To Have and to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  She bit her lip and looked at the floor, but nodded.

  “For now, the room next to mine will be yours. We’re still strangers to each other, and I don’t want to rush you. I thought it might be more comfortable for you to have your own space for a while.”

  Varushka walked into the room he’d prepared for her, and he immediately realized he’d made a huge error in judgment. He thought the white décor would make the room feel clean and fresh, but with the girl standing in it, it felt more like the set for an age-play movie. It wasn’t his thing.

  “I left it plain, because I didn’t know what you liked. I can arrange for a decorator to come tomorrow night. I want you to make the space your own.”

  She looked around the room, and smiled. “I like it like this. I don’t want to change anything.”

  Oh god. If he ever got to the point where he could lay a hand on her, it could never, ever, be in this room. In this room, she was off-limits.

  * * *

  Varushka stalled at the front entrance of the mall, staring up at the four floors of shops and the skylight high overhead, then at the water feature near the doors. It had taken them twenty minutes just to get through the parking lot because she kept stopping to stare at things and greet people as they passed. She was so sweet it was hard not to grab her and kiss her.

  After their long trip home the previous day, he’d assumed she’d be content to relax. Instead, she woke almost at first light, despite the time change, and had begged to see America. You couldn’t get more America than the mall, he’d decided.

  Mortified but obedient, she’d allowed him to go through her suitcase. Most of the clothing she owned was either tattered, too big, or just plain ugly. It all looked like it belonged to a twelve-year-old girl whose parents didn’t like her much. Castoffs, homemade dresses from old-fashioned patterns that might have been good enough in the village, but here he could do better. She wouldn’t be milking any cows anytime soon.

  “This is very kind of you,” she smiled up at him, and he noticed again how he towered over her.

  This must be how Ambrose felt everywhere he went. Konstantin was tall enough, at six foot, but his height rarely made him feel like a giant.

  “But I still don’t understand what’s wrong with the clothes I have. I made most of them myself, you know.”

  How to be delicate about this? “In America, you should have American clothes. It’ll help you make friends,” he said, patting her shoulder. And it’ll help me not get arrested if I kiss you in public, he added silently.

  It was a higher-end mall, but even so there were sections that catered to teenagers, and several times he had to steer her away from those. She seemed to be drawn to them, but the last thing Varushka needed was nostalgic Disney characters on her dresses, or knee-high socks with cartoons on them. They were fine and fun on women who looked their age, but on her they’d just look wrong. Or maybe too right.

  The first store he led her to seemed bleak compared to the bright fabrics and pop music the juniors’ stores used to lure patrons. He knew what he liked on a woman, but that style would look ridiculous on little Varushka, even if the store carried her size. Besides, there was something that felt wrong about dressing her in the tight, revealing club clothes his women usually wore.

  The haughty-looking store attendant approached them, smiling broadly at Konstantin and ignoring Varushka completely.

  “Can I help you, sir? Are you looking for anything specific?”

  He gestured grimly to Varushka. “Do you carry clothing that would fit her?”

  The woman’s brow quirked and she looked Varushka over with barely concealed disdain. “I doubt it. Besides, the clothing we carry is for a more mature woman. I can see if we have anything appropriate, but she might be more comfortable shopping at our sister store downstairs.” The woman was staring at Varushka’s dress as though it was the most hideous thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Thankfully, the girl was oblivious to the woman’s scrutiny, and was browsing through a rack of dresses that might have been more appropriate for Konstantin’s baba.

  He nodded, took Varushka’s elbow, and steered her out of that store and into the next.

  “Hello, sir. Are you shopping for your wife?” The saleswoman smiled briefly at Varushka and looked back at Konstantin expectantly.

  His mouth opened and closed, not sure how to respond to that.

  “Are you going to help him pick something out for your mom?” the woman asked Varushka.

  Konstantin blinked, then led Varushka out of the store without another word. He looked at the girl again, and realized that letting her put braids in her pretty red hair had been an error in judgment. It made her look even younger.

  Fuck. Though her braids were probably a big reason for the error, he couldn’t deny it was a blow to his ego. Did he look that old? Old enough to have a teenage daughter? Maybe he needed to work out more.

  He looked over at Varushka again. They were going to have to visit Everly later. For now, he pulled her to him, and undid her braids.

  Varushka looked at him questioningly, and he grimaced. In Russian he explained, “That woman thought you were my daughter. No braids.” Her blue eyes widened and she laughed into her hand.

  “You don’t look that old,” she teased. “Why would she think that?”

  Impish little thing. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, and maybe swat her ass, but she wasn’t ready for anything that crazy. “I’m not even that close to thirty, but you definitely don’t look twenty-one. We need to fix that before I get arrested.”

  She sighed and looked longingly at the level below them. “You’re going to tell me I’m not allowed to have shirts with cartoons on them, aren’t you?” She pouted up at him.

  He smiled apologetically. “Maybe when you’re forty.”

  She scrunched her nose at him, but didn’t complain.

  “Okay. A few, but you can’t wear them when we go out together.”

  The answering grin on her face warmed him even more. He’d never really been attracted to women who could be classified as adorable, but maybe he’d been choosing wrong all these years. Adorable was . . . adorable.

  They stood too close, looking at each other. Again he had the urge to kiss her, but he didn’t. When it happened again, he wanted it to be her idea. The tension was there though. The attraction. It was a relief to know there was chemistry between them, even if neither of them was ready to act on it yet.

  The girl didn’t seem to know what to do about her apparent attraction to him. It was the sweetest damn thing. She watched him like he was a rock star from her favorite band and couldn’t believe he was hanging out with her. What man wouldn’t like that kind of adoration from a pretty girl?

  Before he gave in to the temptation to drag her into his arms, he led her down the hall. He sighed in relief when he found a store that looked more age-appropriate. The store attendant ignored them when they walked in, and Konstantin was grateful. He was done answering questions from nosy store clerks who made him feel like a dirty old man. He sure as hell wasn’t old.

  He and Varushka sorted through the racks, and together they piled items into Konstantin’s arms until he couldn’t carry any more. He asked the attendant if Varushka could use the fitting room and got her set up in one. Konstantin settled on the couch just outside the rooms, knowing the process of trying it all on would take a while. He didn’t often shop with girls, but something about the prospect of seeing Varushka in new things, and picturing her getting changed on the other side of the door, intrigued him.

  When she finally emerged, staring shyly at the floor again, he was relieved. With well-cut, quality clothing, she looked petite rather than childish.

  “You were right. The clothes I have now aren’t right for America,” she said, grimacing. “At least I look like a city girl in this. Older too.”

  “Very pretty,” he said, nodding his approval. The blue dress skimmed her thin frame, and with her hair loose around he
r shoulders she looked more adult. Ditching the clunky black shoes might help, too, if she was willing. “Turn.”

  Head down and shoulders slumped, she turned in a circle.

  The dominant part of his brain growled at him, wanting to touch her—to claim her. She was his, even if the details hadn’t been sorted out yet. His body had been denied a woman so long that it was getting impatient. He forced the urges back. Rushing things wouldn’t be good for her, and he was more protective than he was impatient.

  “You don’t need to be so shy with me, Varushka. I’m going to be your husband.” He stood and went to her, lifting her chin, then correcting her posture, straightening her shoulders so she looked more confident. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. You don’t need to hide from anyone.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied in English.

  She was so instinctually submissive with him that it was starting to make him squirrely. If she was receptive to kink at all they might be able to make a go of things. The potential made him smile.

  “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’ in public,” he said teasingly. “You’re going to freak people out.”

  “But all of the women here call you sir,” she replied in Russian, smirking. “With you it just seems to happen, even though you’re not an old man.” She shrugged as though she had no intention of stopping now, and he was just going to have to learn to live with it.

  Konstantin itched to spank her a little. He thought of pulling her over his lap and giving her a few swats, just to get her to mind her manners. An introduction to D/s. He refused to think about pulling down the ugly panties she was probably wearing and listening to her cries of dismay as he did it. His dick started to get hard, and he forced himself to look away from her.

  How did vanilla men handle situations like this? Did they just let their women sass them? It was hard to know what to do. She didn’t have a safeword. She didn’t even know what a safeword was.

  “Go try on the next one, and hand that one out to me,” he ordered gruffly.

  As though she knew what he was thinking, she did as she was told. The next dress didn’t suit her as well. It looked as if she’d borrowed it from her mother.

  “Too big. Next.”

  She nodded and went back into the fitting room, and he realized he hadn’t waited for her to say whether she’d liked it or not. He was too used to being in control and her submissive behavior fed into that too well. But there’d be time to get her opinions another day. For now he’d have to decide what was appropriate, so they could at least go out in public.

  Eventually, she had tried on everything, then frowned at him, looking exhausted.

  He brought their purchases to the cashier, and as the woman rang them through, Varushka tugged on his sleeve.

  “All of them?” she whispered in Russian.

  “Yes. And after we have lunch, we will be shopping for shoes and . . . other things.” His itemization of her suitcase had revealed that she owned two bras, both white, and maybe seven pairs of dowdy white underwear that looked like they had been ironed and possibly starched. He understood that money had been tight, but it was almost like no one had ever told Varushka she wasn’t a child anymore. Lingerie shopping was going to be a bit of an eye-opener for her. And he was seriously looking forward to it.

  They ate in a little mall restaurant, and he found himself telling Varushka all about his custom car businesses, unable to stop himself from blathering on because she listened so attentively. She looked fascinated by the entire enterprise. Either that, or she was used to humoring people.

  Shoe shopping, however, was like pulling teeth. She balked at anything with a heel, and kept gravitating toward the men’s shoes, pointing out that they looked like they’d last longer. In the women’s section, she was lured by anything frumpy and flat. In the end, he bought a few pairs of shoes that she liked, but added several delicate pairs of flats and some kitten heels to the stack of boxes. She looked at the tower of shoes with mournful eyes.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll help you practice walking in them, and if you really don’t like them you never have to wear them.”

  “It’s not that. I’m sure I can learn. It’s just, what woman needs eight pairs of shoes? I only have two feet.”

  Konstantin laughed out loud. She had to be the first woman ever to say those words. When the store clerk looked at him questioningly, Konstantin translated. The woman smiled kindly at Varushka.

  “Believe me, women in America need more than eight pairs of shoes.”

  Varushka didn’t think it was very funny.

  When he walked her into the lingerie store, she looked around, then turned and glared at him. Her cheeks reddened. “Out!” She made a shooing motion, then pointed at a bench across the hall. “You wait there until I tell you to come pay. This is not a store for men.”

  He arched brow at her and was pleased when she dropped her gaze. “You don’t tell your husband where to go, little Varushka. If I leave you alone in here, you’ll come out with more things not even my grandmother should wear.”

  Slowly, she nodded, keeping her gaze on the floor.

  He walked ahead and she followed him through the store, looking mortified. Maybe he should have sent her with Kate or Everly, but she needed these things sooner rather than later.

  In a lingerie store, Konstantin was in his element. He ignored the clerks who eyed Varushka disapprovingly. Apparently dirty old men buying pretty panties for Lolitas was frowned upon here. He almost felt like he needed to buy Varushka a T-shirt that proclaimed her age.

  Despite her protests, he had her properly measured by a clerk. The squeaks of dismay that came from the dressing room might have turned him on if he’d let them, but he told his libido to shut up.

  An hour later they left the store with a rainbow of matching bra and panty sets. It was amazing how many pairs of tiny underwear could fit into a big lingerie store bag. Varushka insisted on carrying the bag herself, and she had a hard time looking him in the eye as they walked to the car, even though he hadn’t actually seen anything on her. The fact that he knew she now owned sexy underwear seemed to be enough to embarrass the hell out of her. And it amused the hell out of him.

  “The girls in the stores don’t have hair like mine,” she remarked as he helped her into the car.

  Konstantin was smart enough not to look over at her hair. At least she’d noticed it herself. “No, but you don’t have to change it if you don’t want to. It’s up to you. Do you want me to call my friend to do it differently?”

  “Yes, please, Sir. I don’t want to look like a village girl here.”

  Sir. It would probably be bad form to order a virgin to give him a blow job in a parking lot, but that word coming from her mouth was starting to make him twitchy.

  He called Everly before he acted on any of the bad ideas streaming through his head. She sounded alarmingly eager to meet Varushka. They were going to meet sooner or later. It was better if he got it over with.

  However, if Everly turned his sweet Varushka into a brat, he was seriously going to kick Ambrose’s ass.

  Chapter Three

  “I’m here,” a girl sang from the foyer of Konstantin’s house.

  Varushka was supposed to think of this as her house as well, but it was just too strange. The modern feel made it seem cold and harsh and nothing like the warmth of home. He clearly didn’t get his style from his Babushka either.

  “Be right there,” Konstantin called down the stairs. He looked at Varushka and smiled slightly. “Don’t be afraid. Everly is a sweet girl. Loud, but sweet.”

  Varushka nodded and tried to calm her nerves. This was what she wanted. A “make over,” she’d heard Everly say over the phone. Kon had protested the term, saying she was perfect the way she was, only needing her hair styled to look older. Her heart still fluttered when she thought about it. Nobody had ever called her perfect before. Or pretty or sexy, but those were all things he’d muttered earlier while they’d sho
pped and she’d tried on the foreign clothing.

  She felt a little like a project, but if this was what her prospective husband wanted, she wouldn’t complain. Much. The undergarments store had caused her to finally put her foot down. The way Konstantin had taken command had surprised her—but more surprising had been the way it’d made her do what he wanted. That he felt no shame in the revealing displays made her a little less self-conscious.

  He took her hand in his big one, making her feel tiny. Despite her size, the calluses she had proved she was a hard worker. Would she get soft in a place like this? Her brothers would tease her ruthlessly if she did.

  “Come,” he said in English.

  She followed him down the staircase, which overlooked the foyer. Below, a girl stood in the center, staring up at them and smiling. As she got closer, it became apparent why Konstantin was good friends with her. She was gorgeous. Lively eyes, a wide smile, and her hair had streaks of different colors, giving her the appearance of a cartoon character. She looked edgier than even most American girls—cooler—and Varushka had a hard time not feeling inadequate. Was this the type of girl Konstantin wanted?

  “Thank you for coming today, Everly.”

  She shrugged. “You caught me on my day off. And I couldn’t resist being the first one to meet your new, um, girlfriend?” Everly’s gaze swept over her from head to toe, then back up and lingered on her hair. “She’s a pretty little thing,” she told Kon.

  He arched a brow. “And she can hear you.”

  Everly turned to her in surprise. “You speak English?”

  “A little.”

  “Awww.” She tilted her head. “She has an accent like yours, Kon.” Her grin widened. “You two are so cute together.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Everly.” His phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket, stared at it a moment, then cursed in Russian.

  Varushka giggled, realizing there was no one to cuff him and tell him not to be rude. His gaze flew to hers and he smirked, sending a tingle through her. Cocky expressions were annoying on most men but Konstantin wore them well.