15. Nikolai
FIFTEEN
Nikolai
Distract her , Konstantin had told me.
Not that I have a lot of ideas on how to do that, but it’s a Saturday where Konstantin is trying to conduct business and we don’t want Sierra hanging around the house to hear shouting.
“What did you do in your free time before all this?” I ask Sierra. She’s sitting at her desk in her room, doing homework or studying or maybe trying to get more leads on her father’s missing weapons.
She swivels the chair toward me.
“I didn’t have much free time,” she admits. “I’ve had a heavy course load these past few years. But when I’m not studying or whatever, I’m usually hanging out with friends.” She offers a small, wistful smile. “I’ve been trying to catch up with people, but after I disappeared…” The smile fades. “Guess you figure out who your real friends are, right?”
Her phone pings, and she picks it up and taps on it. I can’t see what she types in as her passcode, and I swallow back the urge to demand that she give it to me. Whatever she sees makes her scowl, and she tosses it aside onto the desk.
“What’s that?” I ask curiously.
Sierra shakes her head. “Nothing important,” she says dismissively. “Just spam.”
From her strong reaction, I doubt it’s spam, but I don’t call her out on it. She’s been surprisingly good at not pressing about what’s going on between me, Yuri, and Konstantin, and if I start to push her, I have a feeling she’ll push back.
She’s going to find out the truth sooner or later, but I don’t want to be the one to spill the beans. She’ll probably blame the messenger, and I don’t want that to be me.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” I ask her. “I was thinking…” Fuck, I don’t know what to do with her to get her out of the house. I try to think fast, then I remember her strong reaction to the red heels when I’d been photographing her. “You could use some new shoes, right?”
Sierra instantly perks up at that, and I mentally cheer at myself for coming up with the right thing to say. That’ll occupy her for at least a little while, and even though it sounds boring to watch her try on shoes, I can always play on my phone. Then I can take her out to eat, and by the time we’re done with all of that, Konstantin should be done.
“As long as I can buy everything I want, and you carry it,” she says.
I have a feeling I’m going to regret this idea, but she’s already latched onto it. “Sure,” I say. “You can get something comfortable to wear.”
She snorts. “Shoes aren’t made to be comfortable,” she informs me as she gets up. “They’re meant to look good.”
I look down at my boots. “They can be both,” I reply.
Women really are ridiculous.
“Besides, you’ll want something for when—” I begin, but when she narrows her eyes at me, I stop before I mention the pregnancy progressing. “Okay. Get dressed, and let’s go.”
Sierra has developed quite the wardrobe since arriving here, and it takes her a long time to go through her clothing to decide what to wear. I eye her phone, wishing I could go through it and find out what had bothered her, but we’re trying to give her at least a little space.
Why, I’m not really sure, but I guess it’s more important that she comes to us willingly now—especially when shit goes down. Hopefully, she’ll remember that we tried to respect her, or some other bullshit.
I remember the way those women looked in the container.
I don’t want Sierra to ever look at me like that.
When she finally finishes getting dressed and puts on a pair of stylish but apparently uncomfortable shoes, she grabs her phone and shoves it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Ready?” she asks, like I was the one who was taking forever.
“Sure.” I take a quick detour to my room to grab my wallet and keys, then we head out of the mansion.
I’m not like Yuri, who likes speed and danger, and the car I drive is modest enough to look at. Expensive as hell, with all the latest gadgets and gear, but even so. Sometimes we need something that at least tries to blend in, and I don’t need a red sports car to feed my ego.
I open the passenger door for her with a grand gesture, feeling the need to spoil her because I’m not sure how much longer she’s going to let me.
Sierra gives me a weird look, but she gets into the car and puts her seatbelt on.
“Got a specific place in mind?” I ask as I drive us out of the neighborhood.
“Yeah. My favorite shoe store.” Sierra gets quieter. “It’s downtown though. On Blitz Avenue.”
I sigh, because of course her favorite shoe store would be one of the high end luxury stores. It’s not like we can’t afford it, though.
Her phone pings another two times while on the drive, but she doesn’t check it. I can see her debating leaving it in the car when we get out, but she puts it in her purse with a shake of her head.
“I can’t believe you have a favorite shoe store,” I say as we walk toward the store.
She blinks at me. “Why wouldn’t I have a favorite shoe store? Don’t you have a favorite site to use for all of your… ah… toys?”
I scoff. “You don’t buy monsterfucker dildos at one place from one person,” I tell her, ignoring the strange look I get from someone passing by even as Sierra winces. “There are a lot of indie shops that do different things. Commercial sites are boring, and they steal ideas from other places.”
“I didn’t realize that was something you’d be passionate about,” she remarks.
“Anyway, can’t you get the same shoes from a bunch of different places? They take the same shoe and slap a different label on it.” I laugh at her horrified expression.
“That’s not… You just… You don’t…” she sputters. “That’s counterfeiting!”
I open the door for her, ushering her through. “Uh-huh,” I say, not convinced. “It still sounds like a good strategy to me, instead of wasting all that money on shoes.”
“What else am I going to waste my money on?” Sierra retorts, smiling absently at the clerk—who looks like she wants to approach but thinks better of it when I shoot her a steady glare. Sierra elbows me. “Be nice,” she mutters.
“It’s technically Kotya’s money,” I point out.
“Even better,” she says tartly, before going to the clerk. “Hi, Mindy. Are there any new shoes I should take a look at?”
The clerk glances at me nervously, then turns her attention back to Sierra. “Of course, Ms. Winters. The spring collection came in last week, and there are some sandals that I think would suit you well. I could box the whole collection up and charge it to your account, if you’d like?”
Sierra’s smile freezes, but she recovers after a beat. “Sure, I’ll take the collection,” she says. “My boyfriend is going to cover it, though.” She bats her eyelashes at me.
I’m just the one holding Konstantin’s credit card, but I’ll take the somewhat warm feeling that comes from her calling me her boyfriend—even though I don’t understand it. “You’re going to bankrupt me,” I grumble like it’s actually my money she’s spending.
I have no idea what an entire collection is going to cost in a high-end shop like this, but right now, I have a feeling Konstantin would give her anything she wants to keep her distracted. She’ll probably want to wear the shoes out to show them off, which means more opportunities to keep her out.
“Sure!” Mindy chirps. “Give me a few moments. You can try them on to make sure they fit to your liking.”
“Amazing,” Sierra says with a more genuine smile. She elbows me in the side. “You’re lucky. This means I don’t have to go through the whole store to find something new that I like.” She frowns at me. “Do you think I can go home and get my collection there at some point?” Her words are cautious, and I know she’s remembering what I am to her: one of her captors.
I don’t want her thinking of me that way.
I don’t want her hollow-eyed and despondent.
“Yeah,” I say. “We can hire some movers to bring all your stuff over.”
She doesn’t really need more than what Konstantin has bought her, but I’m in this to make her happy.
Mindy returns with a pair of sandals. They’re blue, and they have a small heel and some extra decorative bits that I can’t make sense of.
“These are the most popular item in the new line,” Mindy says, holding the pair out to Sierra. “Try them on, see if you like the blue. There’s a gold variant too.”
Sierra takes them, heading over to a nearby bench and pulling on a weird-looking pair of ankle-high stocking things. She starts to slide the sandal onto her foot, but she frowns down at it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She pulls the sandal off, checking the size, and shakes her head. She looks baffled. “This is my size. I’m not sure why it’s not fitting.”
Mindy hurries to take the shoe from her. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Winters,” she says. “This one must run small. I’ll get you the next size up, if you’d like?” She looks like she really is upset, and she probably is. I bet she has a hefty commission on the line.
“Sure,” Sierra says. “Bring the gold in that other size too, please?”
“Right away,” Mindy says, hurrying off.
Sierra stares down at her feet. “That’s definitely my size,” she mutters. “And I really doubt the manufacturer labeled them wrong.” Tears well up in her eyes. “Fuck. My clothes are starting to be a little too tight, and now I can’t even manage the right sized shoes?”
I stare helplessly at her, not sure how to comfort her through something like this. “I…”
Mindy comes back with the pairs of shoes—one blue and one gold—and she looks in dismay at Sierra. “Ms. Winters?” she asks tentatively, glancing between us like she isn’t sure whether it’s my fault. “Can I get you some water?”
Sierra wipes at her eyes and shakes her head. “No. It’s…” She gnaws on her bottom lip for a moment before blurting out, “I’m pregnant.”
Mindy’s eyes go wide, and she looks even more uncomfortable. “I’m… Congratulations?” she tries, though she doesn’t sound sure that that’s the right answer.
Sierra nods. “Thank you. My feet…”
Mindy looks more sympathetic, and she nods. “Sometimes pregnant women say their feet get a little bigger. Not much,” she quickly adds when she sees Sierra’s expression.
“Is it… permanent?” Sierra asks, and she looks absolutely devastated.
Fuck.
Mindy shakes her head. “I don’t know. Sometimes women say they go back, and sometimes they don’t. I might have some more comfortable?—”
“I don’t need comfortable shoes!” Sierra interrupts, tears starting to spill down her cheeks.
Fuck.
The poor clerk looks like she is going to cry.
“I’ve got it,” I tell Mindy, who flashes me a grateful look before fleeing back to the front desk.
I really don’t have it, but I somehow don’t think Sierra will want the clerk to see her break down.
“Oh, god,” Sierra whimpers. “Fuck.”
I also intuit that she is not going to react well if I tell her “it’s just shoes,” so I don’t say that. Score one for Nikolai Bacurin.
“We can buy more shoes,” I tell her. “Prettier shoes. Better shoes.” I wonder how long she’s going to be stubborn about not wanting comfortable shoes.
Sierra wipes again at her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “That’s… That’s the first time I’ve told anyone,” she whispers to me. “It’s like it’s real. God, Nikolai, I don’t want it to be real.”
I am absolutely not equipped to deal with this.
I stare helplessly at her, trying to figure out what to say to keep her from breaking down even more. “I know, zaya,” I say. That’s a start, because it’s true. I do know she doesn’t want to be pregnant. I also know it isn’t her choice—not this time, and it won’t be her choice the next time Konstantin decides to knock her up.
I don’t say that aloud, though.
“But I’m proud of you,” I tell her.
She scoffs at me. “For what? Scaring off poor Mindy? Crying in public?”
All right, so maybe there’s not really anything I can say I’m proud of beyond her finally admitting it to someone else—maybe even admitting it to herself, too.
“You’re doing really well,” I try.
Her phone pings from her purse, and she groans. “For fuck’s sake, not right now,” she groans.
I quirk a brow at her, confused and interested all at once.
Sierra shakes her head. “You get to keep your secrets. I get to keep mine,” she says, and I wince. She’s not going to let me push on this, either, even though I want to.
I kneel down in front of her and take her foot into my hands. It doesn’t look any bigger than before, but what’s half a shoe size? I rub her ankle before taking the sized up sandal and putting it on her foot. This one fits properly, and I have to admit it’s a nicer design than the red hooker heels I’d made her wear during the photo shoot.
“You look good in these,” I say, glancing up at her.
Sierra’s looking around the store, distracted. “This is where I met Silvano Cresci for the first time.”
I blink at the non-sequitur. “Really? You happened to be shopping at the same store?”
“He was stalking my brother,” Sierra says, like that makes perfect sense. “I didn’t mind him. I know I was supposed to hate him then, like I hate him now, but he was charming. And even then, I knew they were together.” She sighs, picking up the other shoe. “I guess I’ll size up the whole collection and take it home. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
I nod and help her get her old shoes back on—which, in my opinion, look a lot more comfortable than the sandals. We head to the counter, and Sierra glumly tells Mindy the new address to ship everything to.
“Enjoy the new shoes,” Mindy says as she types in the information. She gives Sierra an awkward smile. “I can send along some store recommendations for other clothes, too? For, um, the coming months.”
Sierra’s shoulders slump, but she nods. “Yeah. That’d be nice. I guess.”
I elbow her in the side.
She shoots an annoyed look in my direction, but she tells Mindy, “Thank you.”
Mindy nods. “You’re welcome.”
Sierra is quiet as we leave. “I was going to make you carry them,” she says.
“You were also going to get a few pairs, not an entire collection,” I retort. “Come on. There’s a restaurant nearby that I’ve heard is amazing.”
I lead her in the direction of it, and there’s a strange look on her face as we approach. “Here?” she asks.
I nod, feeling puzzled. “Is there a problem with it? Is it bad?”
She sighs. “No. It’s really good. It’s… Remember me talking about Silvano stalking Kyran to the store? This is where we went for lunch after. A lot of memories, that’s all.”
I don’t know if they’re particularly good ones with how she’s acting. “We can go somewhere else—” I start to say, but I stop short when I recognize a man heading in our direction.
When I recognize my father heading in our direction.
Motherfucker.
“Uh, let’s go the other way,” I say, taking Sierra’s arm and turning around.
Unfortunately, my father already spotted us. “Kolya! Kolya!” he shouts.
I try to keep walking, but he catches up to us.
“Kolya, there you are,” my father says. “I thought I’d never find you in this…” He wrinkles his nose as he looks around.
“Kolya?” Sierra asks, looking between us.
I sigh. “It’s the nickname for Nikolai, but we’ve already got…” I trail off, because there’s no way I want my father to know that I call my boss Kotya like we’re extremely intimate. Not even Kostya, which would still be weird for a subordinate to call Konstantin. I should really be calling him Konstantin Igorevich , properly formal and everything. “Anyway. Sierra, this is my father, Vasily Bacurin.”
Sierra tenses at my side. She doesn’t know anything about my father, but she’s smart enough to be wary of anyone in this world. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bacurin,” she says politely.
My father looks at Sierra with narrowed eyes. “Who’s this? You didn’t say you had a woman.”
“She’s…” I scowl. “You told me to date someone else’s girlfriend. So I am,” I say, practically daring him to make a snide comment about that.
Sierra doesn’t comment, which I’m silently thankful for, though I have no idea how long she’ll hold her tongue.
He glances past us at the shoe store we’d come out of. “You date somebody else’s woman so you don’t have to spend money on her!” he says with a scoff.
I almost snap that it’s not my money I’m spending, but I don’t want to open up that line of conversation. “Why are you here?” I ask instead. This is hardly the kind of place I’d expect him to show up in, which means he was fucking following me.
The question is why.
“I was shopping, for me,” my father says, standing up straighter. Pedestrians brush past us, annoyed that we’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to have this chat.
“You don’t shop here,” I say.
“Why not? I like good suits.” He points across the street to one of the expensive suit stores.
Sierra lets out a small huff. “My brother used to buy suits there. They’re good quality.”
“Used to?” my father demands suspiciously. “Why’d he stop? Did quality go down?”
I grimace and pull Sierra closer to me. “He moved out of town.” I really don’t want to talk to my father right now, but I can see the curiosity in Sierra’s eyes.
“My brother finally learned that the suits didn’t, ha, suit him.” She smiles at my father. “But I bet you’d look amazing in one of theirs, sir. ”
My father preens and looks at her properly. “That’s right. You have an eye for these things, girl? Maybe I should have you help me pick the right one.”
“I don’t think so,” I say with a scowl. The last thing I want is for her and my father to be around each other any longer than necessary.
“I would love to,” Sierra says, ignoring me entirely. “You just need to tell them if it’s for a wedding or a party or for day-to-day use, preferred colors and style, and they’ll get you situated.”
Realizing she’s not going to let this go, I let out an annoyed sigh. “Fine. We can go suit shopping.”
“Maybe Kolya should buy himself suit too,” my father says as he takes Sierra’s arm. “He always wears trash.”
I don’t like him touching her at all, and I stare hard at their linked arms for a moment before I shake myself out of it.
Sierra lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t know. I think he cleans up nice. But maybe a new suit wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“I can get a new suit,” I say sullenly. “Maybe if you pick it out, it won’t be so bad.”
“At least we know which shoe size fits you,” Sierra says, and I get the feeling this might be revenge.
We head over to the suit store, and it’s one of those places where the prices aren’t listed and you need an appointment—which my father already has, somehow.
“When you’re done with me, maybe you can get my good-for-nothing son something decent too,” my father says to the clerk.
I grit my teeth against the irony of it all. Last time I’d seen him, he’d been in a ratty shirt and dirty sweats, exhaling cigarette smoke into my face. He’s at least cleaned up, but he’s not any better than I am.
“He’s good for a few things,” Sierra interjects, smiling blandly. “But he hasn’t told me much about you, sir. You immigrated from Russia?”
My father laughs and pats Sierra’s arm. “Of course he hasn’t talked about me. Kolya’s ashamed of his Russian papa. That’s why he barely speaks language, too. Thinks he’s too good for it.”
I glare at the hand touching Sierra’s arm. Now he’s the one trying to get a rise out of me, seeing how much he can get away with before I step in. If I don’t, I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say about how much of a pussy I am for letting him paw at my girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
It still seems so fucking weird.
I realize they’ve continued to talk while I stewed, but I have no idea what they were saying. Probably more smack talk about me, so it might be good I wasn’t paying attention because I’m already getting increasingly pissed off.
The clerk appears with several suits in hand, and ushers my father into the changing room. Sierra sits down on the soft couch for viewers and pulls out her phone.
I lean down and hiss, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Sierra glares at me. “Being sociable. You didn’t mention your father was so…” She trails off.
“So what?” I ask.
Before she can answer, my father appears again, wearing a gray, three-piece suit. I have to do a double-take, because I barely recognize him.
Maybe I can see why my mother fell into his trap.
“That looks excellent on you!” Sierra chirps as she studies him. “Is this for a special occasion?”
My father laughs. “Something like that. An old friend is visiting soon, and if I’m going to show him New Bristol, I have to do it in style.”
Sierra nods along. “Oh, I absolutely agree. My brother always says that there’s no reason not to always look your best.”
Is she talking about Kyran? From what I know of the Winters—well, Cresci—bruiser, he doesn’t seem like the type to say something like that at all. Maybe the older brother, then, the one in jail. Sean?
“There’s always a place for less formal clothes,” I interject, still feeling sullen. It’s like I’m not even here.
Sierra glances toward me. “I guess some people prefer comfort over style.”
My father bursts out laughing. “Another thing that’s wrong with him.”
My cheeks turn hot at the mockery, and I grit my teeth so I don’t snap at him.
My father turns around to show the back of the suit jacket to Sierra. “What do you think, sweetheart?”
“You look very dapper, sir,” Sierra says. “I see where Nikolai got his dashing good looks from.”
She’s still not getting out of this unscathed. When I tell Konstantin she flirted with my father, he’ll surely let me spank her or something. It won’t hurt the baby.
“I got my looks from my mother,” I mutter.
My father catches that and grits his teeth. “If only your mother had cared enough to stick around.”
Sierra clears her throat, looking pointedly at the clerk—who’s trying to pretend he’s not listening to the family drama as it unfolds. “Did you want to get a new suit, too, Nikolai? While we’re here?”
“No,” I say flatly. She gives me a disapproving look, and I add, “We don’t have a lot of time, and it’s fair that I book my own appointment instead of stealing the spotlight from my father.”
“He probably can’t afford a suit here, anyway,” my father says. Then he smiles at Sierra. “If you ever need somebody to spoil you, sweetheart…”
Sierra laughs awkwardly. “Oh, I couldn’t—” Her phone buzzes, cutting her off. She pulls it out of her purse this time, and after a brief scowl, she says, “Hmm. I need to get going. But maybe I get your number? And your email address, if you have one?”
I stare at her, incredulous. “Sierra?—”
She gives me a look, then turns back to my father with a warm smile. “I’d be happy to help you out with anything fashion-related in the future. I have a knack for it. You should see the shoes I picked out earlier!”
My father happily exchanges phone numbers with her, tapping his phone against hers to instantly send their contact information. I didn’t even think he understood technology that well.
Sierra coos over him a little bit more before excusing herself. I watch her head toward the door, then I turn to my father.
“Don’t even think about it,” I growl. “She’s younger than I am! And taken!”
My father’s expression gets colder. “Somebody else’s woman, was she?” Then he shakes his head. “Be careful with her, Kolya. I don’t think she’s as vapid as she’s pretending.”
Yeah. I was afraid he’d catch that.
She’s playing with fire, and she’s going to get burned. It’s a sobering thought, one that dashes my anger immediately.
“She’s just a gold digger,” I growl at him. “You know how crafty they are. She’s probably thinking your bank account has a few more zeros than mine does, that’s all.”
He scoffs and waves me away. “Get out of here so I can finish trying on my suits in peace.”
I glare at him for another moment, then reluctantly follow Sierra toward the door.
She’s standing outside, her phone still out, but I can tell she’s not paying attention to it.
“What the fuck was that?” I hiss, grabbing her arm hard.
“You’re hurting me, Kolya ,” she says calmly.
I release her arm, but I push her in the direction of the car. “Let’s get out of here before you get any other bright ideas. Do you have any idea?—”
“It really is a lovely day,” she interrupts me. “That’s why so many people are out and about. Let’s enjoy the weather and chat in the car.”
My father’s words burn in my ears. No, she’s not vapid at all, and she’s entirely too smart for her own good.
“Fine. Let’s go home.”
Konstantin had better appreciate me taking her out and keeping her busy—and next time, it’s absolutely Yuri’s turn.