Chapter Twenty-Four
In which sometimes, getting what you asked for just sucks.
Violet…
If there's one clear conclusion to be drawn from the last twenty-four hours, it's that getting exactly what you want will in no way make you happy.
Rose and Iris took one look at my face when I came up to their room and started packing in dead silence. "We're leaving in an hour," I said. "Be ready."
***
After the final, cruel words that I'd thrown at Roman, I didn't expect to see him again, but he is kind enough to have Ivan drive us back to my apartment.
There is another man riding shotgun. He's in his forties, I think, with nice blond hair cut short, the standard Morozov black suit and a pleasant smile. He's also built like a tank.
"This is Ioann," Ivan says. "Mr. Morozov's only requirement for letting you leave is that you must have personal security.
He feels this is his responsibility, because you could be in jeopardy because of his criminal-" I flinch as he leans into the word criminal.
"Criminal association with the Morales cartel.
Ioann is a reasonable precaution until Mr. Morozov feels the situation is stable again. "
I want to say no. I want to slam the door in Ivan's face.
I look back at Rose and Iris, who are standing silently, arms around each other.
"All right," I say, pressing my lips together for a moment before I force out, "Please tell Mr. Morozov-" I lean into it too, because Ivan had already used it.
It appears that nobody's on a first name basis anymore.
"Please tell him I appreciate his efforts for our safety.
But I only have one bedroom in my apartment and I have nowhere for Ioann to stay. "
"That's been taken care of," Ivan says.
My brow furrows, where are they going to put him? How did he make arrangements in the twenty-five minutes it took for us to drive from Roman's house to mine? Exhausted, I just nod and pick up my suitcase.
Ioann quickly scans the area, the way I'm used to seeing Ivan and Roman do, and then he helps the girls pick up their luggage too easily. He throws a giant duffel over his shoulder and grabs another two bags in one hand.
I give Rose the key. "Why don't you head up."
Ivan is standing by the car looking glum. It's not an expression I've ever seen from him. "Please tell him thank you," I say. "I appreciate…"
There's so much I want to say. That I appreciated feeling like somebody else was carrying the burden for a while. The incredible sex. That there is more to life than just duty. Or, that for the first time in my life, I felt safe.
"…I appreciate you both." I finish awkwardly.
Ivan gives me a nod. "Yes ma'am, I'll be sure to tell him." Like a good Bratva soldier, he insists on walking me up the apartment and disappears before I can turn around to say thank you.
Ioann stays for an hour, checking locks and explaining the new security panel to me and the girls. Apparently, in his usual bulldozing way, when Roman had discovered my apartment had been broken into, he upgraded the locks and security features.
To the level of a nuclear bunker.
There's a security camera positioned to track activity in the hall, two more covering activity outside my windows. One more thing I owe him.
"Miss Monroe," Ioann says quietly.
I turn around, trying to smile. It's a bit of a failed effort. "Yes?"
"I've done a sweep and feel the apartment is secure." Ioann has a distinct Russian accent, he pronounces each word carefully, and his speech is a little formal. "I will be staying right across the hall. There are two alarm systems here, and here –"
"Wait, in 3C? My neighbor Lou lives there."
Ioann gives me a small, sly smile. "Your neighbor is currently enjoying a six-month cruise courtesy of Mr. Morozov."
"He got Lou to move out?" I think about it.
Lou had always wanted to go on a cruise.
He had brochures plastered all over the bulletin board in his kitchen.
Of course he'd snap that up in a heartbeat.
He doesn't care what random stranger will be staying in his place.
"Actually, that is not at all surprising.
" I shake my head. "Thank you. I'll need to leave for the shelter tomorrow at seven. The girls will be joining me."
"Mr. Morozov took the liberty of ordering in grocery service for you, knowing that there wouldn't be any food in the apartment.
" Ioann is beginning to have a vaguely queasy expression, like he's wondering why he has to tell me all the things that Roman has arranged for me, whether I wanted them or not.
So, I grit my teeth and nod a little too fast. "That's very thoughtful, thank you."
"I will keep an eye out for it," he says. "They have been instructed to notify me so I can supervise them when they deliver the groceries."
"You are terrifyingly efficient, Ioann," I say. "I appreciate it."
"Of course, ma'am." He turns to leave.
"Ioann?" I call after him as he opens Lou's door.
"Yes ma'am?" He turns and I wince. That "ma'am" thing is really going to get to me after a while.
"Don't let Rose and Iris fool you. They will eat you alive. They will chew you up and spit you out. They are more dangerous than pit vipers."
He has the common courtesy to look like he's absorbing my warning, though maybe Roman's crew already told him about the twin's reign of terror. "Thank you for letting me know."
We all unpack in silence, I find hangers in my closet, and extra places to stack their suitcases, which are conspicuously fuller than when we fled to Roman's.
I recognize some of the clothes. Gorgeous, silky sweaters because they were chilly one night.
Dresses, new swimsuits, small things that he casually had slipped into their room and mine when he knew we'd need them.
What I said to him was horrible. But I knew he wouldn't let me go unless I torched this slow building… something between us.
You did good, I dryly tell myself. It's nothing but ash now.
We eat dinner - courtesy of Roman's gourmet delivery - in silence around the kitchen counter, all of us looking down at our plates.
"Be up by six," I say. "You'll be working with me at the shelter until school starts." They have enough self-preservation to not say a word. "You two have the bed, I'll take the couch. I have a lot of work to do anyway."
It's past midnight and the numbers blur as I try to focus on an advanced costs spreadsheet. And I'm still tracking the order for refurbished iPads that's been painfully slow to arrive at the shelter. When the first teardrop splashes onto my keyboard, I push it away, wiping my face with my sleeve.
I've got to be tougher than this.
Clicking over to my Goldman Sachs investment account, I post a liquidation request for my entire investment portfolio, instructing them to wire the money to Roman.
The notification instructs me that it'll take about forty-eight hours to post to his account. He more than earned it.
A week later…
A cheerful notification pops up on my phone, informing me that Roman has again refused my financial transfer and has returned it. Exasperated, my thumbs fly across the screen, sending the transfer again.
"Again?" Iris is leaning against my office door, not quite smirking.
"Yes," I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "This is his money, damn it!"
She carefully examines her chipped manicure. "This is like, the fourth round of this. That money's traveled more than we have."
"Well, it's his and I'm not giving up until he accepts it." I rub the back of my neck.
"Yeah, plus it's the only interaction the two of you are willing to have," Rose chimes in, coming in and settling herself in my chair.
"They're keeping the magic alive." Iris changes her laugh into a cough as I glare at her.
"It's not interaction," I snap. "I just owe him. I pay my debts."
"I wouldn't let go of Roman," Rose says. "That man is fine shite."
"He's Satan with good hair." I straighten some papers on my desk.
"I'm sorry we ruined it," Iris says quietly.
We hadn't talked about their summer internship in buying and selling stolen goods, other than to clarify that they were no longer doing it and their friends were clear about that.
My explanation about how moving pilfered electronics stepped on the toes of real criminals seemed to cement their agreement to leave this adventure behind.
"It's not that." I straighten the papers again. "It wasn't real. We had a nice time at Roman's place but that's not… sustainable. This is good." I nod firmly and it's doing nothing to convince them. "Jack and Poppy are somewhere, but they're not a threat to us. We can move on now."
"Violet, the sixth graders want to know if I can give them another self-defense class.
" Melina glides gracefully into my now very crowded office.
Roman has continued to send Bratva volunteers this week, a kind gesture that just makes me feel worse.
Melina is small and lithe with slanted green eyes like a cat's.
She's very popular with the little kids and the teenage boys.
"I got a complaint that Kyra Garcia broke Kenny Lakowski's finger after the last class?" I try to look stern.
"Yeah, after he tried to slap her butt," Iris says.
"Oh." I smile at Melina. "Carry on, please."
"Excellent," she says. "Trauma twins, you come with me."
Such is Melina's charm that neither one of them takes offense, following her out like ducklings.
A tear drops onto my paperwork, and another. Every time I hear a faint Russian accent, it all cascades on me. The feel of Roman's hands, his deep voice, whispering filthy things in my ear, his devil's grin.
That look in his eyes when I hurled those ugly words at him. Pain, and then shock that I could hurt him.
"If you're crying again, I'm going to get you another jumbo bag of Snickers." Larry plops himself on my rickety office couch.
"Please don't," I moan. "I've gained four pounds this week."
His t-shirt today shows a businessman with an unsettling grin, hiding a giant butcher's knife behind his back with the saying, I've got your back!
"That t-shirt might be a little violent for the shelter," I say.
"Nah." He's smoothing his hair in my mirror. "The little kids love it."
"Of course they do." I rummage for the wandering bottle of ibuprofen that's supposed to be in my desk.
"Hey, I've got news that will force you to cheer up." Larry's face brightens. "Remember that grant proposal you submitted last month?"
I look up hopefully. "Yeah?"
"We're one of the top three contenders," he says gleefully. "They want to come by tonight for a tour. I’ll even change into a more decorous t-shirt."
"I love you!" Giving him a big, smacking kiss on the cheek, I ruffle his hair.
"Don't touch the hair!"
***
Four hours later, the twins and I have scrubbed and organized, slapping up more pictures of our cute kids doing clever things on every vertical surface of the shelter. I even take a minute to put on some lipstick and brush my hair, which falls below my shoulder blades. Huh. I need a trim.
Ioann knocks on my office door. "Is there anything else that you need? Miss Rose just finished cleaning the windows in the craft room."
"No, we're good," I say, straightening my skirt. He looks as polished and put together as he did this morning when he drove us here. It must be his superpower, I wish it was mine. "The tour shouldn't take more than an hour or so, then we can head home."
He nods, "Yes ma'am. I will just take another look around."
"Thank you, Ioann. You're the best." He gives me a quick, almost bashful grin and heads down the hall.
The shelter's quiet, nearly everyone is gone and when I hear the door open and Larry greeting our guests, I take a deep breath and step purposefully into the hall. Iris and Rose are already there, staring at our guests.
"Welcome, we're so happy you're-"
There's four enormous men standing there, bookending a smirking blond in an expensive suit.
"Violet, dear," Colin Ashford says, "you've really kept me waiting."