19. Bronwyn

19

brONWYN

Radimir drove me back to my apartment to change. On the way, I called Jen and reassured her that I was okay and that everything was fine, and she said she’d watch the store for the rest of the day. Then I sat there staring out of the window. I was waiting for it to sink in, to become real, but it just wouldn’t. Engaged? To him?! It was too big, too much.

We pulled up outside my apartment building. I saw Radimir’s jaw tighten when he saw the graffiti-covered exterior. Inside, the elevator was out again so we had to walk up four floors and after all the running, my joints hurt so much my legs shook. “What’s the matter?” Radimir asked from behind me.

“Nothing,” I told him. “Just tired.”

Upstairs, he scowled at the hallway with its peeling wallpaper, and I felt stubbornly defensive. Okay, so my building sucked, but it was all I could afford. There was no need to be snobby about it.

Inside, I searched around for something black to wear. Radimir stood there just looming, his gaze coldly analysing everything. “A monkey?” he asked.

I turned and saw he was looking at the tattered photo on my wall. It was of a baby monkey, with just a few wisps of dark hair on its head and huge, black eyes. “Spider Monkey,” I told him. I stared hard at the clothes in my closet and forced my voice to stay level. “My dad took it when he was working in Cancún when I was a kid. My folks said they’d take me to see them when I was older.” I couldn’t stop my voice tightening. “They died before they could.”

Radimir was silent for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry.”

There was a surprising amount of softness in his voice, and it threw me. I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to look at him, and went back to searching.

By the time I finally found my one black dress, I’d got myself back under control. “I’ll put this on,” I said.

He just stood there, watching me.

“That was your cue to leave the room so I can change.” I knew I sounded a little testy, but I was exhausted, in pain and emotionally wrung-out.

He lifted his chin. “I’ve already seen you naked.”

I felt myself flush, remembering that night at the bookstore. And... shit, that was something I hadn’t even had time to think about, yet. How was the sex going to work? We were engaged, now, was he expecting... am I basically his sex slave?

Deep inside, a traitorous flare of heat rippled down to my groin and made me crush my thighs together. “At least turn around,” I said stubbornly.

For a second, I thought I saw a hint of a smile on his lips, like he liked me standing up to him. Then he nodded and turned his back.

I quickly stripped off my jeans and sweater, then realized I needed to swap my bra for a black one, so the straps didn’t show. Then I couldn’t find a black one. “Finished?” he asked, half-turning.

“ No!” I squeaked, in just my panties.

He turned his back again. I was flustered and I told myself that was why it took three attempts to hook my bra clasp. Not because being so close to him, when I was nearly naked, was making me heady and giddy. Not because I knew he was toying with me, and it turned me on. Not because I could hear in his voice how much he wanted to just spin around and grab me.

Oh God. I still wanted him, despite what I’d seen him do. That power he had over me was stronger than ever.

I pulled the dress over my head. “Done,” I announced.

He turned around, watching as I pulled my hair into an updo and put on a little make-up. “Is this okay?” I asked, turning from the mirror.

His lungs slowly filled and his gray eyes gleamed. “Yes, Krasavitsa . It’s perfect.”

The musical, delicate name threw me. He hadn’t called me that since his goodbye note. “What does that mean?” I asked, turning away and trying to sound uninterested.

He was silent for a moment, as if the name had slipped out by accident. “Beauty,” he said at last.

I gave a quick, stiff nod of acknowledgment. Inside, my stomach was doing somersaults. That’s what he’d been calling me? Me, curvy, copper-haired me? When Nathan had broken up with me, he’d snuffed something out, right at the core of me, and there’d been nothing but cold dark there ever since. Krasavitsa made a tiny, warm light flicker into life, fragile as a firefly.

Without words, I stomped out of my apartment and led the way back to the car, my jaw set determinedly.

It didn’t matter that I still wanted him. It didn’t matter how he made me feel. He’s a monster.

Radimir drove me to the edge of the city, to a street with high hedges that blocked any view of the houses. A black iron gate slid silently aside as our car approached and we drove down a long, sweeping driveway. A three-story mansion built from beautiful, smooth gray stone crept into view. “Gennadiy’s house,” Radimir explained.

I stared. As I understood it from the media, Radimir was the boss. If this was Gennadiy’s house, what was Radimir’s place going to be like?

Radimir’s brothers were waiting for us inside, both of them in black suits. Radimir left me with them while he went to change into his funeral suit. Silence descended and it was beyond awkward. Valentin looked worried. Gennadiy looked full-on hostile.

Then there was a patter of paws from behind me. I turned just in time to see what looked like a wolf pack racing towards me. As they surrounded me, I realized they were Malamutes, big ones, with bright blue eyes and huge, fluffy tails. All four of them pushed close, sniffing curiously, pushing their furry heads at me for ear scratches and licking at my hands. I crouched, delighted, and started handing out strokes and ruffles, having to use both hands to deal with all of them.

Mikhail, looking dashing in his funeral suit, came over, grinning. He let the dogs have their cuddles but gave quick little commands in Russian whenever one of them was in danger of actually knocking me over. “They’re normally suspicious of strangers,” he told me. “But they like you.”

I smiled back at him. I’ve always loved dogs. But then I straightened up and smiled at Gennadiy and he just stared back at me coldly. My heart slumped. He and Valentin were going to be my brothers-in-law. I just want them to like me!

But this was the Bratva. I should have realized: wanting to be liked was seen as a weakness.