Chapter Twelve #2
"You as well, Caroline Basha," she nods, her gaze moving between an uncomfortable Sergei and Nikandr, who looks incensed. Why is he upset?
"Miss Basha doesn't have time for a nightcap," Nikandr says sharply. He's using his considerable height to loom over poor Sergei. "She has work requirements in the morning and this is a business trip, not sex tourism."
The sheer magnitude of outrage I feel is breathtaking.
"You absolute-"
"I did not intend anything untoward to Miss Basha-"
"We are finished here," Nikandr cuts us off.
Mouth tight, Sergei gives me a polite nod and disappears down another hall as I turn on Nikandr. "How fuh-"
An older couple and a rumpled-looking businessman join us at the elevator. My mouth shuts with a snap. To my fury, Nikandr not-quite shoves me into the elevator when the doors open and then his security surrounds us quickly, pushing the 'close' button before the other guests can join us.
I'm stationed next to the panel, subtly hitting the 12th floor button repeatedly with my elbow. Nikandr's condemning gaze lands on my dessert box.
"What is that?" he asks with a tone so acidic that it could burn a hole through metal. "A gift?"
Glaring at him, I flip the lid open. "It's dessert. Just dessert, not crotchless underwear."
Nikandr's gaze lands on the tiny cakes and tarts and I swear his pupils expand like there is a naked woman lounging in the box instead. "Is that marzipan?"
Confused, I look down at the box. "Uh, yeah. Those four, I think."
His gigantic paw shoots out and takes the little marzipan cakes from their ribbon nests. I stare, stupefied as he pops one in his mouth and his eyes close. He lets out a throaty moan as his security pretends not to hear him.
The door opens on the sixteenth floor and I shove the dessert box at Vasilisa, who accepts it, leaning closer. "You have discovered the Sovietnik's only weakness." She winks at me as the doors close.
***
I pace my suite angrily.
I look in my little hotel fridge and find that the snacks have been replenished and polish off two tiny cheesecakes.
I call Liria.
"Hey, sweetie! How's Moscow?"
"Your Sovietnik is a fucking asshole." I weaken and stuff another baby cheesecake in my mouth.
"Really? Usually people say that about Andrey," she says. I can hear the chatty coo of a baby; she must be burping one of the twins.
"Nikandr just accused me - in front of the goddamned General Manager of the Hotel Tsaritsa of being here in Moscow for sex tourism!" I'm choking a little, I'm not sure if it's from rage or if that cheesecake didn't go down all the way. I grab a bottle of water.
"What?" she screeched. The baby yelps and she lowers her voice. "Sorry, Anya love, Mommy's sorry. What the hell was Nikandr thinking?"
"Okay, we might have-" I put my hand to my forehead. I can't tell Liria that I had filthy, spectacular hate sex with Nikandr in the elevator.
"What?"
"We might have fought on the flight over here because he's an autocratic prick and he's holding a grudge," I finish lamely.
"I was really hoping you two would hit it off," she laments. "I mean, I could feel the chemistry between you two!"
So could I, I think, guilty as hell. I could feel that chemistry fucking me into two brain-melting orgasms last night.
"Ugh, thank you for letting me vent." I rub my eyes. "He's just such a dick. I'm a professional. He has no business talking about me that way."
"I'm sorry," she says. "I can call Alexsey and tell him to slap Nikandr on the back of the head for being an asshole. Have you seen him yet?"
"Alexsey? No, I think he's busy doing Bratva things in the city," I say, "I'll try to catch up with him tomorrow. Don't say anything to him, though, I can fight my own battles."
She laughs, "Don't I know it. And mine, too. Remember when you kicked the shit out of Terrance Marshall in junior year for inviting me to that sex party and I didn't know what he was taking me to?"
"You were only in eleventh grade! I still hate that guy," I say, shaking my head. "I'm sorry I didn't give him a concussion when he went over the hood of my car."
"I remember." Now, she's full-out howling. "He'd just given me a bouquet of condoms when you came charging into the frat house and dragged me out of there."
"Why is it that violence always cheers us up?" I say, reluctantly breaking into a smile.
"Only when we are the ones committing it," she says. "Is it safe enough to go for a run? You need to work off all this fury. Or maybe pick up a hot guy. Moscow is full of them."
"Well, I'm not even in the mood for hot guys," I say crossly. "I'll go for a run, this area is stuffed with tourists, so the police are everywhere."
"Good," she says. "Go for a run and picture stomping on Nikandr's face."
"I love you, fam. Thank you." My eyes get a little wet. What would I do without Liria?
"Love you, too. Anya, say bye-bye to Auntie Caroline," she coos.
I swear I hear my niece say "ba-ba," and that's close enough.
Pulling on some leggings and a zippered jacket, I grab my phone and head back downstairs. I look a little disheveled, so I head for the side entrance so I don't have to cross the lobby. It's down a quiet, paneled hallway, this area is mostly used for meetings and convention space.
A run. I'll take a run and my Zen will return.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I spin on one sneakered foot and there he is. Nikandr. He's alone, no hovering security, and still wearing his suit. His tie is gone and his open collar gapes just enough to show the beginnings of a bite mark I'd put on him.
Flushing, I snarl, "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going for a run." I spread my arms wide, showing my leggings and running shoes.
"Not this late, you aren't." He takes my arm. "And not without a bodyguard."
I could stomp on his ridiculously expensive Santoni Oxfords, or-
A man steps out from a doorway, what's he doing in there? It's too late for meetings. His arm comes up and there's a gun pointing at my face. A big gun.
"Start walking," he tells Nikandr, "or I shoot your girlfriend and her brains go everywhere."