Chapter 8
NATALIA
Istare out the window at the lights shifting over the different areas of the port.
The place is constantly bathed in an amber glow, even in the dead of night.
I’m not a good sleeper at the best of times, and the constant activity only makes it worse.
Tonight I’ve given up on sleep altogether, curled up with Dasha in the living room while a history program plays on the TV.
Dasha seems to like her new life here, where there are a ton of seabirds to watch out the window. I’m pretty sure there’s a rat infestation keeping her entertained too, but I’m trying not to dwell on it.
“Returning to your roots as a street cat, right Dasha?” She purrs contentedly as I stroke her ears. Aleksandr said I could buy one cat jungle for her, so I’ve ordered the biggest one I could find.
I rescued her after she wandered into our gardens as a kitten. I secretly looked after her in my room for a month until she started going hunting, leaving dead birds on the doorstep. My parents found out, but by then we were too attached for them to separate us without breaking my heart.
At first, when a woman appears on the fire escape, I think I’ve fallen into a strange dream.
She’s breathtakingly strange, with a ring through her nose, spider-web tattoos visible through her mesh top, and a metallic red miniskirt that matches her pointed nails. Someone who’s decided who she is and will live her life accordingly.
She taps at the window and gives me a surprisingly warm smile.
I push open the window, still wondering if I’m dreaming, and she ducks through the window effortlessly, then pulls me into a thickly-perfumed hug. She’s rail thin, but wiry, like she has an intense work out routine.
“Natalia, right?”
I nod, unsure what she wants. She yanks open the fridge, grabs out a bottle of beer, and pops the cap off using the edge of the counter. Then she hops up to sit facing me, swinging her platform boots against the cabinets.
“I’m Vera. I didn’t wake you, right?”
I shake my head. “No, I was already up.”
“At three a.m.? Just like Leks.”
She calls my husband by a nickname and knows his sleeping schedule. I look her up and down and realize that maybe this is the kind of girl Aleksandr is into. She is sexual in a way that I don’t know how to be.
I can see why he would prefer a woman like her. Vera would survive him, become better for it, while I could only be consumed by his darkness and bitterness.
He probably likes women who can match him in darkness.
Not a boring, sheltered princess like me.
“I’ve been hearing a lot about you. Was kinda curious to see you for myself.”
I feel like a piece of meat on display at an auction as Vera rakes her gaze over my outfit, the fluffy pink slippers and frilly nightgown that I now regret choosing. I sit on the edge of the seat, my posture tense and upright.
“I get the hype now,” she mutters after a second, taking another swig of beer.
As evaluated as I feel, there’s something playful and warm in her gaze.
“He won’t like that, by the way.”
“Won’t like what?”
“The way the other guys are talking about you.”
It’s too late at night for me to parse what she means by that. It feels like where Aleksandr is concerned, everything I do is a misstep.
“He doesn’t like much about me,” I admit.
Vera is so relaxed here, lounging around like she owns the place. I’m still scared that I’ll break something or show my incompetence, like with the dishes. I’m in a new world where I don’t know any of the rules. Vera knows the rules, she just doesn’t care about them.
I bite my lip and glance at her. If this is the kind of woman Aleksandr wants, I see why he rejected me so firmly on our wedding night. I can’t hope to compete with the intricate tattoos and piercings and obvious experience that are all over Vera’s perfect figure.
Her gaze searches my face.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I avoid her eyes. “If you’re here to tell me to back off, or claim your territory… You have nothing to worry about. We haven’t—”
“Oh, honey, no. That’s not why I’m here. Leks and I did, once, but we were teenagers.” She waves a hand, as if I’d understand how insignificant teenage sexual trysts were. “That man is not relationship material.” She wrinkles her nose.
If everyone else can see that he’s not capable of a healthy relationship, why does some tiny piece of me yearn for that? I keep expecting him to come home and eat dinner with me and compliment me on my outfit, even though that’s not what we have at all.
“Well, just so you know, he doesn’t want to touch me.”
Vera lets out a snort that I can’t decipher, flipping her glossy black hair over her shoulder. “Sure he doesn’t, hon.”
“I know—”
“Natalia.” She laughs, taking a deep pull of the beer. “I’m joking. Leks is not exactly a loverboy, but you’re a hottie. There’s no way he doesn’t want to hit that.”
This is a confusing conversation.
“I don’t think I’m his type.”
Vera makes a face at that.
“Hon, if I may… I’m a professional at this.”
I stare at her blankly, not grasping her meaning.
“I’m a sex worker.”
She gestures to her outfit.
“Men pay to have sex with me.”
Oh my God, Vera is a prostitute.
She lets out a cackle when she sees my face. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would have met many girls of my vocation before. I work at one of the Bratva’s most popular clubs in Manhattan. Leks's favorite club, actually.”
My husband has a favorite brothel. Great.
“I know a thing or two about what men like, honey. And trust me when I say a girl like you? Blonde, great tits, that sweet femme pink girly thing you’ve got going? You’re every man’s type.”
My face flames. I don’t think that’s true, but I have no point of reference.
“Oh, thank you.” I stutter, unsure how to react, but Vera is unfazed, taking another sip of her beer. I guess she’s used to people being awkward around her.
“Girl like me? I’m an acquired taste. There’s a market, but it’s niche. You are the mainstream.”
If that’s true, maybe Aleksandr doesn’t like the mainstream. He’s certainly not like any of my other fiancés.
“Well, it’s not like he hasn’t had the opportunity.”
Vera raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and for some reason, I don’t feel embarrassed to talk to her. I want to tell her everything that’s happened, how confusing it’s been.
“I would have… Uh. I asked him to touch me. On our wedding night. And he told me that’s not what this marriage was about.”
She purses her lips and nods knowingly. “Hmm. There’s no delicate way to put this, babe. Leks came to my club that night.”
“Our wedding night?” My lungs tighten.
Vera nods, watching me carefully. Then she rolls her eyes. “He was in such a mood. None of the girls were right for him.” She looks me up and down. “He picked a blonde, real sweet girl, one of the newbies. Cara. Looked kinda like you, actually.”
The bottom of my stomach drops away.
I asked him to touch me and instead he went to a prostitute, after curling his lip in disgust at my offer. I wonder what this Cara had that I didn’t.
Sexual experience, definitely.
A better figure? Mama always says I need to watch what I eat.
Strangely, it’s not the lack of fidelity that disturbs me — when I’m plotting to leave this marriage, I have no right to demand that Aleksandr stays faithful to me.
The rejection is what stings the worst. My skin flushes in an awful, prickling embarrassment, which Vera latches onto.
“Are you mad at him?”
I shake my head. Mad is not the right word. I’m embarrassed.
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing I can do,” I breathe.
We’re married, and until my parents find me a way out of that, I can’t do a single thing about it.
Still, the insult stings. This was always what I’d feared about marriage. That I’d be trapped into an unloving arrangement where we lied to each other and made each other miserable.
Vera perches on the arm of the couch beside me. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think they actually went through with it. Which is unusual, for Leks. He needs his head read, for sure, but he’s never had trouble getting it up.”
She mimes an erection with her hands and my face flames.
“Apparently, that night he did nothing but complain. Took her into the room, turned the lights off, complained about her perfume, then said her hair was the wrong color or some shit like that. Men are ridiculous.”
I don’t even have enough experience with men to agree with her there, but I nod anyway. Some small part of me wants Vera to accept me, or to think of me as a friend. I bet she has great stories.
She hops down from the arm of the couch and wraps an arm around me. She smells strongly of spices and perfumes.
“You know what you need? A fucking drink.”
By the time Aleksandr gets home, Vera has told me a thousand stories about men that make me blush, and I can’t help but collapse in a fit of giggles. The bottle of white wine we’ve shared doesn’t help either.
As he walks through the door, he lifts his eyebrows in amusement, as though he’s not surprised to see Vera here. His gaze falls heavily on the place where I’m lounging on the floor, leaning against the base of the couch. It puts a stop to my laughing fit.
Instead of giggling, when I think about what Vera said, my skin erupts in heat under his gaze. There’s no obvious sign of attraction on his side, but I do like the fact that he’s staring at me and not her.
An amused smile touches his lips. “Whatever she’s told you, it’s not true,” he says before he heads upstairs to his bedroom.