Page 47 of Bedazzled
“Are you ill?” He came closer. “Do you need anything?”
“Yeah,” I chuckled bitterly, “my life back.” He sighed, and I sat up, angry. “Oh, I know this is my fault. I know this is the consequence of my rash behavior. My responsibility for charging in and trying to save the day like a complete and utter asshole.”
He stood next to the bed, legs spread and hands in his pockets, wearing the custom-tailored suit that matched his eyes perfectly. He had a bland, careful expression, with a little furrow between his brows.
“I do not think that about you,” he said. “I know this is a difficult thing to handle, changing everything in your life to be here.”
I ran my hands through my hair, wincing at how tangled it was. “What I am supposed to do here? Wander around your ridiculously huge mansion all day?” A mean little laugh escapes me, “Start screwing some hot guy on the side? What do the other Bratva wives-”
“Stop!” Yuri’s hands were like manacles, gripping my upper arms and pulling me off the bed. “You willnotspeak to me like that.”
“I don’t even know who you are!” I shouted, yanking my arms away. “I see your disappointment every time you look at me. I screwed up your master plan for Bratva domination. Sorry about that. Believe me,” I hissed, “I’m disappointed every time I look at you, too. Disappointed that I gave up my life for the alien currently inhabiting Yuri’s body. So we’re even. I suppose I can’t tell you to get out because this is yourwing. I’m going into the bathroom until you feel like leaving.”
Locking myself in the bathroom, I sat in the tub, freezing my ass off and staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. I pulled one of the towels down from the rack and covered myself up, shivering, and huddled in the grandeur of my bathroom in a house where I was not welcome and where I did not want to be until I heard the door to my room close.
Yuri…
“We will not be requiring dinner tonight, Anya. That will be all, thank you.” I passed by our housekeeper, who was holding a large platter of prime rib roast, fingerling potatoes, and asparagus.
“Mr. Morozov, would you like me to keep the food warm for later?” Anya called after me.
I wanted a glass of very cold vodka that I could press against the scar throbbing on my forehead. “Not necessary,” I said, still heading toward the library.
“Should- should I bring a plate up to Tan- to Mrs. Morozov?”
Pausing for a moment, I rubbed the back of my neck. Anya had made an American-style meal and I knew it was meant to make Tania happy. “That would be fine, thank you.”
“Thank you, sir, I’ll do it immediately.”
Ignoring her relieved voice, I headed into the library and shut the door.
“Any updates on the O’Connell’s,Obshchak?”I was on my daily call with Patrick and my voice sounded as cold as I felt toward him for his part in the wedding fiasco and he replied formally.
“There’s a cluster of activity in Dublin at the high-end whiskey distillery they’re upgrading. The O’Connell brand is rolling out next month, and by all accounts, it’s meant to look like the family’s going legit when the real plan is to use the distillery for laundering money. The distribution plan is worldwide, so they’re already sending out discreet offers of their services to other organizations.”
“What about in New York?” I asked.
“They’ve been lying low since we raided their warehouse near Elizabethport,” he said with satisfaction. “We killed at least three of their lieutenants there, along with the four you hunted down, that took out most of their power structure, stateside at least.”
I forced my clenched fist to loosen up. “The next step is targeting the distillery, come up with a couple of plans before you and Maksim arrive next week.” My frustration about the distance between Tania and me morphed into spite. “After all, you’re a genius with daring plans,Obshchak.”
The sound of Patrick’s grinding teeth was audible. “Very well,Sovietnik.”
Tania…
Two weeks later…
I was ready to see fire to this mausoleum and run screaming through the streets when Lucya came for a visit, bringing her two girls.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” I said, gratefully accepting her hug.
“Oh, I had a feeling,” she said.
“You've been talking to Ella, haven’t you?” I accused.
“Yes, and the fact that you haven’t been showing up for yoga classes.”
When I first became the extremely unwelcome Mrs. Yuri Morozov, Lucya, bless her, immediately invited me to go to yoga with her at a super bougie spa. I was grateful to get out of the mansion and see other human beings. But when she returned to the states, I realized no one else in the class had any interest in speaking to me, much less going out for coffee.
