Team Russian (Saints Team Series Book 4)

by Ally Adams

  “Take it or leave it,” I said, with a shrug. “I hate that I have so little control over what gets posted about me.”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute and I reached for my water, sipped and then asked, “you prefer your female friends to be really girly and into shopping, make-up, and selfies?”

  “No, definitely not. I’ve been there, had enough of that to last me a lifetime,” he said. “I was just shocked by your revelations ... I think I’ve met the female version of myself.”

  I laughed. “At least our mothers can tell us apart.”

  “Never said you weren’t an attractive, feminine woman,” he added, and I didn’t know where to go with that. He had touched a sore spot with me – my mother was always saying I was too independent, feministic, a tomboy and add my height to that, I’d never attract a man.

  “ ... who can’t take a compliment,” he added after a minute.

  I chuckled. “Sorry, I just got distracted by something you said.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Another time,” I suggested. “So, your suits, you can try them on and I’ll see if I can narrow it down to the one you should wear ... I’m a Libran though ... we’re known for being indecisive. Maybe you should ask Sasha or that other girl in your office, the pretty little one who is dating Tomás Carrera.”

  “Alice,” he said.

  I was watching to see what he thought of her, but he gave nothing away.

  “Indecisive huh ... and what are these other interests?” he asked.

  I told him about my job interview Monday and he was really pleased for me. That was a good sign, too ... he didn’t have any caveman notions that a woman’s place was supporting a man. I suspect being raised by a pack of females has helped a lot. Plus, he didn’t seem jealous or competitive which often happens to couples in similar careers ... or maybe he didn’t care enough about me to be competitive.

  Then, I froze ... I heard the door open; Josh was home. This was going to be interesting – Josh was very effeminate, and The Russian was well, very alpha. I couldn’t bear it if he was rude to Josh or disliked him ... I couldn’t be with a man who wasn’t accepting; it was a deal breaker. I turned and looked through the glass sliding doors and waved to Josh. His eyes widened in surprise and then he gave me a thumbs-up which I hoped The Russian hadn’t seen. Josh came out to the balcony.

  “Hi Carla,” he said, with a special smile in my direction. He offered his hand to The Russian to shake.

  “Josh Turnbull,” he said. I held my breath, worried—I was scared for Josh and just as scared for myself—I didn’t want to have to stop liking The Russian.

  The Russian stood to shake hands with Josh; he looked about two feet taller and wider.

  “Alex Renwick,” he said. “I think I just ate your dinner.”

  Josh laughed. “Lucky I’ve eaten and you’re welcome.”

  “Great casserole,” The Russian declared, sitting down again. “If Carla ever raises your rent and you want out, look me up,” he said, with a sly glance in my direction. “I’ve got beach views.”

  I hit his arm. “Don’t try and tempt my roomie away.”

  The Russian smiled. “Just putting it out there,” he said.

  “Good to have fall back options,” Josh agreed.

  “Stop talking immediately you two,” I ordered them in fun. I breathed out. Thank the Lord ... The Russian was just getting better and better.

  “Given Josh cooked and I set the table, surely you can make coffee at least? I’d offer to make it, but I don’t know your kitchen yet,” The Russian said, with a glance at his watch. “Then I’ll have to bolt.”

  Yet, he said yet. OMG ... did that mean he was going to get to know my kitchen?

  “Carla makes a terrible coffee,” Josh said, “but I’m about to brew a pot.”

  “Hey!” I exclaimed, “it’s not that bad.”

  “Can you cook anything?” The Russian turned to look at me. “Toast?”

  “Toast is my specialty,” I said. We rose and grabbed plates, following Josh inside.

  “It’s actually cereal,” Josh said. “She’s really good at pouring that from the box.”

  The Russian laughed and returned to the balcony to get our glasses. I watched from the kitchen with Josh as The Russian went to the balcony edge to observe the view.

  Josh’s eyes widened and he mouthed the word ‘divine’.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Sorry to crash, want me to leave?” he asked.

  “Definitely not, I’m glad you got a chance to meet him. Besides, he clearly won’t be sticking around ... tonight anyway.”

  “Get out there,” Josh said, pushing me to the balcony. “I can make coffee for three ... go, go, go.”

  Then I had a brilliant idea – yeah I was full of them; Josh could check out The Russian’s suits and tell him what style was in ... Josh was a fashion guru after all.

  “Know anything about tuxedos?” I asked.

  “Is Chanel timeless?” he said.

  I gave him a grin, left the dishes in the sink and went back out to the balcony to appreciate the view of The Russian. He turned as I rejoined him.

  “You’ve done well, Brooker,” he said, “I like a self-made woman.”

  “Thanks. I like to be independent, have my own assets, you know a girl has to these day,” I said, not letting on that I’d checked out his ex-girlfriend and knew she was living off daddy – but hey, who wouldn’t in her situation?

  “Good on you,” he said.

  “I have a suggestion.”

  He looked at me with raised eyebrows as if I was going to suggest he stay the night. I wish.

  “Josh is a bit of a fashion guru, he’s been helping me with my dress selection for the Gala Ball. I think you should put the tuxes on for us both, and let him tell you what’s in vogue.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Anyone would think you just want to see me in a tux,” he said.

  “Hell no, I’ve got other things I could be doing,” I teased him. “There’s the sock drawer which needs sorting by color and I usually polish the silver once a week ...”

  He gave me one of those melt-your-insides smiles that he turned on so effortlessly.

  “But,” I continued, “given I’m a guest speaker on Sunday night and I’m going to look pretty fabulous, well, you need to step up.”

  “I’ll give you step up in a moment,” he said and moved to tickle me. Yes, seriously, tickle me! Clearly he had sisters. I fought him off laughing and then I grabbed his hand—mine felt small in his—and pulled him inside. I picked up the suits and pointed to my room. “You can change in there.”

  He and Josh exchanged looks like they were two men who put up with me – I was so pleased they had bonded, even at my expense, and I watched The Russian’s sexy butt as he went into my room and made a point of closing the door. Thank the Lord I was a minimalist and I knew my room was pretty clean. Plus, years and years of my dad, the reverend, boring into me that ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’ had worked – not that the Holy Scriptures actually said that but try telling my father that.

  Josh brought our coffees and a plate of chocolate biscuits over to the coffee table in front of the sofa and we sat waiting for The Russian’s fashion parade – I would have paid to see that. Five minutes later he walked out of my room in the first tux to find us both sitting on the sofa, staring at my bedroom door waiting for him. Josh gasped louder than I did, the Lord keep him for that. The Russian shook his head at the two of us.

  “Shh, Russian,” I said, “we’re working here.”

  Josh gave me a look.

  “Okay, Josh is working here,” I shrugged.

  “Armani? A Giorgio tuxedo?” Josh asked.

  The Russian’s eyes widened in surprise. “Got it in one,” he said.

  My draw dropped open. “How do you even know that?” I said, momentarily tearing my gaze away from The Russian to look at Josh, but returning immediately to The Russian.


  “I know quality,” Josh said.

  “He’s a fashionista and makeup artist,” I said, explaining Josh to The Russian.

  “Mm, turn around,” Josh said.

  I love Josh, did I mention that? The Russian did a full turn, and was not at all uncomfortable with the instruction.

  “Nice,” Josh said. “Lightweight wool, satin accents, peak lapels, single button close. Nice, very nice. That’s very much in vogue. Next.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t watch, Brooker,” The Russian said. “It will ruin the impact when I arrive Sunday night looking resplendent.”

  “Wild dogs wouldn’t drag me away,” I said. “It’s okay, I promise to be impressed Sunday night as well.”

  “I feel cheap,” The Russian said to Josh and he shook his head.

  “Women,” Josh agreed.

  The Russian went back into my room to change. I fanned myself with the TV program.

  “Oh my, was that hot or what?” I said.

  Josh nodded. “I’m going to need some water with my coffee.”

  “I’m onto it,” I said. I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses of water and got back in time before the second showing. We snuggled back next to each other. This was better than porn, or so I had heard ... I wouldn’t know ... honest.

  Five minutes later, the door opened again and then The Russian appeared in all his glory in another tuxedo.

  “Magnificent,” I whispered. I wished Josh wasn’t there and I could run at The Russian, knock him back on my bed and lick him. Right, focus.

  “Dolce and Gabbana,” The Russian said and turned full circle, without prompting this time, while looking to Josh for approval.

  Josh nodded. “Another classic. Tailored three-piece tuxedo suit with blazer, peaked lapels and satin detail. Solid wool,” he said, with a glance at me like that meant something.

  Gorgeous, sexy, dream-worthy. “Very nice,” I said, restraining myself.

  “Just very nice, Brooker?” The Russian challenged me.

  “Superb,” Josh raised the bar. “Both of those tuxedos are first class.”

  “First class,” I said, nodding and agreeing. The Russian gave me a small smile and ventured in to try on the final suit.

  “Wipe your mouth,” Josh said.

  “I’m not drooling, I’m salivating,” I said. “Tall, dark and handsome, my dream man is in my bedroom in a tux.”

  “I hear you,” Josh said. “It’s my fantasy too.”

  We both giggled. This was the best night ever. Finally, The Russian came out in the third tuxedo and my jaw dropped open.

  “Beautiful,” I said, without thinking.

  “Thanks Brooker, hope you can match it,” he said, his eyes twinkling at me.

  “Magnificent,” Josh agreed. “Is that a Tom Ford tux?”

  “You’re good,” The Russian said, looking impressed. “Very good. It is indeed; got it at a photo shoot recently.”

  “Turn around please,” Josh ordered.

  Well done, Josh.

  “Magnificent,” Josh said again and I nodded. He rose and went over to The Russian. He felt the coat fabric between his fingers.

  “Slim-Fit Mohair and Wool-Blend, the suit of Bond, James Bond,” Josh said.

  “Is that so?” The Russian asked. “Then this is the suit for me.”

  “It most certainly is,” I said, admiring the lustrous satin.

  “That’s the one,” Josh agreed. “Easy. Are you right for cufflinks, a bow tie, white shirt and shoes?”

  The Russian nodded. “Got all that. Thanks for the help, I’ll get it off.”

  “You could leave it on while you have coffee,” I suggested.

  The Russian shook his head. “Brooker, you’ll just have to wait to see it again.”

  I gave him a disappointed look and he disappeared behind the door to change.

  “You two are going to be beautiful together,” Josh said, turning from the closed door to look at me.

  “Wait until you see my dress,” I said, “seriously, Sasha has made it for my figure, I never thought I could look that good,” I lowered my voice.

  “I never doubted it,” Josh said. I squeezed him arm.

  The Russian came out a few minutes later in his jeans and t-shirt again, carrying the three suits. He thanked Josh again, grabbed his coffee and remained standing while he sipped it.

  “Better get going,” he said.

  I looked from him to my bedroom and back to him again. At least I could dream tonight about him being in there, half undressed.

  But an hour later I found out that the idea of sleep was just a fantasy. I didn’t get one wink – I imagined opening the front door to The Russian, kissing those lips, stripping off his tux and making slow love to a man who confessed to not moving too quickly. I kept cautioning myself – I was not his type, especially after his Hollywood blonde girlfriend; it was just a friendship.

  But it was too late. I was a goner and I had set myself up for heartbreak, I just knew it.

  Chapter 6

  I sat in the Suns’ physio waiting room for Carlo—the head physio—to summon me. My work commitment to report at the Saints’ game for The Sports Daily meant I couldn’t go and watch my Suns play, which was sort of a relief. I knew that was selfish and unsupportive of my team, but it was painfully hard to sit on the sideline when I wanted to be amongst it. Especially when it was an injury that forced me to step out for the rest of the season and not my choice. Even though I had said I was looking at retirement, I hadn’t made it official. The team was still hoping I would be able to play again before the end of season and Coach, my physio and I were pretty confident I’d at least be able to play in the last game before the final series began. That would be my swansong – management wanted to see me off in style and I knew our marketing manager, Maria, thought plugging it as my last game would help ticket sales. I was hoping I could play in it too; Carlo sounded positive.

  I rose and gave him a smile as he waved me into his physio room.

  “Before you ask, yes, maybe,” he said, with a grin.

  I gave him a smirk, and dropped my handbag on the chair while he closed the door. I sat on the table; we knew the routine ... he’d manipulate, massage and work the muscles in my leg for half an hour and I’d groan with the pain.

  “I was going to say ‘hello’ before I asked,” I said.

  Carlo grinned. He was nuggetty and a good head shorter than me, which wasn’t uncommon. He had muscles on his muscles and the biggest hands – probably why he had chosen to be a physio. He began working on my injured leg, especially around the knee area.

  “You’re moving better,” he said. “I watched you when you walked in. If you strapped your knee and didn’t play the whole game, I’m pretty confident we can get you on the basketball court for one last game ... maybe the end of season game.”

  “Fantastic,” I said, combining a smile and a grimace. Carlo was brilliant but tough. “So when do you think I can let the coach know?” I pushed him.

  I waited while he pondered the question, drawing it out ... killing me.

  “Well,” he said, “about now probably.”

  “Really?” I squealed in delight.

  “But only if you don’t do anything stupid before then, or I’ll be calling your coach personally and pulling you from the match,” he threatened. “Stick to the gym, no running, no sneaking in for a friendly basketball game, no wrestling any of the Saints.”

  I twisted around to look at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiled a sneaky sort of smile. “I heard you were going to the Ball with that big guy from The Saints, the one they call The Russian.”

  “Wow,” I said, turning back around and trying not to sound so pathetically excited. “News travels fast. Who told you that?”

  “Aimee was in here this morning,” he said. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

  “Not at all. I can always count on Aimee to spread the news though ... she’s a walking ne
ws bulletin.”

  We made a bit of small talk for the rest of the session and then I was ‘released’.

  “Thank you Carlo, you’re a magician,” I said, putting my weight on my leg, feeling it getting better and better each time.

  “I look forward to seeing you two all over social media the day after the Ball,” Carlo said, and flicked me with the back of the towel.

  “You’ll be there, won’t you?” I asked.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Carlo confirmed. “You’re good to go and remember ...”

  “No wrestling Russians,” I grinned.

  I left the physio office and called Coach. I knew this day would come – when I had to face my last game, but most of us tried not to think about it. She answered on the second ring.

  “Carla, how are you darling?” she asked.

  “Good Coach, and you?”

  “Fine. You’ve been with Carlo?” There wasn’t much she missed.

  “Just left his office. If you can use me and if you want me to play, I can play the final game before the finals series,” I said, holding my breath. We were both assuming the Suns would make the finals.

  “Wonderful,” she said, and sounded almost relieved, “of course I want to play you. We’re short on experience and need you back.”

  “Thank you Coach,” I said, but it will be my last game ... Carlo and I agree that will be all I have left in my body.” I just got the words out before my voice hitched.

  She sighed. “I understand darling, I’ve been there, it’s a day that comes for us all. But we’ll make it a day you won’t forget.”

  I chuckled with a throaty sound as I tried to swallow my tears.

  “So,” she said, “you better get back to us next week then and join in some light training.”

  “Can’t believe I’m going to say this,” I said, “but I can’t wait to train!”

  This time it was Coach’s turn to laugh. “Can I get that in writing?” she teased.

  I was back! Even if it was for just one game ... my swansong.