Only Pretend (15 page)

Bending his head, I followed his gaze to the sign above the window. Thick, grey words on a mustard colored sign read 'Kummel Resto.' I had no clue what it meant, but when we brushed through the jingling door, savory smells assaulted me.

Leonide had taken me... to a restaurant.

A large man approached us, hands wiping together over and over. His voice rumbled, jovial, but not a lick of English. Standing there, I watched while Leonide greeted him in his rolling Russian. They laughed, slapped arms, all while I stood there feeling out of place.

“Celeste,” Leonide called. I straightened at my name, saw the stocky stranger was beaming at me. “This is Nestor, he owns the place.”

“Hello, Nestor,” I said politely.
Act nice, it's your safest bet.
Having been shunned from help last time I was in town, I felt little compassion for any of the inhabitants.

We were led to a small table in the corner, sunshine streaming just out of reach. He'd picked the dimmest section of the restaurant; I managed not to roll my eyes. Nestor handed us menus, shuffling away with a few final words—Estonian or Russian, I still had no grasp.

With the stranger gone, I stared dubiously over the top of my menu. “What's that look for?” he asked, pleased as fucking punch.

“What's your plan?”

“My plan?”

“I...” Sitting there, holding a menu in the middle of a restaurant, it all felt like some cruel scam. Any second, he was going to throw me to the ground; make me strip, expose me to the world down to my ruined soul. “What are we doing here?”

He turned a page of the menu. “We're getting lunch. You seem to be struggling with that.”

My eyes couldn't stop shooting around. Where was the catch? When would all the normalcy become my torture?
It's wrong, it has to be wrong. He'd never let me sit here and eat lunch after weeks in that fucking house!

In my frenzy, I spotted the woman the instant she pushed through the kitchen doors. I saw inside, a tiny stove and floating smoke; a quaint area to cook in. The girl, whoever she was, suited the atmosphere to a T. Cute, curly brown hair, green eyes and freckles on her pale skin. She was smiling like she needed to show the world every tooth.

That adoration was fixed firmly on Leonide.

Baffled, I watched as she came to us, hands twisting in her apron. Like Nestor, her clear voice was another lilting language. The two
knew
each other.
She's staring at him like she wants to hug him and is holding back.

“Ira,” he said, nodding towards me. “Dlya nashego gostya. English, please.”

Blushing wildly, the girl—Ira, he'd said—bowed to me. “Ah! Forgive me, I should have known.”

They were watching me expectantly. “Nice to meet you,” I said slowly. Leonide didn't appear cross, so I kept talking. “I'm Celeste. Ira, was that your name?”

Such a demure bow all over again. “Yes. It's nice to meet you.”

Folding his menu, Leonide took mine before I reacted. “You're looking wonderful, Ira.” The girl nearly swooned. “Be a dear and bring us something strong.” His cocky grin waxed. Gripping the menus, he released them at her gentle tug. “Let Nestor pick our meal, he knows what's fresh.”

Ira giggled, hips swaying with exaggeration as she vanished. A dull ache in my hands made me look down; I'd been digging them into the edge of the table.
What the hell?
Letting go, I hid my fists in my lap, eyeing Leonide to see if he'd noticed.
Calm down, don't get weird because you watched some girl flirting with the guy you're supposed to hate. You don't even know her!

But Leonide did. He seemed to know her very well. “How...” I stopped myself, losing confidence the second he met my stare.

“Hm? Go on, what did you want to ask?”

“That girl.” Ugh, I sounded pathetic. “How do you know her?”

Leonide stroked his finger down the edge of his silver tie. “Ira was one of the girls I helped to find a match.”

The reveal made the knot in my neck grow larger.
She was like me? He kept her, trained her, married her off and...
Visions of hands sliding down my thighs filled my heart with lead. The thought of Leonide and another woman—
No, stop it! You knew he'd done this to others.
Yet, seeing one in the flesh... seeing how she simpered and ate him up with her eyes...

He reached across; touched my shoulder and made me jump. “Did you notice how happy she was?”

“I—what?”

Fondling a strand of my hair, he let it go and sat back. “Ira. Her demeanor, her glow. Did you notice it?”

I noticed how she looked so lovingly at you.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I sought out my voice. “You took me here to convince me about the marriage. I get it.”

Leonide's smile made no sense to me. “But you don't believe it.”

“How can I? I don't know a thing about her, and even then... she's one girl.”
One girl out of however many he's done this too.
Suddenly, I wanted to know. How deep and long did this filthy wormhole go? Looking up, I fought past my wave of nerves; it was hard to be brave when he wore that smirk. “You said you'd done this to others. How many?”

My expectation that he would waffle or string me along broke into shards. “Since I've been doing this alone? I'd count around forty, fifty girls.”

Trembles started in my calves. “F—forty or fifty?”

“Correct.” Sordid pleasure roamed across his face. “Around one girl every two months or so. It's hard to account off the top of my head.”

Dry heaves started, robbing me of the things I wanted to say.
Monster. Demon. Emotionless.

Leonide crinkled his nose. “Relax. Here, Ira is back with something to wash your righteous fury down.”

I saw her approach; she saw my milk-white face. The cheer in her step faded to uncertainty. Setting down two glasses of something light orange, Ira fidgeted. “Is everything alright, sir?”

Sir. Sir sir sir.
Gripping the drink, I took a deep swallow; coughed at the liquid flames.

“It's fine. Celeste is struggling with some news, that's all.”

She calls him sir and he's sold so many girls he's forgotten the exact number and—
My whisper was flat; they were both staring at me, but I didn't raise my eyes. “How can you do this to people?”

On the table, Leonide's hands moved. It was Ira who answered first. “Leonide fixed my life.”

Her words struck something in me, a statement I'd been slapped by... how long ago?

I don't want to be boring.

I can fix myself.

She kept talking; I lifted my eyes, couldn't break away from the pride burning in her pretty greens. “He gave me everything I thought I could
never
have. He saved me.”

“Saved you!” Praying I could destroy the glass, I settled for slamming it heavily. Ira flinched. “He made you a slave!”

“He made me a bride!” The frail girl was gone. Ira looked down her nose at me. “He gave me to a man who loves me, someone who would never throw me aside without another thought.”

Her words sliced me, erased my strength. Leonide caught my eye, his lips a smooth line of smugness. We both knew what I was thinking.
Thrown aside. Yes. I know what that feels like.

Ira breathed in, lowering her tone. “I cannot tell what's in your heart, Celeste. But do not tell me what is wrong or right inside of mine.” Leaning towards Leonide, her tame side returned. “Forgive me for my outburst. Nestor will bring your meal.”

“It's fine,” he said gently.

I turned to my drink, drank all of it and hoped it would drown me.

It was not to be.

****

O
ur food came, bowls of something called mulgikapsad that smelled both salty and pungent. I didn't know what it was; didn't care. I'd been starving before, having had no breakfast, but now I just wanted to drink away my mood.

It was a task I took to with gusto.

“Celeste, you need to eat.”

Turning towards the wall, I stared into my glass. Whatever I drank, it was strong enough to turn my eyes dry and my lips numb. “You want to fatten me for sale like a pig?”

Outside, the sun had escaped behind coal colored clouds. It couldn't have been much later than the afternoon, yet it felt like the night was crawling in.

“I want you to do what I say.”

Yes, of course he does.
Finishing my glass, I set it down with a bang.
He wants me to become a perfect, sweet wife. Just like the other forty plus fucking girls. Just like Ira.
On the other side of the restaurant, I saw the girl beside Nestor. He handed her a tray, and in passing, gently kissed her cheek. The love that welled in her stare was ice in my veins.

I laid my half-lidded gaze on Leonide. “Fine. I'll do what you say. Tell me, and I'll obey it all.”

A single eyebrow shifted up. “So you've said before.”

Looking at his hard jaw, how his hair gleamed in the light, I felt the alcohol and the memory of Vegas climbing through me. I remembered his rich voice, his wicked tongue. “You've done this with all those girls before. Have you ever failed? Not married them off?”

He shook his head.

“Then,” I mused, tilting my barren glass towards the couple in the back, “what's the point in fighting it?”

Following my gesture, Leonide sighed. “You're very dramatic.”

My shoulders shrugged to my ears. “She looks really happy.”

“You're trying to pretend I've convinced you.”

“I'll try to become a better liar when you send me off with Vitaly.”

His hand came down on mine, knocking the empty glass to the floor. Bits of it skidded on the rug when it fractured. “Let me make this clear. When I said all the women I matched with my clients were
better off
, happier and safer, I meant it.” In the restaurant, the few smatterings of people were looking away. I was in a bubble with this man, one that was impossible to break into—or out of.

Once, liquid courage had allowed me to introduce myself to Leonide. With fire rolling up my neck, controlling my tongue, I felt the same disconnect. “I'm not those women. I'm Celeste Barstow... and you're a fucking demon.”

Those onyx eyes squinted. “No argument on the latter.” There were white indents on my arm after he released me. Pushing his chair back, he saw Ira coming. “I'll be right back. Don't try to leave, I expect you know better.”

Leonide's shoulders were taut from behind. Making him angry was foolish, but I didn't care. Maybe becoming an alcoholic was the solution to my fears. Would Vitaly let me drink constantly?

Bending down, Ira brushed the glass into a dust pan. “Sorry,” I muttered. “He did that because of me.”

She didn't look at me while she swept. “You're wrong about him.”

“Excuse me?”

Ira worked faster, racing something I didn't grasp. “Leonide. You don't know him. That man... he's done so much for all of us here.”

I laughed into my palm. “He's
kidnapped
me.”

Her eyes wavered; peeking at me, then around nervously. “I can't speak on that. He took me from a broken home where I was a
true
slave, years ago, but—listen. He's a hard man who believes in what he does. I was scared, too, at first... but he was kind. He showed me who I was, introduced me to a man who paid everything he could for my dowry.” The last of the glass vanished into the pan; Ira remained crouched. “Leonide brought me love, just like his father did for the other women when he was still alive.”

I was bending towards her, didn't notice I was doing it. “His dad is dead?”

Ira shot a look over her shoulder. I followed it, spotted Leonide approaching. The girl's voice fell so low I had to strain. “He's suffered a lot. Him and his father, they always helped the town. They brought jobs, created families, and he still supplies food to people too poor to eat any other way.”

The extra meals the women make in his kitchen!
A piece of the puzzle clicked.

“I heard you call him a demon.” Lifting her chin, she looked up at me imploringly. “In truth, he's an angel.” Gathering the broom, Ira left me there in stunned silence.

Leonide settled in his chair. The tap of a fresh glass, orange liquid sloshing, rang in my ears. “Here.”

The drink sat between us. I made no move. “You got me another?”

“Very astute.”

“Why? You were acting like I needed to slow down and eat, before.”

His fingers nudged the glass closer to me. “Drink.”

I turned my head side to side. Flashes of him offering me a glass while we looked down on the sea of color that was Vegas jabbed me with warning.

Cold understanding crossed his face. “You think I'm going to drug you again.”

“Fool me once,” I whispered.

Hunching forward, Leonide's mouth dripped with callousness. “Surely there are better things to remember about that night.” Under the table, his shoe touched my ankle suggestively.

I couldn't stop staring at his lips.
A gifted man who offers me nothing but intangible wishes and solid threats.
Maybe I was in hell and this was my punishment. Had I been so terrible that I—that anyone—deserved to be in the grasp of a man like Leonide? “Yes,” I said flatly, looking him dead in the eye. “I remember something wonderful.”

Curiosity pulled him towards me. We hovered there, and I felt a surge of power that I'd never had before. Leonide wanted to hear what I had to say.

It felt odd to smile. “I remember the last moment I was free.”
That city below, stretching out like a living forest of jewels.

“That's what you'll never forget?” His laughter was mocking, fueling my already bitter and uncertain mind.

Angels don't laugh like that.
“What, did you think I'd never forget
you?
”

His mouth twitched; my heart copied the movement. Snatching the drink he'd brought for me, Leonide swallowed it down. “You've become entitled all over again, sweet girl.”

I should have listened to his casual warning. Instead, my mind was chasing the strings between his actions last night and now. “Why were you drunk when you woke me up?”