by K. Marie
I never thought I’d say it, but it’s just the mundane things of everyday life I’ve come to miss. Things like having to work for a living, budgeting for bills, and all the necessary stuff one did to stay afloat and make a household run smoothly. It’s what I’m conditioned to. But what does one do when all of those factors had essentially been removed from the equation?
I’m not complaining; there’s worse fates in the world, I’m just at a total loss…and bored as hell.
Of course, Garland was already established before I ever moved in. But, having nothing more to do than make grocery lists, dinner menus, schedule appointments and take Autumn to school every day, has left me feeling useless. The housekeeper, Theresa, came every other day to clean, and I’ve enjoyed having a chef who came four days a week. So, I guess my big domestic role as Lady of the Manor is to manage them.
Double sigh.
Garland was thoughtful enough to suggest I redecorate the house to my liking; but of course, I use the word ‘thoughtful’ facetiously.
What is this, 1950 and I’m the ‘little woman’ with nothing more to do? That offer earned him a withering look.
It’s never been my dream to be a housewife. I’ve always had my own goals and ambitions; and I’d always been self-sufficient. How in the hell could I have ever predicted I’d someday have a rich husband? As far as I knew, that possibility was nowhere in my hemisphere.
The problem is, when one’s got a wealthy husband, they weren’t expected to do anything, especially anything that actually generated a paycheck. Nope, us long-suffering women were expected to fill our time outside of being a mother and wife, doing charity work, creating our own clothing or perfume lines, or joining one of “The Real Housewives” franchises.
Disbelieving sarcasm should be noted.
Garland didn’t get what all the fuss was about. But though what I earned is nothing in comparison to the outrageous sum currently in my bank account, courtesy of my husband, I believe maintaining some modicum of autonomy is vital for any woman. Working gave me an everyday sense of purpose, and the money I earned was mine. I worked hard to build a reputation and client-base over the past five years; I won’t so easily be giving up on my accomplishments. Besides, book editing isn’t just something I did to make money, I actually enjoyed doing it.
So, for now I worked from home as I had in Michigan. But, I had every intention of freeing myself from the maximum-security prison of Casa Vidov after the baby came. Garland had no idea of my plans to find an office space in which to work out of.
Yeah, I imagined that going over well. Mr. Security-Freak would probably go full lock-down on my ass.
Taking him on in a fight could be challenging, but I’ve learned to choose my battles with Garland; he’s taught me well. Besides work though, I really needed to find something else to do until the baby arrived, or I was going to go bonkers.
So, what do I do for now? I take a nap, because being pregnant is tiring.
Later that evening, I found Garland pacing the length of the tiled patio that ran parallel to the pool. He had his phone held to his ear, while keeping a watchful eye on Autumn; who splashed around in the water.
I’d just come outside into the humid Florida heat, and was tempted to go right back in. It was ninety degrees in December. Perhaps I’d become acclimated to the southern weather the longer I lived here, but for now, the heat and humidity was oppressive.
Wearing a thin gray t-shirt that clung to every defined muscle in his upper body, and a pair of soft looking faded jeans, I noted that my husband didn’t look much affected by the heat.
Noticing my presence, Garland glanced a quick look my way, before turning his attention back to his conversation. “I need a full, detailed report on Petroff. I want to know his known associates as of late, and the state of his finances. I want that information within forty-eight hours, so work your magic, Drakos,” he commanded into the phone, before disconnecting without saying good-bye.
That’s how Garland ended the majority of his phone conversations, even with me sometimes. But after my reprimands, he’d gotten a lot better.
“Sleeping Beauty awakens; good nap?” he asked, walking towards me.
Looks like Autumn had gotten someone up to speed on his Disney Princess lessons.
“Yes, it was, but why did you let me sleep so long? Now I’ll be awake all night,” I complained.
“I doubt that, you’ll pass out as usual once your head hits the pillow,” Garland said with a knowing smirk.
I childishly stuck my tongue out at him in retaliation.
“How long has she been in there?” I asked of Autumn, who now floated on an inflatable frog. She would spend all of her time in the pool if she were allowed.
“About forty minutes,” Garland answered.
“Hey squirt! You’ll look like a raisin at school tomorrow if you don’t come out of the pool,” I called out to Autumn.
“Mommy! I can float on my back, watch me!” she screamed excitedly, before flipping off the frog to demonstrate.
My eyes widened with pride as she demonstrated her new ability. Autumn used to approach swimming with some trepidation, but since living in a house with a swimming pool for use whenever she wanted, she’d become quite the mermaid.
Impressed, I glanced over at Garland. “She’s getting good at this,” I told him.
“That’s because she has an excellent teacher,” he bragged.
Garland had been very patient with instructing Autumn on how to swim and on water safety. Not much of a swimmer myself, I typically got into the pool only to cool off or to keep an eye on Autumn. My swimming skills could use some work as well.
“Yes, she does,” I agreed with an adoring smile.
Thirty-Four
C A M R Y
I stood with my mouth agape like a fish, watching the scene in front of me play out in disbelief.
I’d awoken earlier than usual this morning; and had nothing better to do than come ogle my husband while he worked-out. Garland exercised at the same time every morning, six days a week. But this is the first time I’d ever ventured to the lower-level gym to watch him; as I’m typically still asleep at six o’clock in the morning.
I winced as my husband delivered a swift kick to Viktor’s left side—causing the other man to grunt at impact, then quickly recover as he deftly pivoted to the right to avoid Garland’s next kick.
What in the hell is going on here?
The scene was something straight out of the UFC ring. The two men were going at it like they were hell-bent on killing each other.
I winced again when Garland narrowly escaped a right jab to the jaw, blocking the blow with his forearm in the nick of time. Both men were evenly matched in height and size, and they moved with a speed that surprised me.
Kick-jab-kick-jab-kick-jab-jab. In rapid succession. Some blows landed, and some didn’t.
Is this what the two of them did every morning? And why in the hell didn’t I know my husband could kick someone’s ass MMA style?
“Shit!” I whispered, as Viktor found an opening and charged at Garland—causing him to lose his balance and knocking him backwards onto the mat. But, I was stunned a second later, when my husband used the momentum of his fall to roll backwards and quickly landed back on his feet.
You’ve got to be shitting me…what in the hell was that? Hell, I do yoga regularly and still aren’t that damn agile.
“You fight like a pussy this morning, get your shit together,” Viktor told Garland, as the two men circled each other; deciding on their next move.
Huh? If this was him fighting like a pussy, I'd like to see what him fighting like a non-pussy looked like. I still couldn’t believe that was my husband over there.
Garland didn’t respond to Viktor’s insult; but struck-out instead, with a swift kick and a jab that Viktor managed to blocked. But his next kick made contact, landing square in Viktor’s six-pack middle, and causing him to stumble a bit before charging back at Garlan
d.
Had the pussy comment pissed Garland off?
Kick-kick-kick-jab-jab-kick-jab-kick. I watched in fascinated horror as they went at it, wincing and closing my eyes when one of them landed a painful looking blow on the other.
Jesus.
Neither of them took many blows—they blocked most of them, but the ones that connected were brutal. I’d never seen Garland bruised, so I wondered at the outcome of all the pummeling. Did the black hand-wraps prevent bruising?
I watched as Garland found an opening and charged at Viktor this time—going in low and throwing all of his weight at the other man, taking him down to the mat. But Viktor didn’t get an opportunity to recover, because my husband had somehow managed to wrap his legs around his neck, in a choke-hold. He’d done it so quickly that I missed it!
“Who’s the pussy now?” Garland wheezed out, clearly winded, but still able to trash-talk Viktor.
He released him after a second; then collapsed onto his back, breathing laboriously, while Viktor did the same. Both men were shirtless and sweating, their hair as wet as if they’d just washed it.
Jeez…that gave a whole new meaning to working-out.
I stood gaping, not knowing what to do or how to respond. I was simultaneously horrified and fascinated. The two men had just beaten the hell out of each other, but they’d also displayed a level of skill that said they’d done it many times before.
Then I suddenly remembered! The bruise that Garland had on his face the day he proposed to me, the first time. He’d named Viktor as the cause, now I knew why.
My feet moved on their own command as I walked further into the large room, much like a rubbernecker, witnessing a horrible accident they just couldn’t look away from. But, supersonic ears heard me before I’d even made it halfway across the room; and turned his head in my direction. My husband has the hearing of a bat, it’s freakishly abnormal.
“Jesus…what in the hell was that, Mortal Combat?” I asked, still shocked. “And please don’t tell me you use swords down here as well, I couldn’t handle it.”
Garland barked a laugh, while Viktor turned his head to look at me in amusement.
My eyes narrowed on him. “One scratch to my eye-candy’s face, and you and I are going to have a problem,” I threatened.
Garland grinned, and Victor let out a noise that sounded like a grunt. “Tell pretty-face to stop fighting like a girl, and it will be no problem,” he said, accented voice coming out raspy and winded.
They must be exhausted, that level of physical activity takes a hell of an amount of stamina.
“This is an early hour for you, wife, what’s wrong?” Garland asked, getting to his feet.
“Nothing’s wrong. I woke-up early, so I thought I’d come down here to gawk at my eye-candy, only to find the two of you living out your ‘Fight Club’ fantasies. You do this every morning?” I asked.
I expected to find him pumping iron; or doing whatever he did to keep his abs in drool-worthy condition, not kicking the shit out of his cousin—or vice versa.
“You know the first rule of ‘Fight Club’, Camry…” Garland chided with a teasing grin, walking over to where I stood.
Distracted, I watched as the sweat between his pecs slid down his happy-trail, adding to the wetness already soaking the waistband of the gray athletic pants. The pants rode dangerously low around his waist. And crazily, I had an insane urge to follow that same trail with my tongue.
All of that testosterone and sweat glistening man-muscle was clearly getting to me.
“Is there something in my pants that interests you?” Garland whispered near my ear, before giving me a quick kiss.
I let out a surprised laugh—before grinning over being caught. “Yes, my favorite toy is in there,” I whispered, so that Viktor didn’t overhear.
“If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you play with it when I’m done here,” my husband said with a smug smile.
God, I love having a perv for a husband.
“Then, I guess I should let you get back to work,” I told him with a wink, before turning to leave.
I wanted to know more about what I’d just discovered, but I also wanted him done and upstairs as soon as possible.
G A R L A N D
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” I groused, already feeling soreness as I rotated my right shoulder. We were recuperating in the steam room as we always did after sparring, and I felt more worn than usual.
“You’re not too old, dvoyurodniy brat, you’re too distracted,” Viktor countered, using the Russian term for cousin. “You took more hits than usual, your defenses were for shit,” he pointed out.
I gave a derisive sniff, though I knew he spoke the truth. Not only have I been sleeping worse than usual, I’ve also had a lot on my mind.
“What’s got you troubled?” asked Viktor, “Can’t be marital problems.”
I turned my head to look at him. “You know nothing of my marital affairs,” I said.
“I know you’ve got a wife who’s waiting to play with her favorite toy,” the asshole said with a smirk.
I grinned in surprise; my wife seriously needed to work on her whispering skills. “If Camry knew that you’d heard that, she’d have me ban you from the house out of pure mortification,” I told him, imagining her horror.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he tossed back, still wearing that stupid smirk.
If it were anyone else, they would be spitting their teeth out right now.
But I knew Viktor was only looking to fuck with me, not be disrespectful to my wife. My security guys’ no doubt heard a lot of things that should be private between Camry and me; but they’re paid to feign deafness and ignorance, they’d never make comment.
However, Viktor’s like a brother to me. We’ve been close since we were children and have always had each other’s back, no matter what. He was in the process of starting his own private security firm when I decided to make the move to the U.S.; but joined me instead. He insisted I’d only get myself killed without his protection; we both know that isn’t true. But, I can’t deny that having him watch my back has made my life a lot easier. Viktor didn’t need to work as my personal security detail, nor did I expect him to, but he chose to anyway out of loyalty.
“Perhaps I should be getting to my lovely wife instead of sitting here with the likes of you,” I told him.
“Not before you tell me what’s got you distracted,” Viktor countered, eyes now serious.
“Several things, but at the top of that list is Vlad. I got word from, Vasily, he’s here in the states and has been spending time in New York,” I told him.
“He must be in trouble again, who’s he running from this time?” he questioned cynically.
“I’m not yet sure, but I’ve put Drakos on it. You know wherever Vlad goes trouble soon follows. Vasily said he’s been associating with members of the Bratva who are known bookies. So, it sounds like he’s up to his usual bullshit,” I said, mildly annoyed.
“Does he know you’ve married?” Viktor asked.
“I’m guessing he’s gotten word, which makes his timing in coming here questionable.”
Viktor eyed me knowingly. “The time may come very soon, when you’ll have to deal with that problem for good. His bad decisions inevitably affect you, and you now have a family to protect,” he told me.
As if I needed the reminder.
“You still so certain he had nothing to do with that attempted hack-job a few months ago?” Viktor questioned.
Someone had attempted to breach the servers at my company a few months back, was almost successful too. Luckily, they were prevented from gaining access to the secured encrypted files, the most important ones. But I doubted Vlad had any hand in it.
“Vlad isn’t that smart, he couldn’t hack his way out of a bar fight. Besides, Chvetski had the most to gain, and all roads led to him. That was strike two, so now he’s no longer a problem,” I reminded Viktor.
I rememb
ered that night vividly, it was the very same night I decided I wanted Camry. No, it was the same night I decide I needed her, permanently. After having just spent the past two days with her—and having just left her hours earlier, I found she was all I could think about while in the midst of doing some shit she’d judge unthinkable.
“I know the dumb-ass couldn’t hack a bubble-gum machine, but he could provide information, sell it to the highest bidder. Vlad’s always strapped for cash, and next to me, no one knows how you operate better than he,” Viktor said.
I disagreed. Vlad was dangerous, but only to himself. He might be pissed at me, but I doubted he’d ever sell me out to one of my enemies.
At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.
Thirty-Five
C A M R Y
“Arrgh!” I yelled in frustration.
I’d gone over the same page twice already, trying to clean it up, but it’s of no use. I would virtually have to re-write the darned paragraphs myself if I wanted them to read as cohesive thoughts. The manuscript needed a complete overhaul, not just tweaking.
The author’s writing is awful.
I felt bad admitting it, because I so respected the time and love a writer put into their work. But sometimes, you simply got a bad manuscript. I couldn’t re-write someone else’s work, and at this point, I would have to red-line almost the entire thing. She, the author, had the basis of a good story; but that’s about it. Now, I had to ponder the unpleasant task of breaking the news to her, she’d be crushed.
Sighing in resignation, I decided to turn my attention to answering emails instead, a long overdue task. It’s during the course of that task I come across a new email from John.
He’d emailed me several times over the past few months; being no longer able to call or text me. Garland had indeed gotten me a new phone when we married. I wouldn’t have gone along with his mandate, except of course, his security paranoia. I didn’t get into the logistics of it with him; so long as I stayed in contact with my family and friends, that was one battle he could win.