by Bonny Capps
How did Vadim come to accept this life? He must have felt this same way when he came to this massive home, only to discover the horrors that lurked below.
It’s two different worlds. Hell with a beautiful face.
“Feed her,” Dimitri demands, shoving a plate into my hands with a single bite of stale bread. I trace the porous bread with a fingertip as I step towards the cage, remembering how hard it is to swallow stale bread with a parched mouth.
I’ve been in her shoes. Except, I haven’t. Unless Dimitri plans on keeping her, too, her outcome is much grimmer than mine.
Kneeling down, I am eyelevel to her. She stares at the bread for a moment before narrowing her eyes at me. I lift the bite of bread and hold it just outside of the bars, enough for her to pinch it between two fingers.
She smirks at me before snatching the bread from me. She sticks out her tongue before placing the bread on it, then she begins chewing slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.
When I think that she’s swallowed it, I begin to stand, but stop abruptly when she spits at me, spraying slimy chunks of bread across my face.
“Bitch!” Dimitri growls.
I hear the squeak of the faucet as he turns on the water. Pushing me out of the way, he begins spraying her down. The girl wails before screaming at him in a different language. I press a finger to my face, and when I pull it away, I stare at the chewed up piece of bread that’s stuck to it.
“You!” she bellows, and my eyes snap to hers as Dimitri continues to spray her in the face. She’s pointing at me, her finger shaking right along with the rest of her body. “You are devil! You hear me? You are woman devil!”
“Vadim.”
I startle before running my hand over my tired eyes. “David,” I murmur, resting my elbows on my knees and leaning forward.
“You’re still awake? It’s the middle of the night.”
I nod, sitting back in the chair and removing the earpiece from my ear. Tossing it onto the desk, I look towards him.
David Dmitriev is a man with kind eyes that hides questionable intentions. I know that he has his daughter’s best interest at heart, which is good, but I’m beginning to wonder why everything happened the way that it did.
“Can I ask you a question?” I murmur, running my fingers along the seam of the armchair.
“Of course,” he responds, taking a seat behind the desk.
“Your wife, why did she ask for Sofia to come to Russia?”
He smiles at me before reaching under the desk and retrieving a cigar box. “That, my friend, requires a cigar and a vodka. Join me?”
I nod as he removes two cigars, clipping the ends and handing me one. David stands, and I watch him walk across the study to the bar in the corner. His back is to me as he pours us each a vodka, then he turns and holds out a glass.
Standing, I approach him and retrieve the glass before he lights my cigar.
“So,” he says, taking a seat. “Sit. Let me tell you all about me and my wife, Lydia.”
“Why?” I implore, sinking back into the chair and taking another gulp of my third glass of vodka.
David shrugs. “Because she wouldn’t have been safe there. He was supposed to get to her first, but he wasn’t quick enough.”
“Why wouldn’t Dyadya Albert tell me? I was his confidant.”
“It was his idea for you to go to the village, was it not?” David responds, and I sigh. He’s right, but was I really that predictable?
“He knew you’d take her, Vadim.”
My eyes dart to his. “And Dimitri? What about him? My uncle couldn’t have known that he’d decide to keep her.”
David smirks as he traces a finger around the rim of his glass. “Your uncle was as calculated as Dimitri, if not more, Vadim. He knew. He knew Dimitri couldn’t say no to her. To be honest, I’m glad that Dimitri didn’t. Even though he is a bastard, he did keep her alive. Your uncle would have been happy with Sofia alive or dead. He hated my father, which means that he also hated me.”
“Your father… he had an affair with my uncle’s wife?”
David nods, staring into the contents of his glass. “He did, and your uncle never forgot. He might have killed her, but he did that as a result of his anger and hurt. We are lucky Dimitri didn’t do the same to Sofia.”
I stare out the window as images of her flash through my mind. I haven’t forgotten her soft skin beneath my palms, or her lips against my chest … the way each and every sigh tumbled from her lips each time I thrusted into her. I claimed her as my own, and I was ready to take her away from all of the hurt and pain, to raise Eva as my own.
“Vadim, where were you planning on taking her?”
My eyes dart to his. “Sorry?”
His eyes drift down as he swirls the vodka in the tumbler. “You purchased tickets from the train station, Vadim. You were planning on taking her somewhere, were you not?”
“I love her,” I growl, and I am not lying. Sofia is my heartbeat, and I will stop at nothing to have her again.
“Were you planning on telling her that or was that going to be another surprise?”
I glare at him. “She … she would be happy.”
David scoffs. “How do you intend on taking care of my daughter? You are an ex member of the Vavilov Bratva. You have a man who will stop at nothing to have your blood on his hands! You were going to run off with her, unbeknownst to her! Drag her somewhere else, and force her to live a life with you!”
“That’s what she would want!” I bellow, leaping from the chair.
He shakes his head. “Your daughter was killed because of your carelessness. Your wife is a drug addict and whore.”
“What about Lydia, David! Did you happen to forget that you had your wife killed for your own gain?”
His eyes gloss over as he stares at me. “You are crossing the line.”
I shake my head. “No. No I am not. Your daughter just happened to fall into the wrong man’s hands. You were going to use her!”
“This is how the bratva works! Are you a fool, Vadim? Was I wrong to trust you? When I asked for your help, I did it because I thought your intentions were pure!”
I smirk at him. “I have the purest intentions. I didn’t at first. When I first took her, she was nothing to me—and now she is everything.”
“Vadim,” he says coolly as he stands. “I am retiring for the night. I hope that you recover your common sense when we meet again tomorrow. After all, it is late. You must be exhausted.”
He smiles slightly as he turns and places the tumbler on the wooden surface of the bar. “Vadim,” he murmurs, “I know that you have feelings for my daughter, but do not forget what is best for her; it’s also the best for you. Without this family, well, you are royally fucked—to put it lightly.”
I grimace when he turns and leaves me alone once more.
“Have you ever wondered what happens when we die?” Trina asks, her big grey eyes searching mine. We lie beneath the dome window in the tower of my family’s dacha.
I sigh, running my index finger along her goose bump raised flesh. Looking towards the plethora of stars above, I have so many thoughts running rampant in my mind. What will come of this family? What will come of my sister, and my niece? Death, or the afterlife rather, are the last things on my mind.
Trina possesses the pureness that my wife lacks. She wraps me in warmth when Alina turns her cold back to me. I fuck Alina. I try to fuck some empathy into her … some compassion. Trina, though, she lacks none of that. If it weren’t for my father arranging for me to marry a filthy Vavilov, I would have married Trina.
Still, that would take some time for me to come around. My entire life has been a travesty; my fixation manipulated to where I believed in the corrupt workings of the bratva, and that has always been my main focus. Pussy, nevertheless relationships, always came in second.
The bloodshed.
The constant war that we are at with each other.
Where my father believes
me to be a fool, he cannot see the workings of my mind. The hopes that I have for my family, to escape a life of crime. To live a pure life without any repercussions.
He wants me to be like him, but I will never be David Dmitriev—my father. The man that thought nothing of abandoning me after my mother died; leaving me in the care of my grandfather, nannies, and the men that worked for this bratva. Only to turn around to do the same thing to my little sister. Sofia is paying a hefty price. She is the prize, all because of her last name. Though she wasn’t raised around our corrupt family—she wasn’t tainted from the beginning—it is so much worse for her. She was an angel, dreaming and believing in something bigger … it was all snatched away in the blink of an eye.
This life isn’t for the weak and, to my father, I am just that. Weak. Because I have a heart. I have compassion and to me, family is everything.
“Alexei,” Trina murmurs sleepily, and I stroke her hair before gently kissing her forehead.
“Shhh,” I whisper. “Go to sleep, my angel.”
Three Weeks Later
“What is this place?” I murmur, my eyes travelling to the other skaters as they practice their choreography.
This rink is outside, and the chill in the air is bitter, biting at my cheeks and sending a shiver down my spine.
“Red Square,” Konstantin responds, watching Abram’s back as he talks to a man wearing a scarf.
I take in my surroundings and recognize Saint Basil’s Cathedral and the Kremlin, remembering Dimitri going on about these structures on our wedding night.
Twinkling, white lights hang over head, and a huge Christmas tree towers above the ice.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Konstantin whispers, bumping my shoulder with his.
I look up into his kind eyes and I smile. It’s hard not to with Konstantin. He has an undeniable gift of invoking happiness in me when he wants to. He’s just one of those people, and I’m thankful he’s here, taking a load off of my shoulders with a smile and kind words.
It doesn’t take long before that feeling goes away, though. When the man with the scarf’s eyes lock onto mine, they’re intimidating as he looks me up and down with disapproval written into his features.
He kicks off on the ice and approaches me, causing Konstantin to step away before he begins to circle me like a shark. “What is your name?” he asks, stopping in front of me.
I look up into his pale, narrowed eyes. “Sofia Dm—Vavilov.”
He cocks his head to the side before he twirls, stopping suddenly and gesturing to the center of the ice. My eyes travel to the other skaters who are now standing still, watching us.
“Show us. We would like to see your talent in action … after all, your husband donated a handsome amount to my cause—training the best of the best, to have you, Sofia Vavilov, train with me and my champions.”
I nod slowly before gliding to the center of the ice, my blades are the only thing to be heard—no music, no nothing. It’s uncomfortably silent, causing self-doubt to course through my veins.
“Lose the jacket,” He barks from behind me, causing my shoulders to curl inwards.
Slowly, I unzip my jacket as my eyes remain downcast. I can feel the other skater’s eyes on me, and it causes my cheeks to flush as I toss my jacket to Konstantin.
Standing still, I wait for a song to play, but it never happens. All that I have is silence, and I try to play a song in my head, but that’s cut short when the sharp sound of clapping hands cuts through the silence.
“Skate, girl! Perform! You are special, yes? This is what your husband has told me! Now show me!”
I flinch at the coach’s words as I lift my arms, entwining my fingers and holding my hands above my head.
Closing my eyes, I search my soul and my mind for the silent music that will accompany me. If I manage to become recognized and compete for Russia, that is mine and Eva’s golden ticket. That is our trip back to the states.
I think of mama watching me, and Mirna who was always so gentle, yet stern. I actually hear Mirna’s words, causing energy to erupt within me.
“Left hip up, Sofia. Yes, that’s right, stay in the center. Do not allow yourself to drift to the left. Perfect.”
When I’m halfway through the set, I stiffen when I hear the man shout, “Stop!”
I turn to face him, and wrap my arms around myself as my chest heaves.
He approaches me with a smirk. “What was that?”
My lips part and my eyes travel to the other skaters, whom are also looking towards me with mischievous eyes and curled lips.
“It … it was my winning set,” I murmur, tears rising and sitting in the corners of my eyes.
“Winning?” He retorts. “Little girl, there was nothing winning about that fiasco. Your form is weak! Your legs are weak! Your ambition is weak! You have tears in your eyes! You are weak!”
He comes closer, and I can feel his breath on my lips when he whispers. “Weak, but beautiful. Your weakness can be fixed, but you will not be fixing it alone. You are in luck.” Removing his attention from me, he looks towards the other skaters. “Ilia! Come over here,” he shouts, snapping his fingers.
A tall, lean man approaches us. His hair is a sandy blond and his eyes emerald green. If I were to guess, he’s in his early twenties. “This is Ilia, Ilia this is your new partner. From here on out, we will be having private sessions.”
Ilia nods confidently as my heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. “I’ve always skated single. I’ve never had a partner before.”
The man tilts his head as he regards me. “Well you do now. You are not training beneath me—Sergei Akulov—renowned champion and coach, for nothing. You are here to win. All of these people here, right now, are winners. I made them. Think of yourself a blank canvas, or a ball of clay. I am the artist. I will color you, and I will mold you however I see fit. Do you understand?”
I blink several times, allowing the tears to roll down my cheeks as I bow my head. I’ve never felt such embarrassment in my career as a skater. I’ve never felt such self-doubt, either. Sergei has no faith in me, where Mirna’s faith is what kept me afloat. I depended on her confidence. Now, I have a coach who not only thinks that I cannot shine alone—he’s pairing me with somebody that will do that for me.
“I understand,” I whisper before wiping the tears from my cheeks.
“Good,” he snaps, and I feel warm fingers wrap around my arm before they squeeze gently.
Looking toward the source, I see my new partner, Ilia. He gives me a reassuring smile, but I back away, snatching my arm from his grip. I don’t like him, and though it isn’t warranted, I’m angry … with him, with Sergei, with Dimitri.
My life has been smashed into so many tiny shards, and every time I try and piece it all back together, I get cut. Happiness was never meant for me. Peace of mind, tranquility … those things are distant dreams.
Being a successful figure skater has been my vision since I was a little girl, and now that vision has been stolen. I cannot own anything in this life, not even my goals or my passion. That vision has been condensed because like so many other things, Dimitri owns that too.
Nothing is sacred, other than her. She is so small, so innocent, but she’s also my angel—sent from heaven to keep my head above water. I cannot let her down. While I doubt myself now, I know that I will find that fiery, determined young woman who he threatens to bury six feet under.
I will revive her.
I try and search for the words to say as she stares blankly out the window. I see the wet trails that her tears left each time we pass a streetlight. She doesn’t make a sound, though. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything will be okay, but I cannot. I look ahead. Abram sits in the front with the driver having a heated rugby debate.
“You looked amazing out there, Sofia,” I whisper, but she doesn’t respond. She only looks out the window thinking God knows what.
How many times can a person be knocked do
wn? While I know nothing about figure skating, I know that her performance was no joke. Her face morphed into a peaceful expression when she was on the ice. The way her body moved, it was as if she didn’t need a song to perform.
She was the song, and it was beautiful.
“He would like for me to perform with another,” I murmur as Dimitri sits across from me, sipping on his vodka and flipping through his phone.
“He would? What does that mean?” he responds simply, his eyes never leaving the screen of the phone.
I fiddle with my fingers in my lap. I’ve seen many couples perform, and they resemble lovers. Many of whom had me question if they really were in love. I’ve always admired those who had such strong chemistry, that it seemed as though they were making love right there on the ice; their lips inches away from touching, their fingers trailing across the other’s skin … Surely Dimitri will not be okay with the intimacy involved in being a duo.
“Well?” he barks, startling me and sending my thoughts crashing to the back of my mind.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “My coach is having me couple with a male skater. He doesn’t want me skating solo.”
Dimitri stares at me with wolfish eyes and a slight grin to match. He’s going to turn this around on me, I just know it. After being knocked down already earlier, I’m not sure I can take it.
Silence, it’s sickening. All I can hear is the distant tick of a clock in another room as he consumes the surrounding air, causing my lungs to constrict. At this point, I’m sure that I can do nothing right in regards to my husband. He is forcing me to skate, he’s set me up with a Nazi of a coach, and now he’ll punish me for something else completely out of my control.
My heart flutters in my chest as I prepare to swallow yet another failure. I await his blows and the tears of defeat that are sure to follow.
He stands and circles the table, causing my shoulders to curl in. When he approaches me, I flinch, but am surprised when he gently caresses my cheek.