Swinging
Boris opened my car door and woke me up. As I blinked my eyes open, I saw an airplane. We were at a goddamn airport. “What the hell, man? I thought we were going to a concert. Where are you taking me?” My blabbering questions went unanswered.
Boris popped the trunk, lifted out a Louis Vuitton suitcase, and escorted me down the runway. I had to get my game face on. Like before a match, I cleared my mind of distractions and shut out everything except my Coach’s words of wisdom:
Come out strong. Make them play your game. Be aggressive. Even if you make a mistake, they’ll be afraid of what you’ll do next time. Go for high percentage shots, and keep the ball in play until you can put away a clean winner. And most important of all: Don’t back off if you’re losing. Make your opponent beat you. If you’re going down, go down swinging.
Boris ushered me to the airplane, and I clutched Vladimir’s wager inside my jacket pocket. As we stood at the bottom of the stairs, Boris put his big hands on my shoulders. “Don’t mess this up. I’m going back to the house now. You’re on your own, understand?”
I nodded.
“Good girl.” Before he handed me over, he issued a warning. “Do yourself a favor and don’t bring up alcohol—I mean it.” He patted my cheek and waited for the boss to collect me.
Vladimir padded down the stairs wearing a short-sleeved, blue silk shirt, casual pants, and leather loafers. It was about thirty degrees outside. He greeted me with kisses. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”
I was down, and it was time to start swinging.
***
As the plane headed south, Vladimir popped a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses of Cristal. He picked up my hand, kissed it, and wrapped my fingers around the champagne flute. “To you, my angel.” We clinked and sipped.
The plane cut through the clouds. Vladimir set down our drinks, swept my hair off my shoulders, and kissed my neck. He unzipped my jacket and tried to slide it off.
I held my arms at my sides not allowing him to undress me. I wondered how he would react when he saw my bruises. Did he even remember he had hurt me over the weekend?
“What’s wrong?”
Summoning all the courage I had left, I said, “Last night was a mistake. It was a blessing Dad came to the house when he did.”
The boss didn’t look happy. I could see the crazy bubbling up in his eyes so I spoke my mind quickly. “What I mean is, I want you. Your bod makes me hot.” I reached up and rested my hands around his neck and twisted one of his blonde waves around my finger. “No one has ever made me feel so—if we hadn’t been interrupted, I would’ve been yours.”
“We have tonight, beautiful. No interruptions.”
I lifted his hand up to my chest to feel my pounding heartbeat. “See what you do to me? I’ve never been with a man before.”
“I celebrate your choices.”
I slipped his wager out of my pocket and pressed it into his palm.
He unfolded the paper. “Ready to cash in your wager?”
“Can I talk to you about something?”
He led me to a seat by the window and sat me down on his lap. With the reflection of the sky behind him, his vibrant blue eyes glowed in the sunlight.
“If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about us…together.” I turned away, embarrassed.
He stroked my hair. “Really? I had no idea,” he teased.
I shoved him in the chest. “Surprise.” I laughed with him, and then I tried to get back to the point. “But I want my first time to be special.”
“Making love is an expression of our commitment to one another. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure it’s a night we’ll never forget.”
I knew he wanted me right then and there. I had to swing higher. “By special I mean I’m saving myself for my wedding night. I know I led you on last night. I’m sorry.”
“Just when I think I have you figured out, you blow my mind once again. Your future husband is the luckiest man in the world.”
Under his spell, and totally turned on, I wanted to take all my words back and pick up where we’d left off last night.
Vladimir peeled me off his lap, leaned over, and snagged the suitcase. “Let’s see if we can find something for you to wear this evening.” He turned it around so I couldn’t see. “Ah, this is perfect.” He revealed a sexy little red dress.
“Where are we going?”
“Dancing…in South Beach.”
“Ah, that’s sweet, boss.” I was honestly touched by his thoughtfulness.
Vladimir may have had his share of faults, but one thing about him was undeniable: he loved to make me happy. And at that moment, he was checking every box on my sexiest-man-alive score sheet.
When we arrived at the hotel, I took a solid hour and fifteen minutes to get ready for our hot date. Boris had packed everything I needed: a strapless bra, a clean ace bandage for my ankle, open-back pumps, and a long-sleeved shrug to cover up the thumb bruises on my collarbone, the hoof mark on my back, and the plethora of imprints up and down my arms.
When I emerged from the bathroom ready to rock it, Vladimir was waiting for me with a single red and pink rose in his hand. He had on slick black pants, Bally shoes, and a red shirt unbuttoned a few notches. His devil tat peeked at me from behind the fabric.
Vladimir was a bad guy in some respects, but he wasn’t all bad. He would move heaven to hell if it would make me happy. And I knew he would never order his sovietnik to coerce me into having sex with him. That was all Boris’s fucked-up idea. If it was just my body Vladimir wanted, he had plenty of chances; the boss was after my heart.
“What are you doing to me?” I giggled at my sophomoric reaction to his hotness. “Buenmozo.” I fanned my face.
He spun me around and admired my body. “You are the most beautiful young woman in the world, Carter. You take my breath away.”
I bit my lip and looked away, embarrassed by his unjust flattery. “Oh, please.”
“I mean it, angel. I cherish every moment we spend together.” He lifted my chin, trailed kisses down my neck, and teased me in Russian.
Breathe, breathe, breathe…