Chapter 18 - Anoushka
We step through the heavy wooden doors, and loud music assaults my senses. The room is dimly lit, filled with shadows dancing across the walls in time to the pulsing beat. Laughter rings out, punctuated by the occasional pop of a champagne cork.
"Anoushka, you made it!" Artyom spots us from across the room and strides over, pulling me into a hug. His cologne is spicy and intoxicating.
"What am I? Chopped liver?" Nikolai claps him on the back, playfully glowering at him.
“Not really,” Artyom pretends to think. “Just really boring.”
“And old,” I add, nodding furiously.
“Yeah,” Artyom sizes his brother up and down. “Boring and old.”
We both burst into laughter as Nikolai shakes his head at us, and I lean in to give Artyom a hug. “Happy birthday,” I say.
“Yeah, happy birthday, Brother. Twenty-one,” Nikolai whistles and pats Artyom on his shoulder. From within his coat, he pulls out a thin envelope with a cheque inside and hands it to Artyom.
“You really didn’t have to!” Artyom protests.
“We wanted to,” Nikolai says, taking my hand in his.
“Well, in that case, thanks,” Artyom grins from ear to ear, handing the envelopes to one of the patrolling guards.
"Come, I want you both to meet my friends." Artyom leads us through the crowd.
A statuesque blonde in a shimmering silver dress catches my eye. She's holding court near the bar, a martini glass clutched delicately in one hand as she tosses her hair over one shoulder, laughing throatily.
It’s only when I see her face that I feel shocked. Is that… Sofia?
I never noticed until now, but she is an absolute bombshell. Tonight, her poker-straight hair is styled in loose blonde curls, and she’s surrounded by young men. Most probably Artyom’s college friends and clearly, they’re lapping up each word she speaks.
Tonight, she’s the most fashionable woman in the room, barring none.
Just then, I feel Nikolai’s hand pull away and see he’s in conversation with Dima. Dima stops speaking, noticing me behind Nikolai, and to my surprise, walks past Nikolai to sling a loose, tattoo-laden arm across my shoulder.
“We’ve been wondering where you were,” Dima bellows in my ear.
“Just been a little caught up, you know?” I blush and try to explain why Nikolai and I have mostly been holed up in our house for a week. I just got my husband back from Paris! Someone give me a break.
We had a lot of clothes to shed.
Fedor appears beside Dima, a mischievous glint in his eye, and shoves his hand in front of Dima’s face. Dima groans and extracts his arm off mine before pulling out a few hundred dollar bills and handing them over to Fedor.
“What the hell’s going on?” Nikolai asks out of curiosity.
“Dima bet you two lovebirds would miss tonight or come super late just as the party is winding down,” Fedor explains.
“Looks like I won,” Fedor smirks, pocketing the money and winking at me.
Dima rolls his eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Fine, fine, you won. But don’t get used to it. I was drunk when we made that bet.”
“Now, at last, the truth is revealed,” Artyom roars with laughter. “Because no sane man would make that bet. Nikolai’s never missed a family event so far.”
“Yeah, except dinner the day before,” Fedor grumps.
“Takeout and drinks in the office with half your bodyguards hardly count as a family event,” I pitch in, and get a generous nod of approval from Dima.
“Okay, y’all,” Artyom gets distracted as Natalia rushes over with some hot gossip about a girl who chucked an arch nemesis in the pool outside. “Got to gooo!” he sings, and Natalia and he rush off, barely registering anything except all the college drama going on.
“Ah, to be that young,” Dima whistles behind them.
“You were born old,” I hear Sofia’s laugh from behind and see she saw me and is coming toward us. “I saw you empty-handed,” she kisses me on the cheek and hands me a glass of champagne.
I take a sip, but something feels off. I feel tired and a little sick. Deciding that maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten, I just hold the glass for celebratory reasons.
As the siblings continue their banter and gossip, I chuckle, feeling surprisingly at ease. It’s strange seeing them dressed so casually, their usual sharp suits replaced by simple shirts and jeans.
There’s a carefree warmth in their eyes that I haven’t seen before—a side of them that only comes out when they’re among family, I suppose.
Halfway through, Nikolai is pulled away by someone he knows. I stand with the siblings, focusing in and out of the conversation as they talk about how fast Artyom’s grown up and how things were when they were kids.
"Ah yes, the good old days," Fedor echoes with a wistful smile. "When we were young and carefree, getting into all sorts of trouble. Do you remember that summer at the family dacha when Dima convinced us to sneak out at midnight to go skinny dipping in the lake?"
I laugh in sheer disbelief. “Dima?” I exclaim. “No way!”
“Yes, way!” Sofia chimes in, gently getting my attention by touching my hand. "And we stumbled upon those poachers in the middle of the night! We ran all the way back to the dacha, barely remembering to put our clothes on."
"The look on Mother's face when we burst through the front door, dripping wet and out of breath!" Fedor chuckles. "I thought she would skin us alive. But Father just laughed and ruffled our hair, telling us not to do it again."
"He always indulged us, even when we were being little hellions," Dima says fondly. It feels good to know these little stories. It makes the Orlovs seem so much less intimidating and so much more like the family I’m used to. Mine.
"We certainly gave them their fair share of headaches over the years," Fedor agrees. "But they loved us all the same. And now look at us—all grown up and causing trouble in more sophisticated ways!" He raises his glass in a toast.
"To family, through all of life's adventures," I say, clinking my glass against his. The champagne bubbles up, like the warmth and affection I feel for the Orlovs.
I close my eyes after taking a sip, wondering why I’m feeling mildly dizzy and hot.
When I open them again, Nikolai is watching us from across the room, his gaze intense. Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember our encounter in the study this morning. The memory of his hands on my body and his whispered words of longing makes my pulse quicken.
Nikolai excuses himself from his conversation and makes his way over to me. He takes the champagne flute from my hand, setting it aside before pulling me to him. My heart pounds at his proximity as he pulls me away, telling his siblings there’s someone he wants me to meet.
But, to my surprise, he pulls me into a quiet corner.
“Who do we have to meet?” I exclaim in surprise, looking around.
"Shhh,” his lips brush the shell of my ear. “I can't stop thinking about you," he murmurs. A shiver runs down my spine. "The feel of your skin under my hands, the taste of your mouth, the sounds you make when I touch you… "
His words ignite a fire within me. I cling to him, desire clouding my senses. All I want is to be alone with him again.
"Nikolai," I breathe, hardly recognizing my own voice. He has awakened something primal and passionate inside of me. I never want him to stop.
"Come with me," he says quietly, already leading me toward the exit. I follow willingly, eager to lose myself in his embrace once more. The party fades into the background as Nikolai and I make our escape.