by R. J. Lewis
Chapter Twenty-Nine.
That night Nikolai comes to my unit, bags of ingredients in hand. Scarlett is quiet for the first part, entering the kitchen to study him, and then leaving when he starts to pay her attention.
“She’s shy like you,” he remarks to me after the second time she’s done this.
“I’m not shy,” I argue, jokily.
“Keep lying. I see the places you blush –”
“Shh!” I smack him on the arm, glancing out the kitchen cautiously. “Not within earshot of her.”
He laughs and returns to the task at hand, chopping onions with his dexterous hands. He doesn’t flinch once, and the knife goes flying up and down.
“I never took for you a cook,” I remark, watching him.
“No?”
“I thought you’d have a housekeeper around.”
“I take care of myself.”
“I’d love to be a fly on the wall,” I muse, grinning mischievously. “See you tackling the laundry, vacuuming the floors –”
“Doing the dishes,” he cuts in, smirking.
“The scary Russian man tackling on household duties, it’s strangely hot.”
Nikolai chuckles, settling the knife down as he comes to me, caging me in against the counter. He drops his head, but he doesn’t kiss me. He knows I don’t want Scarlett to see anything remotely hands on between us, but I can tell he’s pushing his boundaries.
“Stick around after sex for once,” he says, his gaze penetrating, “and you’ll see the magic happen. I even have kitchen gloves.”
I bite my lip. “What colour?”
“Bumblebee yellow.”
I fake moan. “This is really getting me hot and bothered now.”
“I can bend over the sink, give you a little ass action. A little twerk.”
“I do love the ass.”
“Well, you can ass-ault me all you want.”
Oh, my God. I can’t stop laughing. “Keep going with that mouth and I won’t find you intimidating anymore.”
Grinning, he drops his hands and turns to the stove top, stirring the minced meat in the saucepan over one of the burners. “I don’t want to intimidate you ever, Alina.”
We eat on the couch in the living room, and it’s genuinely the best spaghetti I’ve ever had. Even Scarlett can’t resist the taste. She finishes her bowl, practically licks her plate clean and then watches Nikolai inquisitively.
When we’ve all finished, I quickly do the tidy up and gather all the plates into the kitchen. I let them soak in the sink, and then I quickly clean the counter tops. When I return, I catch Nikolai just as he moves off the couch and settles on the ground next to Scarlett. I stop there and watch as they both scatter the pieces of a puzzle around, flipping them over.
“How do you put them together?” he asks her. “Random pieces?”
“I do the border first,” she answers. “I find all the pieces with the straight edges and put them in a pile.”
“That’s a good way to do it.”
“How do you do it?”
“I match the colours.”
She pauses in her quest for all the edge pieces and watches him take all the same coloured ones aside. He fits them together and she smiles a little, but she’s still cautious of him. I see her guard is up. She’s comparing him to Grant. She’s waiting for him to flip out.
He never does, and I think it confuses her. She’s never had any positive male figures in her life, and for once – I don’t know why I think it but I do – I hope desperately for Nikolai to never get tired of me, because I can see us doing this a lot.
I like how tentative he is. Like her, he stays quiet, and when she speaks, he gives her all of his attention. By the time they’re finished the puzzle, I stop hanging back and call Scarlett in for bedtime.
“Say good night to Nikolai,” I tell her after she cleans up.
“Good night,” she hastily says, racing to the bathroom, like she doesn’t want to confront him any longer.
He smiles softly over his shoulder, looking me dead in the eye as he quietly remarks, “Exactly like you. With a little time, she’ll bloom.”
Scarlett brushes her teeth, and I settle her into bed. I relax next to her for a while, and tell her the story of Belle. She listens but doesn’t interrupt. She lets me talk, her tired eyes never leaving my face. When I finish, she wraps her arm around my neck and gives me a tight squeeze.
“I like him,” she whispers in my ear just before she pulls away. Before I can respond to that, she turns her back to me, gathers the sheets around her and pulls it to her chest.
I step out moments later, disappointed to find Nikolai already at the door, dressed and ready to leave. I smile at him, but he looks shut down all of a sudden, barely meeting my eye as I approach him.
“Why are you leaving?” I ask.
“I have to go,” he simply replies.
“You’re running.”
“No.”
I tilt my head to the side, studying him, recognizing the distress because I’ve felt it too. “Was it too much? Meeting her?”
His blue eyes glisten as he looks at me. “She’s beautiful. She has the softest nature, and you’re very lucky to have her.”
I take another tentative step closer to him. “Then what is it, Nikolai?”
Looking ragged, he takes me by the arm and pulls me to him. Then he presses his forehead to mine and, closing his eyes, he whispers, “You’re Belle.”
Instantly my heart pinches in my chest. My eyes gloss over. I search for words, but I can’t speak, so I simply nod once, and he lets out a long breath of air.
“You want to rescue yourself,” he continues. “You’ve been saving up to find your own little pasture, haven’t you?”
I just look at him, the answer clear in my eyes.
He nods once, pressing his lips against mine in a short, tender kiss. Then he pulls away, swallowing hard as his fingers wrap around my necklace. “I’m falling for you, Alina.”
Just like that, everything stops.
I can’t process…
I’m not even sure I heard him right at first, but I know what he said. I can see it reflected in his eyes.
He kisses me again, but my lips are barely responding. Even my eyes remain open as I try to make sense of his words. He pulls away, and he knows I’m tongue-tied and staggered. He smiles warmly in return. Then he steps back and gives me a final look before he leaves.
*
He doesn’t mention what he said to me for the rest of the week, but he doesn’t need to. I think about it a lot, and by a lot I mean all the time.
I’ve never had someone care for me. Except Scarlett, and maybe even Roberta, but nobody on an intimate level has ever looked at me and said those words to me. I feel…special. Important even, and I don’t know what I did to Nikolai to warrant those very scary words, but I want to keep them, cherish them, hang them up somewhere inside me I can easily find whenever I feel down.
Everything’s changed. I can feel it. Nikolai lets go, parting from the wall he stood behind. And I let go too, no longer lying to myself to process life easier.
There’s affection behind every look, every touch – and maybe it was there all along but I refused to see it until now.
A week later, cooking becomes routine after sex. Usually he leaves me in bed and gets started on a meal in the kitchen. He’s just as efficient as the first time with his cooking, and the smell of food is typically what gets me up and moving to him, a loose shirt of his on.
We eat at the island, falling either into a comfortable silence, or an easy conversation. Everything about Nikolai is comfortable and easy, and the more I’m with him, the more I start to accept he’s not just a paycheque. He’s more.
And it scares the living shit out of me.
As we sit and eat now, I stare at him for some time, my eyes glued to his face, fascinated by all things Nikolai. My heart warms when he catches my gaze and he smirks at me in that cocky way I love.
He knows I’m swooning.
Looking down at my food, I take a moment, hesitating as I try to form the words. I learned the hard way I need to just blurt them out or else it’ll never come out. So I steel myself and quietly say, “I don’t want the envelopes anymore.”
He looks up, surprised by my outburst.
We exchange looks for some time. He’s trying to assess if I’m being serious, and I’m trying to tell him I am. This isn’t random. I’m not in some kind of lovey state and saying things I don’t mean. No, I’ve thought it through a lot.
I don’t want to do it anymore.
“Alina,” he replies after a tense moment, “don’t say something you might regret.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to regret this. I don’t want the envelopes anymore. I have more than enough money to look after bills for the next year. I don’t want the money, Nikolai.” I pause, swallowing hard as I come to terms with the truth. “I don’t…I don’t think it was ever all about the money.”
When I finally find the courage to look at him, I’m softened by the affection I see in him. It makes me stand by my words all the more.
“It’s there if you need it,” he tells me, but even I can hear the hope in his voice. He doesn’t want the envelopes anymore, either.
With another bite of food, he takes my hand and squeezes me tight.
Chapter Thirty.
The Estate isn’t so ugly. That’s the first thought I have as I sit in the bus, watching the streets blaze by.
Really, it’s not that bad. I mean, it’s pretty bad in some areas – areas like mine – but there are nice places too. Places like Nikolai’s, where people actually smile at you without wanting to stab you for your wallet.
I think I’ve had this grass is always greener mentality because I never tried to work with what I have. I’ve always tried to just shove it away in a box and imagine a place where nothing’s so bad and the problems aren’t present. But now…now I feel a change in me.
A place is just a place at the end of the day. People are probably the same everywhere. What makes it different are the people you surround yourself with. It’s cliché. It’s been said a million times, but that’s because it’s true.
I’ve been closed up, alone, with the attitude that only I can pull myself out of a problem. I put all this pressure on myself. I didn’t let anyone in. I convinced myself I didn’t have time, and all that ended up happening was I grew lonelier and more hopeless.
It’s me. I’ve been the problem all along. By being bitter, by being tough, by always acting like I had something to prove and nobody could get to me.
I need to fix my attitude. Instead of something being too hard, I have to tackle it on because it’s hard. I need to find ways to put myself through school. To experience things, to find out what I love. To live life for me and not find excuses to avoid spending the money I’ve built so far.
Fear is holding me back, and I must confront that fear, venture into the unknown, and conquer it.
I smile, nodding to myself just then. I’m psyching myself up on a bus ride home. I regret not divulging my thoughts with Nikolai. I should have swallowed my pride – again an issue – and just let him drop me off. It’s not so bad, though. I’m enjoying this quiet time to reflect.
I’m in high spirits when I get to the apartment and ride the elevator up. The stench of piss lingers, and I look questionably down at the elevator floor, choosing not to question why it’s sticky the way it is. Because it doesn’t matter. It…
I make a gross face. Fuck, that’s disgusting.
The elevator doors slide open and I hurry out, rubbing the bottom of my sandals against the carpeted floor. Then I head to Roberta’s unit, already fishing my key out. I hope Scarlett’s not asleep –
A hand wraps around my mouth, shoving me back suddenly into a large, hard body. My heart spikes, and I struggle against iron grip. My hands are up, and I scratch at the arm, trying to scream against the man that’s painfully forcing my mouth shut.
“Stop,” he hisses.
All at once I freeze, but my heart’s battering with fear. I recognize that voice, and I force my body to relax, though every inch of me is on high alert.
“Now you listen to me,” Grant growls in my ear, “if you so much as scream the second I let this hand go, I’m going to bust into that decrepit old lady’s place and I’m going to fucking take care of Scarlett. You understand?”
I nod, my vision going blurry from tears. I’m terrified, though. My entire body may just collapse. I’m so close to Roberta’s door, and all I’m envisioning is Scarlett lifeless on the floor. How do I know he hasn’t hurt her already?
“You’re going to open your door, alright?”
I nod again, and he painfully steers me to my door. His hand is still locked around my mouth, bruising my lips. I shakily push the key into the door and turn it. Then I twist the knob and the door opens. He pushes me through straight away, the blade in his other hand suddenly visible.
I feel nauseous. I want to vomit. My knees buckle as he forces me to a stop in the middle of the unit.
“Now you’re going to take me to your stash,” he orders, his breaths quickening now. I stiffen against him, and he feels it. “Yeah, I know about your stash, precious,” he says. “How else would your fucking ma suddenly have all that cash to spend on drugs? She said you had more where it came from, and to think I kept coming around here looking for the money that bitch ripped off me.”
My heart comes crashing to my chest. I knew something was going to happen. I thought maybe she’d be back here in a few weeks, demanding more money.
But never this.
“Do it, Alina,” he tells me.
I work my legs, moving in the direction of the kitchen. His hand is still around my mouth, looser than before though. I’m tempted to bite, but I’m terrified of the blade in his other hand. I can’t think of a worse death than bleeding out from a stab wound. Shit, it’s freaking me the hell out.
I go to the counter, reaching my hand out, but he abruptly forces me still.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls in my ear. I understand his hesitation immediately. The knife block is sitting on the same counter as the coffee tin, so it looks like I’m reaching for it. Which would be an utterly stupid move. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d be insulted he’d think I’m dumb enough to try it.
He turns me to the side, and then he grabs the knife block with the same hand his blade is in. He grunts as he picks it up and swings it behind us, crashing on the floor beyond my reach.
“Now where is it?” he demands.
I jerk my head to where the coffee tin is.
“Give it to me then.”
He drops his hand from my mouth, giving me a look of warning not to scream. I’m not going to. I’m not even going to fight him on this either. He’s holding all the control, and I’m a tiny, defenceless girl.
I shakily grab at the tin and open it. I rummage for the glad bag of money, and then I pull it out and hand it to him without looking. I feel shut off, my eyes following the blade in his hand. I feel too ill and pale.
He takes the bag from my hand and whistles in awe. “Fuck me, Alina, you’re fucking just one man for this kind of dough?”
I swallow hard, not responding, eyes on the blade. He’s a ticking time bomb. He might explode.
“I’ve been hearing the rumours, you know,” he continues. “That you’re with that Russian man. The one that runs that pawn shop. I didn’t believe it but…fuck, you really are his whore, aren’t you? I didn’t think you had it in you. You don’t mule, but you spread those legs wide, huh?”
I stay still, ignoring his hard laugh as he shoves the bag down his pants. I expect him to leave, but he just stands there, staring at me with his seedy eyes.
“You ignoring me ‘cause you think you’re better than me?” he questions, his voice turning edgy now. “Just ‘cause you’re fucking some man in a suit, you’re better than me?”
&nbs
p; I don’t know why I don’t respond. My lips part, and I try to, but I’m in shock because I know he’ll erupt either way.
“You treat me like this because you think I’m soft on you.” He scoffs, his lips twitching now as his anger overtakes him. “This is all because I let you go, huh? I should have beaten you for what you did. That’s why you give me so much FUCKING ATTITUDE!”
I jump, my heart seizing in my chest at his abrupt rage.
He moves to me then, backing me to the counter, and his hand comes out, grasping my chin tightly and forcing me to look at him. He tightens the blade, and I hold my breath, trapped and frightened that all will be torn from me in a matter of seconds.
I just want him gone.
I shut my eyes, trembling as he edges even closer.
“I could have done this to you too,” he tells me, amused. “Instead of backing down, I could have took a blade like this to you and forced anything I wanted out of you. I could have slapped you around” – he lets my chin go and slaps me against the face – “just like that.”
He takes my chin again and this time I struggle, but then he presses the blade against my cheek and I go completely still, tears falling from my eyes. He cuts me there, and it feels like a sting, but I don’t move. Because if I do, I’ll just make the cut worse.
He grins. “Do you like a bit of pain, Alina? I hear that man likes a good cock. Does he shove his in your ass? Maybe I should do that. A punishment for your sick attitude.”
He leaves my chin again and his hand slides down my body. I close my eyes tightly, and it takes everything in me not to twitch.
“Closing your eyes? You like the feel of it, Alina? Maybe I’ll –”
His words are cut off suddenly, and he gasps, a ragged groan flying from his lips. I open my eyes and see him being restrained and dragged away from me. There’s a thick arm around his throat, the familiar suited body of Nikolai behind him holding him back with ease.
Grant swings his blade at him, but not before Nikolai sends a knife to his chest. Grant struggles, groaning in agony as Nikolai swiftly pulls the knife out and stabs him two more times in aimed parts of his torso. Grant spasms uncontrollably, the blood pooling through his shirt. And then he stops moving after that.