I stare at him, not knowing how to take this. “I’m not…I’m not yours to protect.”
“You and I both know this is not true,” he immediately answers, his expression softening. “I will protect you and baby. I will protect you always.”
And of course, he looks deep in my eyes.
Okay, did I say this guy played to conquer? Make that melt.
He melts me. And even though I know what’s right, what’s entirely rational and logical, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to withstand this.
Chapter Seventeen
With taxes pushed back due to the virus, I have a lot more time to study for my June exam than I thought I would. A few of my clients diligently file on April 15th—mostly the ones who stand to get something back. But most of them put it off. And I get the feeling what should have been an early April swamp won’t happen until after I take my test in early June.
Surprisingly, Cheslav and I fall into a comfortable routine. Every morning we record ourselves doing Just Dance. Though, I’ve ordered cuter workout outfits to cover up my expanding belly. Also, solid colors look better on video, according to Cheslav’s PR team.
After that, I work until Vlad comes in with lunch. He’s staying in one of the downstairs bedrooms and seems to be exclusively on meal pickup these days.
After lunch, I study until the words begin to swim. By that time, Cheslav’s usually done with his second workout of the day. And he always has something he wants us to do together. Sometimes it’s binging a show like Tiger King. Sometimes it’s “American board game I order. We do not have it in Russia as kid. You will teach me to play, da?” Sometimes when I come back out to the living room after hours of studying, he’s sitting on the room’s balcony. Watching the ocean with a sad look on his face.
“Everything okay?” I asked the first time I found him like this.
“I am bored and a little sad,” he answered. “But everything is better now that you’re here, krasotka.”
Then he pulled me down into his lap and held me while we watched the ocean.
And whenever I found him out on the balcony after that, I simply slipped into his lap. No questions asked.
One day, during the third week of quarantine, I come out after studying and find him at the formal dining table with a puzzle spread out in front of him.
“What’s all this?” I ask, picking up the top of the puzzle box. It has a cute-to-death picture of Baby Yoda on it.
“Puzzle,” he answers, gathering all the green pieces. “I did not do puzzle in Russia as kid. You will have to…”
“I know, I know,” I answer with a laugh as I take a seat on the other side of the table. “I’ll have to teach you. The first and most important lesson is to always start with the frame.”
“Not green face?” he asks over his pile of Baby Yoda pieces.
“I mean, maybe do that second, but the frame is like the spine of the whole thing. Once you get that in place, the rest of the puzzle feels doable.”
“I see,” he says with a smirk. “It is like metaphor for our relationship. Right now, we build frame. Later on, we fill it with all the good pieces. Like wedding and babies.”
“Babies?” I repeat, widening my eyes at his plural.
“You think I want just one? I can’t imagine life without my baby brother growing up. He is my best friend.”
My stomach twists with a weird emotion, thinking about Cheslav and the brother he calls every day.
“What are you thinking about?” Cheslav asks me. “Why do you have sad look on your face.”
Usually, I’d suppress the feelings and just move on. I don’t even talk about my relationship with my brother with Cynda and Gina. But the quarantine has me feeling a little crazy. Or maybe it’s because Cheslav’s a virtual stranger. I find myself willing to tell him things I’ve never told anyone else.
“I don’t have nearly the same relationship with my brother,” I confess. “He was already showing great promise as a football player by the time he was eight. So I can’t remember when it didn’t feel like I was basically his servant.”
I fiddle with one of the puzzle’s end pieces as memories of a childhood spent in my brother’s shadow wash over me. “My mom named him after the Clemson University Tigers even before she knew he had what it took to play the sport professionally. And many of my early memories consisted of being told I had to be quiet because Clemson needed his sleep for practice. Later on, when I was in junior high, I was expected to do all the household chores by myself because Clem was the one with the big football career in front of him. The one being scouted by colleges. And when money was tight, my dance lessons were the first thing to go. I once couldn’t do a show I had spent two semesters rehearsing for, because my mom had to decide between new cleats for Clem and my dance class tuition.”
I stare down at the end piece in my hands. “I was the one who took care of my mom when she got sick. But her last words to me weren’t thank you. She told me to take care of my brother. Like I didn’t even matter. Like she expected my life to continue to revolve around his forever.”
Cheslav sneers. And I rub my arm self-consciously. He probably thinks I’m an idiot for complaining about coming in second to a professional football player.
“I know what you’re thinking. Dance and football are two totally different trajectories. And only a spoiled brat would feel resentful that her passion wasn’t valued as highly as her brother’s. I love my mother. She did the best she could as a single woman raising two kids on a security guard’s salary. I shouldn’t be upset.”
Cheslav scrunches his brow and hurt flashes across his face. “That is not what I was thinking at all, krasotka. I am only admiring you. You had hard life, and your family did not properly appreciate you. But you stay generous and kind. Even to awful Russian blackmailer like me.”
My cheeks warm, remembering how I called him that before I stormed out of his penthouse. And I find myself telling him the truth. “I don’t think you’re so awful now. This time together has been…nice. A lot nicer than I expected.”
“I agree, krasotka.” His eyes darken. “And as soon as our thirty days’ trial is done, I will be even nicer to you. All night long.”
Sex, the elephant in the room that neither of us has brought up. Until now.
Forget my cheeks, my whole face is burning up.
“So what did you and Vladimir do for fun back in Russia if not puzzles and board games?” I ask him, determined to change the subject.
“Last century, we Rustanovs maybe not so good family. We are very successful criminals until Alexei, the head of our family, decided to take our organization in different direction. Clean direction or how-you-say-it…legitimate direction.”
Whoa, maybe Cynda had it right after all…. “So you’re saying the Rustanovs were basically mafia until your cousin decided you guys needed to go legitimate?”
“Yes,” he answers with a nod. “My guard Vlad is leftover from the old Rustanov family. He has been with me since we were boys, understand? Kind of like half-nanny, half-bodyguard. Before I was born, the Rustanovs were only partly in legitimate business world, and we had many enemies. Now we are all in, and we still have many enemies. However, we retaliate with things like forced mergers and hostile takeovers, not enforcers. And the boy children born of my generation are given two choices: business or hockey. Fortunately, my brother and I liked hockey very much, and we were, like many Rustanovs, very good at it.”