FIVE
One day before the full moon
I wake up in my studio apartment, groggy, and with the taste of Vostik still on my tongue. It’s bright out, bright enough to highlight my poorly decorated walls and kitchen, which doubles as a living room, dining room, oh, and a goddamn laundry room, too. I really need to move.
Courtney is sprawled on the futon. It was as far as I could get her by myself when we barged in last night. One of her legs hangs over the back while the other is planted on the floor. If I’m being honest, it reminds me of my last OBGYN appointment, but luckily enough, she still has her clothes on. I watch her for a moment, noting the way her fingers and toes twitch. A bad dream? The incoming of a hangover? I’m not sure, but none of it seems to disrupt the soft snores breaking from her partially open mouth. Yeah, she’s out all right.
It was hell getting her onto the damn couch by myself. Helping her find a comfortable position when her body was as limp as a sandbag? Nearly impossible. Her head is still where I left it, propped on a pillow and tilted to the side. Didn’t want to take the chance of her choking on her own vomit in her sleep, though I obviously didn’t care enough about the dirty carpets of my four-hundred-square-foot apartment to leave a trash can on the floor in case she did.
It's quiet in the loft, well, besides the sirens fading down the streets, and the slight snores from my otherwise indisposed friend sleeping off a few too many. I’ve never seen her get carried out of a bar before, and something tells me she might need to take it easy the next few nights. Maybe longer. “ Come ,” Nik had said. “ I promise to make it worth your while. ” Will he be disappointed if I don’t? Maybe, but by now I’m used to disappointing the people in my life. Why should Nikolai Vostik be any different?
A fresh pot of coffee brewing, I brush my teeth until the tang of that terrible vodka is gone—two times and a swish of mouthwash to be exact—and I reenter the living room to find Courtney no longer the living dead, but awake and swiping on her phone.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” I say and smirk.
She looks up at me, dark circles resting under each bloodshot eye. “I’m never drinking again. What the hell happened last night?”
I pull my only two mugs from the cabinet and take turns filling each. “We were hanging out at the bar with Nik and Viktor, you took a shot, and then—” I place my hand at my forehead and pretend to faint like some terrible low-budget actress. “You were out.”
Courtney winces and rubs her temple. “Is that why my head is fucking killing me?”
“Oh, you didn’t fall on the ground.” I blow away the steam lifting from my mug and sip. “Nik caught you.”
Her mouth hangs open. “Nik? Nik caught me?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Not Viktor?” She scowls in annoyance.
An unintended chuckle escapes my mouth, and I do my best not to spit coffee on the countertop. “No. That asshole stepped aside like you had the bubonic plague.”
She shakes her head, letting disheveled black hair bounce on each shoulder. “My hero. I fucking knew he was a prick.”
“Big time,” I agree. “Coffee? You probably need it more than I do.”
When she tries to stand, her legs give out like a baby deer but she manages to balance and find firm footing. She’s still in the cocktail dress from last night, no longer neat and form fitting to her small body. It’s wrinkled, and there might even be a few stains of Vostik dabbed around the neckline.
“How did we get back here?” Courtney asks, wobbling with each step to the coffeemaker.
I smile at the memory of Nik carrying her to the sidewalk. He did it with the ease of someone carrying a bag of groceries, his large arms not giving the slightest hint of fatigue. Sure, Courtney doesn’t exactly weigh much, but it makes me wonder if I’d be just as maneuverable to him. If he’d struggle or simply hoist me up like a gallon of milk.
“Nik had his driver take us here,” I say matter-of-factly.
Courtney rears back the cup and nearly chokes. “His driver? He had his driver take us home in what I can only assume was a very nice—"
“Extremely nice car,” I interject, and she continues.
“Did I fucking miss anything else? Did Nikolai save a group of orphans from a building on fire? Stop a runaway train?”
I can’t help but giggle and cover my mouth.
“Did he kiss you? Tell me he kissed you.”
The laughter in me fizzles out, and I gnaw at my lower lip. “No. He was going to but we were interrupted.”
Her face pales, and she hides behind her palms. “I’m so sorry, Nat. I really don’t know what happened. All of a sudden the club was spinning, and— shit. I’m sorry.”
I pull Courtney’s hands away from her face. “It wasn’t your fault. Actually, he was going to kiss me after he put you in the car. Dimitri stopped us and said Viktor needed him.”
“Fucking Viktor.”
“Fucking Viktor,” I agree and we clink our coffee mugs together.
“So, when are you going to see him again?”
I finish off the last bit of coffee and rinse it out in the sink. “He wants to see me tonight.” Although I don’t turn around, I can practically feel her eyes boring holes through me.
“And you’re going, right?”
“I don’t know. I want to, but …”
Courtney slams her mug down and small brown droplets explode in the air like hazelnut fireworks. “No, Nat. You are going.”
Do I want to go? Yes. Do I hope our unfinished business from last night will pick up where we left off? Absolutely. But I can’t help the nagging sensation at the back of my head telling me it’s somewhere I don’t belong. A high-end club with an even higher end man? I don’t know if I’d ever feel comfortable around him or his lifestyle. Me, someone barely scraping by in dresses I’ve either borrowed or bought when the summer clothes hit the sales rack in winter. And him, a wealthy, successful, gorgeous fucking mirage of a person.
“You’re going,” she says again, leaving no room in her voice for rebuttal.
I sigh out in exasperation. “I don’t even have anything to—”
Three heavy knocks on the front door stop me. We exchange curious glances, and after a brief moment, I walk toward the door. There’s no one there when I glance through the peephole. Odd, but not alarming. Could’ve been any of the thousands of noises I’ve heard since I first moved in. I swallow down the saliva lathering my tongue and unlock the dead bolt. A loud crack erupts first, followed by the hinges squealing when I swing it open.
“Who is it?” she whispers, still hunched over the countertop.
I shake my head in confusion. “No one. There’s no—” My voice cuts out. On the doorstep is a sleek black box. Lifting it, I look for an address, a name, even a company logo. Nothing. Just a black box and bloodred ribbon tied perfectly at the top.
Courtney’s jaw runs slack. “Is that from who I think it’s from?”
“I’m not sure.” I set it on the counter and carefully undo the ribbon. My eyes widen and she comes over to peek inside. Resting at the top is a note.
Natalia, I told you I’d make it worth your while. See you tonight. -Nik.
The blood drains from my face as I read the note over and over, each pass surely taking another shade of my complexion.
“What is it?”
I lift the fabric cautiously , and the bottom hem flows downward to my knees.
Courtney gasps. “Holy shit …”
Holy shit is right. I think it too along with many other curses in my head, but I can’t manage to utter a single one. It’s a dress. A beautiful, red, extremely fucking expensive dress. I look at it in awe. Two straps lead from each side of the midriff and connect at the top of the black wooden hanger. There’s a slit going down the middle of the bodice, clasped together by eight intricate fastens, but the gap is just wide enough to not only see cleavage but the stomach of the person wearing it. Small sleeves appear fashioned to fall around the arms, while the shoulders are left bare. The bottom of it, a fine hem of glossy red fabric, might reach my lower thigh if I continuously straighten it down.
“I … I can’t wear this.” This dress is somehow more revealing than the ones Courtney has picked out for me. Anxiety builds in my stomach, twisting my organs into some painful balloon animal ready to pop at any second.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes, her jaw still hanging low. “Nat, you’re not just going to put on this dress. You are going to own this dress.” Courtney’s mouth slithers in a devious smirk. “And once Nik sees you, the only thing he’ll want to do is tear it off you.”
*
I step out of the Uber at the front of Volk. The driver was nice enough, but the way he peered at me in the rearview was anything but. Sure, my tits were practically hanging out of this dress the entire way, but that wasn’t an invitation for Andrew (I think his name was) to ogle me the entire ten-minute trip. Two-stars Andrew. Do better next time.
Music shudders the sidewalk lining the club, and when I peer from the front to the people outside, there’s the usual line forming down the block and a swift left around the corner. I’m not sure how Nik made this place what it is, but whatever he did, it’s working. People clamor on the wrong side of the long felt rope keeping them outside the entrance. Me? Well, for once I don’t feel the need to go to the end of the line. Not tonight.
I tug the dress down my thighs as far as it will go. Not much. While it felt great to wear in the sanctity of my apartment, now, this dress has me questioning what the hell I’m doing here. Sure, it’s a few paydays’ worth of fabric, but that’s not the problem. I’m wearing it. I’m the one constantly worrying about the slits showing my stomach I’d never show willingly. If my chest complements it or if the dress looks like a tear in a potato sack, just waiting for the rest of me to spill out. Courtney spent an hour doing my makeup and hair, and while I have no doubt in her ability, the rest of me, the parts practically spilling out of this dress, feel uneasy. Naked amongst the best in show. Here I am, Natalie Calder, a mediocre girl in an expensive dress I can’t afford.
“Miss Natalia,” a voice says from behind the felt rope as he unclips it.
I try and ignore the impatient snarls coming from the front of the line. I can’t. They’re probably thinking the same thing I am. Why is she getting in? To be honest, I’m still wondering why, too.
“Hi. Uhm. You’re Dimitri, right?” I recall last night, how he not only called a car for Courtney, but stopped Nik before he could kiss me. Viktor says he needs to see you. I eye him curiously and step forward. I’m no longer the one waiting my turn, and I’ll be damned if I’m meant to feel that way .
The bouncer nods.
“Call me Nat,” I say and stare up at him.
Dimitri glances down the line of people, his eyes never coming close to mine. There’s a certain amount of unease in his stern expression tonight. And for a man as big as him, why seems to be the only word I can manage to think.
“Nat,” he finally says and reclips the rope behind me. “We’ve been expecting you.”
My brows furrow, and I lean in closer. “We?” What the hell does he mean, we? Sure, there’s a couple of other bouncers keeping the waters of Volk’s ecosystem clean. Ten to one ratio for women and men if I had to guess. But that’s just business. It’s the way he said it. We’ve been expecting you. Are they going to roll out the red carpet? Maybe give me a special shout-out over the P.A. system? Give me a break.
For the first time since I met Dimitri, part of his mouth crooks upward. Is he smiling? No. It can’t be a smile.
Dimitri’s smirk loses slack in an instant like his face hit the factory reset mode. He gestures up the stairs.
Standing in front of the double door entrance is Nik. Nikolai Vostik, wearing a black button-up shirt while his sleeves strangle each forearm, stares down at me, seemingly taking in the dress he sent to my loft. Suspenders drape tightly on his strong shoulders. His eyes, two golden shimmers fighting against the LA skyline, pierce through the night. We’ve been expecting you , the words replay in my head. Nik has been expecting me.
“Don’t keep him waiting,” Dimitri says and nudges me with his elbow.
I step forward apprehensively, fearful of what he might say when he takes me in completely.
“You,” he says and pauses. Uncertainty radiates up my spine. Surely, I don’t look like the cover model he saw when buying it. It probably doesn’t fit the same as it would on a mannequin. And if I don’t stand up straight to give my stomach a tighter appearance, how can he ever think I am worthy to be in the dress I’m in now?
“Are not what you expected?” I finish and stare at the cement. God, get me out of here. Call me an Uber if cell reception does happen to reach the heavens. Everything I’ve done tonight, everything Courtney did tonight, was all a waste. Now, all Nikolai Vostik will see is a frumpy girl in some dress that doesn’t fit her the way it would Veronica Tate. I might as well play hopscotch with the rope keeping those waiting outside Club Volk. That’s where I belong. Just another face in the crowd. I scuff my heels on the pavement, awaiting his disgust.
“You are stunning.”
My eyes widen, and I listen to his voice play on repeat until it registers fully. “I—what?”
Nik grins and travels down the steps toward me, lifting his palm in my direction. “Stunning,” he reaffirms, and bends forward to kiss the back of my hand. “And you shouldn’t need some dress to know that.”
We stare at each other, his bright eyes never leaving mine.
God, I have a new request. Please don’t let this man ruin me.