Vassili
July
“This is your office,” Zariah says, all that ass strutting left to right as she steps inside of the room at The Red Door. “I recall the first time you brought me by. Now, I see why you reached inside, grabbed a hoodie for me, and came right out. Boy, there is nothing in this room to distinguish it from the boss office to being a ridiculously oversized janitor’s closet.”
Biting the inside of my lip, I nod. What the fuck can I say? There's a desk, a very comfortable chair that still has the fresh leather scent. Nothing else. “Zariah, your bar exam is at the end of the week.” Let me handle my shit.
“Do you care about your business?” She places a hand on her hip, and then her head cocks to the side, since I choose not to answer her question. “Vassili, baby, you’ve gotten rid of Malich’s ladies and the illegal activity that occurs at the bar. Do you want to keep The Red Door, or sell it?”
“Nyet, I’m not selling it.” This was Sasha’s place. May not have been a lounge in her dreams, but this is all I have of my sister.
“Then will you start giving a damn about it?” she reaches up to stroke my face.
“I have a fight I’m practicing for; maybe,” I say, planting kisses on her face between every word, “You. Can. Review. Everything. Once you've returned from Sacramento.”
“Nope. You're a master at persuasion. However, while I'm away taking the exam, it's crunch time for you, as well. Besides, you haven’t even agreed to the match. But, as your wife, I’d love to help read over a few of your documents until you hire a manager.”
“Yuri?’ I cock an eyebrow.
“Allow me to disregard your last remark. How about this, you tell me what you love about this place. If you love it, I'll love it and we can team up to get everything in working order.”
We’ve already chatted enough about Sashaat Urban Kashtan. It took everything in me to speak, and I won't do it again. I reach around, hands owning every inch of her ass, and place her onto the empty desk. “I love how beautiful you look in...”
“Stay on subject—”
Her mouth is sweet, lips pillow soft as my tongue goes deep. Yeah, that’s right, shut up, beautiful. How can I explain to Zariah that The Red Door is sentimental to me without sounding like a bitch?
Nothing comes to mind.
I tease the left side of her mouth, recalling just how sweet her brown skin tastes. Then I kiss the corner of the right side of her mouth, enjoying the sheer act of fucking with her. Beneath me, Zariah’s trembling body motivates my cock to grow harder than ever before.
I reach down and grab my dick. Her chocolate brown orbs brighten with desire, and she licks her lips. “We can stray now, Vassili, but mark my words—”
Again, I kiss her mouth. The only sound, a symphony of moaning and sighing come from Zariah's lips, as our tongues slither around. I work my buckle with one hand. She’s yanking me closer with her legs around my waist.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Damn,” I curse against her lips.
“Plemyannik—nephew?” Malich calls. “Everything is finished,” he says in Russian.
“Khorosho, khorosho—good, good,” I reply, shit, the door opens fully before I can tell him that I will step out.
Zariah has already hopped down from the desk, and pulled at her tight skirt. I stand in front of her.
“Oh, is that your wife?” he speaks in our native tongue, and then corrects himself with an apology to her for doing so.
“Da.”
With a soft touch to my back, Zariah comes around me. “I'm okay, Vassili.”
“A blind man can see why Vassili keeps you all to himself.”
“Oh, thank you!” She shakes his hand. “You must be the infamous Malich Resnov.”
My lungs fill with air. Aside from Yuri, Zariah hasn't met a single person in my family. I planned on keeping it that way, for her peace of mind.
He nods. “Can I invite you to dinner? Vassili, will you spare her for the night to visit with your cousins, their families, and me? Zariah, it’s a loud place, but I promise the food is good.”
I reply, “No. Tonight won't work—”
“Yes, of course,” Zariah speaks up.
“Okay,” Malich backs toward the door. “Vassili, you should take my office, the computer is clean of anything other than the lounge business, okay?”
“That's sounds great. Baby, now you can learn how to review files and all that good stuff,” Zariah says.
I’ll have a general manager by the end of the week. The office door closes and my wife turns toward me. Hands clasped together before her, she says, “Dinner with your family tonight. Tomorrow night I’ll return to studying, and while I study, you can delegate a couple of hours to reviewing the dynamics of your business.”
“You’ll eat dinner with my family?” I fold my arms and lean back against the desk, my mind stuck on the basics. I threatened Anatoly’s life for asking to meet her the morning after our wedding. He hasn't called since.
“Your uncle sounds charming. Nevertheless, I’m not an idiot, Vassili. I’m sure he’s got blood on his hands, but I’ve married you.”
“You haven’t married into my family, Zariah.” I won't let Anatoly anywhere near you, no matter what.
Now my wife is in the position to shut me up. She paws my jaw. “I have the feeling that you and your uncle have a very good relationship. Malich speaks highly of you. When you’re ready, you can tell me about your last conversation with Anatoly.”
My lips spread into a thin line. Shit, my wife is smart, but I won't be talking to her about Anatoly.
###
“You really want to go through with this?” I ask, removing the extra helmet softly from her head. I place it down and smooth over her freshly ironed hair.
“It's too late to turn back.” She glances around at the clay water fountain and tropical plants in Malich’s driveway. The entire lot is so filled with vehicles that the wrought iron gates wouldn't even close.
I eye her just to make sure.
“The ride helped, too, but I love you and despite how disparate our individual families are, it's only right that I acquaint myself with yours.”
“Okay, Zar,” I place my fingers through her silky tiny ones. Her head kisses my shoulder as we walk toward the door.
It bursts open. Malich is holding my fat baby niece in one arm. He kisses the chubby bundle and says, “Albina, your dyadya actually came.”
“Dy…”Zariah begins
“It means uncle. Come, come,” he ushers us in. “I've made soup. The best you'll ever eat.”
“Soup? Zariah hates Russian soup,” I pull Albina into my arms while murmuring how beautiful she is.
“You hate our soup?” Malich clutches chest. “Damn, that hurts.”
“I don't.” Zariah gives me the evil eye.
“Follow me. Come view this soup and tell me it's disgusting. Okay?”
“I…”
Malich already drapes an arm over her shoulder. He's bragging about being the best chef while we start toward the kitchen. There are people seated in overstuffed chairs drinking vodka, and kids all over the vast floor, playing games with each other. He introduces her to each one.
“I need a bigger house for all the family,” he harps. Some raise their drinks as Zariah mentions how big and beautiful the house is.
“Yeah, we’re on the good side of the street. Too bad it hasn't had new furniture since my wife died.” Malich has more money to burn these days, but he'd rather fatten his family and friends’ birthday cards, even little Albina’s first holiday card made her a millionaire. The old man does nothing entertaining without the people he loves. After this party, he will ensure that my legit family down to the eleven-year-old cousins have what they need and desire. He steers her into the kitchen. Since she's in good hands, I stop to chat with a few cousins.
I’m on my third shot by the time I search for my wife. There are more people seated on stools around the marble island but there's a crowd around the breakfast nook.
My wife is smack dab in the middle of women. Igor’s wife, Anna, and her sisters. Malich is eating up every bit of praise they have for his soup from his position leaning against the marble island. They down their shot glasses full of vodka between compliments.
“Zariah, baby, I guess you’re okay,” I mumble.
“Yeah, this food is so good,” she says of the mozzarella meatball soup.
“Get outta here, Vassili. You too, Malich!” Anna tosses a cloth in my direction.
“Drink! Drink! Drink!” They pound the table.
I've just made it past the archway of the kitchen when I'm bulldozed. Igor’s head slams into my ribs, arms around my waist as he tackles me. “My kazen is a piz’da!” He shouts as I'm slammed into the wall on the opposite side.
I slam my fists down onto his back and he lets up.
“You drunk enough, you dumb bastard?” I cuss him in Russian.
“Nyet, never.” He shakes his fat head with a laugh. Igor is about fifty pounds smaller than his kid brother, Yuri,but shorter, so his pasty face his soft like a baby.
He grabs the back of my neck. “You finally bring the girl around. She's hot as fuck.”
My fist slams into his jaw before he can blink. He rubs it, and clicks it back into place. “Vassili, why you afraid the girl would leave you for a real man?” He grabs his crouch.
“Don't let Anna hear you, glupyy,” another cousin shouts to him in warning.
Igor tosses his hand as if he doesn't care, but Anna would beat the shit out of him had she heard. We head toward the wet bar. “So everybody loves the girl.”
“Da.” I nod, pulling out a shot glass for myself. This drunk idiot grabs one and I shake my head. It's nothing though, he could be drunker.
“You know there's only one person that would hate the girl. And not Anatoly. Yuri told me all about how you thought Anatoly had a cop. Don't worry, I know you and Yuri keep secrets.” He leans into me and laughs. I shove him off. “I was up that night. My brah tried to keep your secret, and I hounded him. Stop worrying about Anatoly, your only problem would be, or could be, Danushka.”
“I'll break that cunt’s neck if she ever came around my wife.”
“Chill out, Vassili. Danushka is your sister.” He pats my shoulder. Though my cousin is halfway joking about my half-sister, my frown increases a notch. Danushka is a few days younger than me. The bitch thought me and my sister would disappear after my mother left. Doing so would've placed her in the position as firstborn. No matter how many times I've told her she can have the throne and shove it up her ass. She's missing one vital key. Anatoly isn't in the business of allowing any female to rule, regardless of how ruthless they is.
An hour later, my stomach is full and I've played durak with my cousins Yuri and Igor and one of their friends. I decide to search out Zariah.
I'm halfway down the hall and get one glimpse of her smiling and talking before Igor shouts, “Come here cousin, I want to win my money back!”
“Nyet.”
“You afraid I'll win and take you for all you got?” He pours himself more.
“Brah, you will lose,” Yuri yells at him.
“I've got little Albina,” Igor argued, “the boys, and Anna is pregnant. I gotta recoup my money…”
“Igor, no more water for you,” I point a finger at him. “His stupid ass is drunk enough to believe he'll be the victor. “You're a diabetic.”
“Yeah, you should stop,” Yuri add. The idiot, he should've stopped his brother a while back.
It takes a tussle for me to pry the vodka from his hands. And then I search out my wife again.
This time her laughter isn’t brightening the kitchen. “Where is she?” I ask Anna.
“On the patio,” she nods her head.
I hasten off.
“She's talking to Malich. Don't worry, Vassili.”
I open the French doors nearest me and step out.
My uncle is telling her that he used to be a physician before Anatoly pulled him in. Our grandfather wasn't much of a dictator, telling all who was blood that they had to take part in the syndicate.
I start to speak up, but realize Zariah just wants to know more about me, us. In an attempt to keep her safe, I have alienated her from my entire family, even the ones who wouldn't wish her any harm.
“My brother pulled me out of the hospital, from saving lives, to work for him,” he tells her.
I lean against the wall and listen as she learns more about Igor, his wife, and their children. Malich’s other sons and then Sasha and I are mentioned, too. This is the part that breaks my heart.
“My wife and I never had daughters. Anatoly wouldn't let us bring Sasha to the States, though she was a good child and my brah wanted nothing to do with her. My wife cried, begged, she cried more, but Anatoly still said nyet. To this day, I regret not saying anything, but my brother isn't the type to be persuaded. He’s just a crazed mudak on a power trip. He could never love his daughter. He can never love a woman.”
“That's why their mom abandoned them?”
“Abandonment? No, they're poor mother never had a chance.”
I can feel the pain of her being snatched from my hands. I was seven. She had me in one hand, Sasha in the other. Tears so strong they stained the collar of her dress.
Anatoly said the bitch had to go.
She should have tried harder.