Lily
I’ll admit that the idea of a shower is compelling, so I follow the towering muscular monstrosity of a man that is Ivan up the long staircase to the top floor of his house.
I should really say his mansion, since the place is so huge. It was obvious from the moment I saw him that he was financially well off. The jet-black wool coat gave that away in a heartbeat, but the luxury car and sprawling estate made it impossible to ignore.
A man only gets this wealthy by two means: business or crime. And since I’ve already witnessed Ivan pull a gun without hesitation and start shooting, I’m compelled to think crime is the reason for his substantial material possessions.
But how much crime does a man have to do to have a house this magnificent? The stairs are carved from the darkest marble, lined with silver that appears to be etched with Russian words. They look similar to the etchings on Ivan’s and Dimitri’s rings, but perhaps that’s only because they’re in the same language.
At the top of the staircase, there’s a stained-glass window that casts deep red across the polished mahogany hallway. It warms the entire hall with a divine presence, not quite like a church, but certainly somewhere important.
It has authority, just like Ivan does, as he guides me down the hallway to a door at the very end. “The master bedroom. You may sleep here tonight if you’d like.”
As nice as his house is, I’m not keen on spending any more time here than is absolutely necessary. There’s too much risk being involved with a man like Ivan. For one, he’s the one who attracted the car shooter to Dimitri’s funeral. If it weren’t for him, none of this would’ve happened, and I’d be able to mourn my uncle’s death properly.
A brief distraction. That’s all this is. The mold of sorrow will grow inside me just as soon as I leave his menacing presence.
“Here we are. I like to keep it locked from the outside when I’m away,” Ivan says as we come to a stop in front of the bedroom door. He lifts a large iron padlock on the door, inserting a key. It clicks open with a satisfying metallic weight.
“In we go,” he says, opening the door and ushering me inside.
The first thing I notice about the master bedroom when I step inside is how much it smells like tobacco, both smoked and unsmoked. It’s a rich and heavy scent, but not stifling. It lingers in a comfortable way, layered with cologne and clean linen.
It’s surprisingly neat for a man who isn’t married. I already checked his fingers for more rings and found none. He must have maids, or he’s a psychopath.
Could be both…
“I’ll find you a shirt to wear,” Ivan says, closing the door and locking it.
Claustrophobia grips my heart, but I take a deep breath, trying to retain control over my senses. He hasn’t done anything especially threatening to me yet, and he did save my life. I doubt he’s going to attack me now.
It’s impossible to get rid of the fear entirely, but I manage to push it down to the same place I’ve been keeping my feelings about Dimitri’s death. They’re bottled up in the pit of my stomach and temporarily unable to hurt me.
Ivan moves to a dresser across from the king-sized bed, digging through it until he pulls out a large white t-shirt. “This should do,” he mutters, and I get chills throughout my entire body.
His voice, deep and calm, makes me feel something hard to describe. It’s like having someone run their nails gently across my scalp, or getting shivers from warm water pouring down the back of my neck in the shower.
Whatever it is, it’s giving me goosebumps all down my arms and legs.
Ivan hands me the shirt and smiles warmly. Suddenly, he doesn’t seem so dangerous. His protective nature is showing again, and like a bear that’s decided to cuddle you in his cave rather than tearing you to shreds.
“I’ll show you how the shower works,” he says, nodding his head for me to follow.
I look down at the cotton t-shirt in my hand as I walk behind him to the bathroom. It’s big because it belongs to Ivan and would probably reach my knees. The arm holes are quite large, though, considering his massive biceps, so I don’t feel like I’d be able to lift my arms while wearing it without showing everything inside.
Maybe that was his plan all along.
It’s easy to paint Ivan with bad intentions, but the truth is that he’s acting like a gentleman in light of my aggression toward him. I pushed away a lot of people in my life, but Ivan doesn’t budge. He barely even reacts to the way I try to break his stoic demeanor.
He’s like one of those statues in the cemetery. Unmoving, yet wrought with silent emotion and important words that can never be spoken.
Ivan’s wet dress shirt sticks to his back as he leans over the edge of the shower, messing with one of the several red crystal knobs attached to the smooth black marble. He’s explaining something, but I’m hopelessly lost in the ripple of muscles in his broad back to understand him.
After a few seconds, he looks over his shoulder at me. “You got that?”
I pull my head back, blinking away my starstruck expression. “Um, yeah…”
“The left knob controls the heat, the middle one is the flow, and the right one is the cold water. Too much of any of them is going to be a problem. Just adjust them until you find a comfortable balance.”
I nod, trying to take in the meaning of what he’s saying instead of just the words. “Left, hot. Middle… cold?”
“The middle is the flow. They all turn clockwise.”
“To the right,” I clarify.
“Yes, clockwise,” he says in a condescending tone.
I scoff. “Alright, I got it. Just let me shower in peace and I promise I won’t break anything.”
“Not worried about that,” he mutters as he stands up. “Just don’t burn yourself. The hot water will cook you if you turn it far enough.”
I shrug. “I can imagine worse ways to go.”
He narrows his eyes at me before leaving the bathroom. I close the door behind him, eager to regain my privacy, but that hope evaporates when I realize there’s no lock on the door. I can’t keep him out.
I open the door and poke my head out. Ivan is sitting on the bed, thumbing through a black leather-bound book. He looks up at me like a professor in his office.
“There’s no lock,” I tell him, craning my neck to check the knob from the other side.
“Right. I don’t need one. There’s already one on the bedroom door.”
“Yes, but I need one.”
A smirk plays on his lips. “I won’t peek.”
I sigh, closing the door hard and letting out a deep sigh. I strip out of my heavy wet dress, hanging it on the door to make the handle harder to turn. I know if he wanted to come inside, it wouldn’t stop him, but it makes me feel a little better.
I wish my bra and panties weren’t so wet, but they’re just as soaked as the rest of my clothes, so I remove them and hang them with my dress. I should’ve asked for some shorts to wear under Ivan’s oversized t-shirt, but it’s too late for that now.
The shower door is clear, but I don’t mind being able to see through it. If I can see out, then I’ll know if Ivan decides to open the door and break his promise not to peek.
Would he really do such a thing? I doubt it, but I still don’t know much about him. If he really is a criminal, what’s stopping him from simply committing more crimes? Is my relation to Dimitri enough to protect me?
My safety is flimsy, at best, so I better not get too comfortable here.
I step into the shower, testing a few of the knobs until the water begins to flow. It’s not that difficult to get it to a temperature I like, since it’s very responsive. It’s not like the shower in my apartment that goes from freezing to scalding if you turn the knob more than a centimeter.
I take a careful step under the stream, immediately breathing out a long sigh of relief as the hot water spills over me. I didn’t realize how cold and clammy my skin was until the feeling was washed by warmth.
My neck pops in several places as I roll my head a few times, soaking up every ounce of pleasure I can get. After everything I’ve been through in the last few days, I deserve a break. I don’t even feel guilty about taking it in a stranger’s bathroom.
My eyes close on their own as I’m lulled into a secure cleansing. The filth is washed away as I stand under the water, and I begin to feel warm on the inside again.
It feels like it’s been ages since I felt that warmth in me, but it’s only been a week. I was just sitting across the table from Dimitri at his house, eating bread from the bakery and that delicious soup he always makes. It’s from Russia, I was told.
I bet Ivan knows what it is. His accent is so strong that it feels like I’m talking to someone who just landed in the United States yesterday. If I wasn’t taking a shower in his mansion, I’d believe he had flown here specifically for Dimitri’s funeral.
A glimmer of guilt appears in my belly, growing stronger as I think about what happened. It was all going so well, with everyone saying such lovely words about Dimitri and pretending that the rain didn’t exist. Then, the bullets flew, and everyone scattered. I didn’t see anyone get hit, but it’s possible that there were victims.
A vivid picture appears in my head of the blind barber lying dead on the ground, unable to seek shelter before getting hit by a stray bullet.
My eyes fly open, and I slam my hand into the knob, shutting off the water.