I hoped he didn’t think that was an invitation.
We arrived back at his apartment building. From what Sergei had told me, Slavik owned this place, and several more. They were his personal investments. It was why if I chose, I could have the indoor swimming pool to myself, along with the gym.
Thinking about the cake tonight, those horrible words the women threw at me, I finally made a decision.
I took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, not waiting for either man to open my door.
Whenever something like this happened, solitude helped me to deal. Keeping the tears at bay was proving to be difficult. A burn settled at the back of my throat.
Staring at my reflection in the metal elevator doors, I had to wonder, was it me? Did I make people hate me? Was being nice a crime? A weakness? Why did people go out of their way to despise me? To hurt me? Or better yet, to avoid me?
I rubbed at my chest where a stabbing pain struck hard.
Stepping into the elevator, Slavik put his hand at the base of my back, but I didn’t feel it.
“Do you ever care what people think of you?” I asked.
“No.”
I smiled. It didn’t exactly reach my eyes. Simple. Direct. To the point. I liked it.
“Do you?”
“I know I shouldn’t, but it’s kind of hard not to when everyone around you seems determined to hate you.”
The bell dinged, and the doors opened.
We stepped out.
Slavik keyed in the code to our apartment.
When we arrived, I often kept my distance, steering well clear of him out of fear of capturing his attention. Today, I wanted to be alone.
I removed my shoes, placed them in the right place, and without another look back, I went to the bathroom.
Door closed and locked, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and allowed the spiteful words to wash over me.
They were not the first.
“The fat Italian. Honestly. People feel sorry for Slavik. I don’t know how he puts up with her. He could do so much better. I know my dad tried to get me thrown at him, but Volkov decided the Fredo girl was more important.”
“She looked like a cow. All Slavik has to do is say the word and I’d do anything for him. I heard on her wedding night, Slavik had to cut himself because he couldn’t find her pussy through the layers of fat.”
“You’re a disappointment.”
“The ugly one.”
“The fat one.”
“What can we do to avoid being near her? No one likes her, no one wants to be around her.”
I pressed my palms against my eyes as the tears fell, thick and fast. Each one that dropped added to my mortification. I was not liked. I was not loved. My own family didn’t care who they sold me to.
“Aurora, open the door.”
“I’m in the shower.”
“I don’t hear it running. Open the door or I knock it down. Two choices.”
I splashed my face with water, wiping off the makeup I’d chosen to wear.
“Aurora!”
I opened the door and stepped back. Turning the shower on, I reached for the clasp at the side of my dress and eased it down.
Slavik was in the bathroom, and any other time, I’d have been afraid. There was no fear right now. Just pain and anger. Humiliation.
I hated this feeling.
“What is going on with you?” he asked.
I ignored him.
Was I sporting a death wish?
No one ignored Slavik Ivanov. His reputation for destruction preceded him. Women talked about him with a combination of awe and fear.
With the dress on the floor, I flicked the catch of my bra, followed by my panties, then stepped beneath the spray of the water. I let out a cry as the cold water washed over my body, shocking me to the core.
In the back of my mind, I cursed myself, telling myself that I shouldn’t be doing this. Slavik had asked a question, and the least I could do was answer.
Silence.
Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
The mantra went on and on inside my head. I didn’t have much choice. When I was a kid, I had to learn to live with it. My father had hit me for showing weakness. Tears were pathetic and shouldn’t be seen on a Fredo’s face.
I released a gasp as strong arms grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face him. Slavik was naked as well, which surprised me. I expected him to leave.
Why hadn’t he left?
“Tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Nothing! Nothing is going on. Don’t you get that? I’m taking a shower.”
“I know you’re lying to me.”
Be the lady. Don’t give in.
Old advice and demands rushed forward. The rules of the obedient woman consumed me, making me feel sick.
“You really want to know?” I asked. I didn’t give him chance to answer. “I am sick and tired of being treated like I don’t care. Like I don’t matter. I tried to make friends and like always, I got shit on. What is it about me, huh? Do I just have unlikeable written across my forehead? Do people just enjoy kicking me while I’m down? The only reason they were nice to me tonight was because of you.” I took in a deep breath, realizing my mistake and wishing I could take it back.
This wasn’t what I wanted. I stepped beneath the spray, waiting for the hit, the punishment. It was destined to come. My mother, when she talked back to my father, always ended up bruised. One time, I had lain in bed, terrified as I heard them. The yells, followed by the screams, the cries, the begs. The following day, I hadn’t been allowed to see my mother.
For three weeks she stayed in her room, and when she came out, she sported a broken arm, split lip, and bruised face. That was what we could see.
My mother had taken me and Isabella aside not long after and said we must do whatever we could to not fall into the trap of inciting our husband’s wrath.
This was a code I tried to live by.
No blow came.
I wasn’t even worth it.
Instead, Slavik left the shower, leaving me to feel far emptier than I ever thought was possible.
****
Slavik
The following day, Aurora’s words were still running rife through my mind even as I dealt with the necessary business of incorrect funds at one of our many brothels. We worked it all, guns, drugs, money, pussy, whatever depraved thing men and women wanted and could pay for, we supplied.
We had politicians, government officials, and police officers on our payroll, and all were told to turn a blind eye. Where there was power, we had a hand in it. It was how we always stayed one step ahead.
When a brothel began to lose money, especially a really good one, it meant trouble. Not for Cara, the cute redhead who ran the place. The moment she saw a problem, she called. I didn’t like dealing with the small businesses, but Cara was … a friend of sorts.
She sipped at her coffee, dressed in a cute pinstriped business suit. No one would have ever guessed that she loved her job running and participating in a brothel. She was a powerful woman and knew how to manipulate men.
I happened to adore her, as did Ivan, which was why I dealt with her face to face. Cara had been on the streets, fighting for her life. She’d helped to save our lives a time or two, and that meant we took care of her.
She was loyal and we cared for her. Protected her.