Houseguest
I sank into the tub and corralled the bubbles to shield my nakedness. How could I face Boris? He warned me not to rat him out to Vladimir, but there was no way I could shake off the assault and act like everything was okay. Everything was not okay.
After I cleaned up, I hopped to the bedroom, dressed in fresh clothes, and strapped on the air cast left out for me on the bed. Still in shock, I sat on the floor, crossed my legs, and practiced an Ujjayi breathing technique I’d learned in yoga to calm my nerves. I had to stop shaking; I was stuck there. I had no choice.
Dad wouldn’t be home with the family for three more days. In that time, I had to play it cool and hopefully things would go back to the way they were before I had been violated.
I willed myself to open the bedroom door and make my way to the kitchen, but I didn’t have enough energy to pick myself up off the ground. I felt like every muscle in my body had been removed, and what was left was a fleshy pile of shlyukha matter. I curled myself up into a ball on the floor, breathing as deeply as I could manage between gasps to fuel my body with oxygen. Someone knocked on the door.
“How is my poor, injured girl?” Vladimir knelt beside me and rubbed my back.
“I’m fine. Just trying to get my blood flowing.” My voice cracked.
He sat next to me on the floor, cradled me in his arms, and rocked me gently to calm me down. If Vladimir had been home when we got back, he would’ve protected me. Absolutely.
“What can I do, angel?” He kissed my cheek and stroked my hair. He hadn’t been affectionate with me since our special moment in my bedroom. I melted on his chest and welcomed his soothing embrace. In his arms, no one could hurt me—not even Boris.
“You’re light as a feather. Let’s get you some nourishment.” Vladimir helped me to my feet and guided me into the kitchen. Instead of eating at the bar, we sat at the breakfast nook by the balcony to watch the snow fall. I picked at the butter-laden potatoes, zucchini in cream sauce, and pickled beets loaded on my plate while Boris lurked around the kitchen, probably to make sure I wasn’t going to nark on him. Since the boss wasn’t crazy eyed, I doubted he had knowledge of the Leonardo stuff or what Boris had ordered that dirty old man to do to me.
If my instincts were correct, Boris had given Vladimir a revised version of The Incident to protect himself. When he came to my house he’d said, “I take my eye off you for one hour.” Hence, the big guy screwed up.
Vladimir eyed my plate. I choked down a few bites to stay off the emotional wreck radar, but I was traumatized and freaked out about sleeping at the house. Boris had the entire lower level all to himself. He could threaten me, spread my legs apart, but if he tried anything in front of the boss, the pakhan would kill him.
Did I want him dead?
I shook off the thought. I was turning as crazy as these Russians. Murder wasn’t a problem-solver.
“Change of plans this weekend? Last we spoke, you were going to visit relatives.”
Shit. “Yes, totally a last minute thing. My friend scored tickets to the Bengals game and invited me to go. It’s on Christmas Eve.”
“Kiki?”
I shook my head. “My other friend, Ryan.” I snuck a peek up at the boss as I smashed my potatoes down with the back of my fork. He still seemed in good spirits. I thought he would be pissed at me for trying to pull a fast one on him, but the fact I would be his houseguest for the next three days probably made up for my bullshit.
Vladimir set down his fork and patted his mouth with a napkin. “You’re exhausted. Let’s get you settled in the living room.”
“Perfect.” I picked up our plates, but Vladimir took them out of my hands and insisted I rest. He rolled up his sleeves, loaded the dishwasher, wiped off the countertops, and took out the trash. The way he was there for me…I wished I could tell him the truth about what had happened, but if he knew what Leonardo tried to do or about my examination, he would have a Chernobyl-sized meltdown.
“You left this in my car.” Boris handed me my phone. “Your papa is trying to reach you.”
I checked my missed calls. It wasn’t Dad. Ryan had called eight times and sent about twenty texts. “I better call him back. I’ll be quick. Can you get a fire started?” I asked Vladimir.
“Anything for you, angel.”
Once the boss left the kitchen, I got up from my chair, turned my back to Boris, and tapped out a text.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“If I don’t get back to Ryan, he’ll call my dad,” I snapped. I felt empowered knowing Vladimir was home to protect me.
Angry at my disrespectful tone, he whirled me around, clamped onto my shoulders, and jammed his thumbs into my collarbone. My ankle exploded in pain. “Be careful. It takes seven pounds of pressure to break the clavicle bone. I’m at five and half.”
I squirmed to slip out of his lethal grip. He didn’t let up. I dropped the phone and tried to pry him off me, but me trying to defend myself against Boris was as productive as trying to yank a brick out of a house with my bare hands. “You’re hurting me. Let me go or I’ll scream. The boss will be pissed when he finds out what you did to me.”
He loosened his grip. I made a run for the swinging door to dive into the safe arms of the boss, but before I hobbled a foot, Boris grabbed my ponytail and slammed me back against the pantry door. He towered over me and covered my mouth with his hand.
“If you ever threaten me again or breathe one word to anyone about your examination, I will hurt you in ways that will haunt you the rest of your life. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with, little girl. I am not a man to cross.” He pointed to my phone and snapped his fingers.
Panting, I picked it up off the floor and handed it to him.
He motioned to the door. “Don’t keep boss waiting.”
I skittered back to the living room, picked up the remote, and browsed the movie channels. I stopped when I found my favorite movie of all time: Moonstruck.
I snuggled up with a throw blanket on my side of the couch. The poodles joined the party and curled up on the rug. Vladimir caressed Anastasia with his foot.
“Will there be anything else tonight, Vladimir?” Boris towered over us holding two glasses of red wine.
My body started to shake. I lifted the blanket up to my neck.
“No, we’ll be fine.” Vladimir took the vino from Boris and handed a glass to me.
“Have a wonderful evening with boss, Carter.”
Something in Boris’s suggestive tone freaked me out. In the last twenty-four hours, I had sprained my ankle and almost been date-raped. Ryan and Leonardo beat the shit out of each other in my house, where drug-dealing Leonardo was never supposed to be, and Boris and his thugs had done the unthinkable. I would love to have a wonderful fucking evening, Boris.
A half hour into the movie, I gave up. “I don’t think I can make it to the end, boss.” I let out a big yawn.
“You’re a tough girl. You can make it.” He lifted his glass. “Za tebya.”
“Za tebya.” We clinked and sipped.
At the point in the movie when Ronny enters the story, I blinked to stay awake. My body felt so heavy. Vladimir pulled me over to his side of the couch and nestled my head on his chest. He tipped the glass to my mouth, encouraging me to take another sip. As Loretta and Ronny argued onscreen, he stroked my hair and sipped his wine.
I yawned again. He removed the glass from my hand and set it on the coffee table. He lowered my head to rest on a pillow and brushed my hair off my face. I fought to keep my eyes open, but before Johnny Cammareri came back from Sicily, I blacked out.