by A. C. Bextor
Pulling the bag toward me, I find a box of cigars—Cuban and expensive. “I’ll call him later to tell him thanks.”
“That’d be good,” she answers, taking a seat across from me and staring with open curiosity. “He’s impressed with you. He said he’ll tell Vory that when he sees him soon.”
“You bragged about me, I see.”
Smiling, she replies, “Always. The better graces you are in with the family, the better I am, too.”
Her passive statement coincides with the wonder I have for her unusually happy disposition. My sister is hiding something.
“How’s my Veni?” she asks, deflecting my stare.
“He’s good.”
“Klara?” she questions, eyebrows raised and voice poised to strike.
“I didn’t banish her to her room while you were away, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“I wasn’t insinuating anything.” She shakes her head.
The trust and friendship between Klara and Faina has always been strong, yet as Klara’s grown, the bond between them has become nearly impenetrable. Those in this family hold loyalty to each other, but false loyalty can be given if the last names differ in any way. I don’t imagine the two women acknowledge the difference.
“I have business,” I tell her. “Veni’s been asking when you’d be back. You should go find him.”
“I have lots of gifts for him, and Klara, too.”
“I’m sure of it,” I dig. “You should go make sure they get them.”
Standing, she sighs. “I will, but first I’ve got one small request.”
“Yes?”
“Well, a couple, actually.”
I roll my eyes as she often does. She hates when I mimic her, but I hate when she puts in requests. They’re never small.
“The favors are in regards to Klara.”
I frown. “What is it this time?”
“I’m moving her room,” she explains first. “She’s not a paid employee, Vlad. She may have been raised a guest here, as you’ve always put it, but she’s not a member of your staff. She shouldn’t be sleeping next to them.”
Knowing Faina will argue to the death if I don’t, I concede. “Fair. Move her room.”
“Really?”
“Really. Move her.”
Taking in a breath, she continues, “For her birthday, I’m buying her some new clothes, too. She’s always wearing threads or the clothes I’ve given her.”
“Not my business.”
Leaning forward, Faina presses, “I mean a lot of new clothes. As in the same kind I wear. The expensive kind.”
“They’re clothes, Faina. My God, I wasn’t aware there were so many clothes to choose from to wear.”
Satisfied she gets to shop, Faina asks, “Will you be going to Klara’s get-together tomorrow night?”
Her get-together?
“Faina, I’ve seen the guest list. I imagine this ‘get-together’ is more of an extravagant event than anything.”
Raising her brows, she presses, “Are you going to at least make an appearance?”
“Yes. I see no reason why I shouldn’t.”
“Are you not feeling well?” Faina worries. “Are you sick?”
I shake my head, not understanding. “What?”
“I practiced an entire speech on the way home. I thought you’d—”
Cutting her off, I state, “Faina, I don’t care what you do with the girl. You need a new project, then so be it. Use her.”
“You’re not going to say anything to upset her or make her feel like less because of what I’m doing?”
“No, you have my word.”
“So, I can do anything with her?”
Christ. Handing over free rein to Faina in regards to Klara could be dangerous.
Giving in, only to get her out of my office, I reply, “My word has been given. I really do have something I need to do. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, actually. I’ve given something else some thought.”
“Continue, but get it out,” I push.
“Rueon isn’t married and as far as I know he’s not seeing anyone,” she decrees. “Maybe he’d like to take Klara—”
“No fucking way will that happen,” I command.
The image of Klara holding my injured hand with care flashes before my eyes, making me uneasy. Her innocence, her hidden strength, and her resiliency offer little reprieve from the memory of the time we shared during Faina’s absence. No other man, especially one I know, deserves the same attention.
“We’re finished here,” I tell her as I stand. “Move Klara, dress her up in whatever you feel she needs, but that’s it. No matchmaking.”
When I look up, my sister’s expression is puzzled.
“You called her Klara,” she accuses.
“That’s her name, isn’t it?”
“You don’t call her by her name.”
To avoid her condescending tone and whatever else she may say, I clip, “Faina, I have missed you, but get out. I have things to do.”
Once again annoyed, Faina’s hands move to her hips. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly busy. Now go. It’s late. Find Veni, say hi, and then he goes to bed.”
“Stop complaining,” Abram barks, hearing Gleb moan once again that the tie Faina forced him to wear fits like a noose. “You look civilized.”
“Funny, ’cause I think I look more like a duck,” he whines.
“It’s penguin, you goon,” Abram corrects with a smile, running his hand down his chest to check that his own tie is in place. “Go get yourself another drink. It’ll help you forget about the suit.”
Gleb shakes his head in disbelief, but does as suggested and steps away without a word.
“When I gave Faina permission to throw a party for the girl, I didn’t mean this.”
“What?” Abram mocks with failing innocence. “This is nothing more than a quaint little get-together.”
“This is a monstrosity.”
The place looks as bad as prom night at the local high school. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling; the dance floor is centered in the room. Candelabras are lit, scattered throughout near tall painted walls. Waiters walk around holding trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
Faina has clearly outdone herself this time.
“Rueon mentioned Police Chief O’Donnell was by earlier to tell Klara happy birthday,” Abram notes.
“Wonderful. Just what we need, to be seen having drinks with the local PD.”
“Klara likes Garrett, Vlad. And cut Faina a break while you’re at it. It was a smart move to ask him to come.”
“No, it was a stupid and unnecessary move. Now all we need is for Congressman Green to show his face here, too.”
“He did,” Abram enlightens. “He just left.”
Turning only my head, I insist, “You’re joking.”
Smiling, Abram admits, “I am. But you should see the look on your face right now.”
“You know I hate jokes.”
“And you know you’re an easy target.”
Brushing off Abram’s attempt to bait me, I lift the rim of my glass to my lips. My hand stops mid-motion, and my eyes lock on none other than the birthday girl herself. She’s in the middle of the floor, dancing with Rueon. She’s smiling up at him as if he’s the only person in the room.
As if I hear a trigger click into place, a possessive red line coats my vision at his hands touching her, even in her most innocent of places. My hands clench as his chest brushes against hers.
Klara’s hair is up, leaving her long neck exposed. Small locks of her blonde strands hang down to kiss her bare shoulders. I see from here that her fingernails are painted black. On anyone else I’d consider the color ridiculous, but dressed in a black silk and lace dress, she looks all the more put together.
Rueon’s dressed in a black suit—black tie included. His hair had to have taken an hour to perfect. Like this, he looks older, more experienced.
And he also looks completely satisfied with himself.
“You see what I see?” Abram leans over and nudges my shoulder. “Don’t you?”
Yes. I see it clearly. I couldn’t turn away from the sight of her even if I were able.
I don’t voice this, but instead answer, “Yes. Rueon and Klara are dancing.”
“If that’s all you see, then you’re more inexperienced with women of class than I originally thought.” He scoffs, then sternly instructs, “Ask her to dance, Vlad.”
“No,” I quickly deny. “She’s content with Rueon. Let them be.”
Abram deliberately sighs. “Yes, she definitely looks content.”
It isn’t until Rueon’s hands drop just below Klara’s waist and he pulls her closer to him than I’m comfortable with that Abram clears his throat.
As I turn to look at my meddling friend, I find he’s studying my reaction carefully.
“Vlad, I love you like a brother, but for fuck’s sake, don’t let another man take what you want out from under you. You’ll regret it.”
He’s right. I know he is. I do want her. And in a way I shouldn’t. Klara, being so young and inexperienced, would want more. Me, being as I am, could never afford to give her what she would unquestionably demand.
“Leave her be.”
“You’re a coward.”
“I’m not a coward,” I refute.
“Klara scares the hell out of you. Admit it.”
“There’s not a woman alive who scares the hell out of me, Abram. Stop it.”
“Okay. You’re right. I’ll stop.”
“Thank you.”
“Rueon would be good for Klara,” he casually states. “The two would make beautiful babies together. Rueon’s Russian, right?” He continues to successfully goad.
Deciding to do something I’ve never done—pursue a woman, even for a dance—I turn to my friend. “I’ll be back.”
On my way to Klara, another of Abram’s laughs breaks out along with his utterance of “Don’t hurt him, friend. Rueon is one of our best.”
“Happy Birthday,” Vlad bends to whisper as I stand in Rueon’s arms.
Rueon looks down on me and smiles so big his cheeks dimple on each side. He nods to Vlad, pales at the sight, and then instantly releases me to take a step back.
“Boss,” he finally greets.
“Rueon,” Vee curtly addresses. Lifting his chin to the crowd, Vee directs, “You have other admirers. Go see to them.”
All of us turn to three young women, teenagers of those who work for Vee, standing in a line against the wall. All of them look at Rueon as they whisper giddily to each other.
“Since I think I just lost my dance partner, I should probably head off to find another one.”
“Yes, you should.” Vlad’s hand takes mine at the same time he brings his massive frame to stand in front of me, blocking my view of Rueon’s hasty getaway. Then he moves his large hands, grasping my waist.
“You didn’t have to be so abrupt,” I comment, shaking my head in disbelief. “Rueon and I were almost finished.”
“Not soon enough,” he counters, his eyes darken as he glares down into mine.
He’s jealous.
“I’m intruding on your evening,” he surmises when I’ve said nothing. “If you’d rather I—”
“No,” I immediately object. “Maybe you just didn’t need to barge in until we were finished.”
Vlad says nothing in defense. I’m being mean. I’ve scolded him for only wanting to dance.
Surprised by his lack of anger, I start to admit, “I just didn’t think you—”
“I dance, Klara,” he assures. “Even monsters are capable of swaying back and forth to music.”
The smell of his cologne drifts between us as I bring my gaze to his broad chest. He’s not wearing a tie like his men are. The top two buttons of his pressed, white shirt are undone, exposing the thick cords of his neck.
“Put your arms around me,” he insists. “I promise not to bite if that’s what has you staring at me the way you are.”
Feeling small, I do as he says, wondering if it’s true—that he doesn’t bite. Yet, I also wonder how that bite may feel should he break that promise.
When I shiver at the image, Vee pulls me closer. My hand rests against his shoulder and as I look over it, I find Abram standing near the entrance. He’s watching us together carefully, smiling as if in triumph.
“Are you having any fun?” he asks quietly. “Or were you before I ‘barged’ in?”
I nod, keeping my eyes locked to Abram for false security. He’s talking to Faina now. As her focus turns to Vee and me, she shakes her head as her eyes widen in disbelief.
“You’re giving me a complex. Are you going to say anything at all?”
Bringing myself back to us together on a dance floor, I pull my head up and take my first genuine look at him. All others in the room have faded away. No more noise heard through the static of my confusion—only Vee smiling down on me, seemingly daring me to speak.
“You could say something nice,” I tell him, boldly pushing the dare back to his corner.
“Nice?”
“All the others I’ve danced with so far have said something nice,” I explain the challenge. “And you rarely have anything to say at all.”
“Rarely?”
“As in never.”
“I see,” he contemplates, then quiets.
“Thank you for giving me this,” I note, watching as surprise rises in his eyes. “I didn’t need a party, but—”
“Turning twenty-one only happens once.”
Presumably more comfortable, Vee’s hand travels low against my back, finding the dip of the dress Faina insisted I wear. Looking down at me with eyes fueled with fire, Vee’s chest grazes mine when he takes in a startled breath. The warmth of his fingertips spreads against my bare skin, sending shivers and shock up my spine and leaving a line of heat once he moves them away.
“Christ, Klara,” he hisses, and I frown. “You could tempt the heart of a saint in that dress.”
Annoyed at his tone, I don’t think before I react. “Good that I’m not dancing with a saint.”
A cruel smile crosses his lips, one full of mystery and intrigue. “Careful, beautiful girl. Your talons are sharp.”
From feeling annoyed to now angry, I hold his gaze with my own. Narrowing my eyes, I move to shock him just as he’s done to me.
“Remember the scar? The one on my leg?”
“Yes,” he answers, positioning his hands firmly around my waist and locking them together at my back.
“You said I didn’t listen to you and that’s why I got hurt.”
“That’s right. I told you to stay in the house and you didn’t.”
“I called you a monster.”
Rolling his eyes in agitation, he sighs. “We need to discuss this again?”
“When it happened, I was mad because you never asked me why I disobeyed you.”
His eyebrows furrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, then stops.
Not giving him a chance to stop me from saying more, I add, “I came outside because I was afraid to be in the house alone.”
“Afraid?”
“Faina had been out all day with Veni.”
“But Leonid was there. Gleb was inside, too,” he insists.
“But you weren’t,” I counter, then continue telling him what I know he couldn’t have ever known. “I went to find you. I wanted to be wherever you were.”
“Klara—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.
“You don’t believe me,” I infer, “but you should because it’s true. I called you a monster not because I was in pain, but because I was angry you weren’t paying attention to me.”
“I don’t know what to say to that,” he replies.
“You never paid attention to me.”
“That’s not true,” he counters.
“Isn’t it? You always—”
; From behind him, intrusive and loud female voices call his name, overlapping one another as they get closer. We turn our heads in time to see Katrina breaking through the crowd, Faina snapping closely at her heels.
“She came for you,” I solemnly state what he already knows. “You should talk to her outside. Faina won’t like her here.”
With guilt covering his face, Vee releases his hold. The loss of his body against mine is greatly noticed.
“She wasn’t supposed to be here,” he tells me.
“She’s here now, so you should go.”
Before Katrina has a chance to arrive, Vee turns to me, grabs my elbow, kisses my cheek, and with a voice soft, genuine, and certain, he says, “For what it’s worth, I’m paying attention to you now. Happy Birthday, my beautiful girl.”
Too late for him to hear me, as his back is turned and his ear close to Katrina’s mouth, I don’t get the chance to explain that for him to call me his was the nicest compliment anyone could’ve given me tonight.
After getting home late and helping Faina put an extremely tipsy Maag to bed, I said good night to Veni. Now, as I stumble my way through the house, I’m cursing myself for drinking as much as I did.
After Vee followed Katrina outside and never returned, my enthusiasm for the evening notably passed. For the first time in my adult life, I craved a drink—or six.
Rueon stayed behind and offered to dance in Vee’s place. He didn’t have to explain that he was there because he saw my reaction; obviously, my disappointment was written all over my face. When I refused to ruin his night and chose to keep drinking instead, he insisted on not leaving my side.
I’ve only really consumed alcohol in the past on New Year’s Eve, and that’s always only been one glass for celebration, maybe two. I’m realizing too late that the five or six I indulged in tonight may not have been so well thought out.
The room is spinning, and when I look up at the ceiling, the light bulbs are blurry.
I’m also extremely thirsty.
“Shit,” I curse, grazing my wrist on a sharp corner of the hallway table.
Thankful the way is lit, I pass my room and head down the hall toward the kitchen. The fluorescent lights Maag is always insisting she have in her workspace all shine brightly.