by Nicole Fox
He pushes me back on the bed and unzips my jeans, slipping the denim from my hips.
“Hello to you, too,” I say as he drags his palms down my now-bare thighs.
He responds by kissing his way up my inner leg, and I don’t mind at all.
The sex has been frequent and mind-blowing. Dmitry seeks me out most days of the week and, without any discussion or conversation, we tear into one another.
It has become an incredible release. Whenever we skip a day, I miss and crave it.
Still, he hasn’t opened up to me. Actually, he has barely spoken to me since the day Tati woke up. All of his time is split between dealing with his men and the Italians, and Tati’s rehabilitation, though I’ve taken on a large role in the latter aspect, as well.
For some reason, Tatiana likes my presence. She requests to see me in the evenings and wants me to read books with her. I’ve been learning more sign language so we can stop reading the same children’s nursery rhyme books over and over again, and she has been teaching me little things like the sign she made up for Dmitry’s name—the letter ‘D’ with her right hand while both arms move towards the front in the ‘strong’ sign.
Dmitry puts his strength to use when he wraps a hand around my lower back and slides me further up on the bed so he can rest on the edge of the mattress while his mouth goes to work on my center.
I spread my thighs for him and curl my fingers in his silky hair.
Yesterday, he came home bloodied again. I tried not to stare, but it’s hard not to. I’m not accustomed to the violence of his life.
“Things aren’t usually this bad,” he said when he caught me looking at him. He threw his stained shirt in the hamper and turned to me, bare-chested and beautiful. “The Italians are still after us.”
Then, we transitioned into precisely what we are doing now.
“You seem clean today,” I say. “No trouble at work?”
Dmitry looks up at me, eyebrows raised. “Do you really want to talk right now?”
No, of course not. I want to scream his name and beg him to never stop, but if we don’t talk now, we never will.
“There doesn’t seem to be another time to talk,” I admit as he swirls his tongue inside of me. My entire body goes to jelly.
Dmitry sighs and crawls over me, kissing his way under my tank top, eventually lifting it up until I help him pull it over my head and toss it on the floor. He unsnaps my bra with a quick flick of his fingers and has my nipple in his mouth in an instant.
He’s efficient.
At this rate, he’ll get good enough there won’t even be time to talk during the act.
“Tatiana’s physical therapy is going well,” I say through a moan when he nips at my breast.
“I do not want to talk right now,” he says, grinding his hips against mine like he wants to pound me to dust. I can feel his excitement against my thigh.
Dmitry and I haven’t had a lot of time for anything other than carnal conversation, but he has thanked me a few times for looking after Tati. I tell him it’s my pleasure, and I mean it. Tatiana gives me a purpose in the house. Something to do aside from study and dance.
She’s an easy little girl to love.
I’m sad that one day, she won’t be in my life.
One hundred and twenty-seven days left in our deal.
Dmitry grabs my arms and pins them above my head. Then, with his eyes locked on mine, he drives himself into me, thrusting to the hilt.
I tip my head back and cry out, and Dmitry muffles the sound with his mouth, kissing me until I feel drunk.
He pounds into me, our bodies slapping together, and I curl my legs around him and hook my ankles behind his back. I pull him into me even as the orgasm becomes too much to contain. Even as I fall apart, I keep ahold of him. Because I know when this is done, he’ll leave.
And for reasons I don’t understand, I don’t want him to go.
“Courtney,” Dmitry groans in my ear, his breath hot on my neck as he comes.
When he’s done, he kisses me, slides out, and leaves.
One hundred and twenty-six more opportunities for that to happen.
The next day, I’m walking down the stairs after a physical therapy session with Tatiana and pulling my hair up into a ponytail when the door slams open.
My hands are occupied, so I don’t have any way to brace myself as I slip down the remaining three stairs and land on my butt on the marble floor.
I scramble to standing as fast as I can. “What is going on?”
The guards are grunting and hauling something through the door, and I step back and press myself against the wall, not wanting to interfere. Dmitry usually tries not to bring his work home with him but things have been crazy lately. Apparently, he has to interrogate someone here.
I gesture towards the basement door, thinking I’ll at least try to be helpful even if I don’t agree with what is happening, but then I see who the guards are holding.
“Sadie!” Her name is a question and a plea, and I rush forward and try to pull the guards’ hands off her. “What is going on? What is happening?”
“She was trespassing,” a guard barks. “She climbed the fence.”
“She’s my friend.” I pull on their hands again, but they keep a tight hold on her. Sadie lets out a frustrated scream as she thrashes back and forth, but her fighting does little. The guards are much stronger than her.
“I’m calling Dmitry,” I shout over the commotion.
“Not necessary.”
Dmitry appears behind the guards and nods at the guards. Immediately, they drop Sadie, and she falls to the floor in a heap. I kneel down and lay a hand on her back. “Oh my God, Sadie, are you okay?”
“Fine,” she says sarcastically. “Great.”
“Courtney,” Dmitry says, eyes serious and searching. “You should have your friends call next time. We’d be happy to open the gate for them.”
I glare up at him, but his expression doesn’t change. I wonder if he’s going to kick Sadie out. She did call the police on him, after all. He has good reason to not want her around. However, he crosses his arms over his chest and turns for the stairs.
“I’ll be upstairs. Make yourself at home, Sadie.”
The guards clear out, though I know they’ll stay close, and I wait until Dmitry is upstairs and the door slams behind him before I stand up, hauling Sadie with me.
“What in the hell were you doing climbing over the fence?” I ask. “You could have been shot.”
“Shot?” Her eyes go wide. “Who keeps armed guards at their house?”
“Important people. People with a lot of enemies.” I’m not going to lie to Sadie, but I’m not going to tell her the whole truth. She doesn’t need to know. I made a deal with Dmitry—for my father—and I intend to see it through. “Come into the kitchen.”
“No.” Sadie stumbles back against the door and shakes her head. “Not until you tell me what you are doing here. Are you safe?”
“What did the police tell you?” I ask. “They talked to you, right? Because they came here to talk to me, and I told them I’m fine. I told them I wasn’t kidnapped. Did they relay that to you?”
Sadie bites her lip and nods. “Yes, but I didn’t know if I could trust them. You hear stories about dirty cops. What if they were working with the guys who took you? I wanted to see you for myself.”
I hold my arms out to the side and spin in a circle. “I’m fine.”
True.
“I’m here of my own free will.”
Mostly true.
I feel Sadie studying me, but she isn’t as frantic as when she first arrived. On some level, I can tell I’ve calmed her worries, and this is confirmed when she follows me deeper into the house.
“Do you want tea?” I ask, grabbing the electric kettle from the counter and filling it with water before she can answer. Then, I grab two mugs from the cabinet and drop a spiced tea bag in each one.
When I turn around, Sadie’s da
rk brows are raised. “You really are here of your own free will, aren’t you?”
I nod. “I wasn’t lying to you. I’m fine.”
She sighs and drops down onto the nearest barstool. “Then you need to tell your family that. I went to talk to your dad, and he said you were okay, but you should see him, Courtney. He’s pale, and thinner by the day. He’s worried sick about you. Even your mom is worried.”
My stomach twists at the news of my dad, but at the mention of my mom, I stop my movements and spin around. “What about my mom?”
“She couldn’t get ahold of you, and your dad kept making excuses, so she finally came into town. She went to the police station to demand they come here and haul you out of this house.”
“What?” I lean back against the counter, mouth hanging open. “My mom?”
My mom, who wouldn’t show up in my life in any kind of meaningful way for years, is suddenly in town. With my dad.
Looking for me.
It’s all too bizarre to be real, and also too dangerous.
“Tell her I’m fine.” I move to Sadie and grab her hands. “Tell her to go home. I don’t want to leave.”
“But why?” Sadie looks around at the sparkling kitchen and shrugs. “Okay, I mean, I guess I get it. This is a freaking mansion. But this is also not like you at all. You’re all about school and your dad and your future. Why are you suddenly with this guy?”
“Dmitry,” I correct, though I don’t know why it’s important to me that she call him by his name. “And because I want to be. Please just let it go.”
Sadie stands up and takes a deep breath. Then, she smiles at me. “No, I’m sorry. I won’t. Something weird is going on here, and I’m not going to stop until I’m positive you are safe.”
We go back and forth on it for a few minutes, but there is no use. Sadie has always been stubborn, and she won’t budge. She doesn’t believe all of my half truths and deceptive storytelling, and she isn’t going to stop.
I could tell her the truth, but that isn’t an option.
Number one, it probably wouldn’t do anything to end her crusade to free me.
Number two, it would put her at risk. Dmitry didn’t make it explicitly clear, but it was implied that no one can know who he is or what he does or why I’m actually here.
So, I hug Sadie goodbye and beg her one last time to let it go.
“I’ll let it go when you’re home,” she says, poking me in the side. Then, she looks past me into the house, eyes narrowed. “Take care of yourself, please. Be safe.”
I promise her I will, and I hope I can keep that promise.
One hundred and twenty-five more days until this will be over.
I head upstairs to find Dmitry, but when I’m halfway up, I hear the sound of Tati’s bell. Dmitry and I run into each other in the hallway, both headed towards Tati. He doesn’t say anything as he follows me down the hall to her room.
I poke my head in her room and wave to catch her attention. When she looks at me, I sign. What is it, kid?
There are crayon masterpieces hanging from the walls, dolls in various stages of undress with tiny princess dresses strewn about the bed, and juice boxes all over the nightstand. It looks much more like a six-year-old girl’s room now than a hospital unit.
I’m bored. She slumps down in the bed.
Dmitry smiles and walks into the room. Then get out of bed. The doctor wants you to walk around more. You have to work on your endurance.
Me and Courtney already did that today, she signs. We walked the halls forever. It was boring.
I know enough sign language now to guess at what is being said, but I still miss things from time to time. When I do, Dmitry translates for me.
Dmitry smooths down her blonde hair with a surprisingly gentle touch. Is everything boring?
Yes, she pouts. Then, suddenly, she sits up. I want to go to the movies. You won’t let me go to school yet. So I want to see a movie.
They’ve had this discussion about school more than once. The doctors don’t think Tati is ready. Neither does Dmitry. Based on my college psych classes, I’m torn because I know she desperately needs the normalcy of a classroom but also likely needs more time to recover. For now though, Dmitry has put his foot down, so it’s a moot point.
Dmitry frowns. The movies? Like, the theater?
She nods, mouth open in a gap-toothed smile. Can we get popcorn? And candy? I want a soda!
Whoa, hold on. Dmitry bites his lip. I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.
Tatiana’s face falls at once, and then she turns to me. Courtney? Please?
I hold up my hands. That isn’t my decision, kiddo. I’m sorry.
You never let me do anything fun, Uncle Dmitry. She lowers her chin to her chest, bottom lip pouted out. It isn’t fair.
Dmitry looks up at me and then double-checks to make sure Tati is reading his lips. “Thanks for backing me up. Now I’m the bad guy.”
I almost remind him that he is, definitionally, a bad guy. Instead, I just shrug. “I like the movies. It would be fun.”
It would be nice to forget about the drama of my life for a few hours. Plus, the house is pretty boring. Tati isn’t wrong there.
“It isn’t safe,” he says.
Tati looks up at him and waves a hand in front of his face. Don’t talk about me. I’m right here.
He lays a hand on her forehead and winks down at her. While she’s distracted, I argue her cause. “We have guards. It would be easy to keep the movie theater safe. And it isn’t exactly a common haunt of yours. No one will suspect it.”
Dmitry sighs, narrows his eyes at me, and then looks down at Tati. As soon as she sees the smile on his face, she jumps up. Are we going?
He nods, and she throws her arms around his neck. Then, she points to me. Courtney, too?
Dmitry wraps an arm around the girl’s middle and lifts her up on his hip. Then, he nods and looks at me, a small smile on his lips. “Yes, Courtney, too.”
14
Courtney
The movie is captioned, but Tatiana is having a hard time reading. So, Dmitry spends a few minutes every so often signing what is going on to her in the dim lights. I would think that would be a terrible way to enjoy a movie, but Tati doesn’t seem to mind. She just eats her candy and popcorn and takes long drinks from the soda she’s supposed to be “sharing” with Dmitry.
When he isn’t signing the events of the movie to his niece, Dmitry is scouring the theater.
It’s a mid-afternoon showing of a cartoon, so the theater is filled with parents corralling kids to and from the bathroom, splitting snacks between arguing siblings, and perpetually telling them to shush.
Still, Dmitry can’t seem to relax. He glances back at the doors every few minutes and jumps whenever the dad in the row behind us slides past to keep his toddler from crawling under the seats.
For the first time, I consider how difficult it must be to be Dmitry. How exhausting it must be to constantly be wary of threats to your life or the lives of your loved ones.
He can’t take a day off. He can’t forget his worries for a few hours in a movie theater. If he did, there is a possibility he’d be caught unaware. Attacked. Killed.
“This movie is terrible,” I whisper in his ear.
He starts and then looks at me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t think it’s meant for us.”
I shrug. “Still terrible.”
He turns away, but I see a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth.
Truthfully, I haven’t watched the film much. Dmitry has been busy monitoring the theater for danger, and I’ve been busy monitoring him.
When we got to the show, Tatiana led the way into the row, Dmitry trailing behind. So, I somehow ended up sitting next to Dmitry, and his knee keeps brushing my thigh. At first, I pulled it away, but now I’m letting our bodies touch, and it’s almost more exciting than when we have sex.
The sex is good—obviously. But being close to him, near him when I
know nothing more is going to happen, stokes a fire in my belly. It makes me want it even more than I usually do.
I bump my knee gently against his, readjusting in my seat so it looks like an accident. Then, I lay my arm on the armrest, the back of my hand brushing lightly against his arm.
“Stop that.”
I look over, and Dmitry is staring straight ahead, but his jaw is tense.
“What?”
His hand reaches out and catches mine before I even know it’s happening. Then, he pulls my arm over the armrest and settles it along the length of his thigh. He presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “Stop touching me when I’m at a kids’ movie and can’t do anything about it.”
A shiver works down my neck, and I turn away, hiding my smile. I see a couple a few rows ahead of us. I nudge Dmitry and point to them. “They obviously don’t care we are in a kids’ movie.”
He follows my finger and then blanches. “Are they making out in a theater full of kids?”
“Let’s hope that’s all they’re doing.”
He laughs into his arm and it feels good to see him be something other than serious all the time.
He smiles with Tatiana and is gentle with her, but otherwise, Dmitry is stoic. I know he has to be to survive in the world he inhabits, but I’m glad I can help him relax every so often. I’m worried that the man might implode if he doesn’t blow some steam off every once in a while. Even if a kids’ movie about an animated rabbit isn’t exactly his first or second choice for relaxation.
“Not everyone here is deaf. We should stop talking before we get in trouble,” I say.
Dmitry nods to the dark, muscular figures on either side of us. I hadn’t really noticed them, but now I see they’re obviously Dmitry’s guards.
“No one is going to walk past my men. They’re intimidating enough to keep any grouchy fathers away.”
He’s right; his men are scary. But so is Dmitry. In a moment of honesty, I say so.
Dmitry turns to me and studies my face. I can feel my skin heat under his gaze, and I hope it’s too dark to notice. Then, he shakes his head. “You are intimidating.”