Seth's Cravings: An Endless Series: Book 2 (16 page)

     “This is not funny, Nadia, you put yourself in danger
every time you go out there alone.”

     She sighed. “Seth, I do what I do for a reason.”

     “You mean it’s not just to flirt with danger and
college guys.” I gripped.

     A chest deep sigh had my gaze following the rise and
fall of her breasts. “You already know that I pretend to drink, and you’ve
caught onto my exaggerated accent. You’re the only person that’s questioned any
of it. Haven’t you figured out yet that I’m playing a part at these games? I’m
the Russian
printsessa,
princess, with nothing better to do than go out
and have fun every night.”

     “But why?” I asked in confused frustration. “I thought
you might have a gambling problem, but why all the subterfuge.”

     “I don’t have a gambling problem. I find the flagrant
wastefulness of money repellent, but whether I’m there or not these people are
going to fritter away good money as if its coins at the bottom of their purse, so
I decided to sit across from them and accept it if they don’t want or value it.”

     Nadia had said she had a reason for doing it. “What do
you want it for? What value is it to you?” I watched her intently. This had
been a question I’d been ruminating on for weeks.

     Nadia gave me a side glance and her hands smoothed over
the wheel before gripping it firmly. “I making good money as a plumber, but it
won’t be enough to send Luka and Issy to college. I want them to have that
opportunity. This is just an easy way for me to get it.”

     Shit and Wow! I needed to have someone kick my ass for
every time I pegged this girl wrong. Then maybe I’d start learning my lesson.
But why in the hell did she have to flirt with everyone? “What’s the purpose of
the flirting?” I asked in a milder tone than I was feeling.

     She grimaced for the first time. “I need them to keep
inviting me back. If I punched them in the face for some of the remarks they
made I doubt they would feel as inclined to ask me to return. And anyway, I
don’t think of it as flirting. I’ve just acted in a very amiable way to
nauseating comments. Its men that find if a female is anyway nice to them then
they must be flirting.” She gave me a look that said ‘
you know what I mean,
you’re a guy
’.

     I have to say I was offended at that look. I knew when
a female was coming on to me or just being friendly. Thinking back on the
previous games I have to say it was a close thing, Nadia’s behavior, but I have
to concur that she’d mostly just been exceptionally sociable. She had chiefly
laughed off sexual comments, not joined in on them. I had taken it all out of
context because of my feelings toward her. 

     Again, they’d gotten in the way of how I’d viewed her.

     I should just prostate myself at her feet and have her
kick me in the balls…several dozen times. She had been doing something
altruistic for her family and I’d essentially made her into a
gambling-addict-attention-seeking-slut. I was an ass.

     “I owe you the biggest apology in the history of
apologies.” I confessed reluctantly. Admitting being wrong about something
wasn’t an easy thing to do, but that wasn’t why I was hesitant. I didn’t want
her to know how I had pre-labeled her without even knowing her. I’d drawn all
these erroneous ideas about her that had been completely off the mark and all
because I’d resented her affect on me.

     Nadia nodded like that was a given. “Of course you do.”

     I shook my head in amusement. “Do you know why I’m
apologizing?”

     “You’re a man. The list is endless.” She quipped.

     God, she was snarky. “When I first met you I drew all
these conclusions about you that were completely wrong, and it made me view and
treat you in a way that I regret.”

     She frowned and shrugged. “You pretty much ignored me
so it’s not like I was all that affected by it.”

     I grunted at her words. The last thing I’d been doing
was ignoring her. Hearing my grunt Nadia gave me a look. “What?”

     I shook my head. I’d apologize, but I wasn’t going
anywhere near those feelings. “I wonder sometimes that if my view of you hadn’t
been so skewed than I might have perceived the scene I walked in on for what it
was.” I still had a load of guilt weighing me down about that night.”

     She frowned and lifted a brow at me skeptically. “So
because you might have not liked me so much you would have allowed ‘The Dick’
to…” She left it hanging.

     “No!” I exclaimed appalled. Shit! I wouldn’t want that
for any girl. “But I might have stayed in the door longer to make sure you
wanted to be there.”

     “Do you normally hang out in doorways acting the
voyeur?” She asked with exaggerated interest. I gave her an aggravated look.
“Right, so you can’t be certain what you might have done, so you need to let it
go.” She gave me pointed look. ‘And anyway, I thought you were going to
apologize to me about treating me like a child.” She griped.

     I wasn’t sure if she was serious or trying to change
the subject. “It’s not treating you like a child when I show concern about your
safety.”

     “It is when you don’t believe me when I say that I take
serious measures to ensure my safety.”   

     “Nothing is ever full proof.” I stressed.

     “Well, I should never ever leave my house again if
that’s the case.” She retorted.

     I sighed in frustration. She was so damn stubborn. “We
could go on like this for days.”

     “Or at least for another two hours until I can finally
escape.”

     A reluctant grin crept across my face at her humor. She
seemed to brush off most disagreeable discussions with humor, never taking
anything too seriously. That could be both a good and bad personality trait. It
could be good in that she wouldn’t let too many things upset her. As a pseudo
mother that would work for her, and she’d probably utilized it often in
cheering up her siblings through the years.

     But it was a quality that could hinder her personally.
Did she laugh off things that really affected her not allowing her to truly feel;
making something seem unimportant when in fact it was?

     It troubled me that she might do this, and if she did
what had caused her to be that way? I wanted to know. What I had just learned
from her was significant, but I still wanted more. I wanted to know everything.

     “Do you miss Russia?”

     My out-of-the-blue question had Nadia looking at me in
surprise. “Uhm, sometimes.” Her gaze returned to the road but I could see the
thoughtful dent between her eyes. “Not too many people have asked me that
question. It’s like they think I came from a third world country and should be
happy I’m here in America.” She smirked and shook her head. “Russia may have its problems, but the US of A isn’t perfect either; similar problems in
different packages if you get my drift.”

     “Perfectly.” When you grow up accustomed to something
you don’t see it like other people do. “I’ve visited Russia and it’s a
beautiful country. I liked it there.”

     She looked at me now with undisguised interest. “When
were you there? Where did you go?”

     “I was around twelve. My parent’s took us, my older
sister’s and me, on a family vacation there. We visited St. Petersburg, and Moscow.”

     “I’m from Moscow.” She said excitedly and then sighed
in reminiscence. “I used to miss it everyday. Until I came here I didn’t
appreciate how beautiful the city was, but Virginia is so…homely in appearance when
compared to the architectural grandeur of Moscow; Red Square, the Kremlin, St.
Basil’s Cathedral. Even the street we lived on was a historical landmark
steeped in history; cobbled roads and family owned businesses that had been
there for generations. My mom worked in one of the bakeries that had been there
for years and years.” She sighed again with a nostalgic smile that made her
face softly beautiful…dissimilar, but just as striking as the indomitable
expression she normally wore.   

     “Is that where she learned how to bake so well?”

     “
Da
.” She answered softly.

     I could see it was making her emotional talking about
her mother, but it wasn’t a distressed emotional. It was happy memories. She
hadn’t been happy when I’d first brought up her parents down in the basement
and then in the truck last night.

     “What did your dad do?”

     Nadia’s expression closed down instantly; the softness
in her face taken over by impassiveness. “My father was an American who came
over on a work visa. He was a business man who worked at a company here in the
states at first, but was sent to Moscow to work at the business they had
established there. They dealt in shipping material.”

     If I hadn’t seen the strength of Nadia’s emotions
toward her mother I might have missed how much talking about her father upset
her. She completely shut down, employing her poker face; relaying the facts
with no emotion.

     “That’s why you are able to be in the United States, because of your father?” I’d been wondering how she was able to come into
the country so young and stay.

     To say the laugh that came out of her mouth was forced
was an understatement. It didn’t sound any where near as light and engaging as
the other’s I’d heard from her. “Yes, we are half American. That’s why we are
here.” She said, and it almost sounded bitter; like it was the last thing she’d
wanted.

     “You don’t sound like you wanted to come to the United States.”

     She blew out a breath and rolled her shoulders. I could
see instantly that she was going to laugh this off as she gave me a teasing
smile. “I was fifteen years old. What teenager wants to move away from all her
friends at that age, and not just to a new city or district, but an entirely
different country?”

     I knew that this line of conversation was at an end.
Nadia would still answer my questions but they wouldn’t reveal anything
substantial. So I went a different route. “Do you still stay in contact with
any of your friends from Russia?”

     There was a slight relaxation to her shoulders that
told me she appreciated the subject change. “Yes, several, through emails and
Facebook. It brings me both joy and sadness to see pictures of my home.”

     That she still called it home after five years was
telling. Maybe she hoped to return. “Do you want to go back someday, to
visit…or live?” The idea of her leaving was surprisingly disturbing.  

     Her mouth twisted as she stared straight ahead intently.
She seemed focused on the road, but there was a far away cast to her
expression. “You know, when I first applied for the plumber apprenticeship I
had thoughts off saving up enough money so we could all return home. We were
all miserable, we hated it here.” She laughed harshly. “But then
mat’
died,
our foremost reason to return, and it seemed pointless after that. We still
thought about returning because Russia was our home, but the past couple years
has gradually brought a semblance of peace and…settlement to our lives that we
are just taking it year by year.”  

     Their mother died in Russia while they were here in the
States? Why were they all here while she’d stayed in Russia? Why would she send
her children to America without her? Nadia said they’d been living with relatives;
it must have been her father’s family, but she’d said that her relatives hadn’t
wanted them there.

     Everything she told me only added more questions to the
mix.

     “You know what; you always seem to get me talking about
me.” Nadia threw a confounded look my way, like she couldn’t understand how I
did that. “Let’s hear a little about you.”

     While I still wanted to hear more about her, it was
only fair that she get something from me. “What do you want to know?”

     Her succulent mouth twisted slightly as she thought
about it, and I watched it fixatedly. Damn, I wanted to taste her.

     “You said you have two older sisters’; tell me about
them.”

     “Teresa is twenty-seven and she’s the eldest. She’s
married and is a stay at home mom with two snotty nose kids; Christian who’s
four, and Cynthia, who we call Cee-Cee, who’s two. Mandy is twenty-five; she’s
engaged, has a fashion degree, and works in New York.”

     “Are you close to them?” She asked.

     “They were a pain in the ass...” I grimaced looking
behind me. Issy’s head was tilted back against the seat and she appeared to be
sleeping.

     “She falls asleep in the car every time.” Nadia said
with a grin. “And she probably had a hard time falling asleep last night all
excited about going to the beach today.”

     I smiled as I stared at her sleeping form unexpectedly pleased
that I’d been able to bring that excitement to her life. Turning back to Nadia
I saw her watching me intently. I raised my brow at her questioningly.   

     With a slight frown she returned her attention to the
road. “So, they were a pain in the ass, and…” She pressed.

     What had that intent look and frown been for I
wondered? “I was the younger brother with two older sisters; let’s just say we
had contrary views on what I should be doing. My sister’s were girly girls who
liked to play with dolls and dress up and they thought I was perfect at being
their baby dress-up doll. That didn’t work for me though, so I escaped every
chance I could. I’d run outside and get dirty or find something disgusting so
when they found me they would leave me alone.”

     Nadia laughed lightly and it went straight to my groin.
The affect she was having on me was getting stronger. It seemed like everything
she did now produced some result on my body or emotions.

     “What kind of disgusting things did you find?”

     “Frogs, snakes, anything slimy worked. We had horses
and I remember once picking up a horse patty and carrying it around like it was
a mud pie.” I grinned at the memory. “My sister’s had been completely horrified
and ran to the house screaming that they were never going to touch me again.”