29. Natalia
NATALIA
“This is weird.” Vera points her fork between us, chewing a mouthful of pasta. I regret inviting her for dinner. She always says what’s on her mind, which is the last thing we need.
“What’s weird?” I feign innocence.
“You two are quiet. And less sickeningly in love than you have been lately. Trouble in paradise?”
Leks shoots me a glance and we both open our mouths at the same time. The truth is, he has been nothing but kind to me, but I can’t stop blaming myself.
I should have destroyed the listening devices sooner. I should have told him exactly what my father was planning. He might have forgiven me, but I definitely haven’t forgiven myself.
At our silence, Vera bursts into laughter, widening her eyes. “Oh my God. There’s definitely something.” She continues eating. A minute later, she sets down her cutlery. “You’re spending too much time together. I have an idea.”
Leks gives a groan. “I know what you’re about to say. Your ideas are always the same.”
“Yup.” Vera stands up, downing her glass of wine, picking up the wine bottle and leaving a half-eaten plate of pasta. “Come on, Natalia. We’re going out.”
Leks rolls his eyes. “Vera—”
“All three of us. You keep this girl way too cooped up, Leks. She’s 21 years old, not an old man like you, and she’s gone from being locked in one house to being locked in another. Do you want her to never go to a club in her whole adult life?”
“Vera. I’m 31, not an old man. And I’m sure Natalia has been to a club at some point,” he says.
I blush. Of course I haven’t been to a club.
She raises her eyebrows and turns at me. She is not taking prisoners tonight. “Well. Have you?”
“No, but we don’t have to—”
“Leks, do you want your wife to have never experienced a club in New-York-fucking-city? She’ll be eaten alive the second she has to interact with another Bratva woman.”
“It’s up to Natalia—”
“Then shut up, put on a nicer shirt, and meet us at the door in half an hour.”
I look regretfully at my own plate of pasta as she drags me upstairs to get dressed. “Vera, I don’t know. I don’t think I like loud music. Or tons of people.”
She shakes her head as if I’m being silly. “You’ve never had the chance to find out. You’ll love this club. Trust me. It will distract you from whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours.”
By the time she’s done giving me an elaborate makeover, I barely recognize myself. Not under the dark eyeliner, layers of sparkly eyeshadow and shimmery highlighter. My face is practically a disco ball.
And the outfit that Vera has chosen for me doesn’t exactly divert attention, either. The pale pink, lacy bodysuit leaves a ton of skin on display, while a black silk skirt hugs all of my curves. My hair is half-up in a ponytail, with a few curls framing my face.
Leks's gaze settles on me and doesn’t leave as I walk downstairs to the living area, walking carefully in stilettos. When we reach him, Vera presents me with a dramatic flourish.
He doesn’t say a word, just pulls me in for a kiss that drags a moan straight out of my throat. My face flames. I guess he likes the outfit.
Then he pulls back and takes another look at me, a glint of anticipation in his eyes.
“Well, fuck. I’m gonna have to bring Yuri with me for backup.”
“Wise choice. Natalia, what your husband means to say is that you look so fucking hot you’re going to start like a thousand fights.”
“At least.” His arm wraps around my waist, his grip heavy and possessive.
My stomach flips. Why is Leks okay with this? “Doesn’t that mean we should just stay home?”
That seems like the most logical solution to me.
Vera gives a cackle and loops her arm through mine, dragging us towards the door where she’s called a car. “What are you talking about? You’re gonna hold your husband back from a good fight?”
My mouth drops open. “Is this why you’ve agreed to go to the club? Because you want a fight?”
He shrugs his big shoulders while I look up at him in outrage. Then his gaze drops to me, hot and possessive. “It’s also worth it to see you dressed like this.”
I dig an elbow into his side, which is always annoyingly ineffective. His torso is practically made of stone.
“You are not ruining a fun club night by getting arrested.”
Vera snorts. “As if. The place we’re headed is owned by the Petrovs. The cops in that part of the city are so well paid that they wouldn’t come near the place unless the Zodiac Killer was hiding in the basement.”
“Don’t worry, zolotse, I don’t go around beating up random club patrons. Only if they’re asking for it.” His gaze drops to my outfit and I feel it glide over my cleavage, the curve of my hips, right down to the pointed toe of the glossy black stilettos. “Which… I’m pretty sure they will be.”
Yuri has the exact same reaction when we pick him up. Sometimes it’s like him and Leks share the same brain cell. His face splits into a huge fucking grin when he sees what I’m wearing. “Oh, we’re getting in so many fights tonight.”
I glare at Leks, trying to hide the part of me that is excited to see exactly what kind of chaos they’re planning to create. I hate seeing Leks get hurt…but another, more cavewoman-like part of me, craves watching him fight. Especially when it’s about me.
I sigh, pretending to be more annoyed than I am. “You can fight. But only if you dance with me, too.”
He smirks. “Oh, trust me, zolotse. We’ll be doing both.”
I adjust his collar. He’s dressed in his absolutely standard black shirt and black pants. I mean, he always looks good…but this feels unfair. “Why do you get to wear normal clothes?”
“Because men are boring,” Vera interjects, and then the cab pulls to a stop outside what looks like a queue of 500 people on the pavement.
We stride right to the front of the line, the bouncer taking one look at Vera and waving us inside.
The wall of noise hits me. Then the throngs of people. Suddenly, my outfit doesn’t feel out of place at all. If anything, it’s modest in comparison to all the cut-outs and mini-dresses on the dance floor.
Immediately, I’m pulled into a perfumed hug of a man wearing eyeshadow to rival my own.
“This is her?” he asks Vera.
“The one and only Natalia Zhukova.”
“Of course.” He takes my hand and leads me straight behind the bar, which is illuminated with aqua-blue lights.
“They said you were a stunner, but I guess they underestimated. No wonder Leks has been keeping you locked up in a tower. Whatever you want, it’s all free for you, baby.
A friend of Vera’s is a friend of mine.”
“You work here?”
He shrugs. “Used to. Long story. They still let me behind the bar, though, so it’s more of a free supply of drinks these days.”
Danyl walks me through his best vodkas, pouring me shots and giving me in-depth reviews of the tasting notes. They all taste like vodka to me.
A balding man slides a bright pink cocktail in my direction while Danyl pours me a drink.
Danyl slides the cocktail back across the bar.
“She doesn’t need it, she drinks here for free. And want to know a secret?” The man, still staring at me, leans in. Danyl places his hands on either side of the guy’s face swivels his head so he’s facing Leks and Yuri, who loom at the edge of the bar like a wall of muscle. “That’s her husband.”
His face drains of all color. He slides Danyl a $50 note and hurries away with the pink cocktail still in his hand.
Danyl and Vera burst into laughter. “They’re not going to…? I mean, nothing happened.”
“Oh, no, he didn’t try anything, babe. Some idiot will, though.”
He hands me a glass of the vodka that he insists is best, and then we head onto the dance floor. I feel Leks's gaze on me, watchful and intense, but him and Yuri stay a certain distance away. It’s like they’re our security detail.
I think they’re going to have an uneventful night, hoping that might mean Leks will just have to join me on the dance floor, but the club gets steadily more crowded.
When we go for our next round of drinks, it’s hard to move through the crowds to the bar.
“Can I buy you a drink?” A beefy guy with a pencil mustache stops me with a clammy hand on my waist.
I spin around, confused. He didn’t even say hello.
“No, I’m okay, thanks.” I give him a polite smile and push his hand off me.
“Frigid bitch,” he says before storming away.
Vera and I look at each other, then over at Yuri and Leks, whose faces light up like they’ve just won the fucking lottery. They follow the guy, then walk him outside. When they come back in, they both have massive grins on their faces. The guy does not return.
The next time, it’s a guy grinding behind Vera who keeps making explicit gestures with his hands. Another asshole calls Danyl a slur. It’s like we cannot dance in a group without being surrounded by men who have no manners.
Yet Leks and Yuri operate as a kind of protective force field. They have developed a system that sees the men taken away before they can even touch us. I think they’re taking turns. They’re like wolves hunting in a pack.
At some point, I stop even noticing the men. I’m having too much of a good time with Vera and Danyl.
As the night rolls on, I’m left craving only one thing: Leks. Wordlessly, not caring enough to state my case and pretty sure that him and Yuri have had enough excitement for one night, I take his hand and lead him right into the center of the crowd.
The ink and blood covering his knuckles make my skin whisper with excitement.
It’s silly that some primitive part of my brain likes the fact that he’s been fighting. When I’m sober, I disapprove. Right now I don’t have it in me to be concerned. Not as his hands slide down to my waist and make me forget all my reasonable qualms about violence.
There’s a whoop from someone behind us in the crowd, followed by a catcall. At first, I think Leks will be jealous. Then his hand tighten on me and he pulls me closer, and I realize that as long as we’re together, he doesn’t care.