CHAPTER 6
ILAY
The sun is bright and the sky is a perfect cloudless blue, the kind of day that feels like it was made for something special.
February in Moscow can be brutal but today the cold has softened into something almost pleasant.
Couples walk hand in hand on every street.
Florists sell roses on every corner. I have been planning this day for six days straight with the help of a three-year-old who has very strong opinions about flowers.
My wife is late.
The red carpet is rolled up in the back of the van waiting to be unfurled.
The musicians are sitting in a separate car with their instruments ready.
The pilot I hired for the skywriting is circling somewhere overhead waiting for my signal.
Everything is in place except for the one person who is supposed to be here.
I pull out my phone and dial her number. She picks up on the second ring.
"Baby, I'm so sorry, I know I said 4 but this client is—"
"Iris."
"I just need fifteen more minutes, I swear, I'm almost done with this paperwork and then—"
"Iris."
"Please don't be mad, I know it's Valentine's Day but this is really important and I promise I'll make it up to you—"
"I'm coming to get you."
Silence on the other end.
"What do you mean you're coming to get me?"
"I mean exactly what I said."
"Ilay, you can't just—"
I hang up and step out of the car, buttoning my suit jacket as I walk toward the building entrance.
The glass doors slide open. I walk through the lobby toward the elevators, ignoring the few people who turn to look at me.
I press the button for the fourth floor and wait as the elevator climbs.
When the doors open I step out onto the floor that has been drowning in my flowers for the past week.
The receptionist looks up with her mouth opening like she wants to say something, but I walk past her before she gets the chance.
The hallway stretches ahead of me. I can see people at their desks pretending not to stare as I pass, whispering to each other behind their hands.
Her office is at the end of the hall with the door half open.
Through the gap I can see her hunched over her desk with papers spread out in front of her, a pen in her hand.
Her red hair is falling out of its clip.
There are dark circles under her eyes that I don't like.
I push the door open without knocking. She looks up at me with wide eyes.
"Ilay, I told you I just need fifteen more—"
I don't let her finish.
I walk around her desk. Before she can react I bend down, scoop her up, throw her over my shoulder. She lets out a scream that probably echoes through the entire floor.
"Ilay! What are you doing? Put me down!"
"No."
"I have work!"
"It's Valentine's Day."
"I know but—"
"No buts."
I carry her out of her office into the hallway where her colleagues have gathered to see what the commotion is about. They stare at us with open mouths as I walk past them with my wife kicking and squirming over my shoulder, her fists pounding against my back in a way that doesn't hurt at all.
"This is so embarrassing," she hisses. "Everyone is looking at us."
"Let them look."
"Ilay, please, put me down, I can walk, I have legs, I am a functioning adult who can move on her own."
"You had your chance to walk. You didn't take it."
I carry Iris into the elevator and press the button for the ground floor. When the doors close she finally stops struggling, lets out a long breath against my back.
"You are insane," she says.
"You married me."
"I'm starting to regret that decision."
"No you're not."
She laughs despite herself. I feel her body relax against my shoulder, her hands now resting flat against my back instead of hitting it.
"Where are you taking me?" she asks.
"You'll see."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting."
The elevator doors open. I carry her through the lobby where more people stop and stare. I can hear someone gasp, someone else laugh as we pass. The glass doors slide open. The bright afternoon sun hits us as I step outside onto the sidewalk.
I pause at the top of the steps and take a deep breath.
"ROLL OUT THE RED CARPET!"
For a moment nothing happens. Iris lifts her head to try to see what's going on.
Then my men spring into action, unrolling a long red carpet that stretches from the building entrance across the sidewalk down to where Viktor is waiting with the car. The fabric unfurls in a wave of crimson against the gray pavement. People on the street stop walking to watch.
"What the hell?" Iris breathes.
I step onto the carpet and start walking. That's when the musicians climb out of their car with their instruments in hand. There are four of them. Two violins, a cello, a viola. They fall into step behind me as they begin to play a romantic melody that floats through the air.
"Oh my God," Iris says. "Oh my God, Ilay, what is this?"
"Look up."
She cranes her neck. I hear her gasp when she sees the skywriting overhead, the white letters spelling out against the perfect blue sky in curves and loops that the pilot must have practiced a dozen times.
I LOVE YOU TIMES A MILLION.
"You didn't," she whispers.
"I did."
People on the street have stopped to watch. They are pulling out their phones to take videos and photos. I can hear them murmuring to each other about how romantic it is. I can see Iris's colleagues pressed against the windows of the fourth floor looking down at us.
When we reach the car Viktor opens the back door. I finally set Iris down on her feet. Her face is flushed. Her eyes are wet. She's looking at me like she doesn't know whether to kiss me or kill me.
"You are the most ridiculous man I have ever met," she says.
"Is that a thank you?"
She grabs my face and pulls me down into a kiss. The musicians keep playing behind us. Somewhere overhead the plane is still circling. I can hear people cheering and clapping around us. Her lips are soft and warm. I want to keep kissing her forever but we have places to be.
When she pulls back she's smiling so wide it looks like it hurts.
"Thank you," she says. "You absolute lunatic."
"Get in the car."
"Where are we going?"
I reach into my pocket and pull out a silk blindfold in the same champagne color as the dress I bought her. "It's a surprise."
She looks at the blindfold, then back at me. "You're serious?"
"Very."
She sighs but she's still smiling as she turns around, lets me tie the blindfold over her eyes. I make sure the knot is secure but not too tight before I help her into the backseat. I slide in beside her, close the door. Viktor pulls away from the curb as the musicians wave goodbye.
"How long is this drive?" she asks.
"Not long."
"Can I have a hint about where we're going?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"What if I guess?"
"You won't guess."
She reaches out blindly, finds my hand, laces her fingers through mine. I watch her face as she sits there in the darkness of the blindfold with a small smile on her lips.
"I love you," she says softly.
"I love you too." I bring her hand to my lips, press a kiss to her knuckles. "Times a million."
She laughs. "I saw."
"The whole city saw."
"You're so ugh, I can’t even."
"You love it."
She squeezes my hand, leans her head against my shoulder. We ride in comfortable silence as Viktor navigates through the streets of Moscow.
Viktor stops the car fifteen minutes later. I help Iris out onto the sidewalk, keeping the blindfold firmly in place.
"Can I take this off now?" she asks.
"Not yet."
I guide her forward with my hands on her shoulders, steering her toward the entrance of the building.
"Ilay, where are we? I don't recognize the sounds."
"Just a few more steps."
I push open the glass doors, lead her into the lobby. The click of her heels on the marble floor echoes through the empty space. The afternoon light pours through the tall windows, illuminates the gold lettering on the wall.
"It smells new," she says. "Like paint and wood."
"You're very observant."
I position her in the center of the lobby facing the wall where her name is displayed.
"Ready?" I ask.
"I've been ready for twenty minutes."
I untie the blindfold. Let it fall.
For a moment she just blinks, adjusting to the light. Then her eyes focus on the wall in front of her. I watch her read the words letter by letter like she can't quite believe what she's seeing.
IRIS IVANOVICH LAW FIRM
She stops breathing.
Her hand comes up to cover her mouth. Her whole body goes still. I can see the exact moment when it hits her, when she understands what this means, when she realizes that this is real.
"What..." Her voice comes out as a whisper. "What is this?"
"It's yours."
She turns to look at me with tears already spilling down her cheeks. "What do you mean it's mine?"
"I mean this building is yours. Your own law firm.
You don't have to work for anyone else anymore.
You don't have to take clients you don't believe in.
You don't have to answer to partners who don't appreciate you.
" I take her hands in mine, hold them tight.
"You can build something that's entirely your own. "
She shakes her head like she can't process what I'm telling her. "Ilay, this is too much."
"Nothing is too much for you."
"A building? You bought me a building?"
"Twelve floors with a corner office on the top floor that has a view of the city. I picked out the furniture and the paint colors myself." I pause. "With some help from Anya."
She laughs through her tears. "Of course you did."
"Do you want to see your office?"
She nods. I take her hand, lead her to the elevator. We ride up to the twelfth floor in silence, her fingers gripping mine so tight I can feel her trembling. When the doors open I lead her down the hallway to the corner office at the end.
I push open the door, let her walk in first.