Chapter 31
Before I left for our anniversary date I received a text from The Russian reminding me to lock my car doors on the drive over ... I know he worked in security but he was certainly practicing it on me. I decided to be very girly for our 100 days date anniversary ... Mom had made me self-conscious that I wasn’t feminine enough with The Russian, not that he had ever said anything. I think he liked me challenging him and working out with him ... sweating and all that stuff.
Regardless, I had bought a dress just for the occasion – it was retro in style, with a sweetheart neckline, sleeveless, and a rose print all over it. It was fitted to my waist and then ballooned out in layers. It even had a little bit of tulle underneath, in the skirt, to give it some body. I matched the red roses in the dress with a pair of strappy red sandals and wore my hair down for the occasion. I felt pretty hot, very girly, and I ventured out for the ultimate verdict.
Josh applauded. “Beautiful, where did you get that?”
I did a turn for him and sent the skirt swirling. “From Vintage Girl,” I said.
“Made for you, it really suits you,” he said.
“Thanks Josh, that’s a relief. Mom has me worried that I’m not displaying my femininity,” I said. Josh had met my Mom and Dad and knew my history.
“Don’t be crazy,” he said, opening the fridge and grabbing some cola. “You’re all woman.”
“You’re good for me,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek as I grabbed my overnight bag and car keys. “Now, I promise I won’t be back tonight, so you’ve got the place to yourself.”
“Thanks, but you’re always welcome to come home. We’ve got nothing to hide. Spencer and I are just going to get takeaway and watch a movie.”
He saw me out and I headed to the car, looking in the backseat before getting in to make sure it was all clear, and locking the doors when I got in ... thank you, Russian.
One hundred days ... as I drove to The Russian’s place for our one hundred days anniversary dinner, I couldn’t help but smile the whole way. Seriously, I must have looked like an idiot to anyone who pulled up at the lights beside me. The few dramas we’d had during that time had been nothing, were not by any means insurmountable, and the highlights had been many. I had never, ever, been so happy ... I just felt blessed with his love and my new career.
The Russian must have seen my car headlights and met me as I drove into his garage ... more security stuff, Lord knows who could have been hiding in there ... a pussycat, or rat perhaps! He opened the car door for me and gave me his hand.
“Wow, look at you,” he said, his eyes running over me.
“You like?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he said, and spun me around under his arm as my skirt billowed out. Then his arm found my back and he pulled me in close for a kiss.
“I’ve liked every single thing you’ve worn and haven’t worn since we met,” he said. I swear he was well trained; he knew all the right things to say to a girl. He leaned down slightly to kiss me hello; my high heels made us almost the same height, give or take an inch. He looked pretty gorgeous himself in his dark fitted jeans, a grey-marl T-shirt and an open navy shirt over it. He had a navy pair of Converse All Stars on his feet ... the man could dress himself.
“I like this too,” I said, admiring his clothes, “warrants closer inspection.”
“You think?” he said, his lip curling into a small smile.
He reached into the backseat and grabbed my overnight bag, and then the moment was ruined.
“Russian,” a female voice said, and we both turned to see his ex-girlfriend Leesa walking towards us. Thank God I was dressed up and felt my best, because as usual, she looked Boho stunning – she wore a white lace top and a matching long white skirt; a tan belt and tan ankle boots; and a gorgeous tan-coloured floppy brimmed felt hat. Her long blonde wavy hair was loose and fell around her shoulders.
The Russian clearly wasn’t expecting her as his eyes narrowed and his entire body stiffened next to me ... no, I don’t know if that part stiffened, but I hope not!
“Leesa, what are you doing here?” he requested, in a low voice.
“Interrupting something, clearly,” she said, glancing at me and my overnight bag. “Hello ... Carla, isn’t it?”
I nodded and gave her a small smile. “Hi Leesa.”
She knew very well who I was and I wasn’t going to play the same bitchy game.
The Russian hadn’t moved, he stood frozen with my luggage in one hand and the other arm around my waist.
“I don’t wish to be rude, but we’re busy here,” he said. “Just passing through, are you?”
“Can I talk with you alone?” she asked, not making eye contact with me at all and giving him the most seductive look she could. Hell, it worked for me and I’m straight. Anger washed over me; I had so been looking forward to tonight and even though I felt sorry for her, enough already!
“No,” The Russian said, and I looked sharply at him. No ... he was saying no to her outright and upfront. I turned back to her ... it was a bit like watching a tennis match. “We have to go now,” he said, “so ... take care and thanks for dropping by.”
I swear she was an actress, her eyes welled with tears and I felt The Russian soften next to me; he hated tears. No doubt she knew that, and she had played that card a few thousand times.
“Why are you in town?” he asked.
“I flew in to see you.”
“When?”
“Last night. I’m staying with a friend of Daddy’s ... an actor ...”
“Of course,” The Russian said. “Well, we have to go Leesa, we’ve got plans. Do you need me to call you a taxi or have you got a car out there?” he said, pointing to outside his gated property.
Then she changed. Miss Vulnerable went out the window and Miss Bitch appeared.
“You know what Russian? I don’t need a fucking thing from you. I don’t know why I’m even here begging you to see me. What the fuck? Who do you think you are?” she screamed.
The Russian moved in front of me.
“That’s enough,” he growled, “I’m sorry your trip here was a waste of time, but let’s try to finish with some sort of respect for each other.”
“Fuck you,” she said – actually, she almost hissed it. “You’ll be sorry you broke up with me. When your career is over, you’ll be nothing ...”
“Right, well, thanks for that,” he said, interrupting her speech. He put my overnight bag down and moved towards her. The Russian took her arm.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snatched her arm away from him. “I’m leaving.” She walked a few paces down the path and then turned back. “Have you told your new screw that when the team wins you’re going to screw her all night, but you can’t get it up when the team loses? Has she enjoyed that yet? She’d better hope the Saints have a good season. Or how ...”
The Russian’s growl was as loud as his movements were fast, and he had her arm again. I heard him saying something about her father and doctor, and thanks to Lucas, I knew the context of that statement. The Russian had her down the driveway in moments and then she pulled away and strode off. He stood, watching, making sure she got to her car. He webbed his fingers behind his head as he stood, watching her depart; my heart went out to him.
That had been horrid, the whole thing was nasty. I could only imagine what their fights must have been like in the past ... Leesa working him up, The Russian losing it and having to channel his anger and frustration somewhere, always worried what the consequences might be if she was fragile. We, as a couple, were so not like that.
I saw her leave in her car, and The Russian, his head lowered and his shoulders slumped, came back to me.
“I’m really sorry ...” he began.
I shook my head. “Don’t say it, it’s not your fault. And just for the record ... I can’t get it up if my team loses either.”
The Russian chuckled. “What if the Saints lose?”
I shook my head. “Nope, I’m bound to have no libido either.”
He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.
“Thank you,” he said. “Have you got your phone on you?”
“Sure,” I said, rummaging through my handbag and handing it over to him, confused as to whom he was going to ring now. He punched in a number and then I understood.
“Charlie, it’s The Russian ... yeah, good, thanks, and you? Good ... listen, can you please ensure that Leesa Hart is not given entry anymore please? Thanks, that would be appreciated ... no, under no circumstances. Yep, that’s it, thanks.”
The Russian hung up and gave me the phone back.
“Gated security,” he explained, and then exhaled. “Can you take a beach walk in that dress? I just need to let off some steam.”
“It’s perfect for the beach,” I said and removed my sandals. We put my shoes and bag back in the car, I locked it and The Russian slipped my keys into his pocket. He reached for my hand and we walked across his front lawn and entered the sandy edges of the beach. He kicked off his Converse trainers and left them on the edge of his property, and then, taking the small drop to the sand, he reached up for me, put his hands around my waist, picked me up and deposited me beside him. He took my hand again and we walked.
He was right; the beach was very therapeutic and the dark of the evening was calm and cooling. I tried to break the tension.
“Your three-course meal won’t be burning in our absence?” I teased him.
He smiled and kissed the top of my head. “No. Lucky for you that it is all done and just ready to be served. Best meal you’ll ever have.”
“Your mom again?”
“Ye of little faith,” he clucked. “Just the dessert. I did the starters and the main is from Scarpio’s,” he said, revealing he had organized dinner from one of the best restaurants in town. “I didn’t want you to run away screaming, and I figured there’s only so many nights I can feed you pasta.”
We walked along for a while and let the tension fall from us; it was magic, such a beautiful night, and The Russian was right ... by the time we got back to his place forty-five minutes later, everything that had happened was forgotten, and then something happened that I would never, ever forget, ever.