6. Lennie
Lennie
O kay, so it’s not quite a date. Leopold didn’t mention anything, but it’s a guy and a girl getting dinner on a Saturday night.
That’s definitely a date, right?
Probably not if you have to ask.
“You look nice.” Mom catches me off guard, coming in from the patio, wearing a heavy coat and holding a pair of gardening shears in one hand. “You didn’t mention you were going out. I thought Ferdinand had the night off.”
“He does.”
She frowns, following me into the kitchen. The mouthwatering smell of garlic bread hits my nose. Adeline mans a pot of pasta but her eyes light up when she sees me.
“Dressing up for your books?” She waggles her brows.
“I’m going out,” I mumble. I’m wearing a short black dress. It’s plain, but too tight for the office.
Mom clears her throat. “Talk to Michael. Someone will drive you.”
“I’m taking the train,” I say.
“Either way someone goes with you.”
Perhaps, Janis is right and I’m tired of never living life boldly. I remind her, “Nat went on dates without a guard.”
Adeline’s lips part in amazement, but she cautiously peeks at Mom.
Gia Akatov shoos her away from the pasta. The kitchen is her domain. “Nat very conveniently fell in love with Lia Orlov.”
And her father rarely let her go without a guard.
“Dating and guards don’t mix,” I remind. Nat tenaciously fought her point, not wanting a hovering Russian guard breathing down her neck, when first wooing Lia. Adeline’s gone on dates as well without the bulky bodyguards.
“We haven’t vetted this person,” Mom says.
“I’ve vetted him.”
Leopold’s a golden ray of sunshine.
I walk around the kitchen island, wrapping Mom in a hug. “It’s going to be fine, mamma.”
“Do not mamma me,” she replies, knowing the term of endearment is used when sucking up. “It’s better this guy—”her eyes flash toward me, demanding details—“knows how things are from the get go.”
“It’s hard to believe, but not everyone is inclined to join the family business first chance they get.”
She shrugs, nonplussed.
“Mamma.”
At twenty-six, I can make my own decisions, but Mom’s face is strangely tight. The smiles and laugh lines smoothed away. This is how she looks when the memories of her kidnapping come to mind.
This is another reason I consider my accident lucky. The scar’s a bitch, but it healed.
Mamma’s scars are invisible to most. Her obsessive protection over us is one of the few ghostly reminders that her trauma never fully disappeared.
They kept her locked up for three days. Her guards shot in the head in front of her. Most of the details I’ve heard second-hand from other people. I think she’s worried about hurting us if she tells us about how they hurt her.
People don’t talk about it, but the question lingers. Was she really going to be locked away for three days and come away untouched?
Some scars don’t fade because they’re so deeply imprinted on your soul.
Adeline licks some sauce from her thumb. “You know mamma, Lennie’s a lot cooler than you think.”
Mom narrows her eyes at her youngest. “Cooler? What do you mean by this?”
She shrugs, coyly. “It’s just who needs a guard when you’re best friends with a triggerman.”
My mouth drops open as Adeline spills my secrets.
Mom places a hand on her hip. “Triggerman?” She looks at me for answers.
Adeline provides them. “She hangs out at Fujimori’s all the time.”
If this is meant to help me with the guard situation I don’t see how.
But Adeline leans into it, stirring a simmering pot of sauce. “Can you imagine what would happen to the guy who pisses off Ren Callahan’s best friend?”
Mom looks between us. Adeline’s nonchalant while I bite my lip.
“Fujimori’s?” Mom asks me, her eyes widening. “What is this about, Lennie?”
“Nothing, I just. . .” Don’t feel like explaining again how I was too scared to go to book club. “I went in one day is all. It turns out Ren and Isolde are super nice. So are all the Fujimori’s.”
Honestly, it’s too bad they’re not our family friends instead of the Zimins.
But disappointment creases her brow. “Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Cause you’d go batshit,” Adeline dryly states.
Mom throws a dishtowel at her. “Fine, go on this date. But if he harms you—”Mom’s face tightens—“you tell Ren to hire Russet to shoot his cock off.”
It’s not a statement I thought I’d ever hear my mother state, but I take the win.
I kiss her cheek, knowing her worry is out of love. Then I shoot Adeline a what the fuck look.
“Learn how to play the game,” she mouths back.
I don’t get it but whatever.
Leopold sent me the address of the meet-up spot and to make Mom happy, I let one of our guards drive me into the city. It means I’m running late when he drops me off, but with his natural cheerfulness, Leopold brushes it off.
“We’re right on time,” he assures me, before giving his name to the hostess. “Do you need to get that?”
He stares down at the phone in my hand lighting up with a message.
“No, it’s fine.” I catch Elijah’s name, but darken the screen. For once, I have something more exciting than a random text from him.
Talking to Leopold is easy and I’m comfortable enough to eat when he orders an appetizer. Knowing the same people helps, but even after catching up on the years since university the conversation flows.
I’m amazed at myself for keeping the normal pins and needles of my anxiety at bay.
“Your dress is really pretty,” he says after thanking the waiter for bringing more wine.
“Thanks.” The simple, tight, black dress reminds me of Adeline. Not so much because of her style, but because I think I’m starting to feel her confidence. I feel put together and pretty.
“Did you wear it for me?”
I tell myself the candle flame on the table is warm enough to heat my cheeks.
Is this what people talk about? Attraction. Something grows in my belly. A wanting.
It withers and dies when he leans forward and says, “And the panties you’re wearing? Are those for me too?”
I’ve read the literature. All the dark romances. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the sentence, but the candle flame dances in his eyes, painting an eerie reflection.
The smile that’s been on my face all night slips.
Leopold’s still. Too still. And his eyes aren’t warm and friendly, a glaring difference from the sunshine he exuded one second earlier.
His hand moves over the table, running a finger across my arm. “I think I’d prefer it if you took them off right now.”
My cheeks warm and not in a good way. It’s more of an icky, what the hell is this? I feel like I keep glitching. A record’s scratched. His dirty talk isn’t subtle. It’s over the top and creepy and I don’t know where it’s coming from.
Especially when Leopold looks me in the eye and says, “We’re going to get married, Lennie. Do you know that?”
“W-what are you talking about?”
His finger glides up and down my arm, which I can’t move. He went from cute lion cub to predator.
And he’s looking at me like I’m his next meal.
“You’re an Akatov,” he says and my face grows hotter. It always circles back to my last name. “And I’m a Stuart. Why do you think I came back to the city?”
I’m starting to figure out it’s not for the tourist attractions.
“My family and yours,” he darkly muses. “That’s the future.”
I don’t know how I do it, but I lean forward, trying to emulate Adeline’s bored, sarcastic tone. “I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of the Stuarts.”
Leopold’s never kept his wealth a secret. Everyone at college knew he came from money. From what I understand his grandparents live in England, but he was raised in the US.
I never caught any indication, though, that the Stuarts lurked in the dark like my family.
“We’re expanding,” he explains.
“Here?”
Dad doesn’t talk business at home, but I know whatever the hell Leopold’s talking about is complete bullshit. Making a power move into the city won’t go over well.
He smirks like he’s reading my mind. “Everyone always says the Russian’s have a superiority complex.”
I move my hand, but he grabs it, keeping it pressed between the table and his. It’s a small move, meant to remind me of my place. I get it because the alarm bells go off.
The mask Leopold wore is all a lie. What scares me is how long he wore it.
Throughout college, I never spotted the monster.
How long have the Stuarts played this game?
“I think you should let me go.” I pray the suggestion isn’t weakened by my wisp of a voice.
He leans forward. Everyone here thinks he’s about to whisper sweet nothings to me. “Open your legs for me, Lennie.”
I blink at the directive. Like I said, I’ve read all the literature. I’m not against dirty talk, but fear paralyzes me.
I don’t like his attention.
Right here, right now, at this table in the middle of the room, he expects me to open my legs. What’s he going to do? Snake his hand up my dress?
Yes, Lennie.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand.
I take my arm back and he lets it go but his smirk widens.
The bastard enjoys watching women squirm.
And to think they say romance is dead. Turns out they’re just talking about Leopold’s soul.
Fuck him.
“I have to go.”
“Oh, do you,” he coos with mock sincerity.
My heart thuds in my chest. “I have a meeting.”
He doesn’t quite laugh, but he’s amused all the same.
Until I say, “Ren Callahan wants me to meet with her.”
His eyes never shift back to the merry, fun Leopold I once knew. Something deadens in them as he stares at me blankly.
Adeline might’ve joked earlier, but it is Ren who offers me protection tonight.
And I could almost cry in relief if I wasn’t so focused on moving my shaky legs out from under the table.
A sadistic smile crawls onto his face. “I’ll see you soon, Lennie,” he calls after me.
Like hell, you will.