Derailed
After spending about an hour with my loved ones, Boris insisted I needed to rest and shut down the party. I hated to leave everyone, especially the girls, but I was exhausted and needed to lie down. My family looked wrecked from all the stress and excitement too, and I was adamant I didn’t need a babysitter while I took some downtime in Vladimir’s bedroom—our bedroom. When I stepped inside and shut the door, a rush of happy memories washed over me.
His room was as it was before he’d left for Russia. Egg-shaped music boxes lined his dresser, there was a soccer ball in the corner of the room, and in the center there stood the enormous king-sized bed where Vladimir and I had wrestled playfully, snuggled, and messed around while we were dating. I walked through the room, averting my gaze to the floor rather than to the photos of his deceased family members that hung above the bed, and entered our walk-in closet.
The faint smell of Vladimir’s cologne lingered on his wardrobe. I removed one of his suit jackets from its wooden hanger and inhaled his scent. I kicked off my shoe and orthopedic boot and tossed some spare bed pillows on the floor. It didn’t feel right slipping under the covers and sleeping in bed without my husband beside me, so I spread a thick bathrobe over the pillows and made a comfy relaxation nest in his closet, which was about the size of an entire college campus.
As I lay on the floor and stared up at my husband’s expansive wardrobe, I cracked up when the realization hit me that I was married to a neat freak. His suits were lined up on one side and arranged by color, darkest to lightest. Shirts, the same way. He almost always wore suits, but he had a selection of cashmere sweaters, casual polos, and dark European jeans to choose from as well.
Vladimir squeezed workouts into his busy schedule and had a wardrobe of fashionable athletic wear that matched—unlike my everyday department store collection—and his outfits were coordinated by brand. Lacoste alligators on one side, miscellaneous high-end brands on the other.
I sat up and pulled a long pair of track pants off a hanger and slid them on under my dress. The length was a mile too long for me, but I folded them at the bottom to keep from tripping over them and cinched the waist under my baby bump by tightening the drawstring. I smiled as I imagined how Vladimir would react when I took over half his wardrobe and demolished the perfect system he had in place. He would probably have an obsessive-compulsive meltdown when I jammed my mismatched athletic collection of Nike swooshes and pouncing pumas to the athletic wear lineup.
But knowing my husband, he would incinerate my collegiate sporty girl wardrobe and makeover my style to reflect my upgraded status as a billionaire’s wife. Specifically, a Russian Bratva billionaire’s queen, which meant I would be expected to wear designer dresses and stilettos to every event from a black-tie affair, to a stroll in the back yard as I tossed tennis balls to the dogs. Material things never mattered much to me, but Vladimir loved to spoil me. I couldn’t wait for my bossy husband to come home and take charge of our new household.
Currently, the mansion was set up like a showroom of expensive furniture and breathtaking original works of art. Now that we were parents, the house needed to transition from a flashy bachelor pad to a home to raise our children. I wanted plastic pretend kitchens and baby doll cribs in the family room, pee-wee sports equipment spilling out of the mudroom, and a line of half-full water bottles waiting to be cleaned on the kitchen counter.
We are so close to making our dreams a reality.
Even though I was worried Vladimir hadn’t contacted us yet, I was certain he would be home within a week, maybe two, at the most. In that time, I wanted to concentrate on healing and getting my strength back, eating nutritious food to help George grow, and getting the girls settled into their new home. I had to trust he was doing everything in his power to finish his work for Moscow, settle the scores, and come home. And when he did, I wanted him to be proud of me for transforming our house into our dream home.
***
A week had passed, and Vladimir still hadn’t made contact. Boris assured me there was nothing to worry about. These things take time. My family helped me stay positive and in good spirits by arranging visits from my friends. One day I had all my tennis teammates over for lunch outside by the pool. The July heat was unrelenting, and Pasha got the blender whirling and made some fruity frozen smoothies to help cool down. Then a bunch of high school friends stopped by, a group of my college buddies, and even Officer Montgomery, a cop who had busted me for stupid stuff throughout my teenage years, dropped by to welcome me home.
All the important people in my life had been granted visitation privileges by my overprotective father-in-law—except Benji, the guy I had dated for six days after Vladimir and I had broken up. I knew from Kiki that he was anxious to see me, but I supposed Boris thought a visit from my ex might stress me out, or more likely, he didn’t want me to see Benji because he thought he still had romantic feelings for me. He was probably right on both counts.
After a week of rest and plenty of nutritious food, fresh air, and sunshine, I had my energy back and felt better than I had for months. My muscle aches and pains had subsided, my bruises had faded, and my blood pressure had dropped back down to a normal range. The baby had a growth spurt while I recuperated and chowed down on juicy watermelon, homemade soup and bread, and marinated veggies. I was feeling so energized, I was ready to have “the talk” with Benji.
He had been my champion while I was missing, organized a candlelight vigil in my honor on campus, and plastered “Have you seen this girl?” posters all over Cincinnati. I imagined Benji zipping through the city on his mountain bike, carrying a stack of flyers in his messenger bag, and asking permission from bar and restaurant managers to hang my poster in their place of business. I was sure no one could resist his charm, not to mention his sweet and compassionate eyes—especially after he told them I was his girlfriend.
Kiki had promised not to tell him about my marital status or the baby. Knowing Benji, he probably thought we were still a couple because we had never officially broken up. He had been leading the civilian charge with my friends and family to bring me home safe and had no way of knowing I’d rekindled my love affair with a man from my past, gotten married in Ekaterinburg, and conceived a child during my abduction.
I showered, styled my hair, applied some light makeup, and dressed in one of my new maternity dresses. I had strategically left off the belt and paired it with a light summer sweater to conceal my baby bump. I wanted to break the news and let Benji down easy, rather than having him notice I was pregnant the moment he saw me. He had invited me to his place for a homemade lunch of pesto pasta salad, caprese salad made with tomatoes from his rooftop garden, and my favorite dish, mushroom risotto. I wasn’t looking forward to dropping my marital bombshell on him, but he deserved to hear the truth from me.
I had no reason to believe I wasn’t allowed to meet a friend for lunch, but telling the Russians where I was going was not going to go over well. Boris had assured me the threat on my life was over and I had nothing to worry about. Dad had picked me up and taken me to his house to visit with Karen and Megan without supervision, and I went maternity dress shopping with Kiki at an upscale boutique in Madeira, a quaint small town not far from home. Pasha joined us, not for protection, but because we wanted him to spend the afternoon with us. Boris didn’t seem worried we were out in public without a bodyguard.
I cruised into the kitchen expecting to find at least one of the guys there, but was surprised to find the house quiet. I opened the utility drawer where the family kept the car keys by the mudroom. The late summer weather was sunny, and a light breeze was swaying through the tree branches in the back yard. If Vladimir were home, he would’ve said, “It’s Ferrari weather,” and insisted I take our sporty red convertible out for a drive.
But he wasn’t here, and there was no way I would get behind the wheel of the Ferrari without him here to enjoy it with me. Of all the fancy cars in the garage, the black Range Rover with bright red leather seats was the modest choice in our vehicle collection. I was glad I didn’t have to explain to anyone where I was going, but I couldn’t leave without telling someone. I pulled out a pad of paper and jotted down a quick note:
“Going to lunch with a friend. Back in a couple hours.”
I added a heart next to my signature and opened the door to the garage. I was about to leave but realized I’d left my phone on the counter. I turned to go back inside and nearly jumped out of my skin when a deep voice boomed behind me.
“Where are you sneaking off to?”
Startled, I yelped and slapped my hand over my heart. “Jeez, I’m not sneaking.” I picked my note off the counter and handed it to him. “I didn’t think it was a problem since I’d gone out alone the last few days. The threat on my life is over, right?”
Boris retrieved his reading glasses from his pocket, slid them on, and made a dismissive humph sound when he read my note. “You think you left this house alone? When you went dress shopping, I had six men in plain clothes stationed around the store. Four unmarked cars followed you there and remained on guard duty in the parking lot during your stay. You’re married to the pakhan. You’ll never leave this house again without a security team tracking your every move.” He crumbled up my note and tossed it on the counter. “I’ll ask you again. Where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”
My jaw went slack. I had no idea we were being followed. Boris was an expert in security, and I was naïve to have thought he would’ve left me unprotected. “Like I said, I wasn’t sneaking—”
“Name.”
I shook my head. “Don’t treat me like I’m—”
“Carter.”
I lifted my hands and let out an exasperated sigh. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to—”
His face burned red with anger and he held up his hand to stop me from speaking Benji’s name. I hadn’t seen Boris that ticked off at me since the early days when I’d first met the Russians. I had a special talent for doing the exact opposite of the right thing to do, and it had taken all the self-control Boris could muster to resist the urge of stuffing a gag in my mouth and shoving me in the trunk of his Cadillac until Vladimir came home to rescue me. Instead of saying a word, he glared at me with his menacing brown eyes and tried to coerce a confession out of me without uttering a word—it worked.
“Benji needs to know the truth, and I want him to hear it from me. You know he organized a candlelight vigil for me on campus, right? Thousands of people showed up. It was on the evening news. Benji hasn’t done anything wrong. He just doesn’t know…” I rambled and then stopped when the veins popped out on the side of Boris’s head.
He tapped his rings on the bar and licked his lips before he spoke. “Suppose Vladimir returns while you are spending time with this nice young man? You want me to tell him his pregnant wife isn’t home because she snuck off to meet the pussy nature boy?”
“Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I can’t have friends. I won’t let you cut me off from the world and keep me a prisoner in my own house.”
“Take some advice from your papa, dear. When you are married, you can’t be friends with men who want to sleep with you.” He picked my phone off the counter and handed it to me. “Call it off. Now. You’re not leaving this house to meet that young man under my watch, understand?”
I was angered at his insinuation that I was disrespecting Vladimir, and I was floored by his old-fashioned mindset that I couldn’t have friends of the opposite sex. He was probably right about Benji wanting to rekindle the flash romance we had started a few months earlier, but the exact reason I wanted to see him was so I could break the news that I was married, pregnant, and no longer interested in him that way.
He was also right about Vladimir not being pleased that I was meeting Benji for lunch, but he had to respect my decision and learn to trust me. It wasn’t like we were renting a canoe and drifting leisurely down the Little Miami River on a lazy summer afternoon. I was meeting him at his apartment in Clifton, which smelled like hipster frat boys and patchouli, so I could officially break up with him like a decent human, even though we had only known each other for six freaking days. I guess sharing a homemade meal in his apartment is not the right thing to do under the circumstances.
I snatched my cell out of Boris’s hand and tapped out Benji’s number. There was no way I could “disobey” my knuckle dragging father-in-law, but I could sidestep around his order. Benji picked up on the first ring. “Hey, it’s me. Change of plans today. Can you meet me here at my place? I’m staying at the Ivanov Estate in Indian Hill…You don’t mind?…Great. See you soon.”
When I ended the call, a wicked smile crept across Boris’s face. What was going through that evil mind of his, I did not know, but a jolt of déjà vu reminded me of the good old days. Hanging out in the kitchen with Boris and waiting for the boss to come home. Boris stalking my every move and snooping into my personal life. Me constantly finding ways to screw up, and Boris sadistically loving every minute of it. He didn’t say a word, but I sensed my plans were about to get derailed.