by Serena Vale
It was alright. She’d seen the assortment of jackets and ties that he had in his closet and each of them was a bit dated by about five years or so. It might as well have been a millennium in terms of fashion for the rich and powerful. She would have to get custom suits made for him, but that was still a few days off at least. Eventually there would come a time when she had to take baby steps.
But that time was not yet. Christmas was only two weeks away and she had to make ready to present the new Alexi Volkov to the world before then. She had her plan lined up to give Alexi over to the public by Christmas Eve; the press would look at it as a genuine Christmas miracle and they would eat it up. It would be a great thing to really sell the magic of the season. But that time was not yet.
“How’s the soup?” she asked him across the dinner table as they ate their meal one evening.
He looked up from his meal and even paused to properly wipe his mouth with his napkin. “Pardon?”
Yes! She raved inwardly. He stopped using the vernacular! It had only been three days before when he would have responded, What now?
“Your soup,” she repeated, keeping her face neutral. “How does it taste?”
He gave a short approving nod. “I find that I was never partial to tomato soup before… but this blend of spices is actually quite… delectable.”
She wanted to get up and dance at this. In addition to his mantra she had been schooling him in vocabulary and mannerisms. Just as with all of his other lessons she feared that he was only feigning interest until such a time as she would leave. But after the third or fourth lesson – given while he was moving some weights around in his private gym – he began asking questions.
And he was asking the right ones to boot.
It happened that he had a great hunger for what she was teaching. It was apparent that he hadn’t realized it himself until they began speaking of things that were other than what she was trying to teach him. One of their lull periods, she had thought of it as. Even she needed a break from what she was trying to accomplish every now and then. And that they should share that time together had seemed fitting to her.
She couldn’t find any evidence to the contrary that he was simply being illusory about her presence with him. His questions were about her schooling… where she had grown up… how she had come to be in this business… things of that nature. None of it had any bearing on when she would be leaving. It was for that reason that she had begun to believe that his intentions were far from being disingenuous.
She smiled at him.
She sat and watched him as he did his morning sit-ups. He was responding better now that he had all of the toxins from out of his system. He had recovered from all of his drinking and other narcotics with surprising speed. She had seen withdrawal symptoms in her clients before and none of them had ever recovered from such things like this.
He compensated by way of throwing himself into his workouts. She’d seen that plenty of times, but apparently some of his more brutish ancestry still reached across the generations to give Alexi the strength to get through his pains. It was a wondrous thing to watch.
Wondrous… and a little exciting as well.
She watched from the doorway as Alexi performed his motions. He was dressed down into a slim pair of shorts and ankle-tight shoes. His body was half prone on a small mat facing a mirror in his private gym. Every time he sat up he would look at his reflection in the mirror and mimicking a boxer he would cast two quick punches towards his reflection before reclining and repeating the motion.
His ab muscles tensed and relaxed with every swift movement of his body. Back and forth he went, like a fleshy accordion… but was far more pleasant to look upon. There was a thin layer of sweat upon his body that created a sheen that was caught in the early morning light.
He grunted with each motion and she strained her ears to listen. She held her breath between his sit ups and could faintly discern the words she had not prompted him to say.
“I need to clean up.”
She wanted, again, to dance at this realization. But somehow she found it more satisfying to simply watch him as he completed his exercise and flipped over onto his belly, doing pushups.
The sight of seeing him bob up and down on his workout mat with sweat lightly dripping from off of his body added to her own excitement. There was something… primal… in the motions. Primal… and desirable.
Chapter 8
She sat on a chair in the kitchen as he practiced a simple skill that she had taught him: frying eggs. He hadn’t shown any particular skill in the kitchen but she had made part of his rehab regime simple cooking skills. To that end, she’d had food delivered that was no good unless it was prepared and properly so.
“If you want to eat, you have to learn to cook for yourself,” she had taught him. He had grumbled at first, but he’d learned to cope with it better than she had expected. As it so happened he was turning into a passable cook when faced with the option that he couldn’t order in like he used to. It provided her a chance to do two things at once.
She checked the books that Alexi’s father provided. “It says here that marketing has found a problem with the new U220 units.” She paused, testing him. “What are those?”
He didn’t look up from his frying pan as he responded. “Performance enhancers… supposed to be a competitive medium for energy drinks. U220 is just the name that the men in the lab gave it. What’s the problem?”
She smirked and looked back at the report. “It says here that the lab generating it is running out of funds. The pill’s predecessor, UN10, hasn’t sold as well as the original projected rates. That income was meant to fund the U220 into its final phase of production.”
She paused, waiting for him to respond. This too had been part of plan, getting him more involved with the business that he would one day have to run. His knowledge of business, she’d discovered, was actually quite impressive. What had been lacking before now had simply been his interest.
He nodded. “Reduce the price on the old stuff. Make it up in units.”
She paused. “That simple?”
“The marketability of UN10 can generate what’s needed for at least the next quarter if the price goes down. The market isn’t as large we’d like, but it’s large enough to generate the kind of capital that we need. It doesn’t have to be cheap long, just long enough to bring U220 into full production.”
She thought about it and considered the option. It sounded reasonable and certainly within the scope of good business. The company might suffer a small loss but if U220 worked as the researchers and focus groups predicted that it would then the loss would be minimal. And the overall marketing could be made up for before the following quarter.
“I never would have thought of that,” she admitted.
He chuckled and looked at her over his shoulder. “I do have a mind for business, you know.” She found herself blush a little, but tried not to let it show. “What’s next?”
Janice stood watching him as he rubbed the thick shaving cream across his face. He spread the foam across his chin and the underside of his neck with a slow and graceful touch. Then he slowly began to run his razor across his features, removing the beard that had been growing for several days now.
She had allowed him the freedom of being able to have a razor, which was a traditional straight razor, in the tradition of shaving that his father had insisted upon. It had been the same day that she’d had the cameras removed from the suite and she found herself occasionally looking over her shoulder as to where the small and imperceptible devices had been housed. Each of them removed during the night while Alexi and she had slept.
It felt strange knowing that they were well and truly alone here now. Security was still in place, as she had requested, but they were no longer tuned in to the goings on inside Alexi’s suite. In a way, it felt kind of odd. Every client that she’d had before… their recovery and the sharpening of their personal image had taken longer and much lo
nger at that. But Alexi… he was different. He’d managed to accomplish his recovery in just under a month.
She looked at her watch again and noted the time.
It was just before 8 AM on Christmas Eve morning, and she didn’t recognize the man that was standing before her. It wasn’t the same man that she had seen weeks ago who’d been lounging with messy hair, an unshaven face, and the raggedy shorts that he’d been wearing.
Instead, she was looking at a man reborn. His body was reshaped, and very well, she thought. His mind had also been honed to new heights and he didn’t seem the over-amped kid that she had first thought him to be.
He had actually become quite fetching. His hair… his features… his body… his mind… his manners… the way he spoke… all of it was crafted from her work. From our mutual work, she reminded herself. Yes, that was true. She had to remind herself that he had contributed to the effort as well, though it had taken a while for him to do so. He was transformed from what he had been and in his place this new specimen had emerged.
Feed a grub royal jelly and he will turn into an Emperor butterfly, she recalled. It seemed that the old saying held true, even into today.
She took a deep breath. “Are you nervous?”
He paused a moment in his shaving and then resumed the cutting of his facial hair. “Yes… a little.”
“Why?” she gestured to his body. He was dressed only in his new slacks and his shoes. His new jacket and tie hung on a nearby hook, waiting to be added to his new attire. “Nobody is going to recognize you. They’ll be blown away when they see you.”
He finished shaving the underside of his neck and began to clean away his cheeks. “That’s not why I’m nervous.”
“It’s not?”
He shook his head, rinsing his razor off, and then leaning his weight against the marble surface of the vanity. “I’m nervous because… well… I suppose I am nervous because of the way I look. But also because of what I have to say when the world sees me.”
Janice was confused by his words and without turning to look back at her to see that confusion, he explained. “It’s only been my father and I for so long,” he replied. “I… I miss my mother… I still do.”
She nodded comprehensively. “I’m sorry, Alexi.”
He sighed. “I know it wasn’t that long ago that she and my father got divorced and I started to…” he looked down at the foamy shaving water in the sink and shut his eyes, “I started to act out after that.”
“It was a broken home you had, Alexi,” she said assuredly. “It messes with everyone’s head if they’re not prepared for it.”
He nodded. “I suppose it does.” He opened his eyes and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s just… the drugs… the alcohol… the girls… the parties… it felt like I wasn’t me for a long time. It felt like everything that I was feeling: the anger, the hate, the loss… it felt like it was someone else’s problem.” He turned to look back at her. “Does that make any sense?”
She nodded. She heard a similar enough motive to party Winehouse-style before. Family problems were usually enough to send anyone over the edge. Divorces… affairs… dead children… live children… bad business… horrible press… she’d seen its effects on people before. And while the reasons for things like that had often eluded her on a personal level she knew that people often engaged in such things for reasons that seemed good to them.
No other reason was really required.
She looked at her watch again. “Better hurry up,” she said, straightening her own business jacket. “It’s almost time.”
Alexi went back to his shaving.
Chapter 9
The morning air was cold and bit at her face as she stood wrapped in her thick jacket. Christmas season had definitely come and though its teeth and claws tried and failed to rip at her through her warm covering, all it managed to successfully attack was her face.
She was already amazed at the success of her work as she looked around the open square of the main foyer of the building in which she had been living for the last month. It was packed with people, most of them men and women of the press, but there were others present as well. She marked them as investors… patrons… people with money in the company. The people that Mr. Volkov wished to keep right where they were.
And none of them, she observed, had bothered to notice the clean-shaven and darkly clad young man that had been sitting just behind and to the right of his father. She tried hard not to look at Alexi, not wanting to ruin the surprise before it was time. But that he had gone unmarked this whole was only adding to the suspense. When he finally got up to speak, announced by his father, the world would see the fruits of her labor as well as his own.
She found the anticipation building madly within her.
“… the future of this company,” said Mr. Volkov, bringing her attention back down to Earth. “Our new research and development facilities, which will officially go online at the end of this coming March will be overseen by our new head of development administration.”
She held her breath. This is it.
“I’d like to present, my son, Alexi,” Mr. Volkov said, his voice brimming with pride.
There was a collective gasp from the audience that made Janice swell with satisfaction as if she were being filled with hydrogen and being lifted from off the ground. She felt as though she were indeed floating above the ground and dancing on air and resisted the urge to actually get up and dance once again at the sound the audience made. It was nothing short of the sound of success.
Alexi rose up from off of his chair and embraced his father with strong and happy arms. As he did so Janice could hear people in the audience as a small flurry of words left their lips that were given over in excited and hushed voices.
“Oh my god! That is Alexi!”
“—can’t be!”
“Not possible…”
“He’s cute!”
“—did he come home? Our guys say that he’s still in rehab!”
“—been watching the building for weeks…”
“…never saw this one coming!”
“Damn! He looks sharp!”
“—could have walked in right past us and never even noticed!”
Janice drank it all in. The sound of so much surprise was like music, soft and somehow full of an upbeat rhythm. She covered her excitement by adjusting herself in her seat and taking a long-awaited breath of relief. Her work was just about to pay off, she knew. If the crowd was convinced then Mr. Volkov was sure to be convinced. And soon, it would be a long vacation for her.
“Thank you,” Alexi said as he assumed the podium in place of his father, his voice echoing through the microphone in the square and as she had predicted, numerous camera flashes began to riddle the platform on which she, Mr. Volkov, and a handful of the company executives had been sitting. “Thank you,” he repeated, his words sounding smooth and practiced. They had rehearsed this speech numerous times and it flowed from out of him with the kind of smooth grace as fine liquor.
“I’m very pleased to be back,” he said warmly and there was a small roar of applause from the crowd. Janice felt herself perk up at the sound. It was her work that they were applauding; for certain none of them had recognized him while he’d been seated. “And I’m very pleased to be with you here today, on Christmas Eve.” He took a short breath. “I can honestly say that this is nothing short of a Christmas miracle that I am here today… because when I went to rehab… as I’m sure you’re all aware, I was completely different person.” He looked down at his suit. “My wardrobe was certainly in much need of approval.”
There was a small chuckle from the crowd.
“But I’m pleased to say that all of that changed nearly a month ago… when I met an amazing woman.”
Janice froze. That’s not part of the speech!
“A woman that literally came to me in my own house… and knocked me off my feet,” Alexi went on. “And I’m very proud to sa
y that it was because of her that I realized that my trip into rehab was necessary. And I’m even more proud that she was brave enough to come and sit with us today here on the platform.” He turned and gestured to her.
What? No! No! No!
There was another flurry of camera flashes from the audience as her image was captured inside what had to be dozens of cameras from the host sitting before her. She did her best to keep her facial features neutral – or supportive at least – but she found it hard to keep what could only be excitement building up inside of her.
Janice looked to Mr. Volkov who looked directly at his son, though she could feel his eyes keeping her in her periphery. He could out them both in this speech! He could divulge the secrets of his rehab and tell the press everything and it would ruin everything that she had done… and everything that she had been trying to build. And Mr. Volkov would certainly withhold his payment… she would be ruined.
Oh, god!
“And that one single day changed me,” Alexi said, almost affectionately. “Because on that same day… I fell in love with her.”
Janice froze; the cold of the weather feeling like it had suddenly become as balmy as a summer day.
“And in that time since… she consented to be my wife.”
Her heart began hammering in her chest so loudly that she couldn’t hear anything else after that. Not even the remainder of Alexi’s speech… or the speech that his father gave following that which backed up his son’s claims. Just as she had instructed him to do.
Oh, shit.
The warmth of the building lobby did little to warm her as she and Alexi were hurried away from the press conference like a well-protected couple. Mr. Volkov had stayed behind to answer more questions about the new business venture that he was entering into and – Janice suspected – the questions regarding the impending wedding of her and his son.