by Kenya Wright
“Dude, you can’t kill her.”
“Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.” Maxwell lit his joint.
I smiled. “With Valentina dead and my daughter next to me, I would sleep like a baby.”
“Remind me to never upset you.”
I winked. “You could never.”
“You’re really serious about Valentina?”
“I am.”
Maxwell handed me the joint. “Then I hope Valentina is smart about this and allows you to see your daughter.”
I took the joint. “Me too.”
Chapter 16
Ava
Where’s Yefim? What did he have to do?
Yefim explained that Misha gave him a special order. In these past weeks, I’d become used to having him around. While I appreciated my other guards, Yefim was turning into a friend.
As I watched Circuit and the rest of Misha’s hackers shut off Japan, I realized that Misha was more powerful than anyone I’d ever been close to. His Rainbow Hats had executed such a large job within seconds. For a while, they typed and chatted between each other. Minutes later all of their screens displayed Japan shutting off with ease. Additionally, they had a satellite on the Xecutioners’ movements.
An hour later, Misha and his men returned. Their clothes were ripped. Smudges and stains covered their skin. Jesus Christ. Without giving me a hug he went straight to the underground bedroom and took a shower. I knew he had to be cleaning away blood. That fact was hard to swallow.
I thought back to our earlier conversation.
“We can’t have a relationship if I’m in the dark.”
“Many of my fellow brothers have girlfriends or wives that remain completely in the dark. Most of their women chose that.”
Would this be my new normal? A boyfriend that murdered? Would he stop killing after this stuff with the Turgenev family was done? Or would there be other times he would kill and I would have to deal with it?
For now, he was protecting us. In the future months, he may kill again and it might have nothing to do with protection. It could all be about money. Could I stomach that? How long would I be able to be by his side?
Perhaps I could completely ignore this part of his life. I watched gangster movies. Although the wives hid themselves from the world, they eventually were killed or lured into the crime with their men. If I were going to be with Misha there would be no easy decision on this.
I’ll have to make that hard decision later. For now, there’s no time for these thoughts.
Freshly showered, Misha walked over to me, leaned down, and kissed my cheek. “How have you been doing?”
“It’s been an interesting day.”
“Have you talked to your grandmother?”
“Yes. She’s doing fine.”
“In Prague?”
“No. I forgot the country that Rolan took her too.”
Misha groaned and sat down next to me. “Of course he sees this opportunity to be romantic. I’ll have to deal with him later.”
I smirked. “At least they’re having fun. Grandma sounded happy.”
“Any other calls?”
“My possible future agent called.”
He quirked his brows. “Agent?”
“Her name is Mrs. Hightower. She used to be O’s agent. I thought she was excellent at getting O tons of opportunities and handling her contracts.”
“That’s right.” He nodded. “When will you meet with her?”
“I didn’t even answer the phone. I thought that it would be better to wait until all of this is done.”
“We’re not putting your career on pause due to this. Your meeting with a new agent would be enough reason to take you out of here for a few hours with several heavily guarded men.”
I sighed. “Are you sure?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“What else?”
“That’s it on my side.” I gestured to the screens. “Meanwhile, Japan is in the dark.”
For a few minutes, he studied each of the screens. “Circuit!”
The man rushed over. “I didn’t realize you returned.”
“What are the Xecutioners doing?”
Circuit pointed to the screen behind us. All I could gather was colors shaped in the form of several bodies moving from one point to another. “They’re taking around twenty people out of the Dragon’s building.”
“Keep the camera on them. They know the power will be back on within the hour.”
Circuit left.
Misha took my hand and rose. “Let’s go.”
“Go? Shouldn’t we follow what’s going on or—”
“The day has been busy enough.” Misha took me in the opposite direction of our bedroom. “We both need a break.”
“I don’t need a break. I have to follow this until the end.”
“You don’t. This isn’t your world.” He led me down a long hallway. “Besides, I have a surprise for you. I didn’t get to show you this morning.”
I arched my brows. “What sort of surprise?”
He stopped us at the door at the end of the hallway. “Open it.”
I did and entered the room. It was a column-free space close to 25 x 35 ft. Mirrors surrounded all the walls. The whole place smelled like a fresh coat of paint.
The classical ballet barre outlined the wall across from me.
A shelf rested against the other wall. I spotted some of my ballet shoes and luggage.
“Yefim packed your ballet stuff and brought it here. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s what you had him do earlier.” I scanned the space. “Thank you.”
“You noticed Yefim was gone?”
“Of course I did.”
Misha sighed.
“Stop it. I’m not going to have my guards be forks and spoons.”
“Even if it’s better that way.”
“Your guards aren’t forks and spoons.”
“That’s a different situation. I’ve grown up with a lot of them.”
I shrugged. “Yefim is my friend.”
“Whatever,” Misha muttered.
I grinned.
“What?”
“The way you said whatever. It reminded me of Maxwell. You said wuteva like you’re from Harlem.”
“Maxwell is growing on me.”
“Like Yefim is growing on me.”
Misha gestured to the room. “You can practice in here whenever you want. I wish that I could have given you windows but we’re underground. There’s nothing like natural light. You deserve everything to be perfect, but—”
“This is perfect.” I turned to him. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Ava. I don’t know how long you’ll be down here.”
I tried to keep my worry out of my voice. “What’s going on now?”
He went over to the shelf. “There’s your leotards, shoes, and—”
“Misha, what happened today?”
Misha faced me. “Do you think that I should always give you an update?”
“Of course I do.”
“I won’t.”
I crossed my arms. “You will if it has something to do with me.”
He walked over and stopped in front of me. “I thought we settled this in our bedroom.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“You don’t need all the details.”
“I don’t want to be in the dark.”
“Some darkness is fine. It provides shade.” He reached out for me.
I backed away. “What happened?”
“I’ve seen how this goes for some men in my world. When it comes to a woman like you, there need to be some secrets and—”
“A woman like me?”
“You weren’t born into this. You didn’t volunteer to participate or—”
“I’m not doing this with you, Misha. We agreed to keep me in the know. Stop playing. Where did you go when you left?”
He frowned. “Club Pleasure.”
“The nightclub from earlier?”
“If we’re going to do this, at least you can dance or do warmups. I like watching you move.”
It was an absurd request, but one I liked. Dancing made me feel comfortable and relaxed. Whatever news he had to give me, calming down would help.
I took off my shoes and grabbed my ballet shoes. “Go ahead and tell me.”
“You can’t dance in those pants.”
I smirked. “I don’t need to put on a leotard.”
“You do.” He placed his hands in his pocket. “I’m not saying anything until you take this rehearsal seriously.”
“Whatever, Misha.” I rolled my eyes and picked up a leotard. “You’re just stalling.”
“I’m not.” He took a small black device out of his pocket. “There’s a portable Mp3 player on the wall over there. Here’s the remote.”
“Thank you.” I put my hands on my hips. “You can put on some music while you turn around.”
His frown deepened. “I’ve seen it all before.”
“But you haven’t said it all. Until you do, you cannot turn around.”
He smirked. “Is that how we’re going to do this?”
“Exactly.”
He turned around, extended his arm, and pressed on the device. The sound of a sorrowful cello filled the room. Violins and violas joined, but not too loud to overtake the cello. My heart stirred. Misha had chosen the song Andante Cantabile—one of Tchaikovsky’s most famous compositions. It showed how much Misha knew about ballet and even classical music.
This song had been included in the recent premiere ballet called The Red Shoes. It was based on a 1940s film of the same name. The story was about a ballet dancer whose struggle to choose between her ambition and her heart lead to tragedy. It also included a ballet-within-a-ballet. The other story within the story was about a bewitching but deadly pair of magical shoes that made the heroine dance to her own destruction. The song Andante Cantabile was used for a scene showing the tortured soul of the ballet’s tyrannical producer Boris.
O and I had gone to see this ballet last year. Upon seeing it, I always played this song over and over during my private practice. I couldn’t get enough.
Wait a minute.
I thought back to Misha’s Combat Room. If he could shut down a country, surely he could monitor me.
Did Misha stay up to date with the ballet world? Or was it that he remained up to date with me?
I took off my shirt, folded the material, and placed it on the floor. “How did you learn about this song?”
“From you.” He kept his back to me. “You love it.”
I swallowed. “You watched me practice to it?”
“I did. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but. . .”
“You knew it would scare the shit out of me.”
“Are you scared?”
“Your watching me long ago is the least of our problems at this time.” I pulled off my pants and panties. “But we’ll get back to it.”
“I’m sure we will.”
I undid my bra. “Don’t watch me anymore unless I give you permission.”
A fierce honesty thickened his voice. “I’ll do as you ask.”
The cello’s melody soared over the tension rising in the room.
How long did he watch me? Where were the cameras in the condo? Did he have them in my bedroom? In my bathroom?
I shoved those thoughts out of my head. Like I told him, this rising battle with the Turgenev family gave me anxiety. I had no time to be outraged about Misha monitoring me when our lives were in danger.
It took me less than five minutes to dress. When I finished, I spoke, “Okay.”
He faced me and drank in my new attire. I no longer wore my pants, shirt, panties, and bra. I’d shed it all and then put on a simple leotard and pointes. The frown had disappeared. Excitement glittered in his eyes as a wide smile covered his face.
I walked over to the bar, held on to it, and started stretching. “What happened today, Misha?”
“I had information that Leonid Turgenev would be at Club Pleasure.”
Starting in first position, I placed my left hand on the barre, kept my back straight, and both legs turned out. “Was Leonid there?”
“No, but his brother was.”
I lifted my right leg high and then rested my ankle on the barre. “Did you talk to his brother?”
“Not for too long.”
Pointing my foot, I looked over my shoulder at Misha. “And?”
“That’s the short of it.”
“Then, tell me the long of it.”
“There are bad parts.”
“Tell me.”
He glared.
“How did the conversation go with his brother?”
“I killed him and sent his head to Leonid.”
My stomach twisted. I lowered my leg and stared at myself in the mirror. No disgust lay on my face, although it bounced within me. Even though Misha didn’t describe the gruesome details, the image of Misha cutting off a man’s head played in my mind. I blinked, trying to get that horror film out of my brain forever.
You asked for it. Now you know.
Bile rose in my throat. I cleared it away. My fingers shook against the barre. “What happens now?”
“We’ll see.”
I looked at him through the mirror. “You’re too smart to wait for his next move. You have a plan in your mind.”
I doubt he knew I was watching him.
His gaze traveled from the point of my toes to the curve of my thighs. “Perhaps I do, Ava.”
“Tell me the plan.”
He snapped his gaze to my face as I watched him in the mirror. “By leaving out some details, I’m doing you a favor.”
“How is that?”
“I’m helping you maintain mental stability.”
“And you think I’ll go crazy knowing too much?”
“It could happen. . .or other things.”
“What other things?”
“You may be so turned off that you want to walk away.” His gaze shifted to intense. “And unfortunately you’ll find that I won’t let you walk away.”
Silence filled the room. Not sure of what to say, I focused on my stretching. I closed my eyes, put my right hand to high fifth position, leaned forward onto my right leg, and held that stretch.
“. . .I won’t let you walk away.”
A shiver ran through me. Deep down I knew this would be the case. When Misha made love, he did so with intensity, possessing every inch of my flesh and dominating me to the core. That wasn’t a lover who would step aside if I wanted to leave. Even when I had asked for space, he gave me some time, and then later returned to addicting me some more.
There would be no space with him or a chance to walk away.
A new song played. It was a cello solo. I recognized this one immediately. O and I enjoyed practicing to The Dying Swan on Sunday mornings.
Sometimes I performed the short ballet myself. It lasted four minutes and followed the last moments in the life of a swan. O’s great-great-grandmother Anna Pavlova had performed the piece 4,000 times. She’d been inspired by swans that she saw in public parks and by Lord Tennyson's poem The Dying Swan. Everything was historic after that. Combining technique with expressiveness, her dance became the symbol of Russian ballet.
I rose from the stretch and opened my eyes.
Misha stood right behind me. There must’ve only been an inch of space between us. Heat spread across my skin. My body didn’t tense. It yearned for him. The more layers of Misha that I pulled back, the more it revealed terrifying power.
The most shocking part was that none of it scared me.
I took my leg off the barre and did the same stretch for the other one. I thought he would press his cock against my ass or slip his hands along my frame. Instead, he whispered, “I love when you dance to this song.”
Holding the
stretch, I gazed at him in the mirror. “How long did you watch me?”
“For a year.”
I bit my lip.
“It became an obsession.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“But it is the truth.”
“Where were the cameras in the condo?”
“Everywhere except the bathroom.”
I took my leg off the barre and turned around. “So definitely my bedroom?”
He towered over me. “Definitely.”
“And you’re confessing this now so I will stay off the topic?”
He frowned.
“Got you.” I walked off.
He gently grabbed my arm and drew me back his way. “Are you sure you’re done stretching those legs?”
“When will we be safe from the Turgenev family?”
Anger blazed in his eyes. “When they’re all dead?”
“Do you really think you’ll have to kill the whole family?”
“I’ll start with Leonid. If nothing else comes from them, then the rest is safe.”
Swallowing, I left his hold and walked to the center of the room. “Start the first song over, please.”
Chapter 17
Misha
It hadn’t been a great feat to get a proper playlist for Ava’s rehearsal room. When I began watching her a year ago, I made my own list. It included all the songs that I loved watching her dance too. From then on, I carried out my days listening to the music.
Should I have confessed that I watched her?
I hadn’t thought it through. I just told her. The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stuff them back in. While I didn’t want to tell her all my plans in the criminal world, I didn’t like any secrets between us. Something about Ava made me yearn to cut open my mind and let her peek inside.
The flowing cello of Andante Cantabile filled the room.
The first time I watched Ava dance to this, I couldn’t get the song out of my head. I played it over and over for weeks. It was a radiant outpouring of melody. At this point, I knew every note. It opened with a slow-tempo introduction. The cello delivered an ominous theme. Two minutes into the song, the violins held onto a single note for ten seconds before the piece emotionally surged into its second section. In that next section, the musician plucked the cello, making a tip-toeing sound that intrigued the mind.
In the center of the room, Ava arched her back and rose onto her toes. My breath caught. Inch by inch, she raised her hands. Warmth shot through my skin. Her fingertips fluttered in the air. I stepped back and leaned against the wall. Right when the violins began to hang onto one note, she lifted one leg into the air and masterfully balanced her body on one toe.