by Raven Scott
I wasn’t sure which was worse, but I couldn’t stay to find out.
18
Igra
“I can carry something for you, malen’kaya ptitsa.” Something about watching Yelene carry two bags and a suitcase that weighed more than she did was inherently amusing.
Over and over again, she’d declined my help, but this time, she only shot me a sheepish smile.
Taking the floral print case, I pulled out the handle before she ducked back into the car to grab her last bag.
When she decided to take everything, Yelene really meant everything. She even took her soap and shampoo from the bathroom. Despite rushing to leave before Ophelia came back inside, she was methodical and thorough, and she packed everything neatly.
The ride to my apartment block was quiet and the strangest sense of nostalgia swept over me as I gazed up at the building. I’d lived here for years and I’d only been gone a few months, but it felt almost like a place I had forgotten. The American Way was all encompassing, and I cleared my throat and shirked the awkwardness from my shoulders roughly.
“I’m ready.” Popping out from the depths of the back seat, Yelene smiled under the golden glow spilling out of the lobby. All we’d done was leave Ophelia’s, but her smile was different, brighter, wider.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I nodded towards the double doors. The car idled for a moment behind us before slowly rolling towards the street, and I glanced behind me.
Through the bitter cold that turned my breath to frost, the car turned out onto the street. Truly, Yelene and I were alone now, and I tightened my arm around her on the way into the apartment block. Inhaling deeply, I gazed up at the ornate ceiling as we walked quietly to the elevator. “Where would you like to go for dinner tonight?” Posing the question as I punched the elevator button, I turned to Yelene.
Thoughtfulness graced her face at the question.
At her expression, excitement threaded my veins. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“When you were in America, did you have pizza?”
Nodding firmly, I couldn’t help but smile when Yelene’s face lit up.
“Is it good?”
“It was, yes.” I nodded. “We can get pizza. You’ve never had any?”
Shaking her head, she downright grinned.
I gestured her into the elevator when the doors slid open. “We’ll do that, then. The pizza I had in New York City is said to be some of the best in the world.”
“There’s some places here in Moscow that has pizza, but I’ve never been to those places. Ophelia doesn’t like to eat out and if she does, she usually has Sascha bring it on his way home. Sometimes, he gives me good advice. Sometimes, he gives me confusing or bad advice and reminds me of my dad.”
Chuckling lightly, I squeezed her side.
Yelene ducked her head with a frown. “Do you know if he knew?”
“I don’t believe he knew, and if he did—I think he would’ve said something or encouraged Ophelia to say something. If I’m being honest, I’d only first met him two weeks ago when I arrived here. Aleksander was the one that toyed with her. I couldn’t care less.”
She didn’t seem surprised at this.
I leaned against the reflective wall to cross my arms. “Did he say something to you?”
“Yeah. He told me Ophelia deserved to be slapped even though he didn’t like it.” Distress furrowed her brows. Puffing out her lips, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “I wish I did it harder.”
“I’m sure you’ll get the chance again. Ophelia strikes me as the kind of person that can’t handle being considered the same as Aleksander in any aspect. I’m sure she’ll try to apologize in person, so she can say she tried.”
Yelene didn’t seem too thrilled about this.
I wasn’t sure what else to say that hadn’t already been said. “Moving on from her isn’t going to take too much, I hope. Your parents were good people. I didn’t know them, but I imagine any parent would wish for their child’s happiness.”
“They pushed me to marry you. I didn’t think that they’d die protecting their patient.” The crease between her brows deepened. “I’m not surprised, though.”
I ground my molars as she shook her head. “For what it’s worth, Malda is doing exceptionally well.”
Yelene had never met Malda, but I had when I was in New York City. “Your parents’ selflessness, as much as it hurts you, she and her husband are adopting two children. Siblings…two girls. They seemed very excited and happy.”
“Oh—that is happy.” The atmosphere seemed to get sucked out of the elevator at her grumble, and she hugged herself loosely. Thin, red rings formed around her eyes, and the elevator jostled to a stop as she blinked furiously. “It doesn’t matter, though, does it? They’re still dead and that’s awful for me even if it’s not for her. My parents may have chosen to save three lives, but that doesn’t absolve them of the fact that they sacrificed me in the process. Malda was their patient, sure—but I’m their baby, and I didn’t matter enough for them to stay alive. All this time, I thought they loved me enough to suffer the way I was suffering, but they abandoned me a long time ago for a patient.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter, no.”
Stepping out of the metal box, Yelene huffed a little chokingly.
Once again, I wrapped my arm around her and pressed my lips to her crown. Goosebumps washed down her arms, and I pulled her suitcase behind us on the way down the hall. “I didn’t mean to imply you mattered less than Malda, malen’kaya ptitsa.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
Squeezing her lightly, I fished my keys out of my pocket as we came up on my flat door.
Yelene sighed with another shake of her head, her wisps of dark hair framing her pale face.
“I’m sure it’ll get better with time.” Pushing my way into my apartment, I flicked on the lights as déjà vu swam through my system. My body moved without thought towards the kitchen, and I dropped my keys in a bowl on the edge of the counter. Peering through the gloom of misuse, I couldn’t help but frown at the spotlessness of my living area and kitchen. The flat felt empty in a strange way.
I led Yelene down the short hall to my bedroom.
“Your apartment is nice.”
It’d been almost a year since I’d been in this place and I was surprised it was still mine. My dad must’ve been paying for it for me, or something. Setting Yelene’s suitcase up against the foot of my bed, I sat down to stare down at the plush carpet.
“Do you ever do normal family stuff?” she asked.
“We see each other for holidays, but my family is very—eclectic. Holidays usually end in a fight of some sort. When we were teenagers, Aleksander stabbed one of our sisters in the face with a fork for some petty slight. Christmas is dangerous, but we have to go because our mom makes us.” I loved my mom, surely and I clasped my hands between my knees. “Two years ago, Aleksander and I got into a particularly nasty scrape in front of everyone. Come to think of it…right after then was when he began to turn away from me. I assume Envre wasn’t very happy when I beat his ass because it made him look weak. It’s even more ridiculous because only family was there, and our fighting wasn’t exactly a spur of the moment thing.”
Yelene dropped her bags on the floor by her suitcase. “You really don’t like her, do you?”
Yelene’s probing drew a careless shrug from me. I didn’t have any particularly strong feelings about Envre, but I thought that was telling in itself. “I don’t really like playing into drama. I like boring.” I paused. “You surprised me the other day.” Was it really only two or three days ago that this all happened? Surprise tightened my throat as I frowned sharply. I knew I’d been unconscious for a dozen or so hours, and I’d slept more than I’d been awake these past few days. Covering my mouth with a deep inhale, I sat back while
Yelene cast me a quizzical look from elbow deep in her suitcase.
“When you killed Eri
k. I don’t know what I expected, but it didn’t cross my mind that you’d go that far.”
“Y- yes—well, I’d rather not think of it like that. I’d rather not think of it at all. Hopefully, I never remember exactly what happened, so I’m not gonna try too hard. Erik tried to hurt me, so I stopped him. That’s good enough for me.” The silence that ensued was dense, and she stood up to run her hand through her hair. A thick, light blue dress hung from her arm. “Can I use your bathroom?”
I tilted my head back to eye her appreciatively. “You don’t want to change in front of me, malen’kaya ptitsa?” Deep red stained her cheeks, and I couldn’t help but chuckle before reaching for her. Grabbing Yelene’s hips, I drew her into my lap, and her eyes widened. “Are you afraid we’ll get sidetracked?”
“I don’t know which I want more right now.” Murmuring softly, Yelene gazed down at me under thick eyelashes.
I groaned softly as I buried my face between her breasts. Her sweater felt rough against my forehead.
She held my wrists when I tried to creep under her clothes. “I want the pizza. Yeah. I haven’t eaten since before Aleksander’s visit.” Yelene’s smile glimmered in her voice.
I wrapped my arms around her to pull her into my lap. Her little gasp shot straight to my cock, but I pulled back to sweep her hair behind her ear. Dragging my thumb down her little, patrician nose, I kissed the corner of her mouth as affection replaced the blood in my veins. She is so sweet, my malen’kaya ptitsa.
19
Yelene
“What’re you watching?” So late in the morning that the sun had already started to rise, I peeked over Igra’s arm at his phone.
The screen flickered with news as he swiped back to the beginning of the clip and pulled his earbuds out.
Tiredness blurred my vision, and I rubbed my eyes as I sluggishly sat up.
‘Late last night, three women were found brutally bludgeoned, raped, and beaten to death inside the home of prominent industrialist Aleksander Makovich—’ Pausing the video, Igra grumbled deep in his chest, and I put my palm over his heart. The beat was steady and strong, as if confirmation of a horrible act had no effect on him. And why would it? He didn’t know or like Envre.
“The problem is that it wasn’t anyone on our side.”
My breath hitched loudly at this announcement.
Igra frowned in distaste as he circled his thumb over his phone screen. “It was torture, not an execution. I think Anatoly did it. He’s had it out for Aleksander since Aleksander stole Malda.”
“How did they find out so fast?” Alarm heightened my tone. “Are we in danger?”
Igra hung his arm around my shoulders. “Probably, although I think Anatoly is going to go after Ophelia first. If we’re lucky, he’ll try something during Carlyle’s visit. With Aleksander out of the way, he won’t want his opportunity squandered. He has some gain with Ophelia at the helm of the Makovich empire. That’s also assuming that Anatoly doesn’t know my father’s plans.” Thoughtfulness slowed Igra’s voice, and he squeezed me gingerly. “Anatoly wouldn’t even know I’m back unless Ophelia tells him. She’s the only one that knows I’m here for a fact. My father might put the pieces together, but he’s not one to get involved in the petty squabbles of his children unless it’s to give us a bit of advice to help us along.” Igra sounded perfectly calm.
I believed his confidence and warm touch. Exhaling slowly, I sunk against his side to nuzzle his chest hair. Everything about Igra oozed comfort.
He buried his hand in my hair to knead gingerly. “We have a few days, at least, before Anatoly figures out what really happened. He’s not that bright and even if he were, he’d have to figure out what to do next. There’s a reason he belongs in the dungeon. He has no initiative or imagination and can barely decide what to eat at a restaurant by himself, let alone weigh coming after me.”
“You don’t sound, um…fond of your little brother.” A sadness panged my chest and I closed my eyes. “I don’t miss that part of having siblings. Hating them as people but being obligated to be around them because they’re family.”
Igra grunted in agreement. “Family is what you dream it to be. The thing that’s tricky is that everyone involved has to have the best intentions.”
Humming softly, I didn’t know what to say to that.
Igra tilted his head to gaze at me with glimmering, dark eyes. “What do you think family is about, Yelene?”
“It’s about…feeling wanted, maybe. To want and to be wanted. I know it’s not realistic, but I just want to give and receive and not feel burdened or a burden.” My heart fluttered. “Last night—I want to feel that way always.”
He smiled lightly at my wishful, fanciful dream. “Careful there, malen’kaya ptitsa. I might be so inclined to do it again.”
Warmth crept up my neck and I shuffled to straddle Igra’s waist. He was hot and firm everywhere and my palms tingled as I ran my fingers through his coarse chest hair. For a long moment, I simply stared at his handsome face.
The glint in his eyes brightened.
“Do—you know—have you ever been in love?” Embarrassment flooded my body, and I shook my head. “No. I mean—have you ever cared about someone enough to betray your family for?”
Igra’s brows rose a little. “You mean someone that was worth the hassle?”
I nodded.
He inhaled deeply against my palms to bluster a sigh. “Ah, I can’t say I have. I’ve never considered a woman to be anything more than temporary, let alone worth anything. Why?” Igra peered up at me through his bloodshot, bruised eye.
I reached to brush the tiny sutures with my thumb. Gradually, half his face was lightening from dark purple to a garish green-yellow. Maybe, those throbbing pain and visible markings were why I was questioning him. Being hurt, he seemed more vulnerable and less inclined to lie? I don’t really think so, but— “We were forced to get married, but I actively avoided you, and you didn’t change anything about your life. I just wonder—it takes a long time for someone to be worth it, but it only takes a single decision to decide they’re not.” Sitting back, I gnawed on my inner cheek as Igra reached to take my hands and tangle our fingers. “I know it wasn’t what you intended but marrying me effectively killed my parents. I don’t know what to think about that.”
“That’s such a load of horse shit, malen’kaya ptitsa. I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hands as he drew them under his chin.
The roughness in Igra’s tone scraped my ears painfully and my throat tightened as I gulped uncomfortably.
His eyes blazed with anger and upset. “I picked you off a list because I thought you were pretty, young and fragile. Not for any other reason. All I had was a picture, a name and my brother’s order. Aleksander never gave a shit about your parents’ skills as doctors, and he certainly never thought about them again, after he killed them. Your parents were killed because they disobeyed Aleksander. They decided when they refused to put Malda down that they were okay abandoning you, and that’s the harsh truth of it. Malda found happiness, yes, but if your parents really wanted to live, they could’ve done so for you,” he spoke curtly, with such venom.
The back of my neck tingled with the blunt answer and the way he looked at it.
He sat up to get close to my face. Cupping my cheek, his fingers crept into my hair, and a dark anger tinged his cheeks. “I understand you need to put some perspective on it, but don’t blame me or this marriage for your parents’ deaths. Did they feel more comfortable denying Aleksander because we were married and you were safe? Or did you not even matter when they considered their options and saved Malda at the cost of their own lives? We will never know the answers. You idolize your parents, and that’s fine—but don’t make them out to be something they’re not. They had the choice to live and reunite with you, Yelene and they decided against it.”
Igra’s tone was so different from last night, and my mouth dried as he rubbed his cheek against mine. “I-I wasn’t blaming you—i
t’s j-just…” Clearing my throat roughly, I shook my head when Igra leaned back. My frazzled brain couldn’t come up with more words and I frowned as I climbed off his lap. His gaze bored holes into the side of my face, and I swung my legs over the edge of the bed to flex my toes against the carpet. “When they told me what was happening— that I was going to marry you, and they’d be part of Aleksander’s staff—did they know then that they’d be faced with having to kill their own patient? Did my dad tell me everything would be fine, knowing it wouldn’t be? Was everything a lie, or did my parents really not think Aleksander would put them in such a position? Why…why wasn’t I enough? I-I’m never enough, am I? Not to be a fr- friend—or a daughter—or a wife. . .” Bitter tears stung my eyes.
Igra wrapped his arms and legs around me wordlessly.
Sniffling harshly, I reached a trembling hand to wipe my face. An ache pounded against my eye sockets, but the blaring question that created it retreated into the deep, dark crevices of my mind. Why am I not enough? Not enough to keep my parents alive. Not enough to deserve a truthful friendship. Was my destiny to be used, lied to, and manipulated until I was no longer useful? Everyone lied to me to some degree, including Igra—yet, here I was, making him feel good because—
Because he showed me the smallest, dimmest glimmer of attention.
“I-I should—I should go.” Igra tightened his arms around me, his legs pinning mine together as I croaked hoarsely. My stomach churned dangerously and my throat closed until breathing was impossible.
“No. I won’t let you.” Mumbling into my neck, Igra turned my face to him with gentle fingertips. He tenderly kissed my lips before continuing, “You’re staying, Yelene. I want you to stay, and you don’t really want to leave, do you?”
My heart went wild against my ribs as I replied, “I don’t, but I don’t want to be pathetic, either.”