Chapter 27Ana #2
His hands fall away.
His deep sapphire eyes are so plaintive, so morose, so desperate to help me.
He’s my tormentor, my abuser, not in the physical way it looks like in the videos but in the mental way. The emotional way. Maybe Dima is right and what I wanted from Vasily wasn’t love but an out, but I can’t confirm my own thoughts, and I may never be able to.
I can’t simply change my lifestyle and preserve my memories.
I pound my fist on his chest one last time. “You dare talk to me— to me — about losing memories. You stole them as surely as my brother did. You stole six years of them.”
Vasily braves touching me once more, this time resting his giant hands over my tiny fists, bringing them together over his heart. I know I can break free, but I don’t. I’m so tired.
“I did, and I will forever regret that. But I will make it up to you every day of my life so long as you’ll let me, zvyozdochka. ”
I shake my head. “No. I can’t trust you. You’re no better than Tony.”
“Then trust me just right now. Trust me to touch you. Just long enough to prove it. It won’t be anything earth shattering, but... I hope it will help.”
Foolish girl that I am, I nod.
He moves one hand to my pelvis. I’m thinking he’s going to try to seduce me and just this one time, I’m going to stop him because I am too tired for anything except existing, but then he holds it there.
“This tattoo, I put here. No one else has gotten it, no one ever will. I’ve never drawn it anywhere else.
It’s the only place you’ll ever see the Baranov ram and the ve for Vasily.
But it’s not a V. It’s not the Latin letter. ”
“Oh, it’s the B?”
He smiles gently, tentatively, mindful that I might react violently. “I mean, it’s a ve, but yeah, it looks like a Latin B. But you didn’t just immediately trust me to tattoo you, so I tattooed myself.”
He only has two tattoos that I’ve seen; his brother’s name and the bit of Russian on his thigh. I sit back just enough that I can nudge up his shorts enough to see it. “Three bezgorka. Three vezgorka,” I correct with this new knowledge.
“A lot of Cyrillic and Latin look the same but sound different. For example, the uppercase ze is similar to a three, and the E with the umlaut? That’s pronounced yo.”
I nod, following along, putting together the puzzle. “So then it’s z... vuh-yo... zvyog—” My eyes snap to his. “Zvyozdochka? That’s what that says?”
He pushes carefully on my mons. “You’re mine.
” Then he covers the hand I have on his thigh.
“And I’m yours. I told you forever, and I told you the truth.
I was...” He laughs, his face pinking up.
“I was terrified. I thought for sure that we were going to get out here, and I was going to break down, and I wasn’t going to be able to protect you.
I thought I’d be dead weight and you would realize I was too weak.
But I couldn’t let you go. Then everything just fell apart, and I no longer saw a way out for me, but there was still a chance for you.
There was everything we put into motion.
Those videos and that tattoo and the position I was in, and all I could do was hope it was enough. ”
“I don’t know if that’s good enough.” I want it to be, but I can’t say that it is.
“I removed a piercing every year. Because I told you they were just for you, and then I wasn’t faithful, and that was even shittier of me, but there it is. I could have taken them out all at once, but it hurt worse doing it on the anniversary.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yeah, we already know I’m stupid. Damn good businessman, though.
And I could have gotten this tattoo removed, but instead, every year when I removed the piercing, I refreshed the tattoo.
I was supposed to the day Sasha called me to say he’d found you, but then it didn’t matter because I had you back.
My heart was always yours, even when nothing else could be. I never stopped loving you.”
“You can’t apologize to me with a tattoo and a piercing, Vasily.”
His grin is much brighter this time. “I can, and I did. And not saying you hurt my feelings in the shower not noticing this, but look.” He fishes around in his pants and pulls his flaccid penis out.
It has a second piercing in it.
“Dammit, Vasya. ”
“Ya tebya lyublyu, zvyozdochka.”
I’m exhausted. That’s what I tell myself when I tuck him back into his pants and then collapse onto his chest, mumbling, “I don’t hate you, Vasya.”
“That’s a—” He curses when he’s interrupted by a knock on the door, but it’s much softer than yesterday’s.
“Hey, sorry about breaking up the love fest,” Kseniya calls through the door. “But there’s been a minor complication in the plan. Tony’s decreed y’all are getting buried together.”
Vasily sighs. “I was gonna say that’s a good start, but maybe not.”
“You’re positive this is what you want to do?
” Vasily asks as he parks the rental car behind the church, away from the other mourners.
I’m wearing a tasteful veil and he’s donning a brimmed cap, nothing unusual at a funeral and enough of a disguise that no one would recognize us with just a casual glance through the window, but we’re certainly not sneaking in the front door this way.
“We have to.”
“Not really. I can get access to money, enough to keep us on our feet, at least. Camilla’s already here with Artom; I’m sure we can have him snuck out the back or arrange something at the cemetery.
We can go back to that little house outside of Denver.
We can be Bob and Betty and Billy Smith. The Smiths.”
My shoulders shake with my laugh. “Those are the most suspicious names imaginable. No one under the age of sixty goes by Bob or Betty.”
“Not true. I have a guy in Los Angeles who’s Bob. He’s a clean-up guy, does a great job with bodies. Can’t be any older than you. And there’s a drag queen Alex is buddies with. Real nice guy. Gal? They go by Betty. We could be Bob and Betty.”
“Bob the clean-up guy and Betty the drag queen.”
“I think women can be drag queens now. Kings?”
It’s ridiculous. It’s all ridiculous. Outside, the air is chilly, the sky overcast. Snow dances around our windows, caught in drafts and whisked back up, too light to simply fall.
I’ve lived my entire life in Phoenix and Tampa.
I saw the pictures of Dad and I at the ski slopes, and I know I went to culinary school in Michigan, but I wonder if I’ve always found snow to be this soothing.
It will snow a lot in Colorado. Lazy mornings sitting by the window with hot cups of coffee, watching snow fall in heavy clumps.
Bundling up in layer after layer after layer to make snow angels with Artom.
Vasily using his considerable muscles to make an oversized snowman.
Tipping my head up to catch the snow on my tongue while Vasily dotingly scrapes the windows of my car so I can get to the morning shift at my work.
He’d do that every single day. I know that.
Life could be a dream.
I lay my hand over his, still resting on the gear shift from parking the car, as though ready to back right out again if I just say the word.
He leans over and kisses my cheek through the veil.
“Whatever you want, zvyozdochka.”
Whatever I want. I could scoop Artom up right now and head on back to Tampa.
I’m already planning to go back in a week or two.
Vasily called Sasha yesterday and asked him to personally visit my restaurant and let the staff know not to worry if they hear news of my death.
He’s securing my house, too, making sure everything’s safe so we’ll be able to stay there.
I could tell Vasily that what I want is my freedom and if he insists on being in Artom’s life, he’ll just have to figure out what he’s going to do with himself in Tampa and we’ll work out some custody agreement.
Good relationships aren’t built on love; they’re built on trust. I could tell Vasily there’s simply no way he could ever earn my trust again, and that would be that.
His hand feels so good in mine.
“I think I want to be a Bratva wife.”
He grins, charming as ever. So easy to forget what he is, the power he holds.
“Let’s get this going, then.”
Dima’s voice crackles through the earbuds we both wear from the opposite side of the church, and it’s enough to distort it slightly. “You didn’t ask if I’m positive this is what I want to do.”
“Shut up, Dima,” Vasily and Kseniya both say.
But Dima should be concerned. The initial plan had been private confrontations with Kostya and Tony.
Maria and Janson were already arranging them when we got word that there was going to be a joint funeral, Tony claiming it was only right we be together in death since we couldn’t be together in life and the Russian Orthodox church meant so much more to me than the Catholic church ever did.
I’m sure plenty of people are scratching their heads over the decision, same as we did when we first heard.
After all, much to my mortification, plenty of people have seen the videos I made with Vasily.
But then Dima got the call from Kostya, the tragic news of Vasily’s overdose, no doubt spurred on by losing me, and my suicide over learning of Vasily’s death.
He insisted Dima come to the funeral, of course, and to bring Kseniya and Alex but to please have them stay in the car until everyone was sure the church would be safe .
It’s a trap. And not only is it public, but Artom, Maribel, and Camilla’s kids are all going to be here.
We can’t just let today play out however Tony and Kostya envision it— Lord knows they might be planning to execute Dima— but I wish the kids weren’t here.
Kseniya and Vasily are just ribbing on Dima, but I do think he could use some real encouragement.
“Janson and Maria are both in there to protect you if things go lopsided,” I remind him more gently. “Camilla says Gino will keep an eye on you too, although he’s taken on the job of keeping the kids safe.”
“Good man,” Vasily grunts. “I should see if he wants a job with me.”
“He’s Mafia,” I remind him.
“Janson’s FBI and Benedetti is ATF. It’s been working for me so far.”
I shake my head, but I’ve had to forgive a lot of people, not just Vasily.
Camilla misled me about my feelings toward Vasily.
It made an even worse situation, but she more than made up for it by giving Vasily his day with Artom.
I wasn’t even mad at her when she said, “Okay fine, he can be Artom’s dad,” like it was her decision to make.
Convincing Gino to flip organizations would mean I’d get Camilla back in my life.
Vasily flashes his headlights once. It’s all we’re safe doing or else people will definitely notice us, but we only need to do it once before the back door opens and we’re waved in.
Vasily gives me a quick kiss before hopping out of the SUV, running around to my side to open the door for me— at his insistence under the guise of shielding me, like there are random snipers here making sure we’re in our coffins one way or another— and runs alongside me into the church .
Once inside, I look to the man who opened the door for us. It takes a second, an impressively short amount of time considering the ever-present amnesia, but I grin and say, “I think you’re the first person I confessed to about being in love with Vasily.”
Father Niko nods and says, “And I think you two have delivered my brother back to me.”
Vasily gives him a big, manly, back-thumping hug. “You can thank Dima for that. He’s got Alex.”
“God bless Dima.”
I give Vasily a pointed look because yeah, he’s going to have a big grovel with Dima when all this is over whether either of them thinks he needs to.