Chapter Four - Fedor
Fedor was on the phone with Petrov, his second in command who was filling his seat at the table in Chicago.
“They wanted to hear it coming from you, Boss.” Petrov sounded exasperated, while Fedor clicked the end of his pen repeatedly.
“I’m sure you handled it well, Petrov,” Fedor replied in Russian, and the other man exhaled deeply.
“It is a big decision, Boss. They needed to hear you say it before the voting.” Petrov was repeating himself, and Fedor was losing his patience.
“Don’t call me the next time, Petrov. I’ll call you,” Fedor grumbled and then hung up the phone.
Pyotr entered his study just then and walked silently over to the bar in the corner. It was approaching sunset, and he poured another finger of whiskey from the decanter into a fresh glass and brought it over to Fedor. He replaced the empty one. Fedor sat back on his leather couch.
“Make sure my direct line here is disconnected, Pyotr. I’ve started to receive too many calls on it. These people just take me for granted.” Fedor picked up the new glass and sipped from it. The warm golden liquid glided down his throat and settled somewhere in his belly. This vacation was going well so far, he thought, except for a few hiccups.
“Yes, Boss. Your dinner is being served outside.” Pyotr clutched his hands together and stood at the door with his feet apart. Nobody was more loyal to him than Pyotr. There was nobody he could trust more.
Fedor nodded and picked up the file he was going to read from.
“Take all of this stuff to the table. I want to read it during my dinner,” he said, making to stand up from his chair. Pyotr cleared his throat and Fedor looked up at him. Clearly, the man had something to say, but he was afraid of saying it.
“For the love of God, Pyotr, what is it now?” Fedor asked, his voice a little raised. Just when he thought his vacation was going well! From the look on Pyotr’s face, this was going to be bad news.
“The girl insists on eating with you,” Pyotr said, shying away from looking into Fedor’s eyes directly.
“What? I never take my meals with anyone!” Fedor thundered this time. He was losing his calm. This was his vacation. One in every two years, much deserved.
“I informed her of that, Boss. But she insisted. She said that if I didn’t set a plate for her at your table, she would complain to you and get my ass kicked. She used those words, Boss.” Pyotr’s voice cracked a little, and Fedor couldn’t help but smile, which he tried to immediately suppress. It was hilarious watching Pyotr squirm and nervously operate around this girl. His interaction with the female gender was obviously limited.
Fedor cleared his throat and casually waved his hand. He grunted an approval and sat back down, while Pyotr left the room.
Fedor rubbed his temples with his forefingers, still trying to process the information. Sylvia Stern had insisted that she take her dinner with him. He was suddenly very glad that he didn’t have a family, and didn’t have to deal with the whims and fancies of young women. He breathed in deeply, trying to get his brain to think of something else. Something other than Sylvia Stern. She was his friend’s daughter, and yet he couldn’t help but think of her as a beautiful sexy woman. He had watched her as she spoke, as she walked, how her ass moved tightly in her skirt. She was gorgeous and proud and brave!
Fedor stood up with a jerk and walked towards the door, opened it and was caught by surprise when he found her walking down the stairs towards him.
“Ah! Mr. Volkov. I had Pyotr lay the table for two for dinner. I guessed you wouldn’t mind,” she said and Fedor tried to smile weakly. His jaws were clenched as he watched her descending, he felt like his breath had been knocked out of him.
“Of course I don’t. It’ll be my pleasure,” he said, standing frozen with his hand still on the cold doorknob of his study. All he could do was stand and stare at her as she approached him.
Sylvia was in a firetruck red dress that clung to her body like clingfilm. It was short, just about reaching mid-thigh so that her long slender legs looked even longer. There were no sleeves on this dress, and her cleavage was tightly held up by the bodice, made to look more pronounced and he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her breasts. She had left her hair loose, and it fell in thick tight curls around her face, softly brushing the tops of her shoulders.
She barely had any makeup on, other than some pale red lipstick, but that was enough. Her eyes glowed and her cheekbones were high and angular. Sylvia Stern looked like a perfect work of art, and she walked slowly towards him now.
He stood in silence till she reached him and slid her arm through his.
“Shall we proceed to the dinner table?” she asked sweetly, looking up at him. Fedor looked at her face, his breath caught in his throat. He could already feel himself stirring and immediately knew this was a bad idea. She was his friend’s daughter. He had a responsibility towards her, he was her guardian.
He allowed himself to be led by her to the large circular balcony where their table had been set. Fedor walked without looking at her, aware the whole time of her body pressed against his, that same sweet sharp smell of her perfume, her confident walk.
He wasn’t sure how this night was going to go, but he already knew it was a bad decision to have dinner with her.