13. Timur
TIMUR
After a week of being so busy I was barely home, I thought I'd surprise Kira with dinner tonight. Not something made by Sonya, but something I’ve picked up to bring home.
I know she's been restless. Dryden told me last week, she tried to bolt out the back door, which I don't blame her.
Because of Morin's bonehead move, we've had to do this crazy little dance around keeping her quiet.
I'm hoping if tonight goes well, she will agree to see where things go with me, and if that works, we can start the process of reintroducing her to Sergei and his family before he wonders where she's been all this time.
I don't even know if she's a flowers and chocolates sort of girl, but I'm going to find out.
I slide my key into the lock and think again about how bad Rostik's face looks still a week later.
Those thugs really punished him. With a broken eye socket, he won't be fighting for us for a few months at least, maybe longer, which removes him from the fight cards until further notice.
Our bettors aren't happy with that because he's the favorite at every invitational.
It's made betting so unstable, we don't know how to set stakes right now.
"Boss," Dryden grumbles as he steps away from the wall he was leaning on. I flick a glance around the living room and don't see Kira anywhere, but I hear her soft humming. Good, she's happy.
"She's in a good mood?" I ask softly so she doesn't hear me.
I've placed all of my hopes on this dinner tonight.
After speaking with my cousin Stepan in Moscow earlier, I'm hopeful our confirmation photo will come through soon.
If his wife can send me a picture of Kirianna Belova, I can put this all behind me and move forward with telling my brother who this woman really is.
"Drawing again..." He scowls, and I get the sense he's sick of playing babysitter. When I'm out and about, he's usually with me, helping do real work. But since having Kira here, I've needed extra security around the house. It's well beneath him and I appreciate how faithful he's being.
"Take the night off... I've got this."
"But, Boss, what if she tries to bolt?"
The flowers tucked awkwardly under my arm hide the bottle of expensive wine I've purchased, and if that's not enough, I have more vodka, which I know she loves. "I've got this, okay?"
I gesture at the wine and he chuckles. "You dog," he growls, smirking at me. Then he jerks his chin up and says, "If you need anything you call me. I'll be here in five minutes."
I slap him on the shoulder as he passes me, locking up on his way out, and then I drop my keys, wallet, and phone on the stand by the door before rounding the corner into the kitchen.
Kira sits at the table with her drawing pad and a pencil in hand.
The window to the side yard is open and she glances up from her drawing to the window a few times before clearing her throat.
"You gonna stare all day or...?" When she looks over her shoulder, her eyes light up. "You got pelmeni?" She's on her feet, moving toward me to help me with the food before I can protest.
"Easy, easy." I hold the bag over her head because she's reaching for it like a kid grabbing at candy. "Let me at least put the flowers down first."
Her eyes drop to the bundle under my arm and her face goes soft, almost confused, like no one's walked through a door carrying flowers for her before. She takes them from me and holds them in both hands, looking down at the petals with doe eyes and a half pout on her lips.
"You didn't have to do this," she says softly as she brings them to her nose to drag in a breath of their scent.
"I wanted to," I tell her, setting the food on the counter. Then I set the chocolates down and tap the heart-shaped red box. "But you have to share these." I grin, which makes her smile brighten, and she sets the flowers aside.
"They're beautiful, thank you." Kira is glowing now.
Such a small thing to offer her, especially considering what she's gone through and the fact that she's still being held here against her will, but it changes her entire demeanor.
She sets the flowers aside and takes a few plates out of my cupboard, beginning to take the food containers out of the small brown paper bags.
I pull the wine out and grab two glasses while she plates the pelmeni.
She's moving around my kitchen like she belongs in it, opening drawers she's memorized by now, reaching for things without looking.
It hits me that she's been here long enough to know where everything is, which feels a bit bittersweet.
I've never lived with a woman, but I've grown used to having her things lying around, the smell of her shampoo lingering in the air when she showers.
I don't think I want to give that up now.
"You're trying very hard tonight," she says with a half-smile that tells me she sees right through what I'm doing but doesn't mind it.
Buttering her up isn't supposed to be so obvious, but I was hoping she'd see the romantic gesture behind it, not just my need to appease my sense of moral filth I've been living in for a few weeks now.
"Is it working?"
"Ask me after the pelmeni." Kira winks at me, and we sit and eat.
She digs into her food eagerly, like she's starving, and I take a tentative bite, tasting the savory flavors. The dumplings are perfect, just the right balance of filling and dough, the way my grandmother used to make. I'm ready to tell Kira when her eyes light up and she nods at the window.
"There's the bird," she says, twirling pelmeni on her fork. I look over at the window where she's staring, but there's no bird at all. It must've just flown past. "It's a little gray thing with a black head. He lands on the windowsill every morning around seven and just sits there staring at me."
"Staring at you."
"Dead serious." She snickers. "So I'm trying to draw him.
" She flips her drawing pad open and turns it toward me.
There's a sketch of a small bird perched on a ledge, head cocked to one side, rendered in enough detail that I can almost imagine it on my windowsill.
"I've been trying to get his proportions right all week.
His head is bigger than it should be for his body. It throws everything off."
"Maybe he's just got a big head." My grin is real as I shrug and stick my fork in another bite of food.
"Maybe." She turns the pad back and looks at the drawing. "He showed up a few days ago and hasn't missed a day since. I started leaving crumbs on the sill and now he taps the glass."
"You've trained a bird to demand breakfast?" I chuckle at her and sip my wine, and her eyes sparkle with mirth.
"Birds are creatures of habit, just like humans."
I shake my head and take another bite as she picks up her wine and settles back into her chair, crossing one leg under her. The glass rises to her perfect, plump lips and I watch her sip it graciously before smiling like she enjoys it.
"Sonya's been teaching me things too. She showed me how to make tea the way her grandmother did, with the loose leaves in this tiny little strainer she keeps in the back of the cabinet.
She said you have to pour the water just before it boils, not after, or it burns the leaves and you get bitterness. "
"I've been making tea wrong my whole life, apparently.
" This food is delicious, but listening to Kira be so animated about things is making me want her instead of food.
She is in a horrible situation right now, but she's finding joy right in the middle of it.
It's intoxicating how she can turn such a bad circumstance into happiness.
"You have. I've tasted your tea. It's terrible." The laughter that rumbles up out of her chest is infectious. I can't hold back joining her.
"I make coffee."
"Also terrible." She snickers, then takes a bite of her food, moaning at how good it tastes. I'm not sure what's gotten into her today, but I'm loving this side of her.
I point my fork at her. "That's a dangerous thing to say to the man who buys your pelmeni."
She grins and it reaches her eyes. "Sonya's coffee is better. I'm sorry. Someone had to tell you."
"Any other complaints?" I ask, grinning at her. This overwhelming sensation to remove anything that hinders that smile and laughter consumes me. I have to hear it again.
"Dryden snores."
"He's been sleeping on the job?"
"Oh, you know. It's sweet..." She winks again and says, "He falls asleep in that hallway chair around two in the afternoon every single day, and I have to listen to the snoring." She leans forward. "It's not even a subtle snore. It's like a diesel engine trying to start in the cold weather."
That one gets me. I shake my head and almost choke on my bite of food, and I have to wash it down before I can respond. "I'm going to tell him you said that."
"Go ahead. He knows. I told him to his face and he denied it, which is exactly what a snorer would do."
In all of this I realize I'm not performing anymore.
This is so easy and natural, even relaxing, that I find myself lost in her presence and truly happy to be with her.
Kira has become my obsession, yes, but now she's becoming more.
My heart is being woven to hers in ways I can't articulate, and I don't want it to stop.
She pours herself a second glass of wine and leans back in her chair. "Timur?"
"Yeah?"
"When can I go home?"
I set my fork down with a sigh and wipe my mouth on the paper napkins the restaurant sent.
She deserves a better answer than "when this is finished", but I'm not sure how to give her one.
I know it's just my own goddamn fear of how bad this will play out that has kept her here, but it's not that at the same time.
I want her here and I haven't known how to explain that to her.