Chapter Seven
In which sometimes, the Universe just refuses to give you a break.
Caroline…
Serves him right, I think bitterly. I hope it leaves a scar.
Dragging me into his car like I'm a teenager out after curfew? I hope the others in the night run group didn't think that I just gave up and went home. That was one of the hardest runs we've done yet and I was so fucking close to finishing the route! I hate leaving things undone.
The most irritating part of this relentless Sovietnik brain worm that is digging through my skull is recalling that ride home. I'll be doing paperwork or going over the conventions and banqueting schedule and I'll start laughing, thinking about the casual way that he said, "We ran over a deer."
Shouldn't I be concerned that I wasn't at all troubled by the fact that there was clearly a man stuffed into the cargo hold?
I'd just assumed it was for a good reason.
I hate that I somehow have faith in Nikandr's professionalism and judgment.
Because he's an asshole. He should not have any good qualities that I would find acceptable.
Liria stopped by for lunch and she is lounging in my office as I answer the last of my emails.
We both love everything the restaurant serves here, but sometimes you just have to eat out.
We’re ready to attack every food cart on this street, and what we can successfully consume within the space of an hour is almost unspeakable.
"Holy shit, that's so cool!" I shriek at my laptop and poor Liria nearly falls off her chair.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," I apologize, grabbing her hand.
"I just got an invitation from the Hotel Tsaritsa in Moscow.
It's Morozov Global's flagship hotel there and I've gone back-and-forth with Sergei, the General Manager a couple of times.
That man is so on top of his shit that it's ridiculous. "
"Okay, good," she says, grabbing her water bottle. "But maybe next time don't scream like someone just stabbed you in the ass, but good. So, what got you so excited?"
"Sergei invited me to come stay at the Hotel Tsaritsa for a few days for a research trip. He had so many great ideas when he opened that hotel eight years ago that are still just top-of-the-line hospitality."
She eyes me. "Sergei…" she draws it out. "What does Sergei look like?"
"I don't know," I shrug. "He just uses the hotel's logo as his image on his email."
Her finger taps on her phone rapidly and then she holds up a picture. He's a handsome man, older. He looks great in a suit, and has a full head of silver hair. Working in the hospitality industry will do that to you.
"Oh my God, he's hot!" she says. "He definitely has that 'I'm your daddy' vibe."
"Will you just stop?" I laugh. "He's a little past my age range, and besides, he's a colleague. I'm not looking to get some hot Slavic action in the Motherland. I really do want to learn more about their booking system."
"You've gotten boring since you became GM," she complains. "When would you be leaving? Because Alexsey is flying out to Moscow in a couple of days, you could go together."
Checking the travel schedule, I say, "Oh, good. Maybe I can hitch a ride."
Liria brightens, "He'd love that. Those nine-hour flights get really boring after a while, no matter how good the food is."
"Oh, please," I laugh heartlessly. "I heard about your last trip.
You were on one of the Morozov jets with a bedroom?
Nobody saw you guys for eight and a half hours.
Apparently, Alexsey came stumbling out, still trying to button his shirt as the jet landed.
" Liria cringes, covering her face with her hands.
"Come on," I say, getting up from behind my desk and taking her hand, pulling her along with me. "There's a falafel cart one street over that I want you to try because I swear to God, this woman is magic with her hummus, baba ganouj, and tabbouleh platters."
An hour later, we've plowed through maybe sixty-five thousand calories. We hit the hotdog stand because neither one of us could say no to a polish sausage. Then a tasty kebab from a Moroccan cart. The aforementioned falafel and now we're working on ice cream in wrapped waffle cones.
"This might have to be our last stop," Liria says, wrapping her arm protectively over her chest. "I'm about ready to explode. I'm going to have to pump some milk or you're gonna see an accident that you will never be able to unsee."
"So, is it really like that?" I ask, pausing mid-lick. "Your milk will just… let down if you hear a baby cry or something?"
"Don't even talk about it," she snaps. "It happened once when Alexsey and I were buying this beautiful garden bench and I heard a baby behind me.
Not even crying, mind you. It was just a gurgle, but it was enough.
" She groans, hiding behind her ice cream.
"It was like Mt. Vesuvius, or maybe more like Niagara Falls because of gravity. "
I'm laughing so hard that I can't even summon the proper look of empathy for her because that shit is hilarious.
"Laugh all you want, babe." She eyes me meaningfully. "When it's your turn, I am so going to remind you of this moment."
My laughter dies away. A mother? "Please. I can't picture being someone's mother. I can't even picture being somebody's wife."
The unwelcome image of Johann rises from my memory. Where did that come from? I blew him off in a very calm, dignified, but decisive way. So why am I feeling my stomach twist up?
"Well, the hotel is my baby right now," I say. "So don't get too worked up about my potential as a mother until I can find someone that I can tolerate long enough to impregnate me."
"I know you hate it when I bring him up, but-" She holds up a stern hand as I'm about to tell her to shut up.
"I still think you're missing out by not even considering the concept of Nikandr," she says.
"Alexsey told me how Nikandr found you when you were doing one of your night runs?
" She eyes me shrewdly. "Apparently, Nikandr crept up on you like he was the one trying to abduct you. "
"Yes, the fucking asshole!" I snap. "Oh, forgive me, apologies, sisters." I smile weakly at two nuns in full habit. Their expressions hold a profound disappointment in me. "So, I'm guessing Alexsey told you about that building they set on fire?"
Liria breaks into a bright peal of laughter as her bodyguards’ glance at each other uncomfortably.
"Honey, that wasn't like setting a fire," she says, leaning close and linking our arms. "They blew up a mafia safe house with an impressive stack of guns and ammunition straight to hell.
I heard there weren't two bricks stacked on top of each other by the time they were finished. "
"Oh, I saw the explosion," I agree sourly. "It must have broken every window within a three-block radius."
"Yeah," she says. "I guess the guys had an issue to settle and that seemed like the quickest, most effective way."
"Explosions usually are," I agree.
We finish our cones in companionable silence.
***
Two days later…
It's Friday, and in a couple of hours, I'm going to board a luxe Morozov jet bound for Moscow.
I'm up early, so excited, having already left approximately three thousand and twenty-seven notes for my support staff.
Of which, I suspect, only a tenth of them will be read, but I have a great team. I'm leaving the hotel in good hands.
"This is going to be an amazing trip!" I chant my positive affirmation mantra as I get dressed in a black pants suit and my favorite Louboutin’s. I look professional, but comfortable.
"This is going to be the best trip ever!" I say as one of the Morozov Range Rovers swings by to pick me up. As we turn into the private airfield, there she is: a big-ass Gulfstream jet. Gleaming white with the distinctive Morozov Global icon on the side.
"There are going to be so many snacks!" I say joyfully. "Yes, this is definitely going to be the best trip ever."
And then, one of the guards opens my door. There is a very tall man in a beautiful suit standing by the jet stairs. It is not Alexsey.
It's fucking Nikandr because the Universe hates me and it has decided I can never get a break.