39. Natalia

39

NATALIA

" Prygat' ," Shura orders.

Remi runs towards Shura, and, with one final burst of speed, coils and launches himself up until the tip of his nose grazes Shura's outstretched palm.

"Well done, Remi!" I clap and Katya joins in, but she's clearly distracted.

"So cute," she mumbles, almost to herself.

"And the sweetest dog in the world."

Katya turns to me like she forgot I was here. "Oh. Right. But I was talking about…" She gestures over to Shura, who's got his back to us now.

"Shura?" I gawk.

"He has this raw, magnetic sexual appeal." Katya licks her lips.

All I can do is shriek with increasing incredulity, "Shura?!"

"You can't tell me you don't find him attractive."

"Watch me: I don't find him attractive. Honestly, I'm surprised you do. He's not your usual type." Then again, that might be a good thing. Her usual type is Andrey's fuckboy little brother. Straying from the standard might be exactly what the doctor ordered.

"I don't know. He's wiry, but strong. And broody. The whole package is… sexy as hell."

I groan. "The last time you described a man as ‘sexy,' I was forced to sit through a dinner with Viktor Kuznetsov."

Katya throws a wicked elbow into my ribs. "How about we not talk about mistakes of the past? You couldn't pay me a million dollars to even look at Viktor—" But then she cuts herself off, her eyes locked on something over my shoulder.

Suddenly, she turns away so she can fluff her hair and adjust her lipstick. Since she doesn't drag the neckline of her shirt low enough for some tasteful cleavage, I know we've moved out of there's a man I want to impress territory into there's a woman I need to intimidate .

I wave Mila over and then hiss to Katya, "Be nice."

"I'm always nice," she mutters out of the side of her mouth.

She's not, and the warning glare I toss her way makes it clear that I know it.

She sighs and raises her hands in surrender, but I swear I hear her muttering under her breath. "… fraternizing… look at her… some nerve…"

I manage to drown her out and plaster a big smile on my face as Mila steps onto the patio. "Mila, come meet Katya. Officially," I add. "In a way that doesn't involve being chased by security guards right after."

Katya laughs, but it sounds like she's being strangled. To her credit, she does offer Mila her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mila. Again. Sort of."

Mila smiles. "No hard feelings about crashing my wedding. It's all water under the bridge."

Wow. This is going well.

"Well, of course you wouldn't have hard feelings. You weren't the one being cheated on, were you?"

I bite back a sigh. So close. We were so, so close.

As if he can smell the catfight brewing, Shura shifts closer to us. He tosses Remi's Frisbee across the yard, but I know he's eavesdropping, ready to intervene.

"I can't believe you still care," I moan. "This is Viktor we're talking about. You just said you would spend another second near him even if you were offered millions of?—"

"It's the principle of the thing," Katya cuts me off. "You don't steal another woman's man! Even if that man is a worthless pile of shit."

I'm ready to strangle my best friend, but Mila just laughs. "I get why you're pissed, Katya. You have every right to be. But you're making some big assumptions here."

Katya flips her short, blonde bob. "Which are… ?"

"You're assuming I knew that he had a steady girlfriend and that I pursued him anyway. I assure you, I didn't. Nor did Viktor rush to tell me about your existence when he cornered me the day we… er… got involved."

Katya studies her with narrowed eyes. "He really didn't mention me?"

"No, and I'm sure he doesn't mention me to even a fraction of the women he brings home. I promise you, all of his latest conquests look very surprised when I walk into the room and catch them in the act."

Katya is speechless, and I want to applaud Mila. Give her some kind of award for accomplishing a task I believed to be impossible.

Finally, Katya picks her jaw up off the floor. "He cheats on you?"

"Constantly. Since the moment we got married. Probably even while we were engaged." She shrugs. "Viktor is a born cheater, Katya. That's never going to change."

"And you don't care? He's your husband."

Mila waves the title away like it's meaningless. I notice the way her eyes flicker to the corner of the pool where Leonty is rounding the corner with Olaf. "As long as he's occupied with his skanks, that leaves me free to live my life and fuck whomever I damn well please."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mila," Katya says, a small smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. "Call me Kat."

"I think the first meeting of the I Hate Viktor Club has been a smashing success, don't you?"

"Oh, indeed," I concur in my best (read as: worst) British accent.

"Rousing, truly." Mila dusts the cake crumbs off her chic, fawn-colored dress—clothes being another topic over which Mila and Katya had bonded—and gets to her feet. I haven't missed how her eyes shift over to Leonty every few minutes.

Five minutes after Mila says goodbye and dips back into the main house, Leonty claims he needs to look into something in the garage and takes off in the same direction.

Katya's eyes are trained on him as he walks away. "Well, that answers that question. Those two are getting it on, aren't they?"

Since there's no point in denying it, I nod.

"Get it, girl! Not that I can blame her." Her gaze veers towards Shura, who's skulking in the corner of the gardens with Remi and Misha. "You do have extremely hot bodyguards."

I expect this from Katya. What I don't expect is the searching looks Shura keeps throwing her way when he thinks no one is looking.

"Well, I should be going, too." Katya sighs and heaves herself to her feet. "The picnic was a great idea, hon. We should do it again soon."

But she's not really focused on me when she says it because Shura is striding across the lawn directly towards us. "There's no need to get up, Ms. Natalia," he offers when he's close enough to be heard. "I'll walk Ms. Katya to the door. I have to… check on something in the garage myself."

"Busy day in the garage," I mumble under my breath.

He doesn't hear me, and Katya is too busy blushing to pay me any attention. The only goodbye I get is a last-minute wave over her shoulder after Shura has already led her halfway across the lawn.

I can't even bring myself to be annoyed. My friends are in love. Or, in Kat's case, in lust. I'm happy for them. Even if it means I end up sitting on a picnic blanket surrounded by half-eaten food, utterly alone.

It's been a wonderful evening. I've been surrounded by people—people I actually like—for hours now. And yet it takes all of five seconds by myself to feel loneliness settle on my chest like a boulder.

Pathetic, Natalia. Really pathetic.

I consider walking over to talk with Misha and play with Remi, but they seem content to play together in their own little corner of the garden.

Everyone has coupled up right under my nose.

"That just leaves you and me, little peanut," I whisper to my stomach with only the slightest hint of bitterness.

It's actually sad how quickly I perk up when I see Yelena's stocky silhouette bobbing in my direction. "Finished with your picnic?" she asks as she approaches.

"Yes, it was delicious. Thank you so much."

"Let me clear up, then. I gotta be fast, while the damn dog is still distracted."

Remi hasn't taken to Yelena like he has with the boys. To be fair, she hasn't really made an effort with him. " I'm not a dog person, " she's said more than once.

"The dog will be distracted a while longer," I say. "Why don't you sit with me for a bit?"

She squints out into the gloomy distance. "I really should be getting these things inside."

"Oh, come on, Yelena. Keep me company. And look—there's some of your favorite blueberry scones left."

I push the basket right under her nose and, with a reluctant eye roll, she takes one. "You're just lonely and settling for me."

I cringe. "I wouldn't go so far as to say?—"

"And who can blame you?" Yelena charges on like I haven't spoken. "Trapped here by yourself more often than not. Nothing but an animal and a delinquent for company. Forced to watch while your friends live their lives and meet their matches… It must be frustrating."

"Enough with the encouraging pep talk," I drawl. "It's too much, really."

"He should be doing more for you."

I'm surprised by her directness. And by my own instinct to defend Andrey.

"He's doing exactly what he said he would. Andrey never promised me anything more than protection and comfort. I'm the fool who—" I stop short and stare sadly into Yelena's knowing eyes. "—I'm the one who wanted more."

"It's only natural, darling."

"It's stupid, is what it is. Stupid and na?ve. I can't blame him for not being interested."

"He is interested," Yelena insists. "He's just scared. After everything that happened with Maria…"

Maria. I always had a feeling that there was someone else. But just like that, the woman in Andrey's past has a name.

It's weird being jealous of a woman I've never met. I have a million questions, but I don't want to lurk and sniff around on the periphery of Andrey's life. When I learn more about him, I want it to be because he wants to tell me. Not because Yelena felt like gossiping.

"Maria was?—"

"Maria was important to Andrey," I interject gently. "I can tell. And if she still is, I'm sure he will tell me in time."

Yelena reaches over and pats my arm. "You're a good girl, Natalia. You deserve more." I wait for her to elaborate, but she falls silent and picks at her blueberry scone. "These were my husband's favorites, too."

There's an ache in her voice that I recognize all too well. "When did he pass away?"

"Shortly after Andrey took over as pakhan, actually," she admits. "It was years ago. He was young, thrown into the deep end without warning… He made a mistake," she continues. "My husband died."

She doesn't make a direct connection between Andrey and her husband's death, but I can hear it in all the words she doesn't say.

Andrey's inexperience cost Yelena her husband.

"I'm so sorry."

"He knew the risks." She says it robotically, like she's repeated the phrase so often that it's lost all meaning. "That's when I came to work for Andrey full-time. He wanted to give me a stipend, of course, so that I could retire comfortably. But I don't accept money for free. Never have, never will. I told him if he was going to give me money, then I would work for it. And I've been here ever since."

I can't even begin to wrap my head around the kind of mentality it would take to work for someone you felt was responsible—no matter how indirectly—for your husband's death.

Then again, Yelena may be old and bent, but she's tough. She's got grit and strength and the kind of perseverance that has me convinced she'll outlive us all.

"I lost my parents, you know. The pain never really goes away, does it?"

She meets my eyes for a fraction of a second. The agony there is deep and unwavering. "No. No, it does not."

"I guess you just have to endure the pain."

To my surprise, Yelena shakes her head. "Endure? No. I believe in moving forward. In action. In purpose. Without that, we may as well have died with them."