Chapter 18 - Tatiana
I couldn’t figure out if it was a good thing or not, but for the next few days, I hardly saw Kon.
The part of me that began to feel too comfortable around him while he treated me to that nice afternoon in the pool missed the company.
The part of me that still had a grasp on reality dreaded the brief moments I saw him in between rushing out of the apartment for one emergency or another.
Did those emergencies have anything to do with my father? He wasn’t talking much, at least not about Papa, even when I did see him.
Every day that went by, really every hour, I became more and more afraid that it was already too late to save my father, though my heart refused to let me believe he was dead.
Since Kon was always rushing out without a word, I went so far as to wonder if he and his family already had Papa in their custody.
Perhaps they were already torturing him for information about his so-called betrayal.
Despite snapping back to his prison warden attitude whenever I crossed paths with him, Kon hadn’t locked me back in the room.
I was actually allowed to go up to the rooftop pool whenever I wanted, as long as a guard hovered nearby.
Once again, for my safety, supposedly. When I reminded Kon that I swam like a fish by his own admission, he said accidents could happen to anyone.
There was no arguing with that intense look in his eyes, and he didn’t give me enough time to try.
However, despite leaving me alone, I was never really alone, and I couldn’t say I wasn’t bored out of my skull, either.
The cook let me help him out in the kitchen when he came, and the housekeeper would talk to me about the small town in Russia where she grew up while she dusted the expensive ornaments and picture frames.
I made one little offhanded remark about not having anything to read, and the next morning, a stack of paperbacks in my native tongue was left on the kitchen island, as well as some American fashion magazines.
Kon caught me barely rolling my head around to ease a stiff neck as he hurried past me to grab a cup of coffee before leaving two days ago, and snapped to attention.
“Are you hurt? What happened?”
“Just did a few laps too many yesterday,” I said, almost hopeful he’d sit down and have a conversation.
I was used to long days of hard work, bent over my weaving loom or watching Master Bakhtin give a lesson about a new technique, so I was used to a stiff neck.
What I wasn’t used to were the long hours of silence, since Bakhtin’s studio was always filled with idle chit chat from the other apprentices, and then I would speak with Papa if he wasn’t too busy to take my call.
Kon had nothing more to say, only looked at me as if deciding whether to believe me or not, and that afternoon, a massage therapist showed up to give me a full rubdown.
I wanted to take the high road and pretend I didn’t need or want the amazing deep tissue massage, but I was hungry for human contact.
It was clear right away that she was on call to the Fokin family and wouldn’t be any help to me at all, but she had some interesting gossip about some of her celebrity clients.
I didn’t know who they were, but it was nice to have company.
That night, Kon looked at me for a bit longer than usual, and I decided bitterly that he might be waiting for me to thank him. So I didn’t, and made a point to rub my shoulder ostentatiously as if the massage hadn’t worked at all as I stomped back to my room.
It was dumb because it turned out he was actually home for dinner that night, and I might have been able to squeeze some information out of him.
But he would have more likely tried to put the squeeze on me, so I stayed in my room, finally begrudgingly uttering a word of thanks when he brought me a tray.
The next morning, a different woman showed up to give me both a manicure and a pedicure, and when she left, I joked around with the guard who let her out. “Best prison ever, right?”
That particular guard didn’t have an ounce of humor in him and only nodded tersely before going back to his post.
So I was being spoiled, but why? Was there some nefarious reason like trying to get me on Kon’s side so I’d spill my guts about everything he thought I knew?
As I looked at my pretty, pale beige nails, I felt like a traitor to Papa for accepting the pampering treatments.
That night, Kon didn’t come back to the apartment at all, and I ate the lavish meal the cook left behind by myself, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life.
All because of Kon. I might have had the answers I needed if he had never interfered. Or I might be dead. Whether he saved me or not, he wasn’t helping me at all by keeping me here, out of the loop, unable to do anything except be treated like a princess.
That morning, I woke up late, which was unusual for me since I kept a strict schedule at home, even when I didn’t go to the studio.
It hardly seemed necessary now that I passed the days doing nothing worthwhile, and I was in a foul mood when I finally got up and put on one of the few outfits I’d brought with me from home.
I had packed light because I didn’t expect to be here in LA for long. It seemed foolish now to think I would have asked Riku my questions, been given answers, found Papa, and been home by now. But maybe I would have been. Thanks to Kon, I’d never know.
My mood got worse when two women were ushered in after I ate my breakfast, which should have been lunch given the late hour. If Kon had been there, he’d have smirked at my laziness for sure, and then I could have let him have it.
The guard followed the women with a rolling rack covered by a cloth, and one of the women hurried over to me, telling me she was ready for fittings whenever I was.
“Fittings for what?” I asked, as her assistant whipped the cover off to reveal dozens of outfits.
Everything from jeans and t-shirts to evening gowns was on display, carefully swathed in thin, protective plastic. The guard returned, staggering under a stack of shoeboxes that teetered as he put them down.
“Your new wardrobe, of course,” the first woman said, tucking her ink-black hair behind her ear and adjusting her glasses as she tried not to show disdain for my leggings and baggy sweater.
The assistant whipped one of the plastic coverings off a breathtaking sequined gown and held it up for me.
Where the hell was I supposed to wear something like that?
Was Kon trying to be generous and pamper me with this ostentatious array of expensive outfits, or did he disapprove of my current clothing?
Either way, it ignited my bad mood into an inferno of anger. “Get out,” I said, feeling not an iota of remorse for my rudeness. “I don’t need or want any of it.”
They both gasped and whispered to themselves for a moment, looking shocked and somewhat frightened. “I’ll let him know you tried your best,” I snapped. “But please, just go.”
After a few more seconds of muttering, they left, but the rack of clothes remained. Apparently, they must have been given strict orders by my prison warden to make sure I accepted the gift. Or bribe. Or just something to make me feel small.
I shoved the rack into the other spare bedroom and slammed it in, holding back from touching a particularly beautiful dress in a stunning, handwoven design. It only made me angrier that Kon knew just what I would like.
When he returned that night, I finally had it out with him. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
He looked me up and down, frowning to see I wasn’t wearing anything new. “You can see what I’m doing. Trying to get something to eat for the first time today.”
He was obviously exhausted, and I almost felt ungrateful, but I never asked to be there. I didn’t want anything from him except information and help.
“I’m talking about the massage, the manicure, and now a bunch of clothes that cost enough to feed a family for a year.”
“Oh, much more than that,” he said, swerving from his path to the kitchen to the bar in the living area. “I actually think I need a drink.”
“Good, pour one for me, too.”
He complied, but didn’t take his shot of vodka or hand me mine. “What is it you want, Tati, since you’re clearly unhappy with everything I’ve tried?”
The tiredness in his eyes made me pause. What if I was wrong and his only motive was to try to make me comfortable, and I was acting like a brat? Papa would have been ashamed.
Then again, Papa would have beat the shit out of anyone who imprisoned me like this, no matter what spa treatments were included.
“The only thing I want is to know what’s going on,” I said.
“I’m not keeping anything from you. When I have something to tell, I will. You should trust me more.”
“Why should I?” I demanded. “You don’t trust me, or my father, who’s never done anything against you in his life.”
Now he downed his vodka shot in one quick motion, setting the glass down a little too hard. “People aren’t always what they seem.”
I shook my head, refusing to say a word against Papa. He stared at me for much too long, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck began to stand on end. He knew something. Something I wasn’t going to like.
“Why did you erase the messages from Grigor’s assistant?” he asked, continuing to speak before I could blink, let alone come up with an answer. “Why did you lie about not knowing who Riku Yoshida was before I mentioned his name?”
How could he possibly know those things?
It hit me that nothing was impossible for someone like him.
In fact, it had probably been easy to retrieve my deleted phone messages.
My stomach rolled over, and I clenched my hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to scream at him for invading my privacy.
What would something like that matter to him?
The stress, the worry, the pent-up anger at both him and me for continuing to muddle up this rescue operation were all too much. The only thing that came out of my mouth was a sob, and before I knew it, I was bent over, completely breaking down in tears that shook my entire body.
The more I tried to stop, the harder I cried. I expected him to walk away and leave me to my misery, or worse, I braced myself for his taunts at my weakness. Instead, I felt strong arms envelop me and lift me off my feet. He carried me to the big leather couch and sat down, cradling me in his lap.
He didn’t say a word as I sobbed into his chest, my cheek soon resting against a damp patch of his shirt. He wordlessly handed me a tissue after I wiped my nose on his tie, and stroked my hair as the storm slowly subsided.
I somehow felt slightly better after letting it all out, but embarrassment quickly had me in its clutches.
I was curled up in a ball, his strong arms holding me tight.
His shirt was a mess, and I must have been messier, but he only rested his chin on top of my head as I stayed locked in place, too mortified to move.
And not really wanting to. For the first time in too long, I truly felt safe. Shouldn’t have, and it wouldn’t last, but I needed to cling to what I could.
“Tell me what Riku has to do with your father,” he asked quietly, not a hint of accusation in his voice.
Too weakened from crying so long to fight, I pulled away to look at Kon.
“I really have no idea. That’s why I was trying to meet him.
” For a moment, it looked like he finally believed me, and I turned in his lap.
“Please let me do what I came here to do. All I have to do is talk to him, and we might have the answers we need.”
He gave me a rueful smile. “Not happening, too dangerous.” His hands tightened on my arms, and he hurried on before I could argue. “But I will let you help.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, swaying closer to him in relief and gratitude.
His gray eyes darkened, and I swallowed hard, my next question dying in my throat. I’d been shoving it aside every time I thought of it, but it was back now, so close to Kon. On his lap. The kiss.
Like I was reliving it, his mouth was on mine again, firm and soft, but only for a moment. His hands slid up my arms to cup my face as he became more urgent, his tongue swiping the seam of my mouth. My lips parted as my eyes fell shut, letting my sense of touch and taste take over.
His gentle hands on my face moved further into my hair, and I gasped against his mouth as I felt a stiffening bulge beneath me.
One little shot of vodka was no excuse for this kiss.
He wanted me. That knowledge made me lean closer, pressing my breasts against his chest, gasping again at the sensation of my nipples hardening.
He made a low growl in his throat, kissing me harder as he tugged on my hair. I wasn’t thinking at all, and it was great. I never wanted it to stop.
The second I had that dangerous realization, there was a buzzing and vibrating from his jacket pocket. I wriggled on his lap, shifting to better explore that hard bulge. Konstantin Fokin wanted me.
And he was also getting a phone call. With another growl, he tore away from me. “It’ll be one of my nephews,” he said, pulling it out to check. He swore and stood, placing my feet on the floor and keeping a hand on my arm until he was certain I was steady.
“I have to go,” he told me after speaking a few curt words into the phone. “Wait up for me.”
The command made me shiver, but I blinked back to my senses. “You said I could help. Let me go with you.”
He laughed. “I meant you could help from here.”
He had given me some power with that kiss. A tiny toehold, I wasn’t going to give up. I hurried in front of him and blocked the door, shaking my head.
He could easily pick me up and set me aside, and everything we just shared would be shattered. I just had to pray he wouldn’t do that.