Sex, Lies & Nikolai (6 page)

“You have Oksana and Ivan –”

“Your idiot sister never showed but promised to be back” – air quotes – “‘lay-tah,’ and Ivan left after I started my shift, and he’s an old man, Benji. You’re putting him through a lot of stress. The last thing I want to do is have him babysit me from customers who pay with pennies and junkies who scream for hot food.”

“We don’t sell hot food.”

“Really?” I retort sarcastically. “Thanks for informing me, Benji. I appreciate it.”

When he doesn’t respond, I glimpse at him and roll my eyes. He has this contrite look on his face. On an attractive guy like him, I’m sure that face works on many women, but on me it makes me want to just claw his eyes out and shove them down his throat.

“Why are you so angry at me, Alina?” he asks softly, his voice wounded.

“I’m angry because you’re ungrateful. You’ve got an uncle like Ivan to give you this job and a roof over your head, and you’re still so stupid you wind up in debt with Nikolai of all people. How does that even happen?”

“I’m shit with money, but I’m trying to fix it,” he argues, looking embarrassed now as he turns to hide his face. “I’m sorry to disappoint you so much. It’s bad enough Ivan won’t even look at me.”

I purse my lips and throw the cups in the trash. I don’t want to soften to the sight of his sad face, but Christ, I get pangs in my chest. As much as I try to be an icy person, it doesn’t work a lot of the time and Benji is annoying as shit, but he’s so fucking infectious it’s hard to hate him for long. Besides, who am I to come down hard on him? It’s not like I’m a shining example of success. I got robbed by my mother, fed my sister pasta and butter for dinner and had to whore my lips out to Nikolai last night for a hundred dollars. Imagine what people would say about me. I’d be the embodiment of disgust for many. I should not beat Benji up about
his
issues.

On a sigh, I pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Benji. I’m just in a mood. It has nothing to do with you and I’ve just taken it out on you.”

“But I shouldn’t have left everything to you.”

“It’s fine. You’re back now. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry, Alina.”

“It’s okay.” I wave it off and forcefully brighten my face for him. “Can you sweep the floor and restock the cigarettes, please?”

His face brightens in return. “I will, lapochka.”

I move back to the front and watch him as he starts to sweep the floor. “This place will sparkle when I’m done,” he promises cheerfully. “You’ll be able to lick the floor and not catch chlamydia, Alina. You hearing me?”

I nod, biting my lip to fight the smile on my face. I did miss the jerk. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t be sceptical. Believe in me.”

“With all my heart I do.”

“I’m going to fucking change this place! I’m going to turn it at all around. You won’t be able to get rid of me by the time I’m done –
oh fuck
!” He drops the broom abruptly and sprints to the backroom.

“Where are you going?” I shout, confused as hell. I’m just about to chase after him when the chime sounds again and I look to the entrance and freeze, the sudden sight of Nikolai like a punch to the chest.

Is it really that time already? I’m stupidly naïve to think he wouldn’t show after last night.

He stands by the open door for a beat, his face turned in my direction. Then he removes his black shades and steps in, his pale blue eyes still on me for a few more seconds before he tears them away and moves to the back of the store. My heart is instantly thumping faster in my chest as I watch him, thinking of nothing else but the kiss last night and how dishevelled his hair looked right before I left.

He grabs an orange juice from the fridge and turns to me, doing that slow confident walk again.

This man is a walking popsicle; you’d lick him everywhere if you could.

I watch him as he unscrews the lid of the bottle. He takes a long gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. It shouldn’t look naughty, but it does. I’m in knots when he gets to me, the sight of his wet lips reminding me of the way I swiped my tongue against them last night.

It had felt so good.

“Very tasty,” he suddenly says, an unusual seriousness in his expression as he closes the juice and slides it to me, a hair away from touching me.

I know he’s not talking about the orange juice. There’s a suppressed side of me that likes that he’s not talking about the orange juice.

I look into his pale blue eyes. “Three dollars and fifty cents,” I tell him, my voice surprisingly steady.

He pulls out his change and takes an absurdly long time sorting through it. He looks at me every couple seconds, his eyes dancing along my face. But just as I question his look for intrigue, it vanishes back to casual.

“Did you make it home without a problem last night?” he quietly asks without looking at me, sliding his change across the counter. His words are not delivered in that confident way I expect.

I nod, thinking he’s just making small talk. “Yes.”

“I should have made sure of it.”

I give him a perplexed look. Nobody’s ever said something like that to me. “Don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself.”

He thinks on my words and then tilts his head to the side. “Of course you can, rybka.”

There’s something odd about his expression as he looks me dead in the eye. An awkward pause follows, and I’m not sure what to say.

“Have you eaten?” he then asks. “There’s more life in you today.”

My cheeks heat at the hint of concern in him. It’s all so bloody foreign to me. “I have.”

“Good.”

Good.

Like it matters to him.

Like he cares that I’ve eaten. Why would he when he was so quick to refuse me a loan?

I feel awkward about this whole thing. He knows I ate because of his charity, and I feel like I’d be a bitch if I don’t acknowledge that. Loan or not, he helped me.

I nervously squeeze the fake gem around my necklace before I finally say, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he has the audacity to ask. Maybe he likes making me uncomfortable, but judging by the seriousness in his voice I think he genuinely wants to know.

“For the money,” I whisper very quietly, conscious of the fact Benji is not far off and I don’t want him to hear me.

He doesn’t respond; he just studies me, his expression masterfully concealed. It makes me regret the words instantly.

I count the change – always exact – and bag his juice. I give it to him and he takes it from me, but his hand runs down my wrist when he does. It’s a quick move, but he touches me just the same. My mouth parts as I look at him, knowing I won’t get an answer from those indecipherable eyes.

“My receipt,” Nikolai reminds me.

My brain is mush. I don’t know how I forgot it. I hand him the receipt and he takes it, deliberately brushing his fingers against mine.

He’s touching me for a reason, I can feel it. I just don’t know why, but it’s making every inch of me come alive. Like last night, I’m sensitive to the slightest touch, like my skin is thirsty for it. He watches my face closely, and I feel utterly transparent.

“You shouldn’t thank me,” he then tells me. “You earned it, and it was worth every penny.”

I don’t respond to that. I’m all tongue-tied and stupid. I look like a mute, nodding stiffly at him while my cheeks burst in flames. I hate him for this effect on me. For making me feel this way in general.

What is it about you Nikolai that makes me squirm when you look at me?

“Don’t come back to my store again, rybka,” he then adds. “Not unless it’s daytime and you have something to give.”

I’m taken aback, and confused. “What could I possibly have to give?”

“It’s a pawn shop. You give me something, I pay. Think about it carefully.”

“I’ve got nothing of value.”

He tilts his head to the side again, and I wish more than anything to understand that expression on his face. “Figure it out.”

I stare at him blankly. Because, again, I’m stupid.

“You can find me there in the afternoons,” he continues. “My men will take you straight to my office. When you want something from me, that’s where I’ll be.”

When
I want something from him
.
Why is he so confident I’ll be back in his store again?

“You made it clear you won’t give me a loan,” I say, perplexedly.

He nods, agreeing. “That’s right.”

I stand up straighter and steadfastly reply, “Then I don’t want anything from you.” Not your lips, nor your pennies.

He takes a step back and throws his shades back on. With a hidden smile, he says, “Maybe you will.”

I won’t. I have no intention of ever returning there. I already feel humiliated all over again for kissing him for money. I think he catches my train of thought because of the way my eyes flicker to his lips. I look away when he notices, hating the aura of intimidation he possesses. It’s almost ridiculous. I wouldn’t have believed such a thing existed had I never met him.

“Tell Ivan I want to talk to him,” he tells me. “And tell Benji in the back room to grow some balls before he runs from me again.”

I don’t respond. I look anywhere but at him, waiting for his departure. I’m eager for him to be gone – this shop is too suffocating when he’s in it.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he softly adds, “You look beautiful today.”

My skin heats even more and my lips part as my eyes connect with his. They’re so fiery blue and tender looking. Why couldn’t I have had this face to look into last night?

“Thank you,” I say, and it feels strange to thank a man for complimenting me. I’m certain it’s never happened this way.

His smile is soft when he adds, “Do svidanya, rybka.”

With that he turns and walks out. Of course I watch him. I am absolutely entranced by his movements, by his intimidating demeanour, by his sharp face and strong tatted hands.

It’s purely chemical, I know that, but Nikolai drives me needy in a way I have never felt before. The kiss only makes it more acute, like the need is tangible somehow. I don’t like it at all, but then I do. It’s confusing just as it is infuriating.

Benji comes out seconds later, staring in the same direction as me, appearing baffled. “What was that all about?” he asks, and he sounds more accusatory than curious.

I shrug, concealing my face from him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You went to his shop. I heard him. What were you doing there?”

“Nothing.”

“Asking for money?”

“Nothing, Benji.” I say it more edgily.

He sighs, letting off a string of curses in Russian. “Stay away from Nikolai Sokolov, Alina. He is a fucking madman. His family is all mafia, lapochka. Why do you think I’m hiding? I can’t face him. He’ll either bury me or beat me with his fists. You know they say he’s made of steel, don’t you? There are scars under this tattoos, and you know what they stand for? Death, Alina.
Death
. Stay away, huh?”

I don’t respond, not even to assure him that I have no intentions of going near Nikolai.

Truth is, I know all those things about Nikolai are true. He’s got this look on his face, the kind you know has seen things and done things. My instincts tell me to stay far away from him and I intend to, but still. He thrills me, no matter how wrong it is to like that. I haven’t pinpointed the reason behind it, either. Aren’t you supposed to get to know a man before you want to be owned by him? If that’s the case, it’s not working for me. It’s not even been a couple dozen hours since he ravaged me with his lips and I’ve already been brain fucked by him in every position possible.

“If you’re desperate for money, go to Natasha,” Benji continues.

“And wind up in jail?” I retort, tearing my eyes away from the entrance door.

“Franko takes care of her. She doesn’t fuck the men, either. Girl is clean.”

There’s no way I’m going to Natasha. I can’t even believe we’re talking about this right now. “I’m not going to her.”

“I thought you two were close.”

We were very close. The closest friends possible. But then Scarlett came into this world and I had to steal formula and feed a baby instead of getting fucked up with Natasha. Not that she’s a bad person. She’s one of the best I know, but we were very wayward back then. Now she’s struggling to make ends meet for her sick mother, and we’ve drifted apart.

“She’ll get you in with him,” Benji adds. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“Franko’s a thug,” I tell him.

“But he takes care of her,” he repeats, stressing the point. “Just think about it. I’d choose Franko over Nikolai any day.”

“Then why did you go to Nikolai when you could have gone to him?”

He grins mischievously. “And seduce men? I don’t think Franco would have had much confidence in me.”

Franko gives me the creeps, but I don’t tell him that. I don’t like talking about this anymore. I turn away and pretend to busy myself. “Let’s get back to work, Benji.”