Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Harrison
When I get home, I'm earlier than normal, and Natalia isn't here.
I could go for a run and work off some of my stress, but instead, I look through the refrigerator and try to think of what to cook for supper.
Natalia has a very stressful job as a resident, and the last thing she needs is to come home and cook supper for me.
I make it a point to cook as often as I can, so she can come home and let her hair down both proverbially and for real.
The only thing I see is some chicken breasts, so I decide to make Greek chicken.
It's a meal we both love with Greek rice and vegetables.
While I'm working away, I hear the front door unlock and open, and I know she's home.
I put down what I'm working on, give my hands a quick rinse, dry off, and then I go to see her at the door.
She's taking off her rain jacket and slipping off her boots. She sees me and smiles.
"You're home, “I say and open my arms. I take her into my embrace, and we kiss warmly. She exhales heavily, and I know she's had a rough day. She lays her head on my shoulder for a moment, and we just stand there enjoying each other's warmth and the comfort of each other's embrace.
"Bad day? “I ask.
She says nothing for a moment and then looks up in my eyes. “Just the usual. How about you?"
"The same. Let's go into the kitchen. I'm cooking Greek chicken and rice. Are you hungry?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Natalia cracks a smile.
I laugh. “Glass of white wine?" I hold the bottle of white wine that I took out of the fridge and gesture to the glasses in the cupboard.
"I thought you'd never ask.”
While I finish preparing the chicken breasts and then add the herbs and spices to the rice, she tells me about her day.
It's the usual mix of patients with all their concerns.
I personally can't imagine dealing with psych patients.
You have to have an awful lot of understanding, empathy and patience to deal with psychiatric patients. I'm lucky to have her as my wife.
We sit down on the sofa with our glasses of wine once I have the chicken and the rice cooking, and both of us exhale loudly, putting our feet up on the coffee table while I call up some nice music on the speaker system.
"Tell me about your day," she says and takes a sip of her wine.
"The usual bullshit,” I say. Then I stop. Of course, it's not the usual bullshit. I wish. Instead, it's stuff I would never wish to have to deal with. "That's not true,” I say. "I met with Ryan the other day."
Natalia raises her eyebrows. “You never told me you met with Ryan. What's up?"
I sigh. “He was trying to convince me that Tommy is involved in my father's death.
He told a really convincing story, and to be honest, part of me wanted to believe him.
Ryan has always been very avuncular, while Tommy has been more reserved.
I could believe that it was Tommy who had my father killed if either of them did.
Not Ryan. It hurts to even think of it. But now that I know what I know, it's really hard to sit and listen to him lie to my face. "
Natalia takes a sip of wine and shakes her head. She takes my hand and squeezes, and just that show of affection and the fact that she understands how I feel and what I'm facing makes me feel so lucky that we met, even if it was under the particular circumstances.
"The two of us," she says and shakes her head. “What fucked up families we have."
I kiss her hand. “Ain’t that the truth?"
"The problem is, both your uncles have ties to Andropov," Natalia says.
“That makes it all harder to figure out which one betrayed your father.
The one thing you know is that it's only one of them since they're each trying to implicate the other.
I know you love your Uncle Ryan, and you never felt that way for Uncle Tommy, but sometimes people are reserved for a reason.
Sometimes people are good at playing up how much affection they have for you when really, they're just using you.
That's something I've come to learn lately, only two painfully. "
"You and me both," I say.
We spend the next hour while the food cooks, going over each of our days. Finally, the food is ready, and we sit at our dining table and eat. It's surprisingly good. The more experience I get cooking, the more I enjoy it.
“This is really good,” Natalia says. “You can cook this more often. Maybe you have some Greek in you on top of the Irish.”
“Well, the Romans did come all the way to Britannia back in the day. Some of them might've had Greek blood, so maybe I come by my ability to cook Greek food honestly."
We smile. It's moments like this that make me so happy that I married her. I'll do everything I can to make her happy because when she smiles, I smile.
We discuss the meeting with Ryan some more, and I feel bad that we have to focus on this instead of just relaxing and enjoying a game on television or listening to music.
“If Ryan has some business with Andropov, that might explain his willingness to betray your father. Maybe he was upset that your father was trying to get out of the underworld, because that would mean he would have to choose sides.”
I nod. “It’s something I’ve already thought about. My father did want to get out of the Mafia, and I thought that Ryan agreed, but perhaps he was just going along, biding his time until he could get rid of my father, and hopefully, convince Ethan to continue. Then, Ethan died…
“I wonder, did Ryan know that Ethan wanted to leave the family business and start something on his own?”
“Maybe,” I say, and remember Ethan and my conversation before the bank heist. “He might have had misgivings and voiced them to Ryan and Tommy. Maybe Ryan felt he needed to be taken out as a result.” I shake my head, a sick feeling in my stomach that Ryan might have betrayed both Ethan and my father.
“Family,” Natalia says with a sigh. “It’s everything, like my father said. But at the same time, it probably causes most of our problems.”
“That it does,” I say and take her empty wine glass out of her hand.
“Enough talk about family. We can deal with that tomorrow and every day after. Tonight, I want us to enjoy our time together. Tell me about the good parts of your day. The non-family, non-Mafia, non-FBI parts. There must be something good.”
She smiles and shrugs. “It was the usual.” Then, she tells me about the medical part of her day, being careful not to reveal anything about her patients, but giving me the general drift of psychological problems her patients are facing.
It makes me thankful that both of us are — so far — handling the problems we are facing.
We must be strong for each other, support each other.
It’s the only way we’ll get through the next few months.
Later, she stretches and yawns. “I’m tired,” she says and lays her head on my shoulder. “I’d like to have a bath, but I think I’m even too tired for that.”
“You may be too tired to run it, but not to lie in its comforting, warm, soapy embrace. Let me go start it for you.”
“If you insist,” she says. “I’ll finish up down here.”
With that, I get up and head for the stairs to the master bedroom and our ensuite bath.
I start the water, pour in Natalia’s favorite bath soap, which creates an instant mass of scented bubbles, and go to the bedroom while the tub fills.
I remove my shirt and start to undress. Finally, when I’m nearly naked, she comes into the bedroom after switching off the lights in the upstairs hallway.
“Oh, you thought I meant I wanted a bubble bath with you?” she says, a grin on her face.
“Of course, milady, there’s more than enough room for us both. May I take your clothes off? Pretty please?”
She laughs softly and allows me the pleasure of removing her clothing, one item at a time.
Of course, doing so arouses me, and I wonder if we’ll even bother to have a bath first, but I know she’ll want to after her long day at work.
I escort her now-nude self to the bathroom and the tub is filled to the proper level. We step inside and she leans back against me, the warm soapy water covering most of us without threatening to overflow.
When we’re done, we leave the tub and dry each other off, and I can’t wait to have her on our bed.
I pick her up, kissing her deeply as I do, and carry her out of the bathroom to the bedroom, laying her down gently on the covers.
Then, I kiss her, taking her bottom lip in between my teeth gently, before I kiss her even more deeply.
I run my hands over her skin, cupping each breast, gently squeezing them, her nipple hardening in the cool air.
I run my tongue over the curve of her breast, then suck each nipple. She groans and arches her back.
"Oh God," she whispers, her eyes closed. “I thought I was too tired.”
“Apparently not.” I smile in enjoyment, for there’s nothing more I love than her desire.
I squeeze her breast and tongue each nipple once more, before sucking hard. She almost squeals in delight. I pause and enjoy her desire-flushed face, her eyes closed, her mouth open.
"Please," she whispers. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t intend to.”
I move from one nipple to the other until she’s writhing in pleasure.
When I pull away, intending to run my tongue down her belly, her thighs are already spread, and I press them open, enjoying the view of her sex, ready and waiting. I run my tongue over her sex, pressing my tongue against her clit, which throbs in response.
"You’re so nice and wet," I murmur.
She shudders and gasps. "You like that, do you?"
"Yes."
I take her sex in my mouth and suck, my tongue teasing her clit.
"Oh, God," she gasps, her back arching.
I smiled, enjoying how much she’s caught up in the moment.
Both of us forget, at least for a few moments, all the trouble we’re in.
In truth, I don’t really care about my own pleasure.
Right now, hers is all I care about. But her body is too delicious and responsive not to indulge my own needs, and soon, I have her on top of me, riding me, her breasts swaying above me, her eyes closed, mouth open, and I know she’s close.
I am as well, but I hold back, delaying my own orgasm until I know she’s had hers, and when I feel her body convulsing around my cock, I let myself go, thrusting up into her as she collapses on top of me. I come with only a few thrusts, my own orgasm blinding me with the intensity of the pleasure.
We lie like that for a few moments, both of us recovering, our breath fast.
She leans up and smiles at me, her eyes meeting mine.
“You are so good…”
“You’re so good,” I reply. “Great. Fantastic. I can’t get enough.”
She lies back down on top of me, and we just wallow in the pleasure as it recedes.
This — this is everything. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this alive.