by Bethany-Kris
“Who is—”
“No one,” Karine said quickly. “He’s fine.”
Wasn’t he?
For a second, she had thought she looked into the man’s soul, and she trusted him. Even though she didn’t know him—she did. Somehow.
“My God,” Masha muttered, not at all satisfied with the job the towel was doing to clean up. “What were you thinking?”
The answer to that was easy, and it came rushing out of Karine just as such.
“I like the pool, no, I love swimming in this pool. I’m weightless ... suspended. Free of everything,” she said.
Masha looked up at her, nodding her head lightly as though she understood Karine's rambling and eccentric ways, but still disapproved nonetheless. She was always so worried about Karine—her first priority was to keep her out of trouble. God knew the woman worked hard to diffuse the ups and downs that chased Karine throughout the day.
It was yet another thing to scare her—she knew all too well how much she needed Masha. How much she depended on her. And yet, she doubted that she would be allowed to bring Masha with her when she married Dima.
Masha had never truly belonged to Karine.
She was still just her father’s slave.
“You were supposed to meet with the planner, and then Di—”
Just the prospect of hearing Dima’s name was enough to send chills down Karine’s spine. However, Masha’s words were cut off by the door of the pool house opening, and her father stepping in.
All at once, Karine understood what Masha had been trying to avoid. Her father finding her in the pool house in nothing more than her underwear, soaking wet. She probably still looked like quite a sight. Even though she had managed to slip back in her dress, with some help from Masha, her father gave her the same look he always did—as if her mere existence dissatisfied him, and just being within visual distance left him unable to hide his displeasure about it.
His silent judgement had her staring anywhere but at him, even down at herself where she noticed how the lace dress clung to her body. Her bra and panties were still wet, shaping and molding the dress to her curves and crevices in a way that revealed everything.
Her father didn’t pay her mind anymore—he had already lost interest. Instead, his attention went beyond her to the man who was still standing a few feet away. For some reason, she didn’t want to turn and face him.
She was already a mess.
No need to make it worse.
“So, you found her, then,” Maxim said.
Karine dared a peek over her shoulder. The man remained where he had come to stand with his legs spread wide, planted firmly on the marble path that surrounded the shape of the pool. His arms were crossed over his chest, the bulging biceps tugged at the material of the shirt that also hugged a broad, defined chest. He wasn’t looking at her, either, just like her father didn’t.
Surprise.
No one liked the sight of her.
As it appeared; the two men knew each other.
“Did you lose your way, Roman?” Maxim asked.
“It’s a big place. I may have gotten lost.”
Roman.
Hearing his name was enough to send gooseflesh prickling over her skin, everywhere it was exposed. Karine didn’t know what to do about that.
Masha continued stroking her hair with the towel, not yet convinced that she couldn’t still present Karine in a satisfactory state to her father. Neither men seemed to care that she was there now, so what was the point?
Maxim chuckled lightly at Roman’s response, waving a single hand high. “Come with me, yes? I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
Her father all but ignored her presence, focused instead on Roman. Maxim’s treatment of him was starkly different from how she witnessed him behave with other men in the bratva who worked under him. He acted like Roman was a guest in their home.
Dangerous excitement danced through her, as fleeting as it was. Did that mean he might be staying around? The hope flared through her again, especially when Roman threw her one last look before he followed after Maxim on his way out.
Karine remained there, returning his gaze while Masha worked away at her hair. It felt the same as when their eyes met the first time, in the water. That same sense of familiarity swelled in her chest, fast and furious.
He had his jaw clenched tight, square and chiseled, leaving her breathless at the thought of feeling the roughness of his beard against the smoothness of her cheek. The desire was as sudden as everything else, and just as unexplainable.
Then, just like that, he pulled his gaze away from her, and he disappeared through the pool house door.
Come back, she wanted to call out. Look at me again. See me.
Nobody had done that before.
She wanted to feel it again.
But if he was smart, then he would wipe her from his memory the moment he stepped out. And if she was lucky, she would never see him again in this life.
As it was, though, Karine had always been terribly unlucky.
• • •
Too many hours passed Karine by at a snail’s pace since she last saw the stranger from the pool house. She really wasn’t in the habit of keeping time. Someone—Masha, usually—always told her where she needed to be and when. It was the one thing she could do particularly well.
Taking orders, that was.
Tonight, however, nobody paid much attention to her. Maxim had organized a dinner party to which the cream of the bratva crop were invited to sit at the boss’s table and feel ... who the fuck knew?
Important, maybe?
Karine never cared for the details.
Things usually took the same turn by the end of the night. Music turned up impossibly loud, and alcohol passed around to keep any of them that wanted to drink their weight in an upright position.
Karine only knew all this by observation from afar. It wasn’t like she was invited to the table, or the after-party. Her father had no interest in involving her in these festivities—she served no purpose but distraction if she joined.
Not that it affected her one way or another. She had become adept at enjoying herself on nights like these. Nobody had any idea what they were drinking, or how much of it. Discarded bottles and glasses scattered all around the ground floor of her father’s wing became a game for her to find and indulge when her constant shadow’s back was turned. The other thing she was very good at was camouflaging herself in the background—never drawing attention her way because she didn’t want it. Karine managed all of this while sipping on discarded drinks.
A cocktail of mixed alcoholic beverages along with the bottle of pills she found in Masha’s bag were all she needed to start feeling good again.
A damn good night.
If she’d asked Masha for the pills, she wouldn’t have been denied but usually on nights like these, things tended to get busy—and lost—with the party. Especially Karine, and her whereabouts. It was always all-hands-on-deck in these scenarios, and Masha needed to help the other household staff members to keep the party running smoothly.
Karine used that to her advantage, helping herself to the pills and gulping them down with the half-drinks she’d found. By the time she staggered out through the back of the house to the stony patio, it was like walking on clouds.
The sky might have been dark.
Not through her eyes, though.
The wicker chairs arranged to be cozy on the patio were usually left unused. The Yazov family, or whatever was left of it, wasn’t exactly the type to lounge around all day. Certainly not together.
What even was family?
She had never known it.
Karine deposited herself in one of the chairs, sprawling out with her arms thrown wide. The night sky overhead was an inky blue with a smattering of stars like freckles on a happy child’s face. She gazed at them for what felt like years while she tried to recall the happy dream she was having that morning.
Why couldn’t
she remember it anymore?
Was there a tree?
A little girl?
Yes.
She could still hear the laughter.
Pressing her eyes closed, Karine tried to bring back that feeling of absolute abandon—something had made her giggle like a child. What was it?
“Are you alive?”
The deep voice broke through her hazy, high thoughts, and even before she opened her eyes, she recognized who it belonged to.
It was him.
The man from the pool.
The one who sent chills running down her spine and straight to her toes with nothing more than a flick of his brow. Karine took her time to open her eyes and see him, dragging in a slow breath all the while. She wanted to savor the moment.
Standing, he loomed over her in the chair, shaded by the ornate lantern-style lamps that hung in the patio. He was mostly hidden in silhouette above her, but she could somehow still look straight into his eyes.
A smirk—sinful and sly—curved those lips of his that had so entranced her earlier in the day. All over again, they did the same, making her own part with another quick inhale while he stared back at her.
“I don’t know how to,” she replied softly.
He was standing so close to her that she got a whiff of his masculine scent in the light breeze. A combination of musky cologne and cigarettes. Heavy, and delicious. She pulled in another lungful of air just to taste it again on her tongue.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, leaning a little closer.
Karine froze up. They were nearly close enough to touch, and she wasn’t sure she could handle that. She still wasn’t sure why he made her react the way he did.
His brows furrowed as he kneeled down, reaching out with his thick fingers. Their gazes stayed locked together when he found some stray hairs over her face and tucked them back behind her ear with the softest touch.
“What don’t you know how to do?” he asked, the demand coming out smooth and unconcerned.
For a moment, she was almost completely honest and told him the truth—she didn’t know how to be alive, or how to live, for that matter. This was her existence. He was looking right at it. Stolen liquor, fuzzy days and forgotten nights, a myriad of pills, and an entire world where she didn’t belong, but everyone else seemed determined to keep her right there inside of it.
Despite the fog of the drinks and the pills that clogged up her mind, she knew better than to raise his suspicions any further. The truth had never helped her before.
“I meant,” she whispered, “I don’t know how to answer that question, of course, I’m alive.”
Roman remained exactly where he was, just a mere inch away, and close enough for the scent of spiced liquor to dance on his every breath.
“My name is Karine.”
“You just read my mind,” he said, chuckling low. “That was my next question.”
His laughter truly was a beautiful sound.
An echo in her mind, now.
When his lips curled in a smile, Karine sunk further into the chair, amazed at the very sight. Suddenly, there was nowhere else she wanted to be but right there.
With him.
NINE
The last time Roman saw Karine, her hair was damp—slick as it framed her face. Now, dried in soft waves with only a little frizz, he could appreciate how it was still as dark as the night. All he wanted to do was sink his fingers into her hair to feel the softness tease his roughened palms.
He was glad she told him her name because he hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day. It would have been nice to have her name when they first met so he could have put a name to the face—and in his fantasies of her that had kept him company while he attempted to feign interest over the day and evening at the mansion.
Roman had enough sense than to go digging around, trying to uncover her identity in the Yazov household. If they wanted him to know who she was, he would eventually find out. So, he considered himself lucky that he’d found her again, even though the circumstances seemed less than ideal.
Again.
The universe had a funny way of working.
It wasn’t difficult for him to figure out what was wrong with her—why she had that distant look in her eyes while she laid there seemingly having her own private conversation with the stars. In her own world.
The girl was fucked up.
High as a kite—probably drunk, too, considering everyone else there sure as hell was at the moment. Except for him. Roman didn’t trust these people enough to get plastered around them.
Karine hadn’t even taken the trouble to hide the pills in her medication-induced stupor. The fluorescent plastic bottle in her right hand with pills stuffed inside it rattled when she moved. The trouble was he couldn’t figure out what those pills exactly were without trying to get a better look inside the bottle. Maybe then he could determine if she needed attention.
Medically.
“Do you want me to go get you some help?” he asked, leaning a bit over her and gazing between her and the remaining pills in the bottle.
Maybe he shouldn’t have touched her hair like that, tucking it behind her ear. He still didn’t know who she was and if he was even supposed to be talking to her, but his fingertips also couldn’t forget how she almost leaned in to be touched again, either.
For some reason—she was in the house but hadn’t been invited to Maxim’s party. She wasn’t working like the staff members, either. What was that about?
“Thank you, Roman. Nobody ever asks me that, you’re very kind to ... but no, I don’t need anybody’s help. In fact, I would prefer it if everyone left me alone.”
She spoke in a low voice, barely meeting his eyes while her lashes fluttered as if she was falling into a dream. Even her words ended on a slow hum he had to carefully decipher. Yet, she remembered his name from back when Maxim said it in front of her at the pool house. He figured ...
She’s probably okay.
And since she wanted to be left alone, he started to stand, but she grabbed his hand before he could move away.
“Not you, I didn’t mean you,” she whispered, high-blue eyes with pupils blown small flying wide to meet his instantly.
Jesus.
Roman took in a sharp breath. The muscles in his abdomen tightened as she held his hand with a feather-light grip, almost as if she was scared to grab harder. He could have easily pulled away from her, but he didn’t want to. Why would he? This was the best he’d felt in weeks, especially when she nudged his fingers towards her mouth.
He watched in amazement, before he truly understood what she was doing, as she brought his thumb to her lips. The warmth of her mouth pressed against the pad of his thumb, kissing it softly before she let go.
Roman wasn’t even sure if it actually happened—he had to be dreaming. How high was this woman? There was no other explanation. Karine leaned back in the chair again, and looked up at the stars like she had forgotten already.
“At least tell me what you took so I can try and help you, it could be dangerous.” That was what he chose to say, trying his best to snap her back into the moment again. He opted to ignore the kiss for now because he didn’t want to embarrass her. Or he was just a fucking liar because he didn’t know what to say about it. Except that maybe he liked it. That was problematic enough. “Did you mix anything, maybe?”
A smile creased the corners of Karine’s perfectly pink lips as she asked him, “Why would you want to pull me out of this? That would be the opposite of helping me.”
Maybe she was right.
Who was he to judge?
If anyone knew the powerful allure of substances that took you to another planet, even if only for a short time, it was Roman. However, her speech was starting to slur even more, and her eyes glazed over in a way that disturbed him. She was barely even able to keep her eyes open anymore as she spoke. Roman had already made up his mind to go find someone who would be able to help her. Maybe he need
ed to call an ambulance.
Have you taken this mix—whatever it is—before? It helps to know your limits, Karine.”
She didn’t respond.
“Karine ...” he said firmly when her eyes finally closed. Her head stayed tilted to the side while her limbs seemed to have gone entirely limp.
Fuck.
He hadn’t come to this place to watch a girl OD right in front of his eyes.
“Please, go—please. She will be fine.” The flustered voice of a woman came from behind him, and he turned to find the older woman from earlier. The same woman from the pool house who had interrupted their conversation then, too. She rushed onto the patio, but had carefully shut the door behind her first. As if she didn’t want to draw attention. “Please just go.”
Roman didn’t think so.
“She needs help,” he growled at her.
Once next to him, she knelt beside Karine, lifting up her wrists and seemingly checking her pulse. She came off more affected by Roman’s presence than Karine’s state. But the way she was quick and tender when she checked Karine over, placing palms against her cheeks and leaning in to listen for steady, even breaths, he had to wonder ...
Was this her grandmother? Although, the woman didn’t quite look old enough for that. And the two women didn’t look at all alike, so he figured a mother was out of the question.
A friend, maybe?
“She’s just tired, but she is okay,” the woman continued saying, her back still turned to Roman. “I know her, yes? She trusts me. Please, go now.”
The woman seemed to get more agitated the longer he stood around. Even though he didn’t know what her role here was, or even Karine’s in this house—well, shit ... he knew well enough to stay out of it.
He had to remind himself once again that this wasn’t Brighton Beach. Little Odessa’s Devil wasn’t king in the windy city. Roman didn’t get to come into a man’s home—especially one like Maxim—and ask questions about anything. He was the only one watching his own back.