Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Annika
“Oh no!” I gasp.
I bolt out of sleep and into a sitting position, instantly regretting it.
Tender soreness radiates from every muscle and tendon in my body.
Especially my cervix, which throbs with a heartbeat all its own.
I whimper, putting a hand on my lower belly as vivid images of last night’s ecstasy flash through my mind.
Ecstasy that stole the practical parts of my mind. The parts that usually say, hey, let’s put a condom on.
My body throbs with post coital soreness slash bliss and my head throbs from innumerable shots of vodka.
I slowly look around the suite’s bedroom, the small movement agony.
It’s empty, and I wonder for a moment if last night was possibly just a fevered dream.
After all, it was my wildest fantasies that had come true.
This time it wasn’t some half-educated muscle-bound jock that barely knew what he was doing.
No, this time it was a man. A gorgeous, real man, who knew exactly how to walk the fine line between pleasure and pain. Knew how to be dominant and demanding without sounding like a total dick.
Now he's gone. Disappeared without a trace. Save for the ache he caused within me and the scent of a yummy, masculine cologne that wafts from the sheets as I flop back down into the pillows.
No name. No means to find him again. Not that it matters. It’s not like I can do this again. I have a wedding coming up. A wedding that will leave me tied to a total stranger.
With a sigh, I slowly ease myself back up again, and begin looking for my phone.
To my surprise I find it on the bedside table along with two aspirin and a bottle of vitamin water.
My phone is plugged into its charger that had been stuffed into the side pocket of her suitcase.
A suitcase I hadn’t bothered to unpack before going out to the bars, and certainly didn’t unpack when I came back with my mystery man.
He must have found my charger for me. And set out the water and aspirin too. So. He does exist.
Unable to help myself, I smile as I pick up the aspirin and water, take the pills, and then open my phone.
“Alright Google,” I murmur, typing into the search bar, “Show me my birth control. Am I picking up a Plan B?”
I really don’t want to. The last time I took one it made me nauseous for days and kickstarted a particularly heavy and painful period.
I open the first link that pops up and quickly read the article, finding a 99% effective rate when the prescribed was in their follicular phase. Mentally I count the days since my last period, and breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I’m still within it.
Good. No Plan B needed.
I’m about to open a second link just to double check when my father’s caller ID flashes on the screen. I quickly about the link as I fumble with my phone and rush to answer my phone.
“Hi, papochka,” I answer, trying to sound as awake and sober as possible.
“Privet, lyubimaya dochka,” my father, Yulian Fillipovich Shabalin, answers fondly.
In public and around the other families my father puts on a great show of being stern and unemotional with me. But behind closed doors? I am his favorite daughter, and in truth, he’s coddled my sister, Valya, and me since our births.
I roll my eyes at his words, smiling as I drag myself out of the comfy bed.
“You know you’re not supposed to say I’m your favorite daughter, right?” I tease.
“That is new world theory,” my father replies, “You know me. I am old fashioned. And I’m allowed to have favorites. Just don’t tell Valya.”
I giggle then say, “Your secret’s safe with me, papochka.”
“That’s my girl,” Yulian praises. “So how was your sleepover with Katerina? Did you girls have fun in the suite?”
Even though I know he can’t see it, I blush at the question. It's not often I lie to my father. He is a mafia boss after all. But even though I’m a 24-year-old adult, I know he would have never let me go out drinking alone.
“Yeah, we did,” I reply, feeling another bout of guilt as I lie yet again. “She’s still asleep though. When she wakes up we’re going to order some room service, and then I’ll be home.”
“Oh, no,” my father replies, suddenly sounding serious, “I don’t think you’ll have time for that, doch. That’s why I called. Do you know what time it is?”
I pull my phone away from my ear to look at the time, and nearly jump out of my skin as I see it’s 1:10 p.m. I was supposed to meet my father and Valya at the designer’s dress shop ten minutes ago.
They’d had the design for my wedding dress submitted a month ago, and today was to be my first fitting.
“Papa, I’m so sorry!” I exclaim, moving quickly to my suitcase. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!”
“Take your time,” Yulian replies calmly, “This is why we pay so much, so we can have a little flexibility.”
I hurriedly get off the phone with my father and fly into the bathroom.
I rush through a shower as I thoroughly brush my teeth with one hand and scrub my body and face with the other.
After quickly toweling off I dress in a modest outfit of beige slacks, a white short-sleeved designer blouse, some modest yet elegant gold jewelry and a pair of white heels.
I twirl my long hair into a low bun and to my clear complected face, add a touch of bronzer to my cheekbones, upper forehead and under my neck.
I finish the look off with a flick of mascara to my lashes and then a touch of nude gloss to my lips.
In under fifteen minutes I’m packed again and am racing to the elevator with my suitcase.
“Dobryy den', Miss Annika,” A familiar voice greets me as I step off.
Wincing, I force a smile as I look up and see Viktor, my father’s most trusted friend and bodyguard.
“Dobryy den’, Viktor,” I reply sweetly.
The fifty-year-old Russian protector bows his head in respect, then reaches for the handle of my suitcase.
“Your father sent me over so you wouldn’t have to worry about getting a cab,” Viktor explains.
He gives me a calm, steady look. Someone who didn’t know him would think that man had little to no awareness of a person’s most inner secrets, but I know better. The man was a human lie detector…among other things.
“Will we be waiting for your friend to come down?” he asks.
“No,” I lie, even though I know it’s no use, “She’s still sleeping. She can get herself home.”
A touch of a smile lifts Viktor’s lips, and he nods. He waves a hand toward the rotating doors, and we stroll together through the lobby.
“Very good, Miss Annika,” he replies smoothly, and I’m grateful he lets the lie go.
There is a large, double shot flat white and a warm chocolate croissant waiting for me in the back of the blacked out town car.
“Your father told me you were planning to order room service before he called,” Viktor says, sliding into the driver’s seat. “So I took the liberty of getting you some breakfast since you had to miss out.”
My stomach rumbles loudly, and I’m grateful for Viktor’s perceptiveness.
“Thank you, Viktor,” I reply, then dig into the croissant with gusto.
As well as a body guard, lie detector, and errand man, Victor is also one of the best drivers in the entire city. In less than ten minutes after pulling into the heavy New York traffic he has the town car pulling up to the front of the dress shop.
I lick my fingers clean of the croissant and take a long swig of my coffee, feeling a little better as the pastry and caffeine push away my hangover.
“Finally,” Valya says in greeting as I walk in, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You know, just because Papa can afford to make people wait for you, it doesn’t mean that you should.”
I force a cheery smile as I look at my baby sister, used to her more spoiled and self-centered way.
Like me, Valya shares our father’s blue eyes, but while I got our late mother’s dark blonde, curly hair, Valya was gifted our father’s dark chocolate brown poker straight locks.
At twenty-two, she’s a sophomore at NYU studying dance, holds to a strict diet that keeps her stick thin, and does her very best to suck up to our father at all times.
“Good morning to you, too, Valya,” I greet sweetly.
“Pay her no mind, doch,” our father says, getting up from his seat beside Valya. “You are the bride. You are allowed to do these things on your own time.”
Except choose my groom or if and when I want to actually get married.
I keep the thought to myself, knowing that to say it would only make my doting father feel even more guilty. This was my life. My family and my traditions. Sacrifices had to be made.
My smile turns genuine as I open my arms and accept my father’s hug. Like him, it's warm and big and full of protection. Even now, as an adult, I still curl myself into them like I’m a little girl and let him lift me off my feet.
“I missed you,” Yulian says as he squeezes me tightly.
“Oh, Papa,” I laugh softly. “I was only gone one night!”
“I know,” he sighs, letting me go, “But soon that won’t be true, will it?”
I hear the guilt lacing my father’s tone and see the sadness flash in his blue eyes. I know this isn’t what he wanted for me- but just like me, he didn’t have a choice. Not if we want to form the much-needed alliance between the two powerful families.
“That’s enough of that,” I say, my tone gentle as I cup his cheek.
“Yeah, really,” Valya said behind us.
I don’t have to look to know that my little sister is rolling her eyes.
“Haven’t we’ve been keeping this designer waiting long enough?” Valya adds with irritation.
“Valya,” Yulian sighs warily.
“No, Papa, she’s right,” I say, stopping him from giving Valya another lecture.
I turn to the elegantly dressed dressmaker and offer a charming smile as she extends her hand.
“Mrs. Ivanov, thank you so much for your patience,” I offer, “I am truly sorry for wasting your time.”
The tall, beautiful, and thin middle-aged woman spreads her red lips into a smile as she accepts my hand and gives it a polite shake.