Sex, Lies & Nikolai (31 page)

Nikolai

I’m in love with her.

Alina’s been in my home for a month and I can’t get enough of her. Her things, her scent, her sister – they’re
everywhere
when I step through the door, and it gives me so much purpose.

She still works at the store, and it irks the fuck out of me, especially when I swing by in the mornings and she’s talking to that Benji moron. The amount of times I’ve been compelled to kiss her in front of him just to make a statement is ridiculous. But she’s adamant she stays there for a little while longer, until she’s saved enough money for Social Services courses for the following year.

She still won’t work for me. It’s driving me a little mad she prefers the company of Ivan and Benji than Vlad and me. It’s juvenile thinking, but this relationship shit has brought out some juvenile tendencies in me I feel are justified.

Today’s important for me, and I feel good when I see the girls in the kitchen, hovering around Roberta as she cooks. I like Roberta. She doesn’t irritate me, or glare. She’s also served a purpose, and not with the cooking, but with looking after Scarlett when I want some alone time with Alina. Life is easier when Roberta’s in it, and I like to think we’ve made her life easier too with the frequent paycheques I give her.

I approach Alina and nuzzle my lips against her neck. “You look good, rybka.”

“I’m in my home clothes,” she mutters, as though she’s insulted I’ve complimented her.

“You’re right. I’d prefer no clothes.”

She laughs and turns, kissing me back. “How was your day?”

“Miserable.”

“Why?”

“You weren’t there.”

“I went with Scarlett on her field trip to the apple orchard.”

I look down at Scarlett. “And how was it, bumface?”

“I picked a lot of apples,” she answers, “but then I got in trouble because I wasn’t allowed to, so Alina stole some in her purse.”

Alina’s eyes widened. “That’s not entirely true. They fell on the ground, so they weren’t good anymore.”

I smirk. “Thieves.”

“I’m not a thief,” Scarlett says.

“You’re just an accomplice,” Roberta cuts in with a laugh.

I take Scarlett by her hand and haul her out of the kitchen. “Alright, criminal, off with your head for your crimes!”

She giggles when I tickle her and denies being a criminal. I grab the bag I’d come in with off the counter. “I have to show you something,” I tell her, crouching down to her level.

Scar looks at me and then the bag. “What is it?”

I hand it to her. “Open it and see.”

Alina and Roberta gather around us, curiously watching Scarlett as she opens the bag and peers in. Instantly her eyes light up and she squeals, “It’s Rumple!”

She pulls out the teddy, and I can’t deny he’s still sad looking. Because he is. He looks like something a dog would carry around its mouth. He looks even worse than before, all patched up, too much stuffing in one arm, too little in the other.

But…fuck, Andrei did his best, and he’s officially proven he’s useful in more areas than fetching freezers for bodies.

That’s a morbid thought.

Scarlett squeezes the sad looking thing to her chest and then she gives me the biggest hug she’s given me to date. “Thank you, Nikolai!”

That fucking muscle in my chest slows. She’s a beautiful little girl, with the sweetest soul. She’s quiet, and Alina assures me that’s just her nature, but I’d love to see her break free and grow into a fiery personality like her sister.

When I stand back up and turn, Alina and Roberta have tears in their eyes.

“It’s a teddy bear,” I remind them. “It’s not a diamond necklace, or even a baby kitten.”

“You’re right,” Alina says, wrapping her arms around my neck. She goes on her tip toes and presses her mouth against mine. “It’s better. And you’re a good man.”

As I look into her eyes, my body calm, my fingers still, that serpent missing from my soul, I start to believe it.

If only a little.

*

The Sokolov hound me on occasion. I turn my back to them every time. I knew it would be like this, though. After I made that call to my father, he seems to think I’ll bend to him. I’ll never bend to him. I’ll never bend to anyone.

Except maybe Alina.

I watch her read that night, my eyes already feasting on her skin. She’s wearing this small little gown I bought her, and I can’t resist running my hand up them. She grabs it before I get to her pussy, and she doesn’t even look at me when she says, “It’s already happened.”

“Once is never enough.”

“You’re greedy.”

“I’m addicted.”

She laughs. “I’ve witnessed addiction my whole life, and it’s not healthy, Nikolai.”

“Some bad things are good for you.”

She lets go of my hand. “Always smooth.”

I don’t journey between her legs, not when she reminded me to say something I’ve been dreading.

“Your mother’s running with some low life.”

Now I’ve got her attention. She looks up from her book, her face blank. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought she was gone after Grant disappeared.”

“She’s back. If you want me to send Vlad to scare her away I can –”

“No,” she interrupts, her hard eyes returning. “I’m not going to stress about her anymore. She can come and go as she pleases. She’s not part of our lives, so I won’t be keeping track of hers anymore.”

I nod. “Fair enough, kitten.”

We spend the night quietly in bed, doing our own things. It’s always like this. Comfortable. Easy. Sweet.

Eventually, she puts her book away and then wraps her arm around my chest, her necklace pressed against my skin. She traces my tattoos, going over the lines that tell of my past.

“I don’t know what the future brings, Nikolai,” she whispers, looking up at me, “but I want you there always.”

“Why?” I press, waiting for her to say it. Fuck knows she leaves me hanging too often to count.

“No reason,” she lies.

“We’re back to this,” I muse with a relaxed smile. “Lying again.”

“I’m not lying,” she lies again.

“Then tell me why.”

Her breaths slow, the fight present in her face before she silences it and finally admits, “Because I love you.”

I push her off me and rest her on her back. Cradling her head with my hand, I look down at her like the beauty that she is and kiss her as hard as I can.

“The feeling is mutual, rybka,” I tell her after we’ve come up for air.

Two years later

I’ve got sixty seconds of hell, and I’m about to lose my shit.

“Tell me the story of Belle,” Scarlett says.

She’s wrapped in a thick comforter, Rumple pressed to her chest. I’m about to tell her I’ll have to do it tomorrow when Nikolai calls from the next room, “Yes, tell her, Alina!”

I smile hesitantly and slide into her pink princess bed. “There was a cow named Belle,” I begin, “and she grew up on a tiny farm. Her owner, Pucker, didn’t give her attention. He turned the farm into a dust ball, until she had nothing to eat. She’d go hungry for days, dreaming of a better place, and wishing for a better owner to rescue her. But it took her a very long time to realize nobody was coming.”

“She had to rescue herself,” Scarlett whispers, smiling at me now, the sadness no longer present in her eyes.

I nod, smiling back, no sadness in mine. “There are no princes in the night. You have to find them yourself.”

“So she broke out and left.”

“She wandered the empty roads alone, and it was scary. She didn’t know how she was going to look after herself without the help of anyone, even Pucker had given her scraps of food here and there. But she never gave up. She wandered from place to place –”

“Until she found a pasture of land rich with grass filled with other cows. And they took her in because not everyone is like Pucker.”

“No, not everyone is like Pucker.”

“And now she’s happy.”

“Yeah, she’s happy now. All that work was worth it. Belle broke out of her home to find her real home.”

Scarlett relaxes in her bed, her thoughts centred around the damn cow that has become central in our lives. I kiss her on the forehead and slip back out of bed. Before I step out, she calls me again.

“Yeah, beauty?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.

With pink cheeks, she timidly says, “We’re Belle, aren’t we?”

I look back at her, and tears falls from my eyes as I slowly nod. “Yeah, Scar, we’re Belle.”

She sighs contentedly, squeezing Rumple tight. When she shuts her eyes, I no longer dread the walk to the bathroom where Nikolai stands. He turns to me, smiling when he catches my expression.

“Look at my Belle,” he remarks. “The sexy little minx. Maybe you can try on that student costume again.”

“That’s not a costume, you jerk, it’s my real outfit for class.”

“Little saviour, going to be helping unfortunate little souls.”

“That’s the plan.” Or, at least, what I hope is the plan. Life is tricky. It changes sporadically without care of your intentions. If I’m to be a social worker one day, I’ll embrace it. If I don’t, I’ll just move on to other things.

“Now are you going to tell me what it says or not?” I ask him, biting my nails now as I eye the horrid stick on the sink.

“It’s been saying negative every time, rybka,” he murmurs with concern. “The doctors said it’ll take a while after the operation and you’re just in a rush. I hate seeing you disappointed.”

“I won’t be disappointed,” I lie.

But it’s a good lie. A lie I tell myself so I won’t feel down. Lies are good when they push away discouragement and have you trying again and again and…I groan, how many more agains can there be?

Nikolai takes the stick from off the sink, and looks down at it. I stare at his expression, my body tight with nerves.

Then he looks up, and the world is silent in that moment that follows, before he breaks into a slow smile and says, “Positive.”

THE END

Thanks!

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews and ratings are welcome and so appreciated! For news of upcoming books and giveaways, you can find me here:
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If you’ve made it this far, then wow!

This book was first written for my own enjoyment. I needed to release a lot of pent up memories, so there are some scenes (scenes of poverty) that really spoke of a dark time in my life.

Rumple is real.

Scarlett is based on someone real.

Nikolai’s personality is stolen from someone I love.

Alina’s inner dialogue reflect many personal journal entries I’ve written in those times.

Everything is sort of a combination of real that I plucked from my life and thrown into a crazy book that is not entirely realistic, of course. But that’s the joy of writing. It’s fiction!

Having lived all around the world, my language is filled with some slang from all kinds of places. For that reason, I don’t like to set a real location in my books. So I leave it up to you and your imagination.

RJ