In which these two could really work on their communication skills.
Lucya…
It’s not until the next morning when Alexi is off doing mysterious duties as Vor for the Turgenev Bratva that I remember the phone Vadik had slipped me at the tree lot.
Pulling it out of my coat pocket, I chew my lip. It’s a burner phone, no surprise. I still don’t understand why he would give it to me. It’s one hell of a coincidence that I would be there yesterday and he’d have a phone for me.
Is someone watching me from my family, even now?
There’s only one number stored in it, and I press the call button, already feeling like this is a bad idea. But what if it’s my mother?
It rings twice.
“My dear niece! At last, you call your Pakhan. I have been deeply concerned for you.” Uncle Rurik’s oily voice makes my heart sink.
“Hello, Uncle. I hope you are well,” I say woodenly.
“How can I be well?” he snaps, “Our Bratva is in danger because of the treachery of those Turgenev bastards! Alliances broken with other families, my nieces, who I love as daughters about to be married off to those scum…”
I let him rage on until he slows down. “Are my mother and Inessa all right?”
“They’re fine,” he says shortly. “Here’s what I need you to do. You’re staying with that Turgenev fuck, yes? I want you to go into his computer files, find-”
Nausea is surging up my throat and I force myself to breathe slowly until it passes. “I can’t help you, Uncle. I have no access to any sensitive information. Alexi doesn’t keep anything on-site.” He probably does, he doesn’t even lock his office door, but I’m not telling this repellant bastard that.
“Then find a way!” he snaps, “Use your charm. Offer your body. But get me access to his files.”
Gripping the phone hard enough to turn my knuckles white, I struggle against years of trying to please people, years of bowing to my Pakhan’s authority. Uncle Rurik will never know this, but he gave me the greatest gift of my life. Because of his treachery, I’m going to marry the man I’ve loved forever.
“There’s nothing I can do for you. Goodbye.” His roar of fury rattles my eardrum as I disconnect and I hold the phone away from me like it’s a rattlesnake. I should smash it into pieces. Flush it down the toilet. Instead, I put it in the drawer of my bedside table.
I’ll tell Alexi about it when he comes home.
When my husband-to-be arrives that night, his eyes are as hard as diamond chips and his jaw is tight, like he’s been clenching his teeth for the last twelve hours.
My heart sinks. Decorating his kingdom of darkness kept me busy for a while, but even Martha Stewart couldn’t find another square inch of space to decorate. The lights brightened the apartment and cheered me up, but Pytor refused to let me go anywhere, not even to the rooftop to visit the greenhouse.
“The Boss told me to keep you here,” he repeated until I got the message and left him alone. I’m bored. I’m used to working, being around people, sharing jokes with the other servers and complaining about our worst customers.
So, it’s possible that I might have jumped on Alexi the minute he got off the elevator instead of gauging his mood.
“I’m so glad you’re back! I was thinking that maybe after dinner and you relax a bit, we could go skating down at the Seaport ice rink? I made okroshka soup and pirozhkis.” I lean in close, hoping he’ll kiss me and then I feel the polar chill coming off him in waves.
Shit.
Is it the fireplace? I know I made poor Pytor go down and get me more firewood three times today, but…
“Where is it?” His gaze narrows in on me and I step back.
“Where is what?”
“The phone,” he watches my face turn pale, “there’s an unauthorized device in the apartment. You didn’t think my sensors would catch it?”
“I- it’s not like that- I just-”
“Where. Is. It?”
Alexi doesn’t shout or bluster. He doesn’t even raise his voice but I’m terrified. Hurrying into our bedroom, I pull the phone from the drawer. “Here. It was from Uncle Rurik. He wanted me to-”
“Have you been communicating with him this entire time?” He steps closer, I step back and this bizarre little dance continues until my back is against the wall.
“No! Vadik, the man at the tree lot gave me the phone yesterday, he said that someone from home wanted to speak to me, I thought he meant my mother.”
“My tech is pulling the audio from today as we speak,” he says, putting the phone in his pocket. “I’ll know soon enough.” One terrified whimper escapes my lips as he takes me by the arm, pulling me into the guest bedroom, and locking me in.
Sitting on the rug in front of the blank wooden face of the door, I burst into tears. I’m right back where I started, three weeks ago.
Night comes early this time of year, and I watch all the Christmas lights on the buildings around this one turn on. There’s a light snow falling and I try to think of something happy. I’ve stored up all my good memories like old love letters, and when things are bad, I’ll pick one and carefully unfold it, remembering the moment, how it felt.
The last horseback ride I took with Otets, where he told me how much he believed in me.
My eighth birthday party when Mat’ listened to me and instead of forcing me to endure a horde of my classmates, threw a small party with just the family.
I unfold one memory after another but they’re not enough to pull me out of this well of misery. The most painful realization is that nearly every one of these love letter memories include Alexi. So, I cry some more until I fall asleep.
The door opens, waking me and I hastily sit up, rubbing my face. It’s Pytor wearing his black suit and a confused frown. “Miss Dubrovina, have you been on the floor all night?”
Humiliated, I glance down at my wrinkled clothes. “Am I allowed to leave the room?”
“Of course, please come with me,” he says with the first thaw I’ve heard in his tone. “I’ve made coffee.”
“I’d like to take a shower first,” I say, not able to look at him.
“Certainly.” He holds the door open wide and I numbly head down the hall to the master bedroom. Alexi had moved all my new clothes into the dressing room there. Will he move everything back into the guest room, with its dark walls and metal shutters blocking all the light?
Dragging my feet, I take a long shower. Brush my teeth. Put on some makeup. Take twenty minutes staring at my clothes before I pull on some jeans and a sweater. Finally, I force myself to go to the kitchen.
It’s a bad sign that Pytor came to let me out of my prison, instead of Alexi. Does he really believe I’ve been a spy for my uncle this entire time?
“Good morning, Miss Dubrovina,” Pytor straightens up from the stove with a polite smile. He’s taken his suit jacket off and rolled his sleeves up.
“Did you make breakfast?” The smell of bacon and eggs is fragrant and most welcome.
“I did,” he admits, putting a ridiculously large amount of eggs on a plate and covering the little egg mountain with bacon. “I don’t know how to cook much, I’m afraid.”
“This looks amazing,” I say, “thank you.”
There’s a huge ‘clunk!’ from above us and I look up in alarm.
“The boss is having some construction done on the roof,” Pytor says, “no cause for concern.”
Shrugging, I go back to my breakfast and we eat together in silence. When I rise to put my plate in the dishwasher, he takes it.
“Please, allow me,” he takes it from me, cleaning the kitchen quickly. “Your husband-”
“He’s not my husband,” I interrupt.
“Your fiancé wished me to apologize on his behalf. Some urgent issues forced him to leave last night. He hopes to return as soon as possible to speak with you.”
Nodding, I look down into my coffee mug as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It’s hard to find the energy to even be sad right now. Apathy and numbness are my new best friends.
“Would you like to go shopping?” he asks, “We could visit some of the other Christmas markets.”
Rubbing my forehead, I say, “No. Thank you.” I flinch as something heavy drops above us and there’s shouting. “I’ll just…”
There’s nothing else to say and I drift back down the hall. I can’t go into our – his – bedroom without crying and I would rather throw myself off the roof before I spend one more second in the guest room/prison. Pytor’s in the living room, so I take a book and sit in the little hall alcove by a window that looks out onto the water.
In a minute, I’ll pull myself back together. I’ll get angry. I’ll be strong again. But right now, I’m just going to sit with the book closed on my lap and watch the waves in the harbor.
