9. Trap
Chapter nine
Trap
T atianna stared at herself in the mirror. The white dress was fit for a queen and cost more than her father could afford, but he was adamant about getting her what she wanted. He kept telling her not to worry, but it was her job. Without her mother around to care for his well-being, she had no choice. She hadn’t been born as the heir, but she was what was left.
In this moment, more so than any before it, was doubt. Tatianna caught her gaze in the reflection and was ashamed of it because every day, she was thinking of someone else. She was imagining someone else at the end of the altar. Someone else kissing her. Someone else slipping a hand between her legs. Yakov was the only one who brought life into her. And the terrible thing was that Fedor noticed the change in her.
When they were making out the other day, he commented on how excited she seemed. It was embarrassing, but he assured her it was okay. He was excited, too, Fedor said. He boldly brought her hand to the stiffness between his legs and smiled against her cheek. ‘Soon, Tati.’
Tatianna quickly took off the wedding dress, nearly ripping the fabric as she did so. The seamstress kept asking her what was wrong, and no matter how many times she replied ‘nothing,’ the woman didn’t believe her.
Tatianna pushed through the door and jogged a length away until she put a hand on the wall to catch her breath. She had been so sure of plans for the future. Everything was written down. All the paths, all the friendships, all the connections that needed to be made to excel her life into the kind she wanted had been written and already begun. There was so much to do, and she could see her life day by day and what it would become. All her hard work would be recognized, and everything that would happen would be because she had done it. There would be no ‘luck,’ it would all be strategic moves.
But Yakov presented a shortcut.
If she went with him, she’d have everything she was striving for in moments.
And then what?
Nothing would be hers. Everything would be his.
Nothing would mean anything. She’d be an armpiece only kept around for fucking and babies and though that wasn’t a bad way to live, perhaps even something she wouldn’t mind for a while, there was too much going on in her head for her just a housewife.
With Fedor, she knew how to bend him to her will. He lived to please her and it was the best thing she could ask for.
Tatianna wasn’t ignorant to the kind of man Yakov was. He would not bend. He would not give in. But the idea of a challenge caused havoc in her belly. Tatianna was finding Yakov harder and harder to resist. Because with him, her future was impossible to see, and that made him so exciting. Being with Yakov was like walking with her eyes closed—the darkness, the unknown, the depths at which she could fall.
Tatianna noticed her driver tracking her down, and with a reassuring smile, she met him and dove into the backseat. The smell of her cigars relaxed her, and she leaned back against the leather seat. She hesitated bringing Yakov up with her father because she knew what he would say. He would tell her to stay away. He wasn’t a man that Nevsky found ‘honorable’. Despite them both being in the mafia business, her father was convinced there was a nice way to operate. But the Morozovs had no regard for morality.
Tatianna’s home sat in the middle of town, and the cobblestone streets that had been built a hundred years ago were still part of the main road. Their house was just as old, with fresh paint and an upgraded interior. It was five stories, but thin. The bottom was the foyer and greeting hall. The second held the kitchen and dining room, while the upper levels held the bedrooms. Her room was small, meant only for an average bed and a closet that was stuffed to the brim with all her clothes. Her father had grown up in this house and refused to look for a better place. ‘It’s the charm,’ he would say when she would complain. All her friends had better houses than she did, it was nearly an embarrassment.
A maid stopped her halfway up the long flight of stairs to tell her Nevsky wanted to speak with her. An audible groan escaped her before she could stop it and made her way to her father’s office. He sat in the small square box with open windows that looked down on the cobble stone streets below and read the newspaper with an unlit cigar between his lips. Nevsky, like most of his children, had a huge nose that was more prominent than the cigar sticking out. Tatianna always thanked her mother for not giving her such a deformity.
“Tati, how was the fitting?”
“Fine. But the dress is too extravagant, papa. I don’t want you to spend so much money.”
“Don’t you worry about that. It’s a man’s job to worry about money. And it’s a–”
“Woman’s job to spend it,” Tatianna grumbled, plopping in a chair. She looked over the desk to see the letter she gave him still sitting in the same spot on the desk. She deflated once more. The letter was about a job she was interested in, but she required her father’s approval before she could be hired. She thought in a time where half the men were gone fighting in a war, she’d finally get her chance to work.
“I’ve decided I’m not going to sign it,” her father stated after noticing her glance.
“Why?”
“Two reasons.” He folded up his paper and sat up. “First, I was born into poverty. For the first ten years of my life, I saw my mother and father get up and go to work for scraps, barely giving us enough to eat every week. My uncle bought them this house when I was twelve. My uncle took us from the crappy shed we lived in and gave us a home. I worked hard to be just like him. All his sons died in the war. But I survived. And he gave me everything, taught me everything. So no, I will not have my daughter working.”
Tatianna clenched her teeth but remained silent. He spoke like she hadn’t heard his sob story a hundred times over. It explained nothing because it had nothing to do with her.
“Two. You are about to be married and start a family. This job idea is silly, so get it out of your head.”
Tatianna stood. “Anything else?”
He eyed her, wondering if he should comment on her disrespect. He instead tossed her an envelope. “This arrived for you. No indication of who it was from, and a nameless servant delivered it. I could have opened it.”
She held it in her hand, brows knit as she looked it over. It shouldn’t have surprised her when she pulled the paper out and saw the monogrammed ‘M’ on the top of the letterhead.
‘Dear Miss Nevsky, since you are so inept with hostage situations, I decided to employ your help.’
Tatianna slipped the paper back into the envelope. “Just a girlfriend asking about the wedding. May I be dismissed?”
With a wave of his hand, Tatianna raced upstairs and locked her door before she yanked the paper out again and read the whole thing. Her knees weakened, and she stumbled for the bed. Yakov was asking for her advice. The head of the Morozov family wanted her opinion on his dealings. He was ridiculous in how much he revealed. She nearly wanted to call him on the telephone and berate him for the information he so willingly gave. It was like he wanted someone to snoop simply so he could catch them.
“That’s what he’s doing,” Tatianna whispered to herself. She slapped the parchment on the bed and cursed. “He wants to see if I’ll betray him.” The scoff came as she snatched up the paper once more. The situation he gave her was detailed and written in his handwriting. He had even signed it at the bottom. If she took this to her father, they could betray Morozov and set him up for failure. He was going after their biggest threat to the Morozov empire: the Rostovs. They had only begun their treaty before Yaroslav died. Yefim was sent as a peace offering to keep their families as allies, but here, Yakov had every intention of destroying the family.
Tatianna went to the phone but paused. There was always a chance of the police listening to her conversation. They liked to spy. Should she write back? The chance of it ending up in the wrong hands was too much risk.
Seeing him in person? He lived four hours away. It wasn’t like he lived next door.
Tatianna sat at her desk and flicked on the light. She reread his letter. If he wanted to play with her, then she was going to win. She began writing the most exaggerated plan if only to spite him. It made her laugh diabolically as she wrote, imagining the look on his face. It was devious and dreadful, full of death, and words only the devil himself would write. And when she was done, she proudly fanned herself, having worked up a sweat over the last few hours.
“Tati!” one of her siblings called from downstairs.
“Coming!”
She left the letter and dived down the mountain of stairs; her seven brothers and sisters were gathered on the steps, peeking through the banister. It was something they did with every guest. As the oldest now, she had no choice but to barrel forward and hop the last step onto the kitchen floor.
Yakov Morozov stood in the center of her dining room.
“Ah…” An awkward sound came out of her mouth as she blinked. He was dressed in a fine-tailored gray suit with light brown shoes. He held his hat in his hand with a wickedly pleased smile.
Tatianna had done up her hair in a messy bun, and a few bangs were still slick with sweat. Unlike his mansion, air conditioning was only for the bottom levels. Her room was typically a sweatbox.
Her father swept into the room, passed her, and shook Yakov’s hand. “It is a great pleasure to have you in our home.” He looked back at her. “Tati, say hello.”
“Hi,” she managed.
Nevsky waited for more, but when she remained still, he pushed through. “Come to my office. I have brand new cigars.”
“Forgive me, but I have come to speak with your daughter if that’s alright.”
Nevsky hesitated, flicking his gaze between Yakov and Tatianna. “Um…yes?” he questioned himself. “That’s fine, I gather. Please take your time.” He eyed Tatianna and placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t embarrass me.”
She nodded with a pressed smile.
Nevsky waved his arms at his children, and the stomps of their feet lasted for at least a minute, and Tatianna winced with every door slam.
An embarrassment is this house, she wanted to scream up the stairs.
“Lovely home.”
“No, it isn’t.” Tatianna shot back.
Yakov suppressed a smile. He dropped his hat on the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit. Tatianna didn’t want to sit. She was smelly, underdressed, and caught off guard. She hated him for it because chances were he was doing it on purpose. Still, she forced herself to sit, and Yakov sat at the head, typically where her father sat.
He cleared his throat before he began. “I will apologize, only this once–”
“No need. I overstepped.”
Yakov continued nonetheless. “I was caught off guard. Which is becoming typical with you. Luerna is important to me. Though I believe those words have never left my mouth.”
Tatianna bowed her head to hide the heat of her cheeks. “I’m honored.”
The silence that followed made him terribly uncomfortable, and he moved on. “You received my letter.”
Knowing Yakov wanted the topic to be completely erased, Tatianna dutifully followed with a curt, “Yes. It was ridiculous.”
“How so?”
“You set a trap, and like a stupid bunny, you expect me to be ensnared. Well, I didn’t fall for it.”
“What made you believe it was a trap?”
She scoffed loudly and exaggerated. “It was obvious! You used names, dates, and times. It was dangerous doing so, I will admit. If anyone believed that was actually real, you would have been in a world of trouble if the Rostovas got a hold of it. I hear they curse their enemies.”
“It is real.”
Tatianna snorted. “I’ve played your game out of interest. I have it all written down.”
“I’d like to see it.”
Tatianna called upstairs to have one of her sisters bring it down.
Yakov hid a smirk. “Is that normal? To scream at the top of your lungs for someone to get something for you?”
She glared at him. “We have one maid, and she’s old. I’m not about to have her run up three flights of stairs.”
Her fourteen-year-old sister handed her the paper but lingered, looking at Yakov as if he were a piece of tantalizing meat. Tatianna shoved her onward before returning to the table with the paper held out. It took Yakov ten minutes to read over her story, and Tatianna sat with a smirk the whole time, congratulating herself on how his eyebrows rose at times. But as it continued, the way he nodded, as if he understood or even agreed with her assessment, made her uneasy.
“Have I passed your test?”
Yakov folded it up and slipped it into his pocket. “Very good. You saved me some time.” He got up and snatched his hat off the table.
Tatianna’s smile fell when he headed for the door. “What? Where are you going?”
“I have a coup d’etat to implement, don’t I?”
She snapped to her feet. “You can’t be serious.”
Yakov met her gaze. A moment of silence passed between them before he questioned, “Do I strike you as someone not serious?”
Her mouth bobbed, speechless.
Yakov went for the stairs.
“Wait,” she darted in front of him. “You risk too much. If it falls through–”
“It won’t.”
“How could you know that?”
He tapped his pocket. “It’s all written down.”
She shook her head. “I am not certified to take down a mafia family, Mr. Morozov. My ideas are erratic at best.”
“I thought they were very thorough.”
Tatianna had a hand on her lips as she stared at him. He was unbelievable, and nothing about this felt right. She was scared. “What are you doing?”
Yakov smirked. “I’m going to show you why you belong with me.”
The statement hung in the air, and it repeated in her head five times before she responded. “I believe in love, Mr. Morozov.”
Yakov clenched his teeth and shifted. He hated such a word. “Do you? As logical as you are, I highly doubt that.” He fixed his hat on his head. “You love Fedor, then?”
Tatianna struggled to respond. She wasn’t with Fedor because she loved him, and Yakov knew it. He could see it and he didn’t feel guilty for exposing it.
“Yes,” she found herself saying. It didn’t matter if it was a lie. She wasn’t going to leave him. Fedor was the plan. There was no danger. No question of morality. No risking her life or soul. He was steady, and she’d be happy with him.
Yakov took only one step closer, and his fingers graced the side of her cheek. Her eyes closed, her heart thumping with terrible force that her breath picked up. He cupped the side of her face, and then his lips were on hers, and she sucked in a gasp. His lips were soft like a caress on silk sheets.
Then his hold tightened, and he aggressively pushed her against the wall, kissing her with a sheering heat that hardened her nipples and drove a sharp stab of desire into her gut. His tongue found hers, deepening their kiss so hard the back of her head hurt from the pressure. His leg forced between hers. His other hand was on her hip, his nails digging into her skin. She felt the hard length of his cock against her thigh, and every fantasy she’s ever had was right in this moment.
Yakov leaned his head back, breaking their lips. They panted in each other’s faces. He cupped the side of her breast, and his thumb daringly graced her nipple. He observed how she arched against him and not away. Her body was a fucking masterpiece, and to know he was about to lose it nearly enraged him. “Enjoy your love. I hope it is as boring as it sounds.”
He left her and didn’t look back.