CHAPTER FIVE:
VIKTOR
Viktor awoke to a narrow strip of sunlight shining through the curtains and across his face. He squinted, and when he moved to sit up he found Alexandra curled up at his side. Memories of the previous night’s lovemaking flooded back.
Before he had the opportunity to reflect further, Alexandra stirred. His movements seemed to have woken her.
“Mmm?” Alexandra hummed a questioning note. She sat up and stretched, then seemed to realize Viktor was in the bed next to her. Her hair was mussed, her makeup smudged and faded to allow her natural beauty to shine through.
She looks better without all that makeup, Viktor thought.
“Good morning to you, too.” Viktor offered a smile, feeling almost a little sheepish. The vodka had gotten to his head last night, and he’d gone further with her than he had intended. Still, he couldn’t deny he felt better this morning than he had all day yesterday.
“So. Last night…” Alexandra started. She looked shyly over at him. It seemed that she, too, had remembered. She looked up at him with an innocent expression, as though she was struggling to talk about it.
“Yes, last night.” Viktor’s smile widened while he spoke. She hid the lower half of her face underneath the top of the blankets and was quiet for a moment.
“You were amazing,” Alexandra said softly, speaking into the blanket.
“Thanks. You were, too,” he offered, his voice genuine as he recalled how she’d felt against him, and observed her embarrassment now.
“No, really. Amazing.” The shyness slowly drained from her voice, and she poked her head out fully from the blanket. “This marriage was definitely consummated.”
Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle. “Agreed.”
“So, I have to ask.” Alexandra had a hesitant, good-natured smile. “Do you usually remove your lover’s underwear with your teeth?”
Viktor chuckled again, and shook his head. “No.” He looked at her. “Sometimes I use my toes.”
It took a moment for her to respond. Then, Alexandra’s face lit up and she laughed—a beautiful sound.
“Wait? Is that… you? Joking?” She feigned indignation. “After a whole wedding of silence?”
“I know. The big scary mob boss has a sense of humor.”
Viktor sat up, then leaned over her to smooth her blonde hair away from her face. Her hand reached up and met his. Alexandra’s skin was delicate, soft, and Viktor relished how it felt.
Her fingers interlaced with his, and in that moment, he felt connection. Not lust, like last night, but something deeper and more enduring. Viktor couldn’t remember feeling this way before.
“How about some breakfast?” Viktor asked after a long pause.
Alexandra’s stomach growled as though agreeing, and he laughed at the timing.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
* * *
The dining room seemed large for just the two of them. Viktor usually took breakfast alone, but this morning he joined Alexandra downstairs to continue talking. The dining room seemed large for just the two of them, and he realized he’d rarely appreciated its size; it was Alexandra’s reactions to the space that made him notice it, and he realized she seemed somewhat overwhelmed by it all.
The long, perfectly-shined antique wooden table held a variety of foods in ornate silver bowls. Viktor sat across from Alexandra on the far end of the table, and a full place setting was laid out for each of them. The curtains had been pulled back from the large picture windows to reveal a sunny, landscaped garden just outside.
The natural sunlight joined with mood lighting from the chandelier above, and Viktor couldn’t help but appreciate Alexandra’s beauty in the glow of the morning. Her skin was still dewy from showering, and even though she had insisted on putting on makeup just to come downstairs for breakfast, he could see her face much more clearly without the dense foundation and false eyelashes she’d worn for the wedding.
There was something about her that was both innocent and seductive. And somehow, Viktor sensed that this morning she was much more herself than she had been yesterday during their wedding. He was looking forward to getting to know his new wife, strange as the circumstances of their marriage might have been. Breakfast might just be his chance to see the ‘real’ Alexandra.
“What is this?” Alexandra poked at a large bowl of grainy, oatmeal-like substance.
Viktor’s eyebrows lifted and he feigned indignation. “What?” He put his hand to his chest, brow raised. “I thought I married a Russian woman.”
“Just because I don’t have an accent like you doesn’t mean I’m not Russian. My parents came over here when I was in diapers, but I’m a born Russian!” She shot him a playful smirk.
“Then how do you not know kasha?” He nodded toward the bowl she had been poking at.
“Kasha?”
“It is like…” His mind searched for the right word. “Like a porridge. You’ve really never had it before?” This time, the surprise tinting his voice was genuine.
Alexandra considered the kasha in front of her. She lifted a spoonful to her mouth and daintily ate a tiny amount after some brief hesitation.
“It’s… good. A little buttery.” Despite her brave face, Alexandra sounded hesitant. She pointed to a bowl of something that looked like soft white dough. “And what about this?”
Viktor raised his eyebrows again. She wasn’t joking—Alexandra really didn’t know Russian food. The inconvenience should have irritated him, but instead, Viktor found himself endeared to her innocence. She was clueless, but she was curious, and he found himself longing to foster that curiosity.
“Tvorog. Like cottage cheese.” Viktor added some to his plate and garnished it with fresh fruit from a bowl set between them. He watched her do the same, and they raised their spoons to their mouths in unison.
Eating his usual breakfast foods with someone who had never tried them allowed Viktor to appreciate and enjoy the meal in a new way. He tried to see tvorog through her eyes as they both finished their mouthfuls, and felt himself enjoying the opportunity to re-introduce her to their shared culture.
“It’s exactly like cottage cheese,” Alexandra said. She ate another bite and looked at him, beaming. “I like it. What else is there?”
“Well,” Viktor started, pointing to a platter that had slices of bread topped with butter and different spreads. Some of them had meat. “These are—”
“Toast?” Alexandra asked. Viktor couldn’t help but laugh, and she cocked a sideways smile at him. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Toast is… well.” He grinned at her. “Toasted. These are butterbrots. They’re like sandwiches, but not sandwiches.”
“Well, that’s nice and confusing. I thought sandwiches had two sides?”
“Almost like sandwiches. What is the word?” He rubbed the stubble on his chin in thought, and Alexandra leaned in to listen. “Open-faced. Like open-faced sandwiches. Bread and butter with spread or meat. They can be different, too.”
“And what about that?” She pointed to another bowl. Viktor struggled to maintain his composure.
“Those are Rice Krispies,” he said, working at his straight face.
“Oh.” Alexandra’s mouth pursed. For a fleeting moment, Viktor wondered if she was going to sulk in embarrassment, but then she burst out with a high, ringing laugh that caused him to laugh, as well.
Alexandra took a few more spoonfuls of fresh fruit and tvorog, a marmalade-topped butterbrot, and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Viktor made a mental note of what she preferred and allowed her to take what she wanted before serving himself.
Yesterday, he had not had much of an appetite, but today he was ravenous. They ate in relative silence, stopping to make occasional small talk.
Alexandra had grown up in Boston, he learned, not Russia, and she spoke with humor about her time in private school, where she’d met her best friend Elena, and about her brother Andrei who she adored, as well as how she had worked her entire life to make sure she would be perfect for her future husband.
“I got to attend a university,” she said, pausing for a sip of orange juice. “But I didn’t get to pick my classes. They were selected for me, to make sure I was ‘smart enough for conversation.’”
Alexandra had spoken so plainly, Viktor studied her to detect what emotion might lie behind her words, but he didn’t detect sadness or regret.
“I know it might sound… strange, or bad, but this is my dream, you know? To marry someone and be respected. Everyone these days talks about careers, and I’m not saying a career isn’t important, but I’ve just always, always, wanted to be a bride.” She set her glass down and stared at her plate. When she looked up at him, her eyes still shone brightly.
Viktor was considering her words and preparing to speak when a figure entered the doorway. He looked up to see Roman, his best friend and driver, standing there with an expression which concealed something grim.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Roman said. “But we need to talk.”
Viktor gestured to the table. “I am in the middle of breakfast with my wife. Can this not wait?”
Roman looked at Alexandra, faint discomfort shining behind his eyes. He shook his head. “No. This needs to be addressed now.” Roman’s voice was like ice creeping into the otherwise sunny and pleasant room, but Viktor knew he wouldn’t be insisting on his immediate attention if it weren’t warranted.
Viktor wiped his hands on a napkin and rose. “I’m sorry, Alexandra, but this seems urgent.” He let his expression grow distant as he steeled himself for business. Breakfast with his new bride had been a nice reprieve, but his father’s killer was still out there awaiting vengeance.
Alexandra looked up at him with barely concealed disappointment and nodded. The gesture was almost childish, and he felt his heart sink a bit.
“I had a good time. It was nice to start getting to know you,” she said with a forced smile.
“We’ll do this again. Soon.” Viktor turned away from the table then, feeling both exhilarated and uncertain at whatever important news Roman had to share. Without looking back, he followed his trusted friend to the meeting room upstairs.