CHAPTER Ten
Erin
I better grab the mail before I forget about it. My thoughts keep drifting back to one handsomely Maestro and the way he kept on touching me at the park earlier today. No matter how hard I try I just can't seem to get a handle on anything else.
I open my front door and scream, a blood-chilling one like the shrieks from a horror movie. In return, Adriana belts one out too. I didn’t expect anyone to be standing outside the door, and especially not Alek’s sister. I catch my breath and check for my pulse. I do still have one, but barely.
I take a good look at what she’s holding. Overnight bags, three super huge ones. There are also two suitcases sitting on either side of her little body and she’s eyeing me as though I’m about to scream again.
“Adriana. What’s going on?” I ask, scanning her bags and still trying to catch my breath.
She shuffles on her feet and tilts her head to the side. I’ve learned these two gestures means that she’s nervous.
“My roommate moved out. I’m all alone in that big, scary apartment now. And—and, well…Would it be all right if I crash with you for a while? I mean, you live all alone too, you know,” she finally manages to say.
“Okay. Come inside, now,” I order and move to pick up the two suitcases she’s not able to carry because of all the handbags swinging from her body. We keep going until we get to the living room. I sit her bags down and turn to face her. “Explanation, please.”
“It’s creepy living all by myself. I thought you could use the company,” she explains, her eyes pleading. I feel like there’s more to her story. She takes a seat across from me.
“Before I tell you that it’s fine to move in here for a while, I want to make sure Alek didn’t put you up to this.” I throw it right out there. I’ve seen the way both Alek and Adriana are always glancing around when we’re out in public. I have the feeling that this latest request has a bit more to do with my hunch than Adriana’s loneliness.
“Why would he do something like that? He’s the last person I want to know about this. Take that back, Mother is the last person who needs to know.”
“Why?” I ask, shrugging.
“How can you ask that question? You’ve seen the way she has to control everything.”
“You’ve got a point. That’s for sure.”
“Please, Erin. I’ll only stay for a couple of weeks.”
She has conveniently avoided my statement about Alek, but I’m a softie when it comes to his sister. “You know I’m not going to tell you no, right?” At once, I’m attacked by arms and handbags and the aroma of peach body spray. I peel Adriana’s arms away from me. “But, just so you know, I do expect the real explanation, at some point.”
“You got it,” she answers in an excited voice. “I’ll be as quiet as a church mouse. Well, except when I need to practice. I hope you don’t mind classical music.”
If only she knew. “I grew up in a house full of musicians,” I answer. “We listened to everything from Bach to Shirley Caesar to Guns-N-Roses, okay? So don’t worry. I’m good.”
“That’s so cool. I was worried. Some people think classical music is only for old people, you know,” she explains.
“Yeah, I do. Well, your room’s going to be the second one on the right. Just move all of my sketches and things I have in there to the side.” She grabs her bags and heads down the hallway, just before my cell phone rings.
Selene waits on the other end. Or maybe I should say, she’s hyperventilating when I hit the green answer-call button.
“E! You’ll never believe what just happened!” she screams. I move the phone back and wonder what it is about me today that’s attracting all of this excitement from people.
“Right. So count to fifty and calm down. I won’t have any eardrums left by the time we all finish screaming today,” I say, but still feeling happy to hear my friend’s voice.
“I’m sending you a pic, right now. Check your cellie,” she gasps.
“I’m talking on my phone. I can’t check the screen. Just tell me what’s going on. Everybody’s so secretive and strange these days,” I say, thinking of the way Alek embraced me just before he whisked me off to a secluded area inside of a park. I’m still recovering from the shock of him trying to kiss me.
“I’m not going to say a thing. I’ll wait for you to check out my pic,” she says, giggling.
I release a sigh and say, “What did Christopher the Great do this time? Buy you another pair of handcuffs and chocolate flavored panties? Do me a favor and spare me the details of all that this time, please.”
A long moment of silence passes. I feel like a complete jerk. “Wow, Erin. I hate that my love life bores you to death. I’ll make sure to fix that in the future.”
“Selene, I’m sorry. This isn’t really an excuse, but I have so much going on. Plus, it’s almost time for the visit to see my mom,” I explain.
“It’s forgotten, okay? And I do remember the mysterious visits you never talk about.”
I haven’t forgotten though. I’ll never forget the reason my mom is hospitalized. Caught up in the hazy memory of a car sitting inside of a garage, I give Selene a brief explanation.
“Mom usually thinks it’s Jada visiting when I go see her. My Aunt Sophia is ruthless, though. She won’t let anyone near Mom except on the days she has scheduled for us all to visit. Me included.” I don’t know what makes me want to tell Selene about Mom’s dilemma for the first time in the five years I’ve known her.
Could it be the effects that a certain handsomely Maestro is having on you? No way.
“I’m so sorry, E. I had no idea,” Selene says. “When I met you back at school in New York, I just thought you were one of the quiet ones. Somebody who doesn’t like to talk about her family all of the time. I respected that.”
I snap out of the trance and focus on my friend. “You know what? Just because I’m half-ass depressed and hiding it behind the personality of Miss Uncongeniality doesn’t mean you have to be the same way. That’s kinda why I wanted you to hear what I just said about my mom.”
“I'll be there in Milan soon enough. And we’ll do what we do best. Gossip and spend the day window shopping,” she suggests.
“Sounds great, Selene.” After I click the end button, I take a peek at the picture she sent me.
It’s just as I thought. The diamond ring on her finger almost jumps out of the screen. The thing looks that brilliant. A small touch of envy tingles inside me. I’m happy for Selene and Christopher. Besides Romeo and Juliet, my two classmates are probably the most sexually frustrated couple to ever live. They fought family, friends, and distance to get to this moment and truly deserve to be happy. I guess somebody has to believe in stuff like that. The victims might as well be a couple of people like my two friends.
* * *
Over the next week, my living room becomes a dancer’s haven. I walk in from a particularly trying day at work. Carla’s parents gave her an ultimatum. She either gets rid of her lesbian lover, or she leaves the family no choice but to disown her. She cried off and on all day long, using me as the rock just like so many others seem to be doing these days. I love Carla. She’s a secret design weapon for me. But I’m hoping tomorrow brings a happier co-worker into the office. If not, then we might both wind up jumping from the top of the Duomo and getting life over with.
Light classical music, the kind I used to dance to when I studied ballet, fills the air as soon as I walk through the front door. Adriana jumps and spins to a tune that makes me think of Alek’s creepy, but intriguing music choices. I stand there until the final note fades in the air. She leans over on her knees, catching her breath. Glancing up, she jumps and almost tumbles over a chair after she notices me.
“Never mind me. I’m pretty much a ghost,” I say, flopping down on the couch farthest away from her. “What a crappy, crazy day.” I close my eyes and try to imagine what an ordinary life inside of an office might feel like. But then, I shake it off just as quickly. I don’t think my body contains a single normal bone anywhere in there.
A creepy sensation washes over me as I wait for the tension to ease out of my body. I open my eyes and glance across the room. Adriana sits on the couch opposite from me. She’s staring as though she wants to figure out something about me.
“What?” I ask.
“You know my brother’s hot for you, right?”
I do know, especially after the little scene that happened in the park. But I don’t want to talk about it with his sister. I gotta admit, it feels good to hear somebody confirm my hunch. “Don’t be silly, Adriana.”
“No, really, I’ve never seen him act this way about a woman before. Sending Hagar out to do his sneaky work, and even standing up to Mother about who he chooses to date. It’s amazing in a way.”
“Well, don’t get excited. This really isn’t going anywhere.”
“Not yet,” she mutters under her breath. She flops back in the loveseat and exhales. “Mother wants both of us to date wealthy people. Especially loaded Russians.”
“What about wealthy Americans? Is she cool with them?” I ask.
“Our American ancestry doesn’t matter so much to her.”
“Why is that? What difference does it make? Besides, Katerina was born in Texas.” I think she’s a hypocrite, but I’m not about to say that to Adriana.
“I don’t really understand Mother’s ways either. I do know that she’d freak out if she knew I was dating somebody who doesn’t fit her grand plan.” Her eyes widen after she says this, and she clamps a hand over her mouth.
I suck my teeth. “Take your hand down. It’s just me. You know I’m not going to judge you."
“I should be able to date whoever I like, right?”
“Sure thing.” A grin spreads across my face. It feels good to have somebody else up under the radar. “And who is this person, do tell?”
She glances at the bare spot on her arm where a watch would normally be situated. “Wow. It’s time for me to get ready to head out and meet my friends.”
“Oh, I get it. You can 50-question me, but I don’t get the same opportunity?” I lightly scold.
“No worries, Jaybird. I’ll tell you, eventually. While you’re waiting, you can keep on doing the kissy thing with my brother.” She pokes her lips out like a fish as she teases me about the nickname Alek gave me a couple weeks ago. I toss a pillow at her. We both calm down, and now a serious look crosses her face.
Holy Hell. Adriana is the type who never goes serious on you unless it’s truly something grim. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t hurt him, okay? He’s come a long way since we left Moscow. Lots of bad things crossed his path. He sacrificed a lot to get Mother and me and even Nikolai out of Russia.” Now we’re back to talking about what I believe is the real reason she came to stay with me for a while. The Dostovs have a secret, a huge one, a dangerous one too, I suspect.
There’s something I’ve noticed about Alek, and the way he always glances around when we’re together. And now his sister is crashing with me because she claims she doesn’t want to live by herself. “I know he seems like a womanizer, but he really is a good guy. I’m only saying all of this because, well, I know you have your issues too. He’s reaching out to you, Erin.”
“I know he’s a good guy,” I assure her.
“Give him a chance. Maybe the two of you can help to fight each other’s demons.” A long, awkward moment passes while I consider her statement. The tick tock from my grandmother’s clock sitting across the room fills the silence between us. “Are you ready for Black Butterfly’s big showing Saturday night?” she asks.
We go from one mood crasher to the next. “Hell no! I don’t have the logo prepared, and the show is only three nights away,” I answer and pull my legs up, hugging them to me.
I’ve skipped several sessions with Petre over the past couple of weeks. The anxiety rolling inside my chest reminds me of my neglect every day. I just don’t have the guts to tell him how badly I’ve failed at following his advice.
“What’s holding you back?” Adriana asks.
“Everything. What designer doesn’t have something cool to represent her new line? I mean, I do have one; but I just need to add color to the design,” I explain.
“Then, paint it. That’ll really make your design stand out,” Adriana suggests.
“I sketch, sew, and a lot of other things. But painting, I don’t do so well.”
A devious grin crosses her girlish face. “Alek paints. Mother taught us a long time ago. Me, I’m not so good. But Alek’s creations are fantastic. Let him color the logo for you. I’ll call him.” She pulls out her phone and positions her finger for making the call.
“Wait! No. Don’t do that,” I almost yell. “He’s already done enough for me.”
“What did we just talk about? You could tell him to swim from Milan to Venice, and he’d find a way to make it happen.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I say, scoffing. The truth is I’m not ready to face Alek after what happened between us at his mother’s house and especially at the park the other day. I feel exposed and weak and with a man like Alek Dostov those are the last things you want to be feeling.
“Fine. I’m heading to my room. I need to get ready. I’ll let you sit in here and meditate, Jaybird.” She blows mock kisses at me, and I toss another pillow at her.
I can sit here and try to fool myself all I want. The logo sits on the canvas in all of its black and white glory because I can’t keep my mind out of the clouds. Memories of Alek keep popping in and out of my head. An uncontrollable desire, something heated and indescribable rushes through me every time I think of Mr. Maestro with the gorgeous soulful eyes and mystery tattoo hidden underneath his clothing.
That’s not all you think of, hot mama. The man has everything you could ever want, and then some. He’s panty-drop gorgeous, and there you sit on the couch acting like a loser dud.
I change out of my work clothing and head back to the living room. Adriana still avoids me by hiding in her new bedroom. I attach my music player to the surround sound system and pick a tune by one of my favorite groups to listen to after work, Enigma. Flopping down on the couch, I lose myself in the relaxing combination of Gregorian chants paired with rhythmic beats.
Eventually, I doze off. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping when the doorbell rings. I open my eyes and stand up. I take a moment to turn down the music I put on repeat.
Opening the door, I’m prepared to curse the delivery man who keeps bringing strange packages to my apartment. But there’s no errand boy standing out there.
Instead, Alek lingers in the doorway. My mouth falls open. This moment reeks of a devious little ballerina and her slippery tricks. He smiles and holds up a bottle of wine and two glasses. At once, I think of those old black and white movies, the kind where the men used to get creative when trying to win a woman’s heart. “I hear you need a painter.”
“Maybe,” I say, feeling aware of my casual clothing, a skort and white tee shirt that dips too low for my generous chest. I did not expect company this evening.
“I’m available, if you’ll have me.” He doesn’t wait to be invited inside. I check my watch. Almost two hours have passed since Adriana slinked away to her room. Either she’s fast asleep or she snuck out on me; and I have no doubt she worked with her brother to set up this little convenient moment.
“Do come in, Mr. Maestro,” I joke after he walks through the doorway. Dressed in light colored cargo pants and a casual tee that fits his perfect physique, he actually does kinda remind me of a painter. All we need now is one of those little painter's hats for him and some Italian music to set the mood and we’ll be good to go.
Stepping into my living room, he takes in my surroundings. Since I’m not prepared for his arrival, I feel super self conscious. I wonder what someone who’s used to living inside a fancy uptown loft will think of my dinky apartment made specifically for students and newbies to Milan.
“Nice. The artwork fits you,” he says turning to face me after inspecting my walls filled with abstract paintings. “Did you create these yourself?”
I shrug. “No. I found most of them at an art store in Florence. Nothing beats discovering cheap artwork inside of an Italian market.”
“Speaking of artwork, I hear you have a masterpiece of mine that’s giving you trouble,” he says as he walks into the kitchen, pops open the wine bottle, and pours a glass of Riesling for the two of us.
My kitchen opens into the living room. I think all Italian housing plans have easy access to the kitchen. Cooking and eating is a religion in all of Italy.
“Hm. I’ll make two guesses on how you found out about my artistic troubles,” I say.
“My baby sister worships you, Erin,” he says, coming around to where I’m standing and still recovering from the idea of the panty-drop gorgeous Alek Dostov being in my apartment, a man who has made himself at home. I take the drink he offers and gulp it down. I need something alcoholic at the moment. “Tell me about your problem. The Maestro is here to help.”
I scoff a light laugh. The alcohol I just chugged too quickly hits me fast and hard. I’m now on fire between my legs, and with Mr. Sexy F*cking Accent standing there looking at me in such a way that is making me want to lose hold of my ethical resolve, things can't turn out good. “Right. So, Mr. Maestro, I have this issue with a butterfly logo that I’ve drawn. It seems the little f*cker doesn’t want to behave for my color pencils.”
“Language, Ms. Angelo,” he answers, his lips turning up at the corner. He has a beautiful smile.
“I do apologize.”
“May I see this subject of yours? The one who’s giving you the problem?” he asks in a factual tone. He has the snooty psychologist attitude down. That’s pretty damn good for a maestro.
“Certainly.” I take the glass of wine he hasn’t finished and chug his alcohol too.
“Careful, Erin. I don’t see you as the type who handles a shit load of alcohol all that well.”
I raise my left eyebrow. “Follow me, please sir.”
“My pleasure.”
He follows me out to the sunroom. Even though we’re headed well into the evening hours, there’s still a hint of humidity in the air. “I keep my studio stuff set up out here on warm days like this.” The balcony is small, but it allows me to do what I need to with my sketches. I take a seat on the ground in front of my butterfly drawing, the one with no coloring except for the blue in its wings.
“You’re a talented, lady. That’s for sure.” Alek sits in the spot beside me. I swell with pride at the way he’s analyzing my drawing.
“I have the perfect solution for you,” he says and pulls up the sleeve on his right arm. I inhale sharply, taking in the breathtaking view of the tattoo I’ve been wanting to see since the first time we met a few weeks ago. It is of a beautiful phoenix done in a fiery copper color. The flames surrounding the bird create a swirl of crimson colored fog around its body. I place my hands on the picture, caressing his arm.
“Alek, this is stunning,” I don’t tell him how long I’ve waited to see his ink. The tattoo artist put a great amount of emphasis on creating a realistic set of flames. The art pulls me in, and I can’t stop massaging it. Alek’s body stiffens a bit.
“Keep touching me like that, and I won’t be held responsible for what happens,” he says as he glances deep in my eyes. I swallow through a golf ball sized lump in my throat. I fully believe he means every word he just said.
“What’s your story? I mean…”
He gives me a tiny smile. “This is an emblem from a gang I used to be in a long time ago. Each one of us was assigned a color to go along with our phoenix. Mine was red.”
“A gang?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Erin,” he says. In Russia, we form gangs for completely different reasons than some of our neighbors do in other countries. I’ll tell you all about it someday.”
I’m totally hooked. The more I get to know him, the more he intrigues me with his mysterious past. What is it about this man who can bring the world to its feet with a song that drives me wild? “What about Nikolai? What’s his color?” I ask, recalling the time when I first met his friend. I saw the ink partially hidden by his shirt sleeve too.
“My my aren’t we the observant one?” he teases. “He was given royal blue flames.” His expression saddens. I want to know why. “Enough chit chat. We need to prepare your masterpiece for his debut this weekend.”
He breaks our gaze, eases his arm out of my grip, and moves around behind me, pulling me up against him the way we did at his mother’s house last week. I'm now sitting between his legs. It’s a pretty bold move on his part, but I’ve kinda gotten used to him taking charge this way now. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Your butterfly is going to get a set of smoldering flames like mine. We’re going to bring a touch of excitement into his life.” He reaches around my body and opens the bottles of paint I bought and never used as he says this.
“I hate to disappoint you but it’s a she,” I correct.
“What’s that?” he asks in a seductively low voice, and that accent that makes me forget all reason. I’m beyond lost in this moment. My pulse races, and I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be than sitting on a balcony with the Maestro.
“My butterfly is a girl.”
“I do apologize. Does she have a name?”
“Yes,” I answer, watching him prepare the paints even with me sitting between his legs.
“And what would you like me to call her?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a secret,” I whisper, thinking of the day Jada named the butterflies we adopted. Hers was blue like the sky and mine was black like a crow’s wings. I combined the two colors to come up with my label’s logo.
“Alright then, we’ll call her Mystical for now,” Alek says and offers me the brush.
Covering my hand with his, he eases the paintbrush we now hold together onto the canvas and begin stroking inside the areas around the butterfly. The scent of Alek’s cologne mixes with the paint. I’m suddenly very aware of the way we’re sitting with his body wrapped around mine. The Enigma song playing in the background sets every nerve cell in my body on fire.
He’s very good with his hands. “Do you see how this works, Jaybird? The paint requires a smooth touch. Be gentle. Stroke the canvas lightly, then sit back and enjoy the way you’re rewarded by the results,” he explains as he creates a fiery combination of orange, dark blue, and crimson flames around my logo, bringing the design to scorching life.
Holy moly! Every single word he just said fires through my body. I turn my head toward his lips. Dangerous move, I know. He’s still the boss, Erin.
Oh shut the hell up.
I wonder if the butterfly in my picture is as horny as I am right now. He moves his head toward my lips. No kissing, Erin. But that isn’t what he’s trying to do. The paintbrush needs more paint, and he’s dipping it one more time. “The picture is breathtaking,” I say without turning my head. “Should I take charge of things for a while?”
The dazzling half-smile I receive in return for my answer pushes me over the edge.
“I think a woman who takes charge is incredibly irresistible,” he mutters. His mouth is so very close to mine. I turned away from him the other day. Yeah, I know, that was a pretty harsh thing for me to do; but I’ve never been considered easy. Something tells me Alek is the type of man who appreciates something like that.
“It could be this way for us all of the time,” he says, teasing my lips by moving his closer to mine. He glances back at the canvas. I’ve forgotten all about the painting. Are you kidding me? I have a Russian god sitting here cradling my body. The last thing on my mind is a logo that has been too hard to pin down in a design.
He’s not going to kiss me again, though, and it's my own fault. Feeling a bit rejected, I make an attempt at a distraction. “What do you mean by we could do this all of the time?”
Crap! I’m gasping. No, I’m panting. Control, Erin!
“I’m saying we agree to pleasure each other. No strings. No slippery emotions. Just two sexually attracted people drowning out the world’s troubles by having a lot of sex.”
“Are you asking me to swing with you?”
“No. I’m done with that,” he answers. He looks directly in my eyes when he says this. Call me crazy, but I believe him.
“You don’t have to kiss me. I know you don’t like that. But I can make you feel like a woman without even touching these lips.” He caresses my mouth with the pad of his thumb, the only part of his hands not covered in paint.
“Do you accept my proposal?” he whispers furiously, his half-lidded gaze bearing into my soul. “Can you handle me, Erin?”
“You’re easy pickings. Give me your best shot, Maestro,” I gasp out. And he does. Remind me to think twice before I go tempting a man who’s used to leading hundreds of bickering musicians in front of a crowd of thousands on a regular basis.
First, he nibbles my ear. Okay, that’s an easy target, but the perfect one. Quivers tingle inside my breasts. My nipples harden, and I’m seriously hating that I just can't let myself enjoy at least one stolen moment of pleasure with him.
His hand slides around in front of me. The paintbrush we held on to together falls from our entwined hands, making a colorful mess. Still holding on to mine, he moves his hands across my thighs, easing them dangerously close to the sweet spot between my legs, but stopping just before he reaches it. I don’t even mind the paint he’s smeared across my skin. The sight of red paint on my thighs and the chants coming from the Enigma song still playing on my stereo along with the raw scent of male in Alek’s cologne sends me spiraling into a place I haven’t visited in years.
“Do you see how just the right strokes gets the best response of all?” he whispers against my ear, his tongue playfully flicking over the outside edges and around the inside of it too. His hands ease dangerously closer to my hot spot. If he touches me there, then every single resolve I’ve ever made will go a flying off the balcony.
I should stop this.
Hell no, you won’t!
Holy Moly this man is good with his tongue.
And he knows it too. The word yes sits on the tip of my tongue. The world around us rises and then falls at once as the sound of feet shuffles to a stop.
“Oh, whoopsie!” Adriana’s voice calls out from behind us. I move my head around, glance into Alek’s eyes, and watch the mystery of the moment we just shared slowly ease its way out from inside them. At least I have a complete logo now.
We both turn our heads toward Adriana. She has the widest eyes I’ve ever seen on a human being. She stands in the doorway to the balcony as though she’s glued to that spot. Alek eases out from behind me, stands up, and heads over to where his sister stands.
She mouths the words, “I’m sorry.”
“No worries.” He turns back to me, a wicked gleam still swims in his eyes. “Don’t keep me waiting too long for the answer to my proposal, Erin. There’s only so much rejection any man can handle before he cracks. Good luck Friday night.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says to Adriana as he kisses her cheek and glances at me one last time. So much for Reckless’s agenda tonight.