by Ellen Lane
And, just like that, she fell silent. As boisterous and difficult as the redhead could be, she knew when to use tact.
It was a skill he had always lacked. “Alright. I still need to call Charlie, though. I’ll give you and your family privacy. Be in the lobby if you need me.” She released his hand to leave and he felt suddenly bereft. Everything came roaring back and Vladimir reached out to take her in his arms and quiet the chaos once more.
When he kissed her, she let him lose himself in the taste of her. He was far from his usual painstakingly groomed self and he needed a showed desperately, but Charlotte didn’t care. She drank from him no less hungrily, and when they finally parted, Vladimir found himself even more reluctant to send her away.
Jesus, the last twenty-four hours had scrambled his brain. He could hardly think in a straight line anymore. The divisions between what he needed and what he wanted were suddenly an amorphous blur that made his gut churn and his head ache.
And there was no reprieve in sight.
Vladimir stayed at the hospital for the next two hours, discussing their plans for the upcoming weeks. Ethan had made sure that everything was being handled in Manhattan so he could stay at the manor as well, and Alistair, despite having come from Texas, told them he could stay as long as he needed to. Vlad didn’t see the need to question the woman who had come with Ethan - the fact that she was there spoke volumes, and this was hardly the time to instigate an interrogation.
She introduced herself as Harper Jones - Athena’s elder sister - and Vlad wondered briefly at the connection.
Their mother didn’t want to leave their father’s side - no surprise there. They arranged to stay at the hospital themselves in short shifts in case there was any change. Once Jackson had talked to each of them, the Doctor seemed to have little problem revealing that he would be in the hospital for at least a month on intensive treatment.
It was intimidating, to say the least - but Lucas volunteered to do whatever he had too. He, unlike the rest of them, had no commitment to the company, which meant that he was the most flexible.
By the time Vladimir finally left the hospital, around four in the morning, he was exhausted. Alistair and Ethan elected to go home with him to rest while Lucas remained with their parents.
There was little to say while they waited for the car to come - but, of course, Alistair was the one to break the silence. After being apart so long, Vladimir had almost forgotten how much his older brother liked to talk.
Almost.
“Where’s your friend, Vlad? The pretty redhead?”
Vlad glanced up at Alistair in warning. “She’s at the Manor. Maria’s getting a room ready for her.”
The red-haired man held his hands up in self-defense. “Hey, calm down. We’re all tired. I’m not going to ask any questions now. Just wanted to know where she’d got to.”
He was too exhausted to be very defensive. Their car arrived in short order and they rode back to the manor in silence. Upon arrival, the three of them shared a very stiff drink before bed, and Vlad did his best to calm the turmoil that raged in his chest.
Cancer.
Cancer had killed Charlotte’s mother over twenty years ago. Perhaps if he talked to her…. but he didn’t want to talk to her about this. It was bad enough that he demanded she be here. There was no need to dredge up old memories...and Vlad wasn’t so sure he really wanted to know what was in store for his father in the coming weeks.
It couldn’t be pretty.
Vladimir showered quickly and readied for bed. It felt strange to be back at home without his father’s presence, and his mind kept returning to the man in the hospital. Jackson Kensley had always been the strongest of them all. He had tamed the rebellious hearts and minds of he and his brothers, earned the love of his headstrong wife...and now he lies in a hospital bed, his survival beyond his control.
Vladimir didn’t get further than slipping into a pair of underwear before he was perched on the edge of the bed. This room had been his since he’d first arrived in America. Though it had long been updated to give it a more adult feel, there were still business club management awards he’d won when he was in high school. The Rubix’s cubes he had lined up as he finished them. And picture after picture of him grinning with his family.
Happy - free. Before the weight of life had crashed down upon him.
Fucking Christ, everything was shot to shit.
He sat there, his head hung, wondering if he would ever be able to sleep - when a soft knock came at his door. Vladimir exhaled a long breath. “I don’t need anything, Maria. I’m fine.”
But then the door was opening, soft as a whisper, and Vladimir looked up, a sharp reprimand on the tip of his tongue.
The moment Charlotte stepped through the doorway, the words died on his tongue. She wore only the same t-shirt that she had the first night he’d come to her, her wild curls spiraling down her back and over her shoulders. When she met his gaze, her own was tentative. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just...I thought you might like company. Just to sleep. No one saw me leave my room….and I can get up early.”
For almost a full minute, Vladimir just stared at her. The silky-smooth lines of her bare legs, the vibrant red of her hair and the vivid almond hue of her eyes...though it had only been a few hours since he’d last seen her, he admitted - though only to himself - that he had missed her. That if there was one good thing at all to come out of this mess, it was that she was still here, with him.
Charlotte ran a hand through her hair, her expression unsure at his prolonged stare. “If you want to be alone, I understand.” Before she could turn to leave, however, Vladimir stopped her with a short protest.
“Come here.” His voice was quiet, but the intensity was enough to stop Charlotte in her tracks. She looked back up at him, hesitating only a moment before she crossed the room to stand before him. Charlotte leaned forward to rest her hands on his knees a moment before she cradled her chin in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Vladimir’s arms encircled her, holding her tightly against him for a long beat before he plucked her from the floor and set her in his lap, straddling muscular thighs. He threaded his hands through her hair as she curled slender fingers into his shoulders and lowered her mouth to his.
But this kiss had none of the frantic, needful insistence of their encounters in Russia. It was slow and thorough, allowing him to fully explore the sweetness of her mouth as he held her tightly against him. She smelled like heaven...she felt right.
Even if everything between them was so inherently wrong.
She shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t need her here, but, somehow, he did.
Why? This was no architecture project...no tour of LA. But it was something that went beyond his realm of understanding. Death, Vladimir knew, was a natural part of life - but he had never stared it in the face like this. If he had known from the start, would he have had the strength to simply overcome it, as he had all obstacles? To accept the odds and fulfill the legacy his father left him?
With Charlotte, none of that was required. Here, now...he didn’t have to be strong. Hell, he didn’t even have to understand her convoluted designs or her confrontational attitude. All he needed was her.
Vladimir gripped the hem of her t-shirt so tightly he almost tore it, tugging it up and over her head. The moment her breasts were bared to him, he tugged a nipple between his teeth, making her shudder as he savored the minute, small bud.
She was already wet and ready for him - as it seemed she perpetually was. Reaching between her slender thighs, Vladimir found her slick lower folds, rubbing back and forth until Charlotte emitted a soft cry of want.
He took the barest moment to free his erection before he was sliding against her, teasing her with the tip of his throbbing member. Vladimir thrust upward just as Charlotte sank down, and a hiss of divine pleasure escaped him. She was tight, hot and mind-blowing, clenching around him like a goddamn vice.
When she was fully seat
ed in his lap, Charlotte kissed him again. His mouth, his forehead, his eyelids...featherlight presses of her lips that aroused him just as much as they reminded him how dangerous this was. How dangerous she was.
But right now, he didn’t care. Buried deep inside her, Vladimir could forget everything and simply live. Wasn’t that enough?
She felt so good that Vladimir was tempted to remain as they were all night - absorbed in the torturous squeeze of her inner muscles around him. But he didn’t have willpower. Ultimately, his hands slid to her hips as he began to undulate his own and Charlotte clung to him, her sounds of pleasure muffled against his throat.
She was like fire...with her brilliant hair and the way she burned him from the inside out. Though she was imperfect she was, in many ways, the perfect woman. Unafraid of him, unintimidated by him...sure of her place in the world and where she was going. Sure of what she wanted both in bed and out.
In a swift movement, Vladimir lay her on her back against the coverlet, settling between her legs. He needed to see her face. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pinned her hands on either side of her head before thrusting deeply. Charlotte bit her lip against the ensuing gasp, even as she tightened around him.
The gaze that met his was strangely vulnerable, her eyes blown wide both in pleasure and... something else. Pity? Intrigue? In the end, it didn’t matter, as long as he was the only one who saw her like this.
Just like this.
Charlotte liked things fast, rough and unhinged - but that wasn’t what Vladimir gave her. He went slowly - se excruciatingly slowly that by the time she came for the first time, the redhead was a quivering, gasping mess beneath him. But Vladimir wanted more. He kept going, his hips rocking rhythmically against her own until she was seizing around him once more, her fingers curling against her palms as she came apart.
Beautiful.
He could have watched her that way for hours...days even...but as she clenched around him more and more tightly, Vladimir lost his composure by inches. Every slide of their bodies against one another brought him closer and closer to his peak.
“Vlad…” When Charlotte moaned his name, arching against him in desperation. “Yes...God yes…”
That was all it took to undo him. Vlad came powerfully, a low groan tearing from his throat as he emptied himself inside her. It seemed to last forever - blinding white completion that stole his breath and threatened his sanity...and then, somehow, he was back. His body lie against Charlotte’s in the dim moonlight and he could hear her heart thundering in her chest.
He had to be crushing her - on good days he was well over two-hundred pounds. But Charlotte merely threaded her fingers through his hair, smoothing the sweat-dampened strands from his forehead.
After a few moments in the dark, she spoke a single sentence, soft and sincere. “I’m glad I came with you.”
Vladimir said nothing, merely cradling his head between her breasts and closing his eyes. There were all manner of things that he wanted to say, but he would regret them all later - when his father was better and all of this was just a bad memory. Soon enough, he told himself, everything would go back to the way it was...and the only regret he would have was that he and Charlotte hadn’t met under circumstances better for them both.
**
Charlotte had gone through more hardship in her life than people might know from speaking with her. After her mother had died, she and her father had financial problems that resulted in their temporary eviction. She’d become sullen and withdrawn and once, at the age of eleven, she had briefly contemplated taking her own life.
But she didn’t know if anything had ever hurt as much as watching Vlad hold his family together during this trying period in their life.
It was clear that they turned to him for structure while he himself was struggling to come to terms, and it took everything Charlotte had not to go to him in front of them. That, she reminded herself, wasn’t her place. They were back in the United States and the media was already eating up the story of Jackson Kensley’s illness like a rabid mob. It was disgusting the lengths they would go through to get a story or picture, and Charlotte wasn’t surprised when the security around the manor was doubled in the first three days that she as there.
For her part, she did her best to avoid Vladimir’s family members - and their unanswered questions. But that secrecy couldn’t be maintained for too long. On a Wednesday evening, when it was Vlad’s turn to stay with his father at the hospital, she ran into Alistair going into the library.
Literally ran into him. Charlotte was in search of a distraction - any distraction from the gloom that had settled over the house, and when the housekeeper pointed her in the direction of the library, she jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, it was already occupied. She slammed into Alistair with the force of a small freighter and nearly toppled over.
“Whoa there!” His heavy brogue rang out a moment before he caught her by both wrists and hauled her upright. “You alright?”
“Jesus, Alistair. You scared the shit out of me.”
The man’s hair wasn’t quite as vibrant as her own, but he more than qualified as a ginger. Arching one auburn brow, he eyed her in inquiry. “How is it that you know my name, but I don’t know yours?”
Charlotte couldn’t help a small smile at that. “Well, you’ve been on a lot of TV programs. The Kensleys have rather unmistakable faces at this point...except for Vlad.” He was the only son that neglected to appear in almost every special about the Kensleys that had ever been filmed. It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized him in the airport when they first met.
Alistair chuckled softly. “You have a point there, I suppose.”
Charlotte took the opportunity to extend a hand. “I’m Charlotte Gardner. Nice to properly meet you.”
“Gardner?” Alistair took her hand to shake, his expression pensive. “Not the architect that designed for LA and Russia?”
“The same.” She nodded, hoping that he didn’t probe much further.
But this was Alistair Kensley they were talking about - a man infamous for his boisterous, curious demeanor. She might as well have hoped to see a flying pig. “And you’re here to...bring the work to him?”
“Something like that.” It was the most diplomatic answer she could come up with on the spot - and Alistair clearly wasn’t buying it.
“I’d hope that Vlad wouldn’t still be thinking about work with Dad in the fucking hospital,” he challenged lowly - and though he hadn’t threatened her - hadn’t even taken a step towards her, Charlotte found herself backing away. The man was simply massive - ruddy and completely overwhelming.
“Alistair, leave her alone, for God’s sake.”
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief when Toshiro appeared. He had arrived just twelve hours after his brother and, though as somber as the rest of his family, at least Charlotte didn’t have to worry about having to explain her position to him. He knew what was going on between her and Vladimir - or, at the very least, he had an idea.
“Jesus, Shiro, you come out of the fucking woodwork.” Alistair raked a hand through his hair before casting Charlotte one final glance. “I’m just saying...if she came here as moral support for Vlad, shouldn’t she be at the hospit-”
“She’s here because Vlad needs time alone with Dad,” Toshiro cut him off curtly, his expression stern. “Speaking of, wasn’t Lucas looking for you to help him with the cooking?” At the very prospect, Alistair groaned.
“I’m going to poison the lot of you - just watch.”
“Yes, well, okaa-san isn’t here, so man up.” Alistair cast him a dirty look before striding off down the hall - and Charlotte finally allowed herself to relax.
“Sorry about that,” Toshiro sighed, shaking his head. It was the first time Charlotte had ever seen him in anything other than a suit, and she thought the floor-length robe he wore fit him. At the very least, it was reminiscent of his Japanese ancestry. “He’s the oldest and the most stubborn.”
Charlotte offered him a small smile. “Yeah, I bet he and Vlad butted heads for that title.”
“You’d be surprised,” Shiro returned wryly, glancing down the hall after his brother to make sure he wasn’t shirking his duties. As Shiro was the only Kensley she could really talk to, Charlotte decided to bite the bullet and try to get an update. Vladimir didn’t want to talk about his father’s condition - when he was at the manor he buried himself in work, and, at night, in her. Though Charlotte found herself slightly perturbed that he wouldn’t let himself even grieve properly, she understood.
She had been where he was, once. “How’s he doing, Shiro?”
The Japanese man frowned, his expression sobering. “They’re putting him through chemo every other day but he’s handling it as well as can be expected. Trying to boost the treatment because he went so long without...but he’s a tough one. If anyone can make it through this, it’s him.”
Shiro, like his brothers, looked as if he had aged in the past few days. Perhaps it was more apparent with the Japanese man because his face was familiar to Charlotte but he seemed particularly tired...as if all the life had been sapped out of him.
It was then that Charlotte realized that the Japanese man had arrived at the manor alone. “Where’s Athena?” The question was out before she could even stop it, and instantly, the Japanese man’s expression darkened.
“Gone.” He exhaled a long breath before turning to leave her standing there, wondering how on earth the world had so quickly gone to hell in a handbasket.
It was a morose few days. Charlotte spent the majority of her time in her room, hoping she didn’t get asked too many questions and simultaneously fighting the creeping sense of resentment that began to prickle at her. She knew that she had no right to feel as she did when Vladimir was having such a difficult time...but she had come all this way to be with him and now she was hiding away.
These were all grown men - with the exception of Harper Jones, who had come with Ethan, and was the only other woman. Harper didn’t hide. Though she and Ethan weren’t all over one another, it was clear that she had come to support him - and anyone with a brain would surmise the same about Vladimir.