10. Collison
Chapter ten
Collison
T atianna sat on the ground for less than thirty seconds when one of her siblings jumped down the stairs, wanting all the sordid details of her encounter with Yakov Morozov, but Tatianna sprung to her feet and ran up the stairs. She sat on her bed now, staring sightlessly at the ground, feeling her lips because she could still taste the mint and nicotine that had been left behind. His touch was like a fire, spreading deeper into her gut.
She was gonna lose the fight.
Tatianna stood. She couldn’t let Yakov devour her, not from a stupid, passionate, erotic kiss. She wasn’t so pathetic to let physical wants kill all her drive.
After getting dressed, she hopped in the car. Her father wanted to know what had happened and asked her where she was going, but she drove away without looking in the mirror. She drove aimlessly, chewing on her nails, trying to fight the thoughts in her head, but eventually, she found herself pulling up to Fedor’s estate. All the lights flooded the property. It was beautiful and better kept. Demir Utkins had expensive taste, but that came with a price tag. Fedor had revealed to her just the other day that he was going bankrupt. He’d have to get rid of the property and find something more affordable.
She banged on the wooden door and all too soon, Fedor answered. He was in his pajamas, his initials on the front of his silk maroon clothes. “Tati?” He looked back at the grandfather clock against the wall. “It’s nearly midnight. What are you doing here?”
Tatianna threw herself at him. Her lips were desperate to feel something other than Yakov. He caught her in surprise, his hands gentle on her hips as he laughed into her mouth. “What is going on?” he questioned through her kisses. But he shut the door regardless and twisted her toward the living room. He smiled into her, adoring her touch. He kissed down her neck, holding her close to feel her breasts pressed against his chest.
Tatianna turned them around when they approached the couch, and she pushed him on the cushions, quickly straddling his waist with her knees. He held her close, watching every move she was making.
“What has gotten into you?”
“I want you,” she panted against his neck, her fingers traveling under his shirt to feel the layers of his abs.
“God, I want you too.” He had her lips tangled with his, his body shivering from every touch. But as her hand lowered to his groin, he stopped her, holding her hands tight against his chest. “We are less than two months out.”
Tatianna shook her head. “I don’t want to wait.”
Fedor clenched his teeth, resting his forehead against hers. “Don’t say that. It will kill me.”
Tatianna twisted her hand out of his and moved it to cup her breast. He moaned and licked his lips, his head falling back against the couch as he cursed.
“Come on, Fedor. I can feel you.” She wiggled her hips against his erection and watched his mouth drop open. “We don’t have to wait.”
With effort, Fedor pulled Tatianna’s leg and sat her next to him. He took a deep breath, ignoring her look of outrage. He kept his head down and explained, “I can’t dishonor your family like that. Your father trusts me.”
The rejection was a slap in the face. She stared bug-eyed, unsure where to go from here. She was embarrassed and full of pent-up desire that turned into shame.
Fedor grabbed her hand. “Tati, we agreed on this together, don’t you remember?”
To hurt him like he hurt her, she stated, “I saw you with another girl.” There wasn’t any malice in her words. She was empty at this moment, unsure what to feel. But she wanted him to know. She didn’t watch his reaction, if there was one, but she could hear the sudden desperation in his voice. It annoyed her.
“I didn’t have sex with her, I swear to you.”
She nodded, uninterested. She would call Fedor a liar if he was any other man, but she knew him.
“I’m sorry I let it go as far as it did. It won’t ever happen again.”
Tatianna looked at him finally. He sat depressed like a beaten puppy. “As long as you are friends with Yakov Morozov, it’s going to happen again.”
“You’re right,” Fedor agreed. “He’s a bad influence. But he can help my family. He’s taken an interest in our operation with our production of vodka. He wants to finance our distribution to America. That could save my estate. Everything I have.”
“And what does he want in return?”
“It’s business, darling. I don’t expect you to understand. But Mr. Morozov knows what he’s doing.”
“Did you say that over your father’s grave?”
Fedor stood. “That’s not fair.”
“He killed your father!”
“My father was draining him.” Fedor snapped back. It was odd to see anger in him, but she wanted it. Tatianna wanted to see something other than his love. Fedor stepped back. “You know he wasn’t a good man, Tati. I miss him and am glad he’s gone in the same sentence. My mother was fourteen when he raped her. She was disowned by her parents and now lives as a whore. I can help her, but only if I have money. And what about you? I cannot allow you to have anything less than you deserve.” Fedor paced, fiddling with his thick beard. “If Yakov Morozov is good for my pockets, then I will be on his side. It is really none of your business who I talk to, and I certainly don’t like you questioning me.”
Tatianna got to her feet and stepped up to him. “Why? Because I’m a girl, so I must not understand?”
Fedor came to her with his hands on her arms. “I know you are smarter than me, Tati. I’ve always known. You read novels and poetry and have such opinions about things I have never thought about. It is what I love about you. And I have loved you for a very long time. I think from the moment I met you when I was fifteen, I wanted to marry you. I’m telling you this because even though you are smart, I am smart in a different way. Business is what I know. What I was bred to do.”
A tear dripped down her cheek.
He cupped her face, wiping the wetness from her skin as he rested his forehead on hers. “Please don’t be angry at me for denying you. I don’t do it lightly. I’ve saved myself for you, just as you have for me. And on our wedding night, when you are officially my wife, I will make it up to you. I promise.” Fedor kissed her gently. He nudged her with his nose, squatting down to get her beautiful eyes on him. When a smile finally pulled at her lips, he embraced her. “Once you are my wife and we have a child, you won’t feel so bored.”
“I’m not bored,” she fought lamely.
“Most of your poor decisions come from boredom. How many times have you gotten us in trouble with your ridiculous shenanigans? I thought you were going to get a job. What happened to that?”
“My father wouldn’t sign the paper to allow me to work.”
“When I am your husband, I’ll sign it. Until you are with child, you can work as much as you want.”
Tatianna rested her head against his shoulder, holding him, loving him, and yet hating him all in the same moment.
In the following days, Tatianna watched the news and listened to every broadcast. She sat in the family room, refusing to budge as she flipped back and forth between stations. Her siblings would complain, and she’d slap at their hands when they reached for the knob on the TV. When her father got tired of all the complaints and asked her to share, she bitterly replied, “Or you can buy another TV.”
He didn’t like that.
Now Tatianna stood at the sink scrubbing dishes, destroying the hard work she put into her beautiful nails. She worked the sponge as if it was its fault for keeping her in the house so long. This was precisely why women didn’t stay at home after eighteen. She was dying for freedom. Dying to know what she was capable of.
“A train collision–” Tatianna snapped her head up as a news anchor sounded through the room. “On the way to Moscow caused a forty-two person fatality and an explosion that was felt for miles.”
Like being called by Siren, Tatianna, with dripping hands, numbly made her way to the living room. “A hundred cases of illegal liquor caused a blaze for hours, and firefighters were unable to locate any bodies. Now rumor is the conductor of one of the trains was fighting depression after he had lost his son in the war. We can’t say for sure if suicide was the objective.”
Tatianna’s legs gave out beneath her.
Nevsky turned in his chair. “Tati? What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t speak. Her breath wouldn’t come, and her heart pounded in her ears. Shame, guilt, and horror flooded into her, submerging any thoughts into a fog. It had been what she was waiting for. Yakov had gone through with one of her suggestions. He had done it perfectly. The attention was taken away from the fact that there was liquor on the train and now put on the conductor as if he had set it up himself.
With a hand over her mouth, Tatianna fought a smile. It felt wrong to do something like that. A whole bunch of people had died. But one thing she was taught in the mafia was that no one matters but family. Everyone else was chess pieces; the quicker they got taken off the board, the better.
Yakov gave her the kind of power she was searching for, and it filled her like an overflowing vase. She wanted to run to him now, to allow him to do everything he thought of doing and more. There was no question who she would choose now. It was Yakov. It might have always been him. She began to climb the stairs to call him when the phone rang. Nevsky crossed the threshold to his office. She followed him instead, slightly hoping it was Yakov. She waited just outside the door. One thing she loved about this stupid house was the ability to hear through the walls.
“Nevsky speaking.” A pause and then, “Are you serious? How many members?” Tatianna nearly squealed. “Three members of the Rostovas? Holy shit. Who do you think it was? Yeah, don’t say anything. You never know who is listening.” Another pause. “What? Why?”
She pressed her ear against it, waiting.
“Why does he want to talk to my daughter? Is he aware she is already engaged? Yeah. I will.”
Tatianna tiptoed across the room and dug her hands into the water of the sink just as her father came barreling out of his room.
“Why does Yakov Morozov want to talk to you? Why was he here the other day? What is going on?”
Tatianna stared at him like a deer in headlights. “Papa–”
Nevsky had her by the arm, pulling her in front of him. “What have you gotten yourself involved in?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you dishonored me? Look at me.” He gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Have you?”
“What are you asking me, Papa?”
“Don’t play coy. Have you given yourself to him?”
Outrage blared on her face, and she screeched. “Of course not!”
“What else could he want with you? I know his reputation. Why do you think I’ve done all I can to keep you away from the likes of him? Have you been to his house? Without Fedor?”
“No! Stop talking to me like I’m one of your whores!”
A hard slap across her face caused a sharp yelp, and she fell against the wall. She lowered her head, trying to hide herself from him. The humiliation boiled her. He hadn’t hit her since she was a little kid. Nevsky paced, running a hand through his hair. “Yakov Morozov is a killer, Tati. He’s more dangerous than you can understand. Do not go near him. You hear me?”
Tatianna dug her nails into her knees as she stared up at him. “Yes.”
Nevsky sighed. “I’ll talk to him. Make him understand.” He took a deep breath before looking down at her again. “I love you, sweetheart. But you better not have put our family at risk.”