Team Russian (Saints Team Series Book 4)

by Ally Adams

  “You’re asking me in here?” he said. “A lightning bolt might come down from the ceiling and strike me dead if I answer that.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agreed, teasing him.

  He tucked me under his arm and we went back to the house. I took him through the side entrance, and I was so used to the shrine for my dead sister that I had completely forgotten to warn The Russian. One room was done up as if she had never left, and along the hallway was photo after photo of a girl who looked like me ... dark hair, almond shaped eyes and lightly tanned skin. Photographs from her birth to teenage years, her last photos were her sixteenth birthday.

  His eyes took it all in before he looked to me, a thousand questions written on his face.

  “This is my big sister, Claudia,” I said, introducing them. “She’s three years older than me.” I lowered my voice. “She died when she was sixteen ... eleven years ago now ... heart disease ... she was born with a defect.”

  “You didn’t think to mention this?” The Russian asked, and stroked my hair as he looked from Claudia to me.

  I swallowed. “We both have things to learn about each other … some secrets, I guess,” I said. He didn’t answer. I pushed him a little and said almost in a whisper, “I know that you almost had a child of your own, once …”

  I watched as his eyes glossed for just a moment as he fought his emotion and the resurfacing of that inner pain – I caught him in an unguarded moment and he wasn’t prepared.

  “Ancient history,” he said, and cleared his throat.

  I turned back to look at the photos of my sister and me together; she was beautiful, feminine, petite ... so not like me. I don’t know why I hadn’t mentioned her to The Russian. I had created this other life, and it didn’t include the sadness at home, and the fact that my mother hadn’t always been as cold as she was now; or that from the age of thirteen she had forgotten me, her living daughter. I knew this wasn’t uncommon ... I knew a lot of mothers reacted to grief in this way ... I read a lot about it, and I couldn’t expect more from her, this was how she was coping. And this was how I coped – by pretending my worlds were divided.

  “Okay, we don’t need to talk about this,” The Russian said, reading me and I suspect wanting to avoid revealing any more of his own secrets.

  I nodded, and then heard Dad calling us.

  “C’mon, let’s lunch and go,” I said, maybe too hurriedly, which drew another look of consternation from The Russian.

  *****

  Lunch was smooth sailing, and Mom was particularly charming to The Russian; all I could think of was that she had been worried no one would ever have me, and she didn’t want to scare him off ... hmm. She kept trying to overfeed him as if he was bound to starve to death in my company. Then The Russian surprised me, again, and Dad too.

  “Michael, I was wondering if I could have a word with you ... even though it is Monday and probably your day off,” The Russian joked.

  Dad looked delighted. “There’s no sleep for the wicked ... or me either,” he said, with a wink in my direction. Such a daggy dad. The Russian thanked Mom, praising her cooking, which she lapped up, then Dad and The Russian excused themselves and went into Dad’s study while Mom and I cleaned up. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall ... he was definitely getting grilled on the way home.

  “He’s very nice, Carla,” Mom said, giving her approval.

  “Yes, he’s very level-headed and not at all star struck,” I agreed.

  “He has lovely manners,” she continued.

  “His parents, especially his Mom, are quite strict. He has three sisters,” I said, filling her in while I was trying to keep one ear towards Dad’s study. It was hopeless, not a sound escaped.

  I saw my mother’s lips thin and I knew a lecture was coming.

  “Don’t scare him away now, Carla,” she started. “Just try and be a little bit less of a tomboy and more of girl, like your sister.”

  Here we go. Like my sister, the beautiful, feminine and dead one.

  “You don’t have to compete with him, or be so independent,” my mother continued, “let him feel like he’s the man and let him occasionally win – at sport, or give him the last word ... you know what I mean.”

  I didn’t actually ... did she mean that I was so competitive that I wouldn’t support or empower The Russian, and what was she basing that on – all her observations of my relationships or a very young relationship with my sister which had never really had a chance to develop?

  I just sighed and nodded; I wasn’t up for the fight. Dad and The Russian didn’t emerge for half an hour and by that time Mom had caught up on my life and I on hers. The Russian had barely gotten out of the study before I was thanking them, and he followed my lead and we were out the door.

  We were driving away and I gave them a wave, and breathed out. I could feel The Russian stealing looks at me as he drove.

  “What was that about? In a hurry?”

  “I love my parents,” I said. That’s all I said. It was complex and The Russian living in his much-loved family cocoon probably wouldn’t get it.

  “Babe, I think you better talk to me,” he said, glancing my way.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, “nothing to talk about. Hope it wasn’t too painful.”

  “On the contrary, your parents are lovely, plus, I told you your Mom would love me ... mothers always do.”

  I groaned and The Russian laughed.

  “It appears I’m good with the Brooker women,” he continued, the big head.

  “I’ve never seen her like that, you worked your charm indeed,” I conceded. “What did you talk about with Dad?” I cut to the chase.

  “I was just direct with him. I told him I knew he knew that I had trust issues, but I was working on it and that you were trustworthy, the problem was mine,” he said.

  I leaned closer so I could put my hand on his shoulder.

  “Thank you, that’s sweet.”

  “It’s true,” he said, with a shrug. “Of course I told your Dad that I was an exceptional catch as well, and his daughter was very lucky ...”

  I playfully hit his shoulder and he continued.

  “I told him we had so much in common and were supportive of each other and our lifestyles and careers, and that I wish I had met you years ago,” he finished.

  “Really?” I said, my voice soft and full of gratitude. “And you couldn’t even tell him you saved my life because I banned you from it, but I’m grateful for it.”

  “There’s a way you can pay me back,” he said, his face serious.

  “Does it involve my tongue?” I teased.

  “You’re smart, too, Brooker, that’s what I like about you.”

  I laughed and thought about his words ... how we were alike, and I agreed.

  “We do have a lot in common,” I started. “For example, we’re both tall, both play in forward position, both play for ‘S’ teams – Saints and Suns, both like the gym and the beach, need our exercise ...”

  The Russian agreed. “Both gorgeous, and good in bed,” he added.

  “That we are,” I agreed, teasing him. “What time is your training?”

  “Five o’clock,” he answered. “I’m sure we can fit in a bed workout beforehand.”

  “I’m counting on it,” I told him.

  We drove along in comfortable silence for a while, and then The Russian broached the topic.

  “Were you close to your sister?”

  I shook my head. “We were at an age that didn’t make us close; I was thirteen, probably a pest, wanting to be her and wear make-up and clothes like Claudia had in her wardrobe. She was sixteen and wanted her privacy. She was close to Mom, I was close to Dad. But I wish I had her around now though, I miss her and the relationship we could have had.”

  The Russian nodded. “I would have loved a brother, not that I don’t love my sisters, but at least playing in a team has given me plenty of team brothers. So, is that why you don’t like t
o go home ... because of the memories?”

  “No,” I said, being honest with him. “Claudia and I were two teenagers living in the same house who barely knew each other. We were absorbed in our own young lives – schools, friends, etc. I don’t go back because I hate the shrine. I hate the fact that Mom can’t be close to me for her own reasons and that Dad has to be too close and clingy. I can’t breathe there.” I said, my hand involuntarily going to my chest.

  The Russian reached out and took my hand in his. He kissed it and held it against his chest. I loved that man.

  Chapter 30

  The Russian and I were in different States this weekend ... him playing, me commentating. It was kind of exciting though. We texted each other, sent pics, had FaceTime, and we had no repeat performance of the last time he had been away and Lucas had made him sleep in the hallway. My colleague, Suzie, and I were both in Missouri to cover the Suns versus the Missouri Mystics first finals game, and we had separate hotel rooms. The Russian was in Ohio to play the Columbus Cats and he was sharing a room with Lucas, again.

  Suzie and I went out to dinner and then she caught up with a friend for drinks while I declined the offer to join them, returned to the hotel room and showered. I slipped into bed with my ebook, waiting to hear from The Russian. After nine he FaceTimed me.

  “Hello gorgeous,” he said, looking gorgeous. “Where are you?”

  “In bed, alone, in my hotel room ... a big bed too. I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands while I think of you,” I said.

  “Sorry, what was that Lucas?” he said.

  “What!” I hissed, mortified, and he laughed.

  “Just kidding Brooker, he’s in the shower.”

  “Russian, you’ll pay for that,” I threatened him, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked. I scanned the phone down my front where I wore a white lace and somewhat see-through camisole. The Russian groaned.

  “Well that’s hardly fair ... I have to share a room and now you’ve got me hard and I can’t do anything about it,” he complained.

  “Poor you,” I said, smiling at him. Yep, two could play at that game. “Can I see it?”

  He thought about it; the Russian wasn’t much for exhibitionism.

  “No, just take my word for it. If I had my own room,” he said, again with a glance to the closed bathroom door.

  “What do you think Lucas is doing in there?” I asked. “I bet he’s on the phone having a similar conversation with Mia.”

  “Mm, maybe. Did you bring your pink toy with you?” he asked.

  I gasped. “How do you know ...”

  The Russian roared with laughter. “I don’t, but now I do.”

  I think I went three shades of red. “This conversation sucks,” I said, trying to hide my embarrassment, especially since The Russian had gotten me again. He softened.

  “I’m sorry babe, you’re right. I forbid you from servicing yourself, that’s my job. You will remain horny until I can deliver,” he said.

  “Forbid, huh? Are you sure Lucas is in the shower?” I asked, trying to look over his shoulder in the screen image.

  “Can’t you hear that bad singing?” he asked. “Ready for tomorrow?”

  “I should be asking you that, but yes, I’m looking forward to my next commentary job. I’ve done my homework, so I’m feeling good about it. And you, sorted for the Cats?”

  “Yeah, all good,” he said.

  The Cats were on the bottom of the ladder, and The Saints towards the top, so I knew they weren’t going to struggle that hard for a win tomorrow.

  “Friday night, it’s our anniversary,” The Russian said, “will you come over for dinner at my place?”

  “Really? How romantic ... what anniversary?” I asked, confused.

  “One hundred days,” he said, “since our first date ... I’m officially counting your Ball night as our first date.”

  “Russian, how romantic of you,” I said, thrilled. Now he looked uncomfortable.

  “So, will you?”

  “I’d love to, thank you.” Just then the bathroom door opened behind him and Lucas appeared. I could see his naked chest, but the rest was blocked by The Russian’s head. I was guessing and hoping he had a towel wrapped around him.

  “Hi Carla,” he called out.

  “Hi Lucas,” I called back.

  “So, got to go. Love you,” The Russian said in a quiet voice.

  “Love you too,” I said.

  “You’ve got my security team’s number ...” The Russian started before Lucas interrupted, talking in the background.

  “Love you Carla, miss you, want to kiss you ...” Lucas said, imitating The Russian.

  “Hang on a minute,” The Russian growled, and put the phone down.

  I was laughing so hard that I could only just hear the commotion in the background ... some kind of tackling, then the door slamming, a lot of knocking. The Russian came back on the line.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, and sighed.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “Threw him out.”

  There was more thumping on The Russian’s hotel door, and even I could hear Lucas yelling out. “C’mon Russian, let me in, love you buddy!”

  The Russian must have moved the phone away from his mouth because the next thing I heard was him giving Lucas a mouthful.

  “Fuck off, Captain. You can come in when I finish.”

  He returned to me. “The crap I have to put up with,” he mumbled. “So you’ve got ...”

  “I have your security team’s number ... I don’t think anything is going to happen to me in a different State,” I said, reminding him that I wasn’t at home.

  “You’ve got fans and followers everywhere, doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Don’t open the door, even if they say it’s room service,” he continued.

  “But what if I order room service?” I asked, teasing him.

  “Then ... don’t.”

  “Right,” I said. “I love you, thank you for worrying about me.”

  The knocking started again and Lucas hollered. “Are you finished yet? C’mon Russian, share the love.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” The Russian said. “Talk to you tomorrow, miss you.”

  I hung up, chuckling as I imagined the scene between the two of them. I wished he was in the big bed beside me. One hundred days, huh ... how sweet. He never stopped surprising me … but given what was to come, that was an understatement.

  Chapter 31

  Before I left for our anniversary date I received a text from The Russian reminding me to lock my car doors on the drive over ... I know he worked in security but he was certainly practicing it on me. I decided to be very girly for our 100 days date anniversary ... Mom had made me self-conscious that I wasn’t feminine enough with The Russian, not that he had ever said anything. I think he liked me challenging him and working out with him ... sweating and all that stuff.

  Regardless, I had bought a dress just for the occasion – it was retro in style, with a sweetheart neckline, sleeveless, and a rose print all over it. It was fitted to my waist and then ballooned out in layers. It even had a little bit of tulle underneath, in the skirt, to give it some body. I matched the red roses in the dress with a pair of strappy red sandals and wore my hair down for the occasion. I felt pretty hot, very girly, and I ventured out for the ultimate verdict.

  Josh applauded. “Beautiful, where did you get that?”

  I did a turn for him and sent the skirt swirling. “From Vintage Girl,” I said.

  “Made for you, it really suits you,” he said.

  “Thanks Josh, that’s a relief. Mom has me worried that I’m not displaying my femininity,” I said. Josh had met my Mom and Dad and knew my history.

  “Don’t be crazy,” he said, opening the fridge and grabbing some cola. “You’re all woman.”

  “You’re good for me,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek as I grabbed my overnight bag a
nd car keys. “Now, I promise I won’t be back tonight, so you’ve got the place to yourself.”

  “Thanks, but you’re always welcome to come home. We’ve got nothing to hide. Spencer and I are just going to get takeaway and watch a movie.”

  He saw me out and I headed to the car, looking in the backseat before getting in to make sure it was all clear, and locking the doors when I got in ... thank you, Russian.

  One hundred days ... as I drove to The Russian’s place for our one hundred days anniversary dinner, I couldn’t help but smile the whole way. Seriously, I must have looked like an idiot to anyone who pulled up at the lights beside me. The few dramas we’d had during that time had been nothing, were not by any means insurmountable, and the highlights had been many. I had never, ever, been so happy ... I just felt blessed with his love and my new career.

  The Russian must have seen my car headlights and met me as I drove into his garage ... more security stuff, Lord knows who could have been hiding in there ... a pussycat, or rat perhaps! He opened the car door for me and gave me his hand.

  “Wow, look at you,” he said, his eyes running over me.

  “You like?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said, and spun me around under his arm as my skirt billowed out. Then his arm found my back and he pulled me in close for a kiss.

  “I’ve liked every single thing you’ve worn and haven’t worn since we met,” he said. I swear he was well trained; he knew all the right things to say to a girl. He leaned down slightly to kiss me hello; my high heels made us almost the same height, give or take an inch. He looked pretty gorgeous himself in his dark fitted jeans, a grey-marl T-shirt and an open navy shirt over it. He had a navy pair of Converse All Stars on his feet ... the man could dress himself.

  “I like this too,” I said, admiring his clothes, “warrants closer inspection.”

  “You think?” he said, his lip curling into a small smile.

  He reached into the backseat and grabbed my overnight bag, and then the moment was ruined.

  “Russian,” a female voice said, and we both turned to see his ex-girlfriend Leesa walking towards us. Thank God I was dressed up and felt my best, because as usual, she looked Boho stunning – she wore a white lace top and a matching long white skirt; a tan belt and tan ankle boots; and a gorgeous tan-coloured floppy brimmed felt hat. Her long blonde wavy hair was loose and fell around her shoulders.