Chapter 23

Kimberly

T oday is the day. My three weeks here are up. It’s time for me to go home, back to reality. I don’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, I’m keen to leave. The longer I’m gone, the harder it will be for me to return to my normal life. Already I’m worried there won’t be a job waiting for me.

After the night when I took control, I thought perhaps things had changed between us, but Yaroslav went right back to being distant and dominant. He’s mostly been out working all day and the only times I do see him I can’t resist his sexual allure and fall back into bed with him, despite promising myself not to. It feels like sex is the only thing Yaroslav wants from me. He might want me to stay now, but how long will that last? What happens once he gets bored of fucking me and finds someone else? I’ll be out on my ass, broke and jobless.

Which is why I can’t stay.

And yet, part of me can’t bear the thought of leaving. It’s not the luxury I’ll miss, although that is a bonus, it’s the people I’ve connected with here. I’ll miss David, who I’ve been spending most days with recently, and Alheri who I’m still developing a tentative friendship with. But most of all, I’ll miss Yaroslav. For all his flaws, I see a goodness in him and a sorrow that he tries to hide.

But that’s also why I can’t stay because, if I’m being honest with myself, it’s more than just sex for me. I can’t deny the fact that I’ve developed feelings for Yaroslav. Feelings that I’m scared aren’t reciprocated. I should leave now before my heart gets broken.

I start to pack up my things. I asked Yaroslav the other day if it would be possible for me to borrow the phone once I leave for a little while until I was able to buy a new one and he was offended by the suggestion I wasn’t planning to keep it. He was adamant that everything he’s given me here is mine to keep, that they’re gifts. It seems too generous, but he pointed out that he has no use for them, and they’d only be thrown away or donated otherwise, that they’re mine to do with as I see fit. So, I’ve decided to accept them. As I’m neatly folding clothes and placing them into the beautiful Louis Vuitton luggage I found in the wardrobe, I hear a knock at the door.

“Come in, it’s open,” I call out.

I turn around to see David entering the room. He’s casually dressed in sweatpants and a well-worn AC/DC tee and is barefoot. David might look like his brother, but sometimes their differences are glaringly obvious. I’ve never seen Yaroslav wearing anything casual, he’s either in a suit, trousers and a shirt, or naked.

“Hi Kimmy,” he says with a grin, “Whatcha up to?”

“Hey David, nothing much, just packing.”

“Packing? Are we going on a vacation?” he asks, his eyes lighting up with excitement at the prospect of an impromptu trip.

I smile, amused as always by his childlike nature. “I wish. But no, I’m just packing up my stuff because I have to go home today.”

The smile drops from his face, replaced by a frown. “Leaving? What do you mean, leaving? You can’t go!” he cries, rocking anxiously side to side and starting to pace.

I can sense he’s about to have a full-blown meltdown. I try to keep my voice as soothing as possible. “Hey, it’s okay, we can still see each other, just I have to go home. I have a life, jobs I have to get back to, people who need me. I can’t stay here forever, I have my apartment waiting for me.”

“No, no, no, no,” he starts muttering, rocking back and forth and grabbing his hair in his fists.

“It’s okay, David,” I say soothingly, moving slowly toward him to try to comfort him.

“No!” he yells, “You can’t leave! It’s not fair!”

He balls his fists, lashing out and punching the wall nearest to him, his knuckles splitting and leaving blood on the cream wall. He hits it with such force that the picture on the wall comes crashing down, smashing into a million pieces. Shards of glass scatter all over the floor and he begins to pace, walking through the broken glass not seeming to care or notice the glass cutting into his bare feet.

“David!” I gasp in shock, “You’ve hurt yourself.”

But it’s like he can’t even hear me, instead of being put off by the pain, it seems to spur him on. He starts yelling loudly in Russian, though I have no idea what he’s saying I imagine it’s a string of expletives. He continues his destructive rampage, throwing one of my bedside lamps to the floor and smashing it. Next, his focus falls on the large mirror on the wall. The thing is so big he cannot remove it, struggling to get it down to knock it off, so instead, he proceeds to throw as many heavy objects at it as he can. The flatscreen TV is the next target, he kicks it, knocking it to the ground and shattering the screen.

The commotion brings men running. Two of Yaroslav’s staff, the bodyguards who are often close to David, come rushing in, immediately trying to talk to him and diffuse the situation. David lashes out at them in a flurry of kicks and punches, several of which connect. It seems as though the men are about to get the upper hand, it’s two against one after all, but David manages to wrangle out of their grasp by biting the one restraining him hard enough to draw blood. The man yelps out in pain as David darts out of reach of the second, grabbing a shard of broken glass as he does so.

He barks something in Russian and the two men freeze. I might not speak Russian but it’s pretty damn clear what he’s saying. He’s holding the shard of glass to his neck. If they move one step closer, it’s not them he’s going to hurt or even kill, it’s himself.

A strangled sob escapes my throat at the horror of the situation, I feel completely helpless. I have no idea what to do, what if I do the wrong thing and he hurts himself because of me?

We’re all standing there, at a stalemate unsure of our next moves. The men are talking in Russian to David, but he just ignores them, shaking his head no, causing the glass to nick his skin, a welt of bright red blood blooms and drips down, landing on the cream carpet.

“Stop it you two, can’t you see you’re upsetting him further,” I chastise the men, unable to stop myself from intervening at the sight of David’s blood.

They both fall silent. Then, inspiration strikes, and I start to sing, my voice steady and calming.

“Don’t worry, about a thing, cos every little thing is gonna be alright.”

The men exchange baffled glances, but I keep my focus on David, continuing to sing. Just like when my Gran’s having a particularly bad episode, the singing seems to be calming him. The wild, frantic look in his eyes slowly fades and I start to see the David I know coming back. I slowly move toward him, and he makes no move to stop me or tell me not to. I’m pleased to see his grip on the glass loosening and he isn’t pressing it so tightly to his neck now.

Singing all the while, I get close enough to him to take the glass from him. I toss it out of reach as he sinks down to a sitting position, his back against the wall. He sits with his knees pulled tight to his chest, hugging his arms tight around them, head bowed.

The two goons step forward as though to try to restrain him again, but I shoot them a warning look and shake my head. If they move now, he’s likely to freak out again. Thankfully, they listen to me and stay still, poised and ready to intervene if needed.

I sit down next to David, tentatively putting my arm around his shoulder and he gratefully leans into my embrace, I put the other arm around him and slowly rock side to side, still singing softly as he sobs into my chest.

At that moment, Yaroslav bursts in.

“What the hell happened in here?” he says, looking around before his eyes land on David and me. His voice softens and he approaches David like he’s a startled deer that might balk at the slightest movement. “Hey buddy, what’s got you all upset?”

David doesn’t look up as he replies, his voice muffled. “She’s leaving! You’re making her go!” He sobs like a small child, nuzzling into me.

Yaroslav doesn’t even look my way, but I can feel the tension radiating off him. He blames me. I can’t say I don’t blame myself either.

“I’m not making Kimberly leave, but we can’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to go,” Yaroslav replies gently.

David looks up, meeting his brother’s gaze, “We could. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do, you could make her.”

Yaroslav shifts, he looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him look before. “That wouldn’t be very nice of us though, would it? I assume you don’t want Kim to go because you like her?” he reasons.

“No,” David concedes grumpily. “And I more than like her, I love her. She’s my best friend. You love her too!” he declares passionately.

My heart aches for poor, broken David who’s so lonely and confused in this world that someone who has only been in it for a few weeks is the most important friend he has. I also can’t help but desperately want to know what Yaroslav is going to say to David’s outright claim that he’s in love with me.

Yaroslav takes a deep breath, “Kim is my friend too. But we have to let her go home if she wants to go. Even if we don’t want her to,” he replies, ignoring David’s claim entirely. Much to my disappointment.

“Kimmy don’t leave me,” he says in a small voice.

I feel torn, the caring side of me wants to say I will stay just to placate him, to make him happy. But the reasons I have for leaving haven’t changed. I choose to take a leaf out of Yaroslav’s book and avoid answering.

“Well, I can’t exactly stay in this room now, can I?” I say lightly, trying not to sound like I’m mad at him for it.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just got so angry,” he says forlornly before adding, “We have plenty of other rooms you can sleep in though, or you could stay with Yaroslav.” he wheedles.

I have to hand it to him, he’s persistent.

“Okay, I’ll stay, but just for tonight,” I reply, giving in.

“Thank you, Kimmy. I’ll make sure you have the best night ever and then you won’t want to ever leave!” he exclaims, squeezing me tightly.

“Alright David, go with Mikhail and Ivan now and get cleaned up. Kim and I need to talk,” Yaroslav orders, his tone still soft and calm.

Thankfully, David complies, seemingly calm and happy again. He gets up and allows the men to lead him out, happily chatting about a TV series he’s been watching as though nothing just happened. It’s a little unnerving, how quickly his mood can shift.

I stand up and dust myself off, looking around at the devastation in the room.

“You’re good with him,” Yaroslav says, “When he’s like that, it’s usually impossible to calm him down without sedatives.”

“Is he like this often?” I ask. Yaroslav’s tone and reaction imply he is.

He shrugs, “Not as much these days, it used to be worse. How did you know what to do?” he asks, fixing me with his full attention.

“Gran,” I reply truthfully, “Singing always helps to calm her down, I didn’t know what else to do. I just got lucky.”

He shakes his head, “No. It’s more than that, David really cares about you. I haven’t seen him bond with someone like that in a long time.”

“I care about him too.”

“Thank you, for saying you’d stay tonight. You will, won’t you?” he says, his voice less confident than usual.

“Of course, I wouldn’t break my promise. Though I can’t well sleep in here tonight,” I say, gesturing around the room.

He does the same, nodding. “I’ll have someone come in and clear all this up. Tonight you can sleep in the guest room, I’ll have the maid make the bed.”

I’m disappointed he hasn’t offered for me to stay in his room with him. After three weeks of being intimate, I was hopeful that he might want me to sleep in his bed beside him. But it’s clear this is just sex to him, nothing more. I can’t leave now, I won’t break my promise to David. But nothing’s changed. Come tomorrow I need to go. I don’t say a word, but my face must tell him exactly what I’m thinking.

“You’ll sleep better in your own room. I don’t sleep well.”

“Sure. So, now you have me for one last night, what do you want to do?” I ask, trying to act nonchalant.

He doesn’t reply right away, I can see his thoughts whirring.

“Stay,” he says abruptly.

“I just said I would,” I reply, confused.

He shakes his head, “No. Stay longer.”

I don’t understand, the passionate way he’s saying it and his desperate expression make me think that he’s asking me to stay for him, that he feels the same way about me as I feel about him.

“Why?” I can’t help but ask the first question that pops into my mind.

“David needs you,” he says, his eyes looking away, no longer meeting mine.

So this is about David. I should have known it. Yaroslav just wants me to stay to keep his brother happy. It’s not about us. I can’t help but feel disappointed.

“Well, as much as I care about David, he doesn’t need me to live here. I can still come to visit him after I’m gone. I am not some toy for the Volkov boys to keep around for their amusement,” I say snippily.

“David doesn’t see you as a toy, he genuinely cares about you.”

“It isn’t David who treats me like a toy. I’m just here for you to fuck and treat as your plaything,” I reply pointedly.

Yaroslav remains composed but I can see the hurt in his eyes. “You have never been just a toy to me,” he says, almost so quietly I think I’ve misheard him.

Before I can get a chance to respond he abruptly turns on his heel and walks away. Leaving the door wide open behind him and me surrounded by destruction.