3. Tara
3
TARA
My childhood home smells like roasted garlic, lemon zest, and tension.
The hallway’s filled with the clatter of dishes and the thud of heels against hardwood floors.
My mother, Carla’s voice carries from the kitchen, sharp and focused, giving Mark a list of last-minute errands like it’s a mission briefing.
I step into the doorway and pause, taking in the scene.
My mom, her blonde hair twisted up in an elegant clip, crisp white shirt tucked into slim black slacks, is in full control mode.
The kitchen gleams behind her, every surface polished, a bowl of lemons on the counter that I know she won’t use but insists makes the place look “fresh.”
“Hi, baby.” She sees me and doesn’t even pause.
“Did you bring the china?”
“Right here,” I lift the bag with both hands, carefully wrapped plates cradled inside.
“Good. Could you please set them out on the dinner table, sweetheart? The white tablecloth is already down.”
She turns back to the oven and doesn’t see me hesitate.
I glance at the hall closet, the old wood floor beneath my sneakers.
So many memories live in these walls.
This house is muscle memory.
This kitchen, every cabinet drawer, every creak in the stairs—I know them as well as the pages of my thesis.
But today it feels different.
I move toward the dining room, but my tongue won’t stay quiet.
“Mom,” I say, turning back, my voice more tentative than I’d like.
“Can I ask you something?”
Carla doesn’t glance up from the roasting tray.
“Of course, sweetheart. Make it quick, though—I still need to get dressed.”
“Do you know anything about Dad’s parents? Or… My biological mother, Lena’s family?”
That makes her stop.
Not freeze.
Not flinch.
But her hand pauses mid-reach.
Just for a second.
She recovers fast and turns to grab a tea towel to dry her hands.
“Where’s this coming from?”
I start placing the china on the table as she had asked me to.
“It's for extra credit,” I lie. “I was asked to help with a Genetics project. They’re making us trace biological traits through parents and grandparents. I was going to ask you about it next week, but I’m trying to get through so much right now, I didn’t want to forget.”
She stills again. A fraction longer this time.
Then her smile returns, and it’s too bright. “You’ve heard this before. Your father, Sol, didn’t know his parents. They died when he was young, before he joined the military.”
“And my biological mother, Lena?”
“She died in childbirth, baby. You know that. Sol was in the hospital at your birth when it happened.”
“Did she have family?”
“No.” Her answer is immediate. Firm with a hint of finality, like she’s slammed a door on the subject, and it wasn’t to be pursued. “No one but your dad. And then me, when she came to us to tell Sol about the pregnancy.”
“What about your family?” I try, knowing the answer word by word as it never changed.
She turns. Her eyes are soft now, not angry, and she gives me a sad smile. “There is no one but me, Tara. My only family is you and Sabrina—my girls are my whole world.”
I nod slowly, biting the inside of my cheek.
It’s the same story. Every time. I’ve asked in different ways, at different ages, and it’s never changed. I used to accept it, but after what I found in the storage unit today, I see it for what it is—a well-rehearsed story!
Now I see the flash of worry in her eyes, and I know there’s something she’s not telling me. I can feel it now, vibrating under my skin.
But I smile, and take the container, food, and cake she hands me.
“This is for you and Sabrina,” she tells me with love shining in her eyes. At least I know that is real. I just wonder what the price of that love was. “I wish you could both be here with us tonight.”
“We’re both working, Mom.” I take the dishes and kiss her cheeks. “Speaking of work, I have to get back to the club as my shift starts soon. Happy three-year relationship anniversary to you and Mark.”
I don’t bother going home. I have an outfit in my office and will use the shower in Gavriil’s. I walk in the door, and it’s already starting to fill up. The place always smells faintly of expensive perfume, scotch, and velvet.
“Tara, Gavriil asked me to remind you to see him when you got back,” Wayne, the barman, calls to me.
“Thanks, Wayne, I’m heading there now.” Shit, I nearly forgot Gavriil and Irina wanted to see me about something.
Back in Gavriil’s office, I sit across from him and Irina, who’s perched on the edge of his desk like she’s waiting for bad news.
They exchange glances, and something cold coils in my stomach.
“Tara,” Irina says gently. “We wanted to ask you something.”
“I swear to God,” I say, lifting a hand, “if you’re firing me, I’m gonna sue for emotional damage.”
That breaks the tension. Gavriil chuckles. “Not even close. But this is… big.”
Irina nods. “You know about the miscarriages. All four.”
I exhale, nod. “Yeah.”
“We’re thinking about surrogacy,” she says. “We’ve already started the process.”
“Oh?” My eyes widen. “I think that’s a great option for you.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Gavriil says, leaning his elbows on his desk. “Irina and I would like to ask you if you would consider being our surrogate.”
“You were the obvious choice,” Irina says quickly. “We both love you dearly and trust you.”
My breath catches. “Me?”
Irina reaches out, takes my hand. “You’re smart. Healthy. You’re already like family to us.”
“We’re not asking for an answer now,” Gavriil says quickly. “Take the night off. Think about it. We know it’s a big ask.”
I open my mouth, then close it. The yes is right there. I don’t even know why. Maybe because I love them. Maybe because I feel like I owe them. Maybe because saying yes makes something in me feel… needed.
“Yes!” I say, impulsively. I saw how this last miscarriage had almost broken Irina. “I want to do this for you both.”
“Tara, while my heart has just done a double-take at your answer,” Irina’s eyes glisten, and she reaches for my hand, “Gavriil thought you might say yes right away. And it fills my heart with joy. But we want you to be sure.”
“Think it over tonight and give us your answer tomorrow,” Gavriil tells me.
“Go out tonight. Have some fun,” Irina encourages me with a naughty glint in her eyes. “Call that sexy doctor of yours.”
“Oh, no,” Gavriil groans. “Not Steve. Can’t you go out with Sasha or one of the girls?”
“Gavriil,” Irina says with mock outrage. “Don’t be jealous.”
He throws up his hands. “I just don’t trust a guy who waxes his chest and drives a Porsche on a resident’s salary.”
“I want to do this for you,” I tell them, standing. “But I’m not going to say no to a night off as it’s been a rough day.”
“Then go home, soak in the tub, order in, and binge-watch a television series,” Gavriil suggests. “Then tomorrow you’ll be fresh and you’ll be able to make a grounded decision.”
“Or, go have a hot, steamy night out with Dr. Steve,” Irina encourages.
I laugh, hugging each of them. “I might just go crash my mother’s anniversary dinner.”
“No, don’t do that!” Gavriil discourages. “It’s a romantic night for two .”
I sigh. “You’re right!” I grin at Gavrill. “A night out with Dr. Steve, it is then.”
As I head toward the staff hallway, I nearly crash into a man. He is tall, built like a solid wall of muscle, ruggedly handsome with sharp, piercing blue eyes, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, and looks intense.
“Can I help you?” I ask, eyeing the hallway sign that reads: Staff-only.
His voice is smooth. Polished. With a Russian accent. “I was looking for the bathroom. My apologies.”
I nod, relaxing. “It’s out front, not back here. I know the sign can be confusing.” I shake my head, muttering. “I’ve told Gavriil to change it like a hundred times.”
“Thank you,” he says, giving me a quick nod before walking away.
I pull out my phone, fingers already flying over the keypad as I send a message to my friend with benefits, Steve.
Are you free tonight?
My phone rings within a few seconds.
“Hey, you,” Steve’s deep voice, which usually sends goosebumps over my skin, barely jolts my heart today. “I’m free and I was going to message you to find out what time you finished work tonight.”
“Well then, I think we should go to the Blue Diamond Lounge, and you’d better not get called into the hospital this time,” I warn him. “I’m sure the emergency center can do without you for one night.”
“I’m all yours tonight, T,” Steve promises. “What time?”
“Seven at our usual spot at the bar?” I suggest lowering my voice. “I’ll use my staff discount to get us a fancy room for later at the hotel.”
“I think, tonight, it’s my turn to book the hotel room,” Steve tells me. “I can’t wait to see you later.”
“Me too,” I say and hang up.
I need this tonight. To get lost in the companionship, our sexy role play that will end in hot sex, that will quiet my mind and help me relax. As I make my way to my car, this time using the walk button before crossing the street, I flip through what I’m going to wear, and I smile. I bought a new little black dress and some insanely expensive two-inch heels to go with it.
But as I get home to the apartment I share with Sabrina and step into the shower, it’s not Steve’s lips and hands I picture exploring my body!
RUSLAN
My phone buzzes against the hotel room table.
Konstantin.
I slide my finger across the screen and lift the phone to my ear. “Do you have news?”
“I couldn’t hear anything they were saying in Gavriil’s office,” Konstantin says. “His office must be soundproofed. No surprise. But I found out something else.”
I lean back in the leather chair, fingers tapping the glass of vodka balanced on my knee. “Go on.”
“Tara Craft is going out tonight. She just called someone. Steve. I think he’s a doctor. They’re meeting at the Blue Diamond lounge at seven tonight.”
Steve? Something twists in my gut. I sit forward.
“Do you want me to follow her?” Konstantin asks.
“No.” I smile, slow and dark, as the first threads of a plan begin weaving in my mind. “I’ll handle Ms. Craft.”
A pause. “You want me to dig into this, Steve?”
“Yes. Quietly and make sure he doesn’t make it to his date.”
“Understood.”
I end the call and set the phone down, standing slowly as excitement begins to slither down my spine.
It seems fate must be smiling on me where Tara Craft is concerned.
There’s something about her I haven’t shaken since the moment she locked eyes with me on that sunlit Vegas street.
My cock twitches at the memory of her. Those long legs encased in jeans that hugged the curve of her ass. The soft cotton of her shirt stretched across her chest, and the subtle sway of her hips.
I roll my shoulders, loosening the last bit of tension from the earlier meeting. I came to Vegas with one mission, but it seems I’ll be ending my last night with something far more satisfying.
A chance to get inside Tara’s head and, if I play my cards right, my bed.