Dirty Passions

by Wright, Kenya

  Due to our celebrating, I had Pavel tell him to make that dish.

  The baby deserved the best.

  By the time my mouse left the bathroom dressed in red silk pajamas and fuzzy slippers, our celebratory lunch had been served.

  “Wow.” She strolled to the bed. Harlem barked and nipped at her feet, begging to be picked up. She laughed at him. “I have to eat baby. Then, we will play.”

  I frowned at the little creature. “No one is playing today. Emily has to rest.”

  “I’m well-rested, Kaz. All I did was go to the doctor.”

  “That could be considered strenuous.”

  “I arrived in a limo. In New York, I’ve seen pregnant women on the train, hauling shopping bags. In fact, Max and I have helped a lot of them out, carrying their bags and walking them to their house. Of course. That was the few women who didn’t think we were going to steal from them.” She grinned. “We were a pair of raggedy looking kids.”

  “What about Darryl? Wouldn’t he have been with you.”

  “Darryl wasn’t going to carry any bags, not even his own. My point was that if we helped the women, maybe they would give us a dollar or something.” She sat down on the bed. “Usually they did. Most made us a sandwich.”

  “That was nice of them, but they could have given you more. Two dirty kids on the street. More should have been done.”

  “It’s New York. There’s a lot of those sort of kids. And some of those kids. . .would have tried to rape, steal, or kill them. Unfortunately, you can’t let everyone into your house.”

  I nodded, picked up the picture of lemonade, and poured her a glass. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.” She took it and had a sip. “What is lunch? It smells so damn good.”

  “Friedrich’s special. Lobster ravioli.”

  She set the glass on the desk. “Oh, it’s on. I love lobster.”

  “Then, you’ll have it every day.”

  She laughed. “Will you be spoiling the baby and me?”

  “Yes. I have serious plans.”

  She picked up her fork, split one of the big ravioli in half, and ate it. “Mmmhmm.”

  Her enjoyment brought my cock to life.

  Relax.

  The doctor advised us to wait a short period of time before having sex again. All miscarriage-related bleeding had to stop. He said that this usually happened within two weeks. We had to make sure any cramping and pain ceased. And of course it would be up to my mouse, when she wanted me back inside her. Although we had a baby on the way, we had lost another.

  For me the heartache remained, but gratitude and happiness had come, swelling in my chest. Hopefully, those later emotions would only be inside of me.

  Finishing the other half of the ravioli, she licked her lips. “Are you going to eat yours?”

  “I’m too excited to eat.”

  Harlem stood on the edge of the bed with his paws pressing on the side and his tail wagging.

  Emily smiled. “You can’t eat this, buddy.”

  I gestured to the corner. “And he’s already ate. Friedrich brought Harlem his lunch.”

  She looked in that direction. “What a proper set up for a puppy?”

  I checked. Friedrich had put down a wooden tray in the corner. A porcelain dish sat on it next to a silver bowl of water. Big chunks of sirloin and fat lay in the dish. It was a meal for a royal dog.

  Harlem barked at Emily as she ate another piece of ravioli.

  I turned to him and frowned.

  Whimpering, he lowered and disappeared out of sight.

  “He’s afraid of you.” She cut a slice of the other ravioli.

  “No. He just knows I’m the alpha in our family.”

  “You used to have dogs?”

  “Yes. When I lived in Prague at my uncle’s castle. I had three Siberian huskies. Uncle Igor got them for me so I wouldn’t miss home or my father too much.”

  “Siberian huskies. Those are beautiful dogs.”

  “A perfect breed. Thick coats. Striking blue eyes. Wolf-like in every way. And very intelligent dogs. Mine loved to escape the castle grounds and venture out into the surrounding village, causing mischief. Not only did my uncle have to order more stones be put on the top of the wall, a fence was sunken several feet within the ground.”

  “They sound as bad as you.”

  “Yes. Together, we were a gang of mayhem that stressed all the adults out.” I watched Harlem trot around and sniff at the carpet. “Dogs are pack animals by nature because they were domesticated from wolves.”

  “So, there’s always an alpha dog.”

  “When you bring a dog home, the entire human family becomes part of his pack. The pup needs to know his place, his limits, and the rules of the household.”

  Emily grinned. “And you think you’re the alpha?”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not.” She banged her chest. “I am.”

  I shook my head.

  “Hey. Since you’re a lion. Perhaps this is more of a pride.”

  “No. Lion prides consists of about three males and a dozen females. It’s forty lions altogether.”

  “So, then I should have two more men up in here?”

  “If you like blood on your bedroom carpet, then go ahead.”

  She laughed. “What did you name your dogs?”

  “One was Fyoder which meant God’s gift. He was my favorite. All silvery white with glowing blue eyes. Then, there was the twins—Vladimir after the prince Vladimir the Great and Vladislav meaning he who wants.”

  “Those are grand names.”

  “I was a bit of a bold kid as well as a troublemaker.” I picked up my fork and took a bite of my own ravioli. “Have you considered names for our child?”

  “Kaz, I’ve barely known that I’m pregnant for an hour.” She ate some more. “What about you?”

  “It must be something grand.”

  “Of course. My lion doesn’t half ass anything.” She grabbed a piece of bread and dipped it in the sauce. “This is so damn good. I can’t deal with it.”

  “Then, we will have it every week at least.”

  “I won’t argue with that.” She chewed. “So. . .if we have a boy. . .maybe he can be Kazimir junior. Do you like your name? I think it’s awesome.”

  My heart warmed as I thought of the possibility of us having a little baby boy. “I wonder if my name is worthy enough for him.”

  “Kaz. Of course it’s worthy enough. You’re an amazing man. And you’re named after Kazimir Malevich—the great Russian avant-garde artist. It would be a powerful name to give him.”

  “Junior.”

  “If we have a boy.”

  “And if we have a girl?”

  “I don’t know.” She began nibbling on her salad.

  I set my fork down. “And. . .”

  She looked up. “What?”

  “And the twin that passed.” I chose my words carefully. “I want a sort of memorial for her. Somewhere on the property. I. . .”

  Her voice softened. “What, Kaz?”

  “I don’t want us to forget about her, and our other twin should know.”

  She waited and then responded, “I agree. What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know but are you comfortable with me handling it.”

  “Yes. It would keep you busy.”

  I quirked my brows. “Keep me busy?”

  “Instead of war—”

  “Hmmm.”

  “The doctor said it was biological—”

  “I heard him.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “I think now you don’t have to start a war. Instead of bombs, you need to be thinking about a baby room.”

  “Fine.” I tried to be annoyed, but a smirk sprouted on my face. “Perhaps, there won’t be a full out war.”

  She let out a long breath. “Good.”

  “I’m still going to kill Jean-Pierre and his cousins, but the rest of the Corsican can live.”

  Her smile lef
t. “Really, Kaz?”

  “Even if they didn’t have anything to do with our losing the twin, they kidnapped you.”

  “Wow.”

  “Now, I have a family to protect.”

  “For now, I think I’m going to be happy that your death count is going to be from hundreds to four.”

  “But, you’re not done trying to convince me?”

  “I’m done for today. We have next week to debate this some more.”

  My poor mouse had no idea what I would do to protect my child and her. After what the perfumed pansies had done, they could no longer walk this earth.

  We continued lunch with a healthy banter of childhood stories and dreams of the future. She fell asleep right as Friedrich brought in dessert. I signaled for him to take the chocolate cake back to the kitchen and for the maids to clean up our empty trays.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t as exhausted as her.

  My body prickled with excitement.

  She’s pregnant.

  I left the bedroom.

  My two men rose from their leather chairs.

  Boris stood outside the door.

  I glared at him. “Are you going to be watching over her like this from now on?”

  He kept his face neutral. “Yes.”

  “You can sit down.”

  “Standing presents an impression of strength and seriousness to anybody considering bothering her. It shows them that I am a sentry willing to cut anyone’s throat that would come her way.”

  “Those sentences may have saved your life.”

  Boris didn’t respond.

  I thought about a few days ago. “Don’t touch her hand again. If she needs assistance with walking, then call me.”

  He turned his gaze away and stared off beyond me. “And if you’re not around?”

  “I will always be around.”

  Boris appeared to want to say more but remained quiet.

  “Keep her safe.” I stalked off.

  My men followed.

  Heading down the stairs, I turned to them. “Get everyone in the war room and call the barbers. Get some more in there to clean up the space.”

  I came close to whistling. The air was sweet. The weather fine. There were birds in the sky, and I felt just as high as one, soaring down the stairs in pure happiness.

  Thirty minutes later, my men had returned from the war room back into my parlor. Cigar smoke filled the space. Jazz mingled with the scents of after shave lotion.

  I lay tilted back in a comfortable leather chair. David, Pavel, Zahkar, Nikolay, Abram, and Maxwell relaxed in their own leather chairs as their individual barbers attended to them. Zahkar, Nikolay, and Pavel smoked the cigars. Maxwell pulled on his signature joint. And David sipped his sniffer of aged brandy. Abram chose to not enjoy any, calling them wicked addictions.

  Truthfully, I had sampled some of each—the cigar, joint, and brandy. In the moment, I drowned in pure relaxation. “Open the windows. I don’t want the smoke to fill the house and bother my mouse.”

  Maxwell chuckled. “We’re on the other side of the house.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I handed my brandy to the maid as she picked up other empty glasses.

  Her soft voice sounded. “Would you like some more, sir?”

  “No. Maxwell has ruined any more hopes of enjoying fine brandy.”

  Maxwell exhaled a cloud of smoke. “What did I do?”

  “I don’t know what’s in that joint, but I should not be this high at any point of any day.”

  “Wow. Misha can out-smoke you.”

  I eyed him. “You got Misha high. No wonder he has been acting like an idiot these past weeks.”

  “Hey. I love Misha. That’s my homey. You got to give him a break.”

  “I will break something for sure. Let’s hope Misha has a reasonable excuse for his fuck ups.”

  Maxwell grinned. “He has an excuse, but I don’t know if they’re reasonable.”

  “I’ll see. We leave for Prague in the morning.”

  “Prague?” David sipped his Brandy. “I enjoy being at your side, Kazimir. There have been no boring moment yet.”

  Pavel puffed on his cigar. “Is that why you brought in the barbers? I thought the celebration was mainly for the oncoming baby. Are you preparing us for the funerals too?”

  “Yes.”

  Pavel frowned. “Why not call in my hairstylist too? You know I won’t let these maniacs near my hair with those scissors.”

  “Pavel. Pavel. Just get a shave. We’re celebrating.” I closed my eyes and let the barber cover my face in a warm, wet cloth. The heat soothed my face. A minty scent radiated from it.

  Yes. This is what I needed.

  Zahkar’s voice filled the air. “And what will we do about the French?”

  Emily won’t let me do anything right now.

  “Forget the French,” Abram spoke up. “There is chaos in Italy.”

  Pavel responded, “We are smoking and drinking, my friends. Now is not the time to talk about war and chaos.”

  Nicolay added, “I believe the brotherhood can wait until after the funeral, as is our way.”

  “Now is not the time to talk about it?” Annoyance hit Zahkar’s voice. “Then, when should we talk about it?”

  “When we are not smoking and drinking.” Pavel chuckled.

  Max interjected, “I’m going to the strip club tonight. Who’s joining me?”

  “I’ll be there.” David volunteered. “I miss Moscow’s gentleman’s club.”

  I grinned under the warm cloth and relaxed.

  The barber’s assistant took one of my hand that dangled over the armchair. A second later, he cut and snipped at my nails, doing his best to manicure my fingers. Once my hands were soaked and styled in the manliest of ways, the barber would remove the towel, lather my face in a soft silky cream, and shave with a skill like no other.

  Maxwell’s barber spoke in broken English. “What do. . .cut. . .for. . .you, sir?”

  “Hey, man. I don’t know, if you can do a fade. In fact, no worries, man. I don’t trust everybody on my head.”

  The barber tried again, “Would you. . .like a razor?”

  “No, thank you. You can’t put a razor on this skin like that. Have my jaw bumped up for the ladies.” Maxwell laughed. “Maybe, your guy can hook up my nails. I’ve never had a manicure before.”

  “Okay, sir.”

  “Have we heard from the Corsican yet?” Zahkar asked.

  “If you don’t shut up,” Pavel said. “I will get one of these scissors and stab you in the throat.”

  Zahkar growled back. “I would like to see you try.”

  “Gentleman.” David’s voice rose. “Enjoy the evening, while you can. Tomorrow or next week, war and all things that happen with war will come. Tonight, we celebrate new life and these exquisite cigars.”

  “And what of the Devil?” Zahkar asked.

  “I don’t think he deserves a cigar,” David replied. “I saw what he did to that woman in Paris. He can stay under the house where he belongs.”

  Zahkar remained silent.

  Ignoring them all, I enjoyed lounging in my chair. These past weeks had forced me to undergo many fears—the Emily’s kidnaping and later our possible breakup, the death of one twin, and the oncoming birth of the other. With tragedy, one was forced to look deep within and discover their strengths that they didn’t know existed.

  She’s changing me. And this baby will too.

  When I opened my core, I discovered more than power and strength. Within I held forgiveness, undying love, and compassion flowed through.

  Emily’s love had triggered me to see my dark world with more light. My black and white existence with more gray.

  Therefore, when it came to the French, I had no idea what I would do.

  Suddenly, my conversation with Baba returned. I thought back to the cards that had appeared. The first was the Moon.

  “The Moon. Everything is not what it seems. The moon says to trus
t your dreams.” She touched the card’s edges. “Your fear overwhelms your decisions. There are illusions and distractions all around you.”

  The next card was the Magician.

  “The magician tells you that you can manifest all you’ve dreamed of without exerting much energy, but again. . .you must be wary of misdirection.”

  And then there was the Devil. I’d scowled at that one.

  “You must be wary of the Devil.” Baba had tapped the card with her jeweled stick. “This is literal and metaphorical all at the same time.”

  Pressure had built in my chest. “Meaning?”

  “Metaphorically, your shadow self is dark. It walks with you, feeding off of your negativity and hate. It grows the more you seek revenge.” She looked at me. “And then there’s the Devil that you have chained below this house.”

  And then there was the High Priestess.

  “God is on your side, if you will let him do his work.” She had circled the priestess with the gem. “She is the guardian of the subconscious mind and the teacher of sacred knowledge. She sits at the threshold of the conscious and subconscious mind.”

  After the miscarriage, I gave up on the Universe. I placed my back to God and embraced Death. I wanted all to be in pain. Everyone had to suffer.

  Days later and everything had changed. Hope renewed. A future of family and love in place.

  For now, I will do nothing, but sit back and. . .see.

  There was power in waiting. Strength in not making any moves. Sometimes silence and no action produced more results and defeated more enemies.

  Let’s see what happens.

  Chapter 7

  The Queen of Diamonds

  Emily

  I woke up to an empty bed, not sure what time it was. Yawning, I checked the clock and realized that I had slept yesterday away. It was now the morning of the next day.

  A note lay on the nightstand.

  Mysh,

  Today we leave for Prague. Call me when you wake. I want to eat breakfast with you. I love you more than you will ever understand.

  Your mighty lion.