21. Elanee
21
ELANEE
A s I walk to work, I stare at the amethyst bracelet on my wrist. It felt strange returning to my empty apartment last night. It’s as if nothing had gone amiss, and the quiet of that terrified me.
My phone buzzes despite the early hour of the morning. It’s the burner phone Dmitri gave me.
Anonymous: I miss that sweet little cunt of yours.
I bite my bottom lip. Absolutely vulgar and yet entirely Dmitri. It’s dangerous even playing into this, but I battle with the knowledge every day that I might not make it to the next. And there’s always been something about Dmitri Volkov that has been hard for me not to bite back.
Me: It’s a surprise you haven’t been able to keep a woman down with language like that.
The reply is almost immediate.
Dmitri: Rather the opposite, especially since most of them prefer it when I tie them down.
My chest tightens at the thought of how many women he’s been with. I hate that it’s something that I even think about because he is far from mine. But women had always thrown themselves at him in our college years, and I doubt much of that has changed even now. But this says much about his ‘tastes’ that he tried to warn me about, so I consider what type of response I should have.
Me: I suppose it doesn’t give them much of a chance to run away when they see your inadequate package.
Dmitri: Be careful. That mouth of yours might get you into a compromising position again soon.
Warmth floods my core at the memory of all the various positions he put me in, and I was grateful that I’d worked on my flexibility for so many years through ballet to keep up with him. But there was nothing elegant in the way that we fucked.
Thank goodness these texts self-delete after two minutes.
The bell jingles as I walk into Cappa Café Monday morning for their jalapeno bagel that Dmitri had recommended I might enjoy. I’d never admit to taking him up on his suggestion, but I was curious. I’m mid-reply when I hear my name.
I turn to see Ara, who’s sitting with three women. They’re all beautiful, and I recognize some of them from articles, gossip, or on occasion, “wish lists” from some of my male clients. The moment I knew I’d be allowed to continue my match-making business in New York, I’d made sure to do as much research as possible on the single members in high demand.
“I didn’t know you came here?” Ara says as she walks over to me. It was a few blocks away from my work, and I wondered if this was why Dmitri had recommended it in the first place because, by chance, I might run into Ara who he seems fond of. Another chill runs through me, curious if they also have history. I bite back down on the stupid jealously, surprised by its appearance.
“It was recommended to me by a friend,” I say with a smile.
Despite Ara being a previous client and we’d only met those two times, I quite liked her. And that was dangerous. Dmitri might be encouraging me to make friends, but I knew better than to make such leaps, especially when I’d been warned away from the Italian mafia who Ara was now engaged to the head of.
Most likely because The Lion didn’t want to risk their attention.
“Would you like to join us for coffee?” she offers.
Her friends are looking over her shoulder now, curious.
I want to.
When was last time I hung out with a group of women in a friendly setting? I think of the friends I’d made in Russia, which runs a chill down my spine.
And look what happened to them…
I shake my head. “Thank you, but not today.”
She seems disappointed but puts a hand on my arm. “Well, if you ever want to catch up. Let me know.”
I have the impression that Ara is a person with few friends. There’s something sharp about her, not in the same obvious way as Dmitri, but an undercurrent of something lurking. And yet, I’m not uncomfortable with it. Simply aware.
But I wasn’t willing to put her in a light The Lion might gravitate attention toward. So I order the bagel and coffee, preparing for my day, and leave. I look back at the phone but decide to pocket it instead. Perhaps I’d gotten too carried away in hope this weekend. If I’m still too scared to have a coffee amongst women, should I even be texting a man? Especially the one I’ve been distinctly warned away from.
I’m not entirely sure why I have the distinct impression Mirabella Latine is eye fucking me, but I’m certain it has something to do with my sister.
“I knew it was a good idea to invite you to that wedding,” she says in a suggestive way. Yep. Definitely Layla. I’d rather she not get some action on the job while pretending to be me, but I’m not surprised in the slightest. “And who knew I’d meet Marco, who’s absolutely the man of my dreams.”
I’d researched him since Layla advised me of her matchmaking skills. He held none of the qualities on Mirabella’s four-page “requirements.” Layla did, however, miss out some finer details.
“And we very much enjoyed the experience with you. Don’t worry, I won’t kiss and tell.” She smirks, and I offer a polite one in return. She signs a check and hands it over. “I’ll be moving to Philadelphia since Marco lives there, but if you’re in town, maybe give us a call. I’m sure there’s so much more you can teach us.”
Goosebumps erupt along my skin, and that sorry bitch of a sister is so lucky I can’t get my hands on her right now. Until I see the figure on the check. “This is too much!”
She laughs and waves her hand. “Remember what I said. Money doesn’t matter when it comes to love. And other things.” She steps out of the room, and I’m left feeling like I’ve just received payment for sexual activities I wasn’t even involved with.
I look at the amount. I’d always been grateful for my parents funding my education. Although I never thought I’d be a matchmaker, I also had no idea what I wanted with my life going forward besides a career as a ballet dancer. I was put into this position because it suited me by chance. One of The Lion’s cousins wanted to get married, but hated dating, so in some twisted way I’d been put to the test: a test that earned me a paycheck and one he let me keep.
I wonder what I could do with one hundred thousand dollars. That’s the amount in front of me. But when I’ve had checks of this magnitude, I’ve always been too scared to cash them. I know everything I own belongs to him. At any moment, he could freeze my accounts and leave me stranded entirely.
I know this because he’d already done it to me once in Russia. He left me in a bad part of town, and for the first time, when men pushed and pulled at me, I was stricken with fear to realize I might become like the other girls. The ones who were shipped off, and then The Lion swept in like my savior as he killed them without question.
That was the first time he toyed with me. And I’d fallen for it, apologized, and promised I’d never disobey him again. Then, slowly, over time, he began forbidding me from going out with my girlfriends. And then ensured I’d miss practices to entertain him personally. And so, I was forced to dance and dance and dance until he said I could stop.
The truth is that I was thrown out of my studio in my third year because of him. Shortly after was when I tried to leave Russia again, but that was abruptly stopped and my eyes widened to my trapped situation.
Guilt wells in my chest because I hadn’t been entirely honest to Dmitri about all the things his father had done to me. He’d hate me if he did. He’d most likely think me sullied. I fold into myself, trying my hardest to fight against The Lion’s intentional conditioning. I’m aware it’s happening. But it doesn’t make the internal battle any less complicated.
My phone buzzes against the desk, and a chill runs down my spine as if the thought itself summoned the devil.
I answer. “Hello, my Lion.”
“Ah, my little dove. How was your trip to Texas?” He purrs with his thick Russian accent.
My heart skips its next beat. Does he know about Dmitri and my sister? Is he toying with me again? I swallow the paranoia.
“It was just fine, my Lion. My client was satisfied and I was handed a big check just now.”
“A big check, huh?” He patronizes. “Good, it’s nice to hear all your hard work is paying off. Have you made any friends in the Big Apple yet?”
“N-no, my Lion. I just enjoy my daily walks and work.”
“Good. Tell me, have you, by chance, run into my son there yet?”
My throat locks up. Does he know? But then he had always asked about him, slyly at first. But in the last two years, he left behind any mystery or tact that I was being used solely because of my association with Dmitri in college. Was this any different?
“No, my Lion. Not since he broke into the last apartment and tried to steal me away.”
“Strange, I thought he would’ve made another attempt by now.”
I focus on my breathing. Does he know I’m lying? Had he seen us? Does he know about us?
I remind myself of what Dmitri said: I wasn’t constantly being watched. That The Lion had layered me in a world of paranoia, but that didn’t take away from its effectiveness.
“When will you come to see me?” I ask, and I try to sound excited, but know my voice trembles with trepidation. He feeds off the terror, and I hate that I’ve been so easily trained to give it to him even when I try my hardest not to.
“In due time, little dove. In due time.” And I can imagine the smile as he smokes a cigar.
Nothing but a game.
I was but a pawn to pass time.
The phone cuts out.