my way toward an office door and was relieved that it had a window and revealed my husband.
Dima and Vanya sat across from his desk. Dima spoke and Vanya and Alyosha leaned toward him. I faltered, feeling awkward but then shook it off. We were married. No more secrets.
I knocked once on the door.
Dima turned and smiled.
Vanya waved, looking more like a proper English businessman than an ex-special forces sniper.
I opened the door.
My husband stood and crossed to me. “Kotyonok.” A brief kiss and then he shut the door. “Did you call?”
“No, should I have?” A wave of insecurity swept over me and my palms sweat.
“No. You are always welcome.” He hugged me. “You smell like smoke.”
“Elena and I went to the house to meet the adjuster.”
“How did that go?” Vanya’s kind expression released some of my tension.
“Fine. The adjuster agreed to use the bank’s refinancing information. She said she’d file it tomorrow.”
“There is more.” Dima seemed to be looking straight through me, like my concern for Elena clouded around me.
“I’m worried about Elena.”
Alyosha led me around the desk and offered me his chair. His gaze lingered on the bruise on my arm, a fading memory of the kidnapping.
“How can we help?” Dima’s cold eyes assessed me. But then that was Dima.
“I’m not sure. The house fire was cathartic for me, but it opened old wounds for Elena.” I knew they all knew about our father abusing us and I didn’t feel the need to pretend they didn’t. Still, I hated talking about it.
Hated.
“I know she’s almost got her psychology degree, but still, I wish I knew some way for her to let go of the hate.”
Vanya raised an eyebrow and shot Dima a look. Alyosha’s face had the same look. One eyebrow up, the other eye narrowed, with a slight pursing of the lips.
Dima nodded.
I really wanted to learn how to speak like that.
Dima pulled his phone out. “Text me her number. I’ll invite her to throw some knives, fire some weapons, see if that doesn’t ease some of her… tension.”
I pulled out my phone. “I don’t have your number.”
Dima smiled. “We shall rectify that. I expect to be put into your favorite contacts.” He winked.
Winked!
I was now in a totally different universe where the mob boss was a friend, a protector, and someone I trusted with not only my life, but my sister’s.
Alyosha took my phone and entered in Dima’s and Vanya’s phone numbers. “She might enjoy the new Kabar’s you got in.”
Dima stroked his scar. “She needs something concealable and maybe a set of throwing knives.”
Vanya leaned forward. “The Smith and Wesson’s are weighted beautifully.”
The three men began to argue which knife would be best for Elena. I murmured my thanks, kissed Alyosha on the cheek, and left them to it.
I texted Elena: Dima said he may text you to set up a time to throw knives.
She replied with a thumbs-up emoji and a devil. You’re the best!
I’m not sure that encouraging my sister to hang with Dima and deadly weapons was “the best” idea, but I was pretty sure it was what Elena needed.
At home, I sat at the dining room table and searched for a salon for sale on Alyosha’s laptop and considered what I wanted.
The answer was easy. I wanted to work with Kendra and Michelle.
I texted them: Pick a day to meet and plan our future salon
Kendra replied immediately: Will there be food?
I’ll
have Konstantin’s cater
Michelle answered: Weds-can we start after eight and be done by two?
Sounds perfect, I’ll order brunch
Kendra answered: Rescheduling clients now. See you weds
I researched the local, state, and federal laws for opening a salon with a tattoo and piercing studio, and a bar. I quickly learned it would be much easier for us to open the tattoo and piercing studio “separate” from the salon and bar. The city didn’t encourage drinking and tattooing, which, well, yeah, that made sense. My brain considered a thousand horrible what-ifs and doubted my ability to find a place that could be arranged to handle all four aspects of our dream salon. And opening another salon in the city without having a hook to draw in new customers made my stomach turn acidic. Alyosha’s advice about eating an elephant one bite at a time didn’t help when I couldn’t figure out which bite to take first.
Alyosha came home and set our dinner on the kitchen counter. He eyed our dining table covered in papers, a street map, and post-its.
I hopped up and greeted him with a hug and kiss. “How was your day, dear?”
“Good, but from the looks of things not as productive as yours.” He cupped my face and kissed me, gentle and sweet, warm and tender, and I melted against him.
“Will you have to go back tonight?” I murmured against his chest.
He kissed my forehead. “No. Tonight I am all yours.” His eyes dilated, looking dark and serious, as if I was the answer for whatever question he had.
I gripped the front of his shirt needing to touch him. “You’re always all mine.”
He lifted me, gripped my butt, and kissed the hell out of me. This beautiful man wanted me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on as he carried me toward our bedroom.
“Good idea,” I whispered against his neck.
“Love being married,” he whispered back.
“Me, too.” I craved his skin against mine.
He released me in our bedroom and we quickly undressed. The cool air of the room caressed my overheated skin. My nipples, already pebbled, grew harder at the sight of my husband, covered in ink.
I kissed his newest art. The date of our wedding and “forever and a day” were tattooed at the feet of tiger on his forearm that had caught my attention on our very first date. He’d permanently marked himself with me. Pleasure spiked and flowed throughout my body.