Chapter Twenty-Nine
In which Ava experiences the magic of St. Petersburg and private jets.
Ava…
"Wake up, Magpie…" A warm hand moves over my cheek and I made a purring sound of contentment. There is nothing like waking up to Dmitri's lovely, solid body curling around mine.
Opening one eye, I see that he's already dressed for the day. "Aw. Early meetings?" I sit up, pushing my hair out of my face. "You look nice."
His eyes drop deliberately to my chest, poorly concealed by the sheet and nothing else. "You always look beautiful, moya devushka, my girl," he says with the filthiest possible grin. "I have a proposal for you."
"Oh?" I settle back against the pillows. "What's going on?"
"Roman and I have to travel to St. Petersburg for a few days," he says.
"There is… trouble with a business transaction.
" His jaw tightens slightly, something dark flashing through his polar gaze.
"We've lost a few men and I will need to go handle this.
I thought you would like to come with us.
I won't be in meetings eighteen hours a day, the way I am here.
We can spend some time showing you around. "
"Really?" I know my voice has pitched up into a squeal that is probably unrecognizable as a human sound.
"I have always wanted to go to St. Petersburg!
The architecture there is so magnificent.
Not Moscow so much, especially once they got into the Brutalist period with all that concrete but…
Oh, crap. You probably have places in Moscow too, and now I've insulted them? "
Dmitri laughs. "We do have a home in Moscow and fortunately it is not of the Brutalist Period. However, I think you will like our St. Petersburg home better."
"Is this the one you told me about by Lake Ladoga? The one with the alarmingly tall trees and the 427 fireplaces?"
"You do remember all my stories, don't you?
" he murmurs, tilting my chin to give me a kiss.
"Sadly, we won't have time to visit the lodge on this trip, but I'll take you back in winter when the horses can carry us through the forest on a sleigh ride.
" He pauses very slightly as if realizing he's made plans for a future that I can't possibly imagine unfolding for us.
"I would love to go, thank you," I break the little silence. "Will this be all right with Ella though? We haven't discussed shifting my schedule."
"I've already spoken to her," he says. "She's delighted that you're going to have a chance to see St. Petersburg."
I've had a shower and I'm happily pulling on a blue sundress when it hits me. "Dmitri?" My heart gives a leaden thump. "I don't have a passport. I don't even have a drivers license. I'm going to have to get my birth certificate from Colorado so I can reapply-"
"Yes you do," he says, pulling out a passport.
Sure enough, it's a proper U.S. passport with a picture of me, probably the same one used on my hospital ID.
The kind of picture that is always guaranteed to be unattractive and grim looking, no matter how you pose or how much makeup you wear.
"I'd ask you how you pulled that off, but I don't want to know," I say. "Thank you."
Roman meets us at the private airfield where the family keeps their jet, giving me a careless kiss on the cheek. I think I hear a little growl from Dmitri's chest, but I can't imagine why.
"Hey, Ava," Roman says. "I'm so glad you're coming with us. It'll be a far more entertaining trip than dealing with my stick-up-the-ass brother all alone."
"You're so loving and supportive, Roman. And here Dmitri says such nice things about you."
"Really." He raises a skeptical brow.
"Really. Of course, there is some stuff about irresponsibility, being a loose cannon, prone to mindless violence…" I smile sweetly. "There are some other compliments like those."
Roman laughs, not in the slightest bit insulted as he follows me up the jetway stairs. "Yeah, that sounds more like Dmitri."
The two pilots in fancy uniforms and hats are waiting at the top to greet us. Dmitri introduces us and then to the flight attendant, Lera, a bright-eyed brunette who looks thrilled to be there.
"This is my most special guest, Ava Blue," he says. "Do your best to make her comfortable."
"Yes, Mr. Morozov, of course!" Lera looks at me as if he has given her the command to seek the Holy Grail and I have to bite back a smile at her intensity.
I'm trying not to show my country bumpkin self, but this jet is fancier than any hotel I've ever stayed in.
The floors are a deep, shining wood, the walls covered in dark gray silk and leather recliners are charcoal gray.
There's a gleaming oak conference table further back with a monitor that slides down from the ceiling.
"This is our fastest jet," Dmitri says. "We should be in St. Petersburg in fourteen hours."
"Your fastest jet," I repeat. "As in, the Morozovs have more than one."
"Well, yes," he says, making himself comfortable after fussing over me a bit. "We are a global entity."
I raise a brow at him. "You know, I'm not a prospective investor that you have to sell anything to, right?"
He laughs. "My apologies, it must be second nature by now."
The flight attendant brings me fresh squeezed orange juice, and a plate of fancy crackers, cheese, and olives.
No whisking things away and switching to plastic cups when we're airborne like the regular airlines, oh no.
Lunch is lobster ravioli, followed by lingonberry sorbet.
Dmitri watches me plow through my sorbet and pushes his over to me with a wink.
It's morning when we finally land in St. Petersburg.
Nose pressed against the window, I watch the sun glitter over the Baltic Sea as the jet swoops in for a landing.
After disembarking, I pause on the tarmac.
"This is…" I put my hands on my hips, my head tilting back, breathing in the air.
"Just give me a minute please," I sigh. "I want to say hello. "
Roman and Dmitri wait for me patiently as I look around. Their private airfield here is just outside of the city. I can see the huge wave of pine trees spreading out like an ocean in one direction, and then the elegant buildings and spires of St. Petersburg in the other.
"Is there anywhere in particular you want to explore while you're here?" Roman asks.
"Well obviously The Hermitage Museum if there's time," I say. "But there is one museum I've been dying to see."
Dmitri looks up from his phone where he's been firing off text after text, no doubt alerting his people here that the Big Man has arrived. "Oh?"
"The Egonov Medical Historical Society has a display of medical equipment from the 1100's to modern day." I grin. "You can't imagine what they used in the 1700's when they first attempted open-heart surgery."
Roman looks more nauseated than intrigued. "Open-heart surgery? Without anesthesia?"
"I didn't say it was comfortable," I say defensively. "Just that it was fascinating. Oh, and when they didn't have leeches to clear diseased tissue in the 1800's, they used a tool with rotating blades that cut the skin while-"
"Nerd!" Roman says, laughing when Dmitri reaches out to smack the back of his head.
When the Mercedes pulls up outside their mansion, I stare up at the massive white stone four story that takes up the entire corner of the block, closely crowded by other equally grand homes.
"For two hundred years," Dmitri helps me out of the car, "this part of Russia saw the rise of great artists, writers and musicians, like Tchaikovsky, and Tolstoy. They moved through these houses as guests of the nobility and imprinted themselves on their history."
The front door, painted in glossy black opens to reveal a butler in full Jeeves uniform. He steps out, bowing deeply. Behind him is a woman in a black dress with elaborate apron with gray streaked hair, bowing as well.
"Masters Morozovs, it is an honor to have you back," the butler intones.
"Thank you, Benedikt," Dmitri says in a tone that tells me that no matter how many times they've requested it, the 'master' designation has stayed. "This is our guest, Ava Blue." Dmitri introduces me to him and Magda, the housekeeper, who eyes me for a moment before breaking out into a huge smile.
"It is such a pleasure to have you here!" she beams. "I can see that you are a wonderfully close-" her gaze darts to Dmitri before returning to me, "friend of the family."
The two-story entryway boasts a circular marble floor and two stairways that go up both sides to the second floor.
Roman walks up one, Dimitri takes me up the other.
"There are separate wings to the house," Roman calls over with an exaggerated drawl.
"My suite of rooms is in this wing," he points to the right. "Yours are on the left."
I'm laughing helplessly because at this point, I'm feeling like I'm in the middle of a historical romance, maybe Anna Karenina, except that my Vronsky is a lethal Slavic supermodel in a Tom Ford suit.
"You have wings," I say. "Well of course."
Dmitri shakes his head, leading me down the hall to his suite. The bedroom is dominated by a massive fireplace, of course, as well as a heavily carved four-poster bed, with tall French doors that open out onto a balcony overlooking the city.
"Everything here is…" I look at the huge, fluffy silk comforter on the bed and I want to pet it like a kitten. "I can see why you can't stay away."
"I'm used to jet lag and time shifts more than you are," Dmitri says. "Why don't you crawl into bed and take a nap? I'll wake you before it gets dark. I'm eager to show you the city when the lights first turn on at dusk."
I climb up on the bed, which is a more undignified process than I'd like, especially with an amused Dmitri who finally boosts me up onto the mattress with a hand on my ass. "Thank you for your assistance," I narrow my eyes at him.
His gaze is making a leisurely tour of my body, my skirt's hiked up and there's a lot of leg showing. "It was my pleasure, believe me."
"All joking aside," I say, "this is an adventure I would not have ever imagined I'd have. I'll be paying student loans until I retire at seventy, so I won't be taking lavish trips like this again. Thank you, so much."
He smiles, leaning against one of the tall bed posts, looking effortlessly elegant. "There's something so refreshing about you, Magpie," he says. "How genuinely pleased you are with each new experience. You haven't become jaded, have you?"
"Oh, give me time," I say, peeling back the thick silk comforter. "I'll pencil in becoming jaded and bitter in my thirties."
I'm almost asleep by the time he stops laughing.