Chapter 32
Aurora
Today’s been a perfect day. Or as close to perfect as one can be considering that yesterday afternoon, my unplanned engagement to one of the most powerful men in the Russian mob ended in me getting shot at…while shopping for a wedding dress.
After the impromptu stop at the flea market, Alexei and I decided to forego the ice cream and enjoy dinner at a cozy little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant with phenomenal food, including the tiramisu we shared for dessert.
Who would have thought lasagna would be a Russian mobster’s favorite food?
I should have guessed as much, considering that’s what he fed me after he kidnapped me and brought me to his loft to question me.
While we were finishing up at the restaurant, Alexei got a call from Kolya. After dropping me off at the loft and extracting my promise to behave, he left to take care of Kolya’s urgent business.
For the last couple hours, I’ve spent my time lounging on the couch with a sleeping Pixie while scrolling through articles about art techniques and trying to get inspiration for my next few mosaic pieces.
Aka, behaving.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and Alexei’s name flashes on the screen.
Speak of the devil.
I’ll be gone a few more hours, so I sent Valeria to keep you company.
I snort. Keep me company, or babysit me? I know better than to attempt another escape. I’ve been shot at enough this past week to last me a lifetime.
Before I even have a chance to reply, another message pops up.
She’ll be there any minute. Hope you’re not busy.
I type and send a response without giving myself a chance to change my mind.
Nope. Not busy at all. Just sexting with a hot guy I met at Red Bird’s last month. Got bored with you gone.
A string of texts come through, one right after the other.
What the actual hell, Aurora?
I’ll break every bone in the motherfucker’s body.
Tell me you’re kidding.
I giggle when I picture Alexei in the middle of, well, whatever it is he’s doing, fuming and about to go full Bruce Willis on a guy who doesn’t even exist.
I’m kidding. But you gotta admit that was funny.
Three dots appear before another text comes through.
You and I have two vastly different definitions of funny.
He doesn’t say anything else. I’m sure I’ll pay for that little prank later, but messing with him was a thousand percent worth it.
The elevator doors creak open, and in walks Valeria with a designer bag large enough to belong to Santa Claus on her arm. She’s dressed for comfort, sporting a dark purple tank top and three-quarter black leggings that show off her toned calves.
“Aurora!” She sets her bag on the floor with a thud and rushes over to hug me. “It’s so good to see you. How are you doing after yesterday?”
I return her hug and eye the overflowing bag. “I’m fine. Just thankful no one got hurt. I’m starting to get used to it, actually. You know, being shot at.”
“My brother’s an ass for dragging you into this life.” She pulls back with a grimace, hazel eyes shining with sympathy. “This whole situation can’t be easy for you, but I’m not gonna lie. I’m glad to finally have a sister-in-law.”
Almost sister-in-law, I’m tempted to remind her. And there’s been no mention of setting a date for the wedding, so I’m currently in the clear.
“Thank you.” I have no freaking idea what else to say, so I blurt out the first thing that pops in my head. “What’s in the bag?” Dammit, Aurora. Way to be subtle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. You don’t—”
“Party games!” Valeria claps her hands together and does a little shimmy. “And alcohol. Lots of alcohol. I hope you like Jello shots because I made a fuckload of them. Would’ve gotten here sooner, but it took longer than I thought for them to set.”
Party games? Jello shots? Clearly, Alexei left out a few pertinent details about the night’s agenda.
I suck my lower lip between my teeth. “Are other people coming? I’m not really dressed for an event.” Self-consciousness flits through me as I glance down at the oversize t-shirt and sweats I changed into after Alexei left.
“No, it’s just us. Don’t worry.” She moves the bag from the floor to the coffee table. “Consider this your unofficial bachelorette party. I figured you could use a little stress reliever after, well, everything.”
A knot forms in my throat at this woman’s thoughtfulness. The last time someone threw me a party, I was eight and my mom was still alive.
I inflate my lungs with a breath that goes nowhere, trying not to devolve into a breakdown in front of a practical stranger. “Wow. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. And to answer your question, yes. I love Jello shots.”
“It was no trouble. I love parties.” She grins and starts rummaging around in the enormous bag, extracting items, and laying them on the table. “For the next few hours, you and I are going to let our hair down, consume way too much alcohol and junk food, and forget about our problems.”
The slight pinch around her eyes on that last word leads me to wonder what kind of problems Valeria has in her own life. Being the niece of a Pakhan can’t be a walk in the park.
I raise an eyebrow at the obscene number of little round red and blue containers she’s placing on the table. “You had me at alcohol and junk food.”
She pulls out a cake with a clear plastic lid—an entire freaking chocolate cake—and sets it beside the Jello shots.
“Yeah, well, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so this is what happens when I grocery shop while hungry.
” She gestures to the cake, then pulls out a tray of assorted sandwiches and three large bags of chips.
“I didn’t know what you like, so I just grabbed a few things. ”
“I’m not picky. This looks great, and I ate dinner a few hours ago. I’ll get some plates and silverware.”
“Perfect. Oh, and a couple glasses too. I brought prosecco.” She’s already rifling through the bag again. “I’ll just get a couple other things ready.”
By the time I return with plates and utensils and find flutes in the cabinet, Valeria’s covered almost every available surface of the coffee table with more food, random objects, and three bottles of bubbly, and she’s taping some sort of poster on the wall.
I laugh at the spread of snacks that could feed an entire football team and clear a small spot for the flutes and plates. “What are you doing, decorating?”
“Just assembling one of the games.” When she tosses a devious look over her shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Alexei’s head on the wall.
“This one’s called ‘kiss the lips.’ You put on lipstick and blindfold yourself, then you try to kiss the picture.
Whoever gets closest to the lips wins.” She finishes taping the giant photo of Alexei’s face to the wall.
“Though kissing my own brother’s photo would be super awkward, so you’re gonna have to play this one solo. ”
I snort. “Pretty sure I’ll need a little alcohol in me before we start these games.”
“Oh, that’s the whole point!” She glides back over to the couch and pulls a handful of objects from the bag. “For each game, the loser does a shot.”
“Do I even want to know what the hot dogs and oranges are for?”
Valeria wiggles her eyebrows and taps the package of hot dogs.
“These are for ‘sink the weenie in the hole.’ You tie a hot dog to a string and the string around your waist. First person to sink the hot dog in a bottle wins. The oranges are for ‘swing your ding-a-ling,’ where you put an orange in pantyhose, tie it around your waist, and knock another orange as far as you can.”
She proceeds to explain more games as she pops a bottle of prosecco and pours two generous servings.
There’s the “inflatable banana ring toss” that’s just like it sounds, “what’s in the sock,” where each player uses their feet to guess what naughty item is in a sock, and a few other prop-less games such as “two truths and a lie” and “would you rather: bachelorette party edition.”
By the time Valeria finishes her spiel, I’ve already got a nice little buzz going.
“All right, let’s do this.” I reach for the bottle and refill both of our flutes. “But first, I need more alcohol. And a slice of that cake wouldn’t hurt.”
“Now you’re talking my language.” Valeria fishes through the bag yet again and hands me a wide metal serving knife before fixing herself a plate with a turkey sandwich and chips.
“I’ve got an easy icebreaker for you.” She bites into the sandwich, chews thoughtfully, and washes it down with a healthy swig of sparkling wine.
“Would you rather have continual orgasms for twenty-four hours or unprotected sex with a hot stranger in a club?”
I almost spit out my mouthful of cake. “Um, okay, that’s a tough one. Would I get to choose how I had the…” I clear my throat and resist the urge to fan myself. Why is it suddenly so hot in here? “…had the, ah…orgasms?”
“Jello shot!” Valeria jumps from the couch, grabs a little plastic container, and shoves it into my hands. “If you have to ask a question to figure out your answer, you lose.”
“Fair enough.” I lift the lid off the container and pop the boozy cherry gelatin into my mouth.
The shot burns all the way down my throat, cluing me in on just how generous Valeria was with the alcohol when mixing up her concoction.
“But I think you need a shot, too, since you conveniently forgot to explain the rules.”
She doesn’t need any persuasion, winking as she plucks off the lid from a container with blue Jello.
The night only gets crazier.
Approximately three hours, too many games to count, and just as many Jello shots later, I can no longer walk in a straight line.
I sink into the couch as Valeria leans down and digs through her bag. Again.
Reaching for a sandwich, I take a bite, hoping and praying the food soaks up some of the alcohol. Tomorrow’s hangover’s gonna be a bitch. “Who are you, Santa’s little elf? I swear that bag is bottomless.”
She giggles, swaying a little as she pulls out not one, not two, but three dildos. A soft measuring tape comes out next.
“Last game, I swear.” She hiccups. “We each have to guess the length and girth of each dick while blindfolded. Then we’ll measure and see who got the closest.”
“Why blindfolded?”
“To make it harder.” She pauses, a tipsy laugh bursting from her. “See what I did there?”
I smile and shake my head, pulling the blindfold I’ve been wearing Rambo-style on my forehead down over my eyes. “Wait. How do we record our guesses if we’re blindfolded?”
“Hmm, didn’t think of that. I guess you can raise the blindfold to write down each guess.” The couch moves beside me, indicating that Valeria’s gotten up. “Lemme go find a pen and paper.”
After she leaves, I sit here feeling like an idiot, stroking the first dildo and thinking way too seriously about the length and thickness of the rubber phallus.
“Okay, Valeria!” I yell, hoping she can hear me from whatever room she’s in. “I’m ready to guess how big penis number one is!”
Silence.
Then I hear footsteps, too heavy to be Valeria’s, echoing in the quiet room. Trepidation sinks into my bones.
“If you wanted to stroke a cock, lyubimaya, all you had to do was ask.”
Shrieking, I reflexively fling the dildo as far as I can. “Crap, Alexei, you scared me!”
“And you thought hitting me with a rubber dick was an appropriate punishment?”
From his tone, I can’t tell if he’s annoyed, amused, turned on, or all three. “This was all your sister’s idea, I swear.”
I reach up to remove the blindfold, but Alexei stays my hand. “Leave it.”
The throaty way he utters the direction answers my internal question.
Definitely turned on.
And now, so am I. “Um…where’s your sister?”
“Valeria left.” Alexei’s thumb strokes my lower lip. “Why don’t you try measuring the real thing?”
Need pulses between my thighs.
I think I’m going to like this game a lot better.