17. Act Seventeen
ACT SEVENTEEN
“ E veryone always makes college sound epic,” Katya tells me, eyeing my Ohio State shirt that I changed into, plus a pair of collegiate sweats. I twisted my wet hair in a low pony, and it soaks the red fabric of my tee.
On the couch, the sixteen-year-old girl kicks her feet on the glass coffee table, a fresh plate of chicken and vegetables teetering on her leg. I’m not sure what kind of Thai this is, but it’s like the athlete version, almost no sauce. I’m sitting beside her with a half-filled plate in my hands.
“It’s not like you see on TV,” I explain. Then I frown, recalling a couple drunken parties with an inflatable theme—guys carting around blow-up dolls and girls dressed in balloons. “I mean, some of it is, but they don’t show the studying and cramming.”
Katya sips a blue sports drink, contemplating this. Sober Katya is a much different Katya. More tomboy than the girl I met with caked-on makeup and a martini. She wears jeans and a white tank top, no costume jewelry or feather boas.
Surprisingly, she’s taken my invasion of her couch really well, all things considered.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m going to miss out on something,” she says softly. I’m about to give her some encouragement when the pipes in the wall groan, Nikolai’s shower shutting off.
I tense, and a piece of chicken lodges on its way down.
Katya stabs at her broccoli. “But it can’t be that great if you left it, right?” Her orb-like eyes seem to grow. In the daylight she appears more wistful and otherworldly: pale skin, big lips, eyes and ears on a thin, willowy figure.
“It’s not that it wasn’t great,” I say, carefully choosing my words. “I just wanted something else.”
She chews in thought, nodding her head like she understands. Her brown hair is parted in the middle, still wet from her earlier shower. Viva ends earlier than Amour, but she had tutoring right after. Like home school, she said.
I can’t imagine never attending an actual school, one with hallways and bells that chime every hour. But from what she’s told me, tutoring in between practices and shows is the norm. All her brothers did it, including Nikolai.
“Do you know any costume shops around here?” I ask. “Or I guess lingerie ones? I have to buy some corsets and things for my act at Phantom. I need them relatively cheap though.”
Her gray eyes brighten, and she drops her feet from the coffee table, leaning closer. “I know the best place,” she says excitedly. “Are you free tomorrow afternoon?”
“No.” That wasn’t me. It was the six-foot-five Russian-American man entering the room.
Katya pouts. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
I turn my head to Nikolai and choke on a vegetable. He stands by the kitchen bar, a towel slung low on his waist. So close to naked: sculpted biceps, shoulders and abs that draw attention. I accidentally glance at his crotch, hidden behind the fabric. His nearly-naked-self is not distracting to anyone but me. I quickly sip my water, knowing he caught my initial reaction.
“Thora is training with me tomorrow,” Nikolai says. Unless I have a heart attack before then.
Katya lets out a frustrated breath and sets her plate down. “I finally have a friend who isn’t related to me and you have to steal her?”
My spirits rise. Katya likes me enough to call me a friend? Secondly, I’ve made another one since being in Vegas. I think I’m headed in a good direction.
Nikolai rests his arm on the bar counter. “She’s not here to be your friend, Katya . She’s here to train.” He pauses. “And she was my friend first.”
I try to hide a smile. “I can be everyone’s friend,” I mention softly.
Nikolai wears a stern expression, facing me. “Do you want to train or not?”
“I do, you know I do.” I talk to Katya before she explodes on her brother. She’s about there, sitting on her knees and gripping the couch, like she could jump to her feet and charge. “We can go another day. I still need you to show me the store.”
“What store?” Nikolai interjects, slipping into the kitchen that’s in view of the living room, no wall or divider separating them.
“Coco Roma,” Katya tells him, plopping down on her butt.
He was midway in opening the fridge, now he shuts it without grabbing anything. Whatever he says next is foreign to me. His gruff Russian fluently leaves his lips.
Katya stares at him blankly, and I’m thankful for her rebellious rule—the one where she’ll only converse with him in English.
He sighs, more agitated, and switches languages. “Were you planning on going to that part of town with just Thora?”
“No,” Katya snaps back. “I would’ve brought Timo.”
Nikolai glares. “Take someone as big as me or bigger or you’re not going.”
I scan the length of him as he crosses his arms. He’s the definition of intimidating—tall, muscular, all brawn and man. And I’m sure there’s plenty more beneath his towel. “There are people bigger than you?” I say—aloud. I cringe. I don’t even pretend to hide it.
I swear his lips tic upwards, humor lighting his stormy eyes.
Katya is the one who answers. “You should see Dimitri. He’s like a tank.”
I watch Nikolai’s features harden, and he returns to the fridge, his back to me.
Katya adds, “But he’s also obnoxious.” She picks up my tattered paperback from the couch cushion. I lent her my favorite paranormal romance after she asked what I was reading. “You have my number, right?” she questions for the third time, as though I deleted it.
I nod. “Yep. Katya Kotova, permanently saved in my contacts.”
She smiles when I mention permanently. She stands and rotates to her brother, but he’s busy pouring a glass of water at the sink. “I’ll weigh my options about who we’ll bring and get back to you.”
“I’m assuming I’m not an option.”
Katya crinkles her nose. “Maybe if you were more fun.”
He sips his water with the most authoritative, stern look in the history of looks. He’s not even trying to convince her otherwise, and I think he prefers it this way. I remember Hex, his flirty, roaming hands, and The Red Death, his dazzling, high-octane bet.
He can be fun, but he switches that off in front of his siblings. Katya rolls her eyes and waves him off as she departs to her bedroom in the upstairs loft.
Nikolai sets down the water and walks to a high cupboard, retrieving a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Nervous flutters invade my stomach. I wonder if I should reject the wine. Then I remember my long night that contains catcalls and Roger’s complaints about my wardrobe. A glass of wine sounds relaxing, and it’s not like we’re back at Hex, slamming down shots.
I won’t have a painful hangover in the morning, unable to adequately train.
Even so, I find myself hesitating. “Maybe I shouldn’t,” I say as he goes to pour the second glass. He pauses with the bottle above it, ready to stop. His actions—that he’d be willing to listen to my wishes—ease every part of me. “Maybe I should though?”
“Your choice, myshka.”
“Okay.” I nod him on.
He fills the wine glass only a quarter of the way. When he enters the living room area, he hands it to me. “I didn’t want to take out the bottle until Katya left,” he says as he sinks in the white chair across from the couch. “She would’ve asked for some.”
“And you would’ve said no?” I guess.
He nods, more morose and pensive as he stares at the carpet. “It’s one thing to say no when only I’m here, and it’s another to do it in front of someone else.”
I think I can understand that. She would’ve wanted to be treated like me, not like a kid since she’s sixteen, a teenager. Hardly a child.
I try not to stare too hard at him while we talk. But he’s still in a towel. It’s very hard not to notice it. I set my half-eaten plate down, appetite gone thanks to the nervous flutters. I’ll stick with the wine. “So you have four brothers,” I throw it out there.
“I do,” he says without elaborating. He smiles into his next sip of wine, knowing I’ll have to ask further.
I’m glad my horrible small talk efforts can entertain him. “I’ve met Timo and Luka, but where are the other two?”
“Madrid, until the end of the month, then they’ll be in…” His brows furrow, and he rubs his eyes, less reddened than before. “Valencia or Sevilla, I can’t remember.”
“They’re touring?” I guess.
“Noctis,” he says with a weak smile. “They’re on the European tour for another year and a half; then the show will go to Japan for a full twelve months.”
“Wow…” That’s a lot of traveling and separation from the rest of his family. I can see why Katya wants to join it—if that’s the only way she can see her mom and dad. I don’t want to pry, but so many questions sprout. I must wear them on my face since he speaks first.
“I haven’t seen Peter and Sergei in six years.” He pushes back the longer strands of his hair, still damp from his shower. Rarely does his gaze drift from mine, but in recollection of the past, he has a thousand-yard stare. “We talk on the phone, but it’s not the same as being here.”
“Are they young…like Katya?”
He shakes his head. “No. Peter is twenty-four, two years younger than me, and Sergei will be twenty-eight in July, two years older.”
I want to ask what happened—how they ended up split apart—but I’m not sure he’ll tell me. I’m not even sure it’s something he shares often. Just by his dark, faraway expression, I can tell it brings him to a place he’s not fond of going.
I sip my wine with rusted joints. Since I unearthed a sore subject, I decide to lighten the mood. I take the plunge. “Don’t tell me you sleep in the nude.” I nod to his towel, my lame attempt at a joke. I put the rim of the glass to my lips, gulping a sizable amount.
His eyes smile. “It’s much more comfortable.”
What? I choke on the liquid, coughing hoarsely.
He rises from his chair, as if ready to give me mouth-to-mouth. I hold up a hand, and he pauses in the middle of the floor.
“Thora?”
After another couple of dry coughs and a sip, I find my voice. “It went down the wrong…pipe or whatever it’s called.” I wince. I will never be a good smooth talker. It’s hard to even look at his face right now. He admitted to sleeping naked, even in jest. And he’s in a towel. Towering again. We’re also drinking wine.
Like old friends.
Nikolai returns to his seat, his eyes twinkling in amusement when I meet them.
“It’s not funny,” I say.
“It depends which part you’re referring to.” He rests his arm on the back of the chair, stretching, lounging. It’s a nice view.
I decide to jump topics again. New one. “How was the show tonight?”
“Fair,” he says. “But that’s how it’ll be until the aerial silk act returns.” He watches me take another gulp. “Careful, my demon.”
Do not choke. His comment almost made me, but I channel whatever poise I have and swallow the wine without falter. My entire body heats, not just from the alcohol.
Nikolai leans back into the chair, and the towel shifts, exposing more thigh, closer to something else. What if he’s called the God of Russia because of the size of his cock? The curious parts of me want to know. The sensible parts do not.
“How was your work?” he asks. A normal question, but the hairs on my arms rise.
“Fair,” I say, not mentioning the drunken guys, urging me to split my legs apart.
His gunmetal eyes seem to darken, and he rubs his strong jaw. He has to be imagining what “fair” entails at Phantom. Neither of us surfaces the unspoken words. It strains the air.
“Are you normally so bold?” he asks.
I try my shot at sarcasm. “You mean bold enough to sit in a living room in nothing but a towel?” I continue without thinking about my words. “It’s natural, yeah. I do it all the time.” I’m so lame.
He breaks into a fraction of a smile. “I mean you coming to Vegas on your own. Auditioning, staying even though you didn’t make it.” He knows I would’ve stayed whether or not he offered to train me. Maybe that’s the bold part—striving for something without a break, familiar face, or any help.
Back in Ohio, I would’ve never thought to crash at a Russian acrobat’s hotel suite—someone with a reputation for being a god and a devil alike. This is all new. One part exhilarating and three parts terrifying.
“I think there’s something in the Vegas water,” I end up saying. It’s triggered the bold in me.
He shakes his head just twice before boisterous voices fill outside—in the hallway. I can’t make sense of the jumbled noises, like people talking over each other. All at once. My stomach drops at the familiarity. During the never-ending night, I heard these sounds.
From a horde of Kotovas in the casino’s lobby.
I look up at Nikolai, and I realize that he’s been studying my reaction, not at all surprised about what lies outside his door.