by Roxie Rivera
Now he was the one visibly flinching. My father's side of the family had written me off as a very young child. I hadn't even known Eric existed until I was a teenager. Even then, reformed as I was from my juvenile delinquent ways, his mother, my aunt, wouldn't let me in their house. I wasn't even supposed to trespass into their neighborhood.
"That's not fair, Vivian." His voice had softened now, but I was over it.
"Yeah, well, Eric, I know better than anyone that life sure as hell isn't fair."
"Life may have dealt you a shit hand, Vivian, but that doesn't mean you have to throw it all away on that fucking mobster."
"Eric, I've made my decision. It's done."
"Then don't bother sending me an invitation. I won't be coming to your joke of a wedding."
Radiating disappointment and anger, Eric stormed out of the storage room and left me alone. My eyes burned so badly. I fought the urge to cry. Trying to compose myself, I turned toward the back wall and dabbed at the corners of my eyes. My throat was so tight but I refused to let a painful sob escape.
As I fanned my hot face and tried to forget the ugly things Eric had said, I heard the door behind me open. Certain it was Nikolai come to rescue me, I glanced over my shoulder—and nearly fainted as my father strode into the room.
"Mi'ja."
The sound of his raspy voice sent a chill right through me. Mouth dry and heart racing, I pivoted quickly and put more space between us. "Stay away from me."
He chuckled, the dry, harsh sound like nails on a chalkboard to me. "I think we've been apart long enough."
Prison hadn't seemed to age him much. If anything, he looked fitter and leaner than I'd remembered him. His dark skin seemed paler to me but I doubted men in maximum security prisons got much time outside. He'd gotten his hands on a nice suit and shoes, probably to blend into the crowd. The long strands of black hair that had once hung to the middle of his back had been chopped off in a simple crew cut.
Glancing around for a weapon, I spotted a box cutter on one of the worktables and hastily snatched it up. I extended the gleaming blade and held it out in front of me. "I'm not joking. I will cut you if you try to get any closer."
He didn't move but he cracked a smile. "I always knew you were a fighter like me."
"I'm nothing like you."
"Don't sell yourself short, kiddo. You and me? We're two peas in a pod."
The very idea of being anything like him made me want to vomit. "What do you want? I thought you were with the Marshals."
His expression turned to one of utter amusement. "Prison teaches a man all sorts of interesting tricks. Negotiation being one of them."
I didn't even want to imagine how my father had negotiated such freedom from the Feds. "Why are you here?"
"To extend my congratulations, of course." He tilted his head for a better look at my left hand. "Have we not made it official yet?" Laughing, he asked, "Or maybe Nikolai is waiting for me to give him my blessing?"
I ignored his attempt at being funny. "I know what happened that night in the house. When you left me there to die."
"You mean the night when the man you're marrying shot you?"
"I mean the night you took me on a hit."
For the briefest of moments, something that looked suspiciously like regret flickered in his dark eyes. "Not my proudest moment as a father."
I didn't know what to say to that. "Why are you here?"
"When a man sits in prison for as long as I have, there isn't much to do there but think." He seemed conflicted and shook his head. "You need to be very careful, Vivian. There are people out there who want to hurt Nikolai, and they'll use you to hurt him."
"People? What people?"
"Jealous, angry people," he said. "People who have been carrying grudges for a very long time."
"Who? I can't be safe if you don’t give me names."
"It's not the right time for that." He took a step toward me and then another. My hand trembled as I held out the box cutter, ready to swipe him if he got too close. He carefully skirted me and made his way to a door leading out to the alley. When he reached it, he grinned back at me. "Where are you registered?"
"What?" I gaped at him in disbelief.
He shrugged. "I'm sure I'll think of a suitable wedding gift for my only daughter." With a wave, he said, "I'll see you soon, mi'ja."
And then, as quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone.
I was still shaking and clenching the box cutter when the door leading to the gallery opened and Nikolai stepped into the room. He took one look at me and ran to my side. Gripping my shoulders, he asked, "Vee, what's happened?"
"It was my dad."
Shocked by my response, Nikolai glanced at the alley access door before studying me more carefully.
"Solnyshko moyo." He kissed me tenderly and pried the box cutter from my hand. After sheathing the blade and setting it aside, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me toward one of wooden crates. Holding me in his warm, loving embrace, he sat down and tugged me down onto his lap. "Are you all right? Did he frighten you?"
"Yes." I buried my face in the curve of his throat and inhaled the reassuring scent of his cologne. "I don't ever want to see him again."
"I know you don't." He soothingly petted my back. "What did he want?"
"To warn me."
"Away from me?"
"No. He said there are people that want to hurt you. People with grudges." I lifted my head and peered into his eyes. "Is he talking about the people who ordered the hit on you?"
"I think so." Nikolai seemed reluctant to add, "I think it's someone from my past. From Russia," he clarified.
Speechless, I returned my head to its former resting place and closed my eyes. If someone from the old Moscow crew he ran with was trying to hurt him now, it was going to get very messy.
Not wanting to talk about that possibility, he said, "I talked to Eric."
I tensed as I imagined the two of them fighting in the middle of the gallery. "Where?"
"Outside," he said and kissed my forehead. "I would never do anything to embarrass you like that."
"What did he say to you?"
"Probably the same nasty things he said to you." Nikolai caressed my arm. "He's right, you know. By marrying me, you're taking everything I've ever done wrong onto you."
Annoyed that he was letting Eric get to him, I insisted, "I know what I'm getting into, Kolya. I chose you. I want you."
"You can still change your mind." He said the words in a whisper. "I wouldn't hold it against if you've decided that I'm not worth the trouble. I would understand, and I wouldn't stop helping you. I would always be there for you and I wouldn't—"
"Stop." I put my finger to his lips. Holding his gaze, I reaffirmed what he already knew. "I love you, Nikolai. I want to be your wife. I want us to build a life together. I know it's not going to be easy—but I believe in us."
He gulped and finally nodded. Dragging my finger away from his mouth, he held my gaze as he leaned in for a kiss that made my belly swoop and my toes tingle. Though I knew we'd have to put on our happy faces and mingle very soon, I closed my eyes and enjoyed being held by him for a few moments longer.
But the faces of my father and Eric and the shadowy black figure threatening our future dampened my excitement at what promised to be a very successful show. I didn't know how the hell we were going to find our way out of this mess, but I knew there was only one way we would get there.
Together.
Chapter Sixteen
"Hurry up, Vivi. I want to see this dress!"
I rolled my eyes as Erin practically beat down the door of one of the dressing rooms in Bianca's wedding boutique. Standing behind me, Bianca snorted softly with laughter and finished tugging the zipper into place. She smoothed her hands over the sheer lace and grinned over my shoulder. Our gazes met in the mirror's reflection. "You look so pretty."
"Vivi, you better move it or Erin is going to tear down that door," Lena teased.
"Benny looks like she's about to smack her with one of these wedding magazines."
I could just imagine Erin out there tapping her foot and driving Benny crazy. With Bianca's help, I gathered up the too long hem of the dress and exited the dressing room. The oohs and ahs began the moment they saw me.
"It's perfect," Erin declared as I stepped onto a circular platform banked by mirrors. "The lace, the style—it's so romantic and so very you."
"You look amazing," Benny confirmed. "Really beautiful."
Lena actually wiped at her eyes as she studied me. "Wow. Just—wow."
Even Sergei who had been shadowing me nonstop looked rather taken aback by the sight of me in a wedding dress. He stood off to the side of our small party but inclined his head as I slowly turned to show them the back of the gown.
Because St. Vladimir's had very strict dress codes for services, I'd chosen a gown that had a delicate lace bodice and short cap sleeves. Lena came forward with the mantilla veil I'd chosen and helped Bianca get it perfectly situated.
"Bianca," Erin said so excitedly, "you are amazing. I can't believe you were able to get this dress together so quickly."
Bianca smiled as she fluffed the skirt. "I try to keep a broad selection of gowns that are ready to go with minimal alterations. Sometimes a girl just needs a dress and she needs it now."
Her playful wink made me giggle. While my friends discussed what kind of jewelry I should wear and whether I needed to wear a different bra or those control-top underpants that went from belly button to knee, Bianca grabbed her basket of alteration supplies and started to mark the dress for its final adjustments. The shop was hopping today so her other assistants and seamstresses were busy with other brides.
"Do you need some help?" Sergei surprised me by crouching down next to Bianca who pinned the hem of my dress.
She shot him a strange look. "Oh, so you know about wedding gown alterations, do you?"
He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it onto one the nearby chairs. "My mother is a seamstress. I learned to help her when I was little."
Bianca looked like you could have pushed her over with a feather. Recovering from her surprise, she handed him a pin cushion. "Show me."
When he snatched the pin cushion from her hand, he frowned and clasped her fingers. "What did you do to yourself?"
She tugged her hand free and scooted away from him. "I had an argument with my power sander while I was trying to refinish some doors."
He sat back on his heels. "You are renovating your own home?"
"Yes."
"But that's dangerous work. It's hard work." His expression of consternation amused me. "It's men's work."
Bianca rolled her eyes. "Says the man on his knees doing women's work."
The four of us watched their back and forth with interest. Realizing they had quite the captivated audience, Bianca gestured to the hem of my dress. "Get to work."
"Sweetheart, you can order me around like that any day." Sergei's lopsided smile made Bianca blush. She turned her back on him and focused solely on adjusting the hem of my gown. He continued to sneak glances at her while they worked side-by-side.
Lena had that scheming look in her eyes but I shook my head to warn her against getting any ideas about trying to push those two together. Bianca wasn't like me or Erin. She had serious reasons for wanting to stay away from men like Sergei—no matter how badly she was attracted to them.
While Bianca and Sergei finished working on the alterations, Erin ran through her checklist with us. I'd been amazed at the wedding she'd put together for Dimitri and Benny on such short notice but she'd really pulled out the stops to help me.
I had been sure we wouldn't be able to find a reception hall on such short notice but Yuri had graciously given us Faze. When the lights weren't turned down so low for the night club crowd, the interior of Faze was actually quite elegant. Erin and I had sketched out some ideas for incorporating the metallic tones of the club. We'd chosen crisp white linens and bright pops of color with the flower arrangements. On such a time crunch, our mantra was simple but elegant.
Securing catering and a cake had been easy enough. Samovar would cater the reception and the baker who had done Benny's cake owed her a favor and had happily agreed to squeeze us into her schedule. Yuri had offered the VIP bartenders from Faze and his booze vendor had apparently cut Erin a damn good deal on wine, champagne and liquor. Considering the crowd coming to this wedding, we were going to need a well-stocked bar.
"So I have all the deliveries arranged," Erin said as her pen moved down her checklist. "Some of the guys from Ivan's gym have volunteered to help set everything up and break it down after the reception."
"Because they want free food and alcohol," Sergei grumbled from his position on the floor.
Erin laughed and playfully nudged him with the toe of her ballet flat. "It's cheap labor, and I'm not about to turn it down."
"A woman after my own heart!" A perky blonde who had been busy with the bride at the next fitting area swooped in with a business card already extended. "I shouldn't eavesdrop but I couldn't help myself. You're very organized and on the ball. My name is Jean, by the way, and I own a wedding planning firm."
"Oh." Erin accepted the card and glanced at the details. She shook Jean's hand. "I'm Erin Hanson."
"And it looks like you're about to be a bride yourself, Erin!" Jean admired Erin's engagement ring. "When is the happy day?"
"We haven’t settled on a firm date yet but we're thinking late May."
"That's a great time to do a Texas wedding. It's not too hot but the evenings are getting long enough to do a nice outdoor reception." Jean smiled at me. "It sounds like you've planned a beautiful wedding for your friend."
"Well," Erin said a little nervously, "I’m trying."
"Are you a new consultant? Starting your own business?"
Erin shook her head. "No, I'm actually an accountant. Or I was. Now I'm back in school and working on an MBA."
"Well, if you ever decide that you'd like to pick up some part-time work or if you'd like to investigate a career change, give me a call. My business is expanding, and I'm always on the lookout for new consultants and planners."
Seemingly awestruck, Erin nodded. "Okay."
"Great." Jean reached over and patted Bianca's back. "I'll see you again tomorrow, Bee."
Just as quickly as she'd flitted into our conversation, Jean flitted right back out of it. Benny was the first to ask what we were all thinking. "Well, Bianca, is she legit?"
"Absolutely," Bianca confirmed. "Her event planning business does weddings, birthdays, quinceañeras, galas… She designs some really gorgeous weddings. Like—she's been featured in bridal magazines."
"You should give it a try," Lena urged. "What do you have to lose, Erin?"
"We'll see," she said coyly and tucked the card into her purse.
As my fitting was finished and I switched back into my clothes, I couldn't stop thinking about how our professional lives were changing so rapidly. Lena had walked away from a comfortable but suffocating job and was in the planning stages of launching her own specialized business. Benny had been fighting to keep her family's bakery open, lost it in a nearly-fatal arson and had re-opened in a much better location where the business was thriving. Erin had been laid off from her accounting job—that she'd hated—and seemed to have found her niche in event planning.
And me? Well—the art show had produced results far and above my wildest dreams.
It had been a week since the sellout show, and I still couldn't quite wrap my mind around all the opportunities it had created for me, especially with art prints and commissioned painting inquiries. I'd always believed that I was good and that I had the potential to support myself and a family as an artist, but I didn't have any idea I was so close to realizing that dream. Though I wasn't nearly done developing and honing my craft, I was getting there. I was close enough now that I could taste success.
"Are we making
any stops on the way home?" Sergei asked as I buckled my seatbelt. Since I'd returned to classes after the winter break, he'd been my constant companion.
"I don't need to stop anywhere. Do you?"
He shook his head. "I'm good."
As we drove home, we let the alternative radio station take the place of conversation. I sensed Sergei was deep in thought about Bianca. When he steered us into the driveway, my suspicions were confirmed.
"So—Bianca."
"Yeah?"
"She has a boyfriend?"
"No, but you're probably wasting your time there."
He frowned and unlatched his safety belt. "Why?"
"She doesn't date guys like you."
"Guys like me? Do you mean Russian? Or do you mean white?"
I rolled my eyes. "I mean gangster types."
Annoyance filtered across his face. "Why not?"
It wasn't my place to go around talking about Bianca's history but I could tell Sergei wasn't going to stop asking. "When she was younger, she and her older brother stopped at a convenience store one night before going to a movie. While they were there a couple of punks decided to rob the place. They shot the cashier, and when they turned the gun on her, Bianca's brother stepped in front of her and took the bullet."
"He died?"
I nodded. "She was really messed up by that. We actually met in one of those therapy groups for childhood survivors of violent crimes. She's always been very careful about the men she dates. Your…day job…puts you in a category that she isn't likely to overlook."
Sergei put his hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. He seemed to be thinking over everything I'd told him about Bianca. Eventually, he turned to me and grinned. "That's okay. I like a good challenge."
I couldn't help but smile. He had no idea what he was up against. "Well—good luck, Sergei."
He was still laughing when we started up the sidewalk to the house. "How did the rest of you meet?"
Feeling a bit embarrassed, I admitted, "Lena and I had the same probation officer from our run-ins with juvenile detention."