by Raven Scott
Embarrassment that I was related to such stupid people rushed through my veins. My parents weren’t the brightest, but… come on.
“Wow! You’re right. This does read like a bad thriller. She even inserted the screams in italics… there’s a pie chart—“
“They were going to do it in stages apparently, because they couldn’t get enough people without being noticed to kill all the Makovich’s all at once. That’s mostly all I found, though. The rest was just stupid emails to my dad’s mistresses.” That wasn’t so surprising to me, as it was well known my dad was unfaithful. My skin crawled in disgust, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “It’s more embarrassing than anything. If they was going to kill the Makovich’s, it should’ve happened when they were mostly in Saint Petersburg a few weeks ago. There’s no mention of that guy in America, either... I forget his name—“
“Nik. Yeah.” Malda sat on the edge of the desk. “You should be embarrassed. You know, I’m not supposed to tell you this, Ophelia, but…” Lifting her eyes from the large sheath in her arms, Malda frowned. The twinkle in her eye died a little.
Curiosity rampaged through me as I mimicked her.
“The other families aren’t as welloff as you right now. I think Aleksander has a soft spot for you, considering he left you here in Moscow and took everyone else to Saint Petersburg. If you want, I can whisper in the old man’s ear about Aleksander’s ultimatum.”
“… I appreciate that, Malda, but if I let you do that, I’d have to admit I’m worried about it.” My throat tightened as the gates opened to that one thing I didn’t want to think about.
She smiled sadly, sympathetic.
I pursed my lips thinly before parting them to speak, “Aleksander’s ultimatum relies on me not being useful. At the time, I was too upset, but this has always been my life. I’ve never run away from it when that would’ve been easy. So, it’d be dumb to run away now since it’s almost impossible to do so successfully.”
“At the time was two days ago, Ophelia. It’s okay to be sad that your family is dead. You don’t have to bury it with them because you’re ashamed they did something so stupid.”
Inhaling deeply through flared nostrils, I pushed myself up to sit.
Malda set her armful down to wander over, pulling her hair over her shoulder. Tall and slender, her body wrapped in a power suit that made her look majestic, for lack of a better term. “I know we’re not friends or anything, and you probably shouldn’t trust me, but Makovich killed my family too, so I know better than most what it’s like to work for them after.”
“… I never felt like they were my family.” My deepest, darkest secret came spewing out of my mouth as my shoulders slumped. Sitting next to me, Malda disappeared as I closed my eyes to hold my head in my hands. “That bothers me more than them actually being dead. I called them my parents, but ever since I can remember… I just wanted to get away from them. I moved out when I was 18 and not because of Sascha. I’d been planning it for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you when you were 16?” she asked.
I shrugged lightly, running my fingers up into my hair. Reaching back into my memory, I clicked my teeth lightly behind sealed lips. My mom favored Martin, my brother, to Hell and back, but she never let her grip on me slack. At 15, I knew a few things; I had to finish school. I hadn’t yet grown comfortable with the fact that I was cleaning up adult messes. “There were a lot of practical reasons to wait. But mostly, I liked hearing my parents argue about screwing things up, and then them tentatively coming to ask me what to do to fix it. Until I was able to manage that on my own, I wanted to stick around.”
Malda chuffed a small laugh at my revelation.
I cracked open my eyes to give her a sidelong glance. “I’m not a very emotional person but listening to that always made me smile. It made me feel wanted. It made me feel like I could do something Martin couldn’t. While he was out being a boy, I was learning to be successful. And now… I’m alive, and he’s not. It’s honestly not surprising that he got roped in with delusions of grandeur. Even if they managed to kill off Vyachaslav and by some miracle, Aleksander as well, the internal feud that would erupt as a result… I don’t think anyone planned on their coup actually succeeding.”
“Business talk, now…you’re right, Ophelia. You’re successful at what you do, which is why I need to ask… do you think there’s a reason this assassination attempt was so incredibly convoluted?”
My mouth dried at that probe and I nodded hesitantly.
Malda’s expression transformed to seriousness, her mouth thinning as she fought a frown. “I’m not the only one following the families. My associate says that Erik Avernisk is acting a little too contrite. It’s not going to affect you, I don’t think, but with him, anything is possible. He’s smart and what’s worse, is he knows it.”
“To be honest, I thought the same thing.” I nodded. “If Avernisk was going to stage a rebellion, why not want to be sure it succeeds? Next month, I’m meeting with some people from Ukraine… We’ll see what happens between now and then. Erik and I went to school together and stuff, but I know him way better than he thinks. There’s a reason we dated in secondary.”
Her jaw nearly dropped into her lap, and Malda threw back her head to cackle hysterically.
Grabbing the bottle off the floor, I twisted the cap with a short sigh. “We could be friends.” I held out the bottle, cutting off her laughter scarily fast. Anxiety curdled my blood as I held my breath.
Malda stared at me through narrowed eyes. Slowly, she reached for the glass neck, her hair brushing mine just the slightest. “Let’s be friends.” Taking my offering, her eyes never left mine even as she knocked back a huge swig.
There’s a lot we can offer each other, I think.
I could see the thought passing behind her shrewd, brown eyes.
Lifting the lip of the bottle to my lips, I nodded slightly myself.
11
Ophelia
Twirling my little, blue fishing pole, I leaned back against the island in the kitchen to stare at a speck in the grout between the tiles. Malda had left, taking the large file I’d prepared with her. I wasn’t sure how long ago that was, though, the small sip of whiskey I’d drank made me feel… funny.
“Things are getting too interesting for my liking.” To say I was worried wasn’t right, but this dread filling my gut wasn’t very nice at all. My murmur was too loud in such an empty space, bouncing off the tiled floor to hit my chin. Tearing my gaze off its spot, I glanced around as a sigh built in my chest. There was so much money surrounding me; I had to find a construction company that could salvage as much as possible.
I hated this house; I hated everything it represented. The loneliness, the favoritism, the power— a worse drug than anything that could be injected. My brother and parents really thought this made them immune to the realities of life. How disgusting.
Everything about this house was disgusting.
If I reached deep, deep down inside me, I was glad my brother and parents were out of the picture permanently. I could finally have what I wanted a somewhat normal life with a normal man that I loved with everything I have. Even if outside forces swirled out of control every once and a while we, Sascha and I, would be each other’s rocks.
Guilt clawed at my throat at this notion and I touched my cheek with the backs of my fingers. Every obstacle we’d been thrown was because of me. Malda stalking us was because of me. Sascha worrying about what he knew was because I couldn’t stop myself from telling him. Even those wonderful ways he worried about me…why should he have to?
This life of intrigue and danger could be goo ‒ for me ‒ not for him.
“Without Sascha… I’d be all alone.” My parents were dead. My brother was dead. My sisters were being held hostage. Yet, here I was, not worrying about anything. I felt relieved that such terrible things had happened to my family. I felt happy they were out of my way. Finally, I could be the person they’d been ho
lding back all these years. “What kind of person does that make me?”
But there was no one around to answer my question. The maids that cleaned, the butler that served my parents, everyone was gone. Those who could, disappeared into the woodwork like cockroaches and would appear somewhere else, none the worse for wear.
I would still be here.
A soft thunk drew me out of my inner mind, and my eyes swung to one of the three entrances to the kitchen.
Sascha shuffled through the archway, a paper bag on his arm and another, smaller, slender one in his hand.
I was instantly struck, watching him look around in slight curiosity.
He was so damn handsome, with his grey wisps at his temple and his beard. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened before meeting mine to soften and grow bright. “You okay?”
Sascha’s deep timber wrapped around me so warmly, as goosebumps washed my arms and across my chest.
Setting the bags on the closest, flat space, he strode across the kitchen. Are you tipsy, Oppie?”
My heart pounded harder with every step, my hands itching to grab his face and kiss him. “A little—“ Sucking in a breath, I wiggled my lips.
Sascha arched a brow quizzically.
“If you want to break up, I wouldn’t blame you?” Wait a minute— that’s not supposed to be a question. I almost winced at how dumb I sounded. At least, I wasn’t slurring, or it’d be really bad.
Sascha full on frowned at me, his palms gliding around my waist to leave a path of heat behind.
My breasts tightened against my shirt, and I bit down on my bottom lip as I ducked my head. The drumming in my ears began to roar like an angry ocean, blocking out his questioning silence.
“Hey…” Cupping my chin, Sascha dragged my eyes back to his.
Those dark orbs sparkled so brilliantly that it was hard to look at them, but I couldn’t find the strength to not.
“I knew— we knew that things would get tough eventually, Oppie. Yours isn’t the only life on the life.”
My heart melted at Sascha’s assurance, the heat pumping furiously up to my face. Drawing his lips to mine, I kissed him with all the beautiful emotion I could muster. His palm felt so hot—so hot it threatened to melt my cheek before sliding to the back of my head.
Opening my mouth for his sweet invasion, my mouth watered long before his tongue tangled around mine. Reaching to fumble with my jeans, I kicked off my sneakers with weak kicks. Flames engulfed my body, boiling my blood and making me shake as Sascha slung his arm around my waist. My fingers trembled attacking his shirt buttons, and a moan lodged in my throat when he hoisted me onto the island.
Tearing my mouth from his to pant hotly, I hissed when Sascha tugged my pants off. The thin fabric of his shirt fell away, and my palms roamed the thick hairs on his chest.
Capturing my lips fiercely, he rolled my own shirt up as his fluttered off completely.
I needed him. I needed Sascha… but I didn’t deserve him. He didn’t deserve this horror I put him through. My eyes ached, but I couldn’t stop.
His hands slipped between us. Rubbing me outside my panties, Sascha undid his dress pants’ fastenings with deft, sharp movements.
Throbbing with need for him, I flung my arms around his neck to draw him closer. This intense desire for him rampaged through me, and his grunt lodged my throat. His tongue claimed mine, the taste of my him sending my mind into a dense cloud of soft pink.
“Fuck—“ Sascha trailed fire down my jaw and neck, and my knees clung to his sides. The smell of him coated my lungs, blocking out the scent of whatever he’d bought for dinner. Pushing my underwear to the side, his long, pen calloused fingers spread my folds. A surge of cool air shocked me, rattling up my spine while he lavished my neck. His heat scorched me, engulfing us both in this primitive moment until I couldn’t find my way back to reality.
Harsh pants rolled down between my breasts, held together only by the frail front clasp of my bra. My core clenched with expectancy as Sascha swiped the mushroom head of his cock between my slickened folds. Squeezing my eyes shut, I ground my teeth to block the needy, pathetic whimpers that dried my mouth.
Gripping my hips in clammy palms, Sascha surged into my channel with a guttural, thunderous growl. Pleasure welled from my eyes, and I clenched as my blood turned thick with it. His girth stretched my walls so nice while they undulated wildly. Stale air caught in my lungs, the purity of us, together, almost enough to stop my heart before he pulled back to thrust roughly.
Sascha was such a beautiful person, and he tangled a hand in my hair to hold us flush together. All I could taste was him as my lips brushed his shoulder. All I could feel was the burn of his body hair as he set a hard, grueling pace. Moans and gasps escaped the dense lump in my throat to dance with the slap of skin on skin.
God, I love him so much.
I couldn’t stave off my orgasm as this thought consumed me, and my eyes rolled back in their sockets. The shivers that raked my spine suddenly surged down my arms and legs. Clamping down on Sascha’s hard cock, pressure imploded between my ears. Jostling my body with each snap of his hips, he ground his hips against mine to ride my waves. His tiny, breathless moans caressed my neck until this experience of him became overwhelming.
“Oh—God!” Grappling uselessly at his shoulders, I buried my shriek in his musky skin. Tremors unlike anything I’d ever felt before locked my muscles in delicious cramps. Squeezing me to him, Sascha trembled against me as euphoria slammed into me. Beneath the pounding in my ears, his teeth ground, and I curled my feet around his upper thighs.
“Wow…” Sascha’s hoarse grumble sent a twitch through my cheek. His grip on me turned tendered with a slight shuffle of his feet, from a clutch to a hug that added weight to the tears clinging to my eyelashes. “Today was really not good for you, Oppie.”
“D-don’t talk—” My voice cracked harshly while my lips blubbered with a sob, as the certainty of the past four years seemed to slip from between my metaphorical fingers. As I asked, Sascha didn’t talk, but his hold, his breath, his everything spoke loudly enough. Do I love him enough to let him go?
12
Sascha
Stroking Ophelia’s face and pushing my fingers up into her hair, I inhaled a deep, stabilizing breath. Her softness against my body was comforting, but I could feel it— the tension in her. Watching the screen flicker as we sprawled on the wider-than-should be-legal sofa, I kissed the top of her head absently. “If you need to talk, Oppie…” Of course, she didn’t want to talk. If she did, Ophelia wouldn’t have jumped me. More importantly, she wouldn’t have cried afterwards because I sure as shit knew I wasn’t that good. “Does it have to do with whatever you found earlier?”
“Yeah…” Sighing heavily, she nuzzled my chest, curling up tighter against my side.
My brow furrowed in confusion, the noise from the television drowned out as I focused on her.
“It’s not what I found out… it’s more about what I thought more deeply on. My dad’s email. You’d have to be blind not to know he was cheating. I just thought—I don’t want to— lead us towards the lies, the resentment. I never realized how much my dad hated my mom. Vyachaslav Makovich forced them to get married. If you ever resented me for this life, you’d tell me, right?”
“Of course, I would. If you’re ever not worth it, Oppie, I’ll let you know immediately. What brought this on?” Despite this house, despite this conversation… this moment was peaceful. “You can talk to me about anything that’s worrying you.”
“The future worries me. It’s been worse lately. I can’t stop thinking the things I put on you… everything is so one sided when I really think of it. Now that everything’s going to shit. I just—I regret fooling myself into thinking you wouldn’t get dragged down with me.”
Pursing my lips thinly, I pressed my cheek against her crown.
Ophelia sniffled, wiggling a little closer, clutching a little more firmly. “No one would choose this.”
“I chose you, Ophelia.” There was something she wasn’t telling me, something she couldn’t physically get out. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her fingertips to my lips. Her goosebumps rose up on her legs, her skin bristling along my abdomen. “There is no this. There’s only us. You’re alone. I’m alone. We’re two alone people who aren’t lonely together. I love you. I don’t love the life you were born into, but the only person who can change it obviously refuses to.”
“I don’t want to do that to you, Sascha.”
Sharp, thin nails scratched my arm with the same gentleness that infected Ophelia’s voice. My chest ached at the furious undertones of everything she’d felt since Makovich was almost assassinated. It wasn’t her fault, what her parents did, just like it wasn’t my fault what mine did. “You’re not forcing me. Admitting there’s things I don’t like about my relationship doesn’t mean that. Not being able to grow because of Aleksander doesn’t mean you’re weak or a failure… he’s an asshole force of nature, and admitting you can’t change his course is acknowledging that this is a limit you can’t break. You say it all the time…he’s the most powerful man in Russia. There’s a reason for that, and you’re not incompetent for the cautiousness.” Pressing my lips to the backs of her fingers, I exhaled a heavy breath.
Ophelia stayed quiet.
I closed my eyes to remember what I was like when I was 22. It’s more difficult than I’d like to admit to myself. Nothing was certain back then; my parents were getting a divorce, but I was already at the University. I had less money than I would’ve liked to get by. Sometimes, I’d get stuck with insta-soup or one of my friends’ leftovers. My younger brother was in the States to be a doctor.
There was no way to say ‘everything turns out okay’ without sounding condescending, though. Ophelia didn’t have 20 Rubles hanging over her head with nothing but a childish dare between her and it. She had her very life at stake and it was entirely optional. If one eye turned away, so could she…