He didn’t know where the self-control came from that held Vaslav back from giving into the sudden, intrusive violent urges toward his unwanted and resentful guest, but it may have been the fact that being near Vera made him ... happy.
Or something like it.
Content, at least.
It just wasn’t enough to stop him from wanting to kill her father.
He didn’t know if the other two people at the table noticed the sudden change in his demeanor. Frankly, he didn’t give either of them the time to before he’d stood up from the table with enough abruptness to make Vera jump beside him. Her shocked, widening stare followed him as he scrubbed a hand down his thicker, but not by much, growth of facial hair on his throat, and walked away from the lunch without a single glance back.
Utensils clattered at his departure.
“Vas?” Vera called. “Where are you going?”
It was only a few strides from the table before he slid through the sliding glass doors leading into the rear rooms of the guesthouse’s ground level.
“What happened?” Demyan asked, his voice fainter with every step Vaslav took further away.
“I don’t know,” he heard Vera say. “Just ... give me a second, Papa.”
Chair legs scraped against the deck wood.
Vaslav kept walking even when she called his name again. He needed a second, too.
Or perhaps more than a few.
By the time Vera had caught up to him, he’d paced a line in the dirt at the front of the house and finally settled on jumping into the driver’s seat of the side-by-side. Vera came to stand just beyond the opening from door with her arms folded over her chest. He considered not even giving her an explanation, to let the dust from the ROV’s tires say his goodbye.
The knot of confused sadness between her eyes when she tipped her head to the side stopped him from turning the engine over. The loosely tied laces of the hiking boots on her feet spoke to how hastily she’d pulled them on trying to get out of the house.
“What are you doing?” Vera asked. “I thought we were having lunch?”
Jaw tight, he shook his head once and forced out a clipped, “No.”
“What happened? Something just happened, right?”
“Are you staying?” he asked.
Vera blinked. “What?”
“Your father will not be leaving this property unless it is to leave the country. So, if you have any plans to stay with him for an extended visit, let me know now. I’ll have your things brought from the city.”
“Vaslav.”
Her quiet exclamation of his name only irritated him further.
It wasn’t even her damn fault.
“How am I going to get back to the house?” she asked then.
“Walk.”
It wasn’t that far. Especially in her current footwear with decent ankle support.
“But tie up those goddamn laces if you get any bright plans,” he said for her benefit.
Vera’s brow jumped high when he turned the key forward, and the engine of the side-by-side roared to life. Over the growl, she yelled, “You can bring my things!”
He glanced her way.
Vera, even scowling at him, was terribly beautiful in front of a backdrop of gray bricks and green vinery. “I would like to spend time with my father as long as you don’t intend to make it a hassle the entire damn time.”
Fair enough.
He nodded once.
Vera’s defensive stance loosened as her arms fell to her sides. “I just don’t understand ... you brought me down to have lunch, we were only talking, Vas. This is my father, who by the way, I know you’re aware how long it’s been since I’ve spent meaningful time with him, so can’t you just—”
“That’s the only reason he’s even alive.”
Her lips flattened into a grim line. “He didn’t do anything!”
“He’s here.”
“You brought him here!” she shouted.
A second time.
Despite his calm tone.
“No, he came here,” Vaslav corrected, “knowing you were involved in some way with me and expecting at the same time that I wouldn’t intend to have words with him in the meantime. Foolishness. A stupid thought for a man like him. Or maybe he loves you too much to think about the nuances of a man in my position.”
“Maybe that’s what it is,” she said.
His confusion tightened his shoulders. “I don’t—”
“Your position. The real, and proverbial. I don’t have a clue about any of it.” She waved two dainty hands his way and added, “What I see is what I get with you. You keep expecting me to put the rest of the puzzle together but apparently, I also have to make the pieces.”
“You’ll run,” he said.
Vera’s head shook gently. “What does that even mean?”
“Everything you think you want to know ... once you do, you’re gone. And then I’ll have to chase you, kisska. You won’t give me a choice, and as you like to point out, I’ve already taken quite a few of those away from you. What’s really left? How rose-tinted would you like your life to be from here on out, or should I just drop the pretense altogether?”
“Go to hell,” she muttered weakly.
Vaslav laughed, cold and uncaring when he focused his attention back on the wheel of the side-by-side. “You think I’m not a monster beneath the smile you’re so fond of; you think I won’t hurt you because you crave my touch. You have no idea how wrong you are. Vera, I won’t even say sorry.”
“You don’t know that,” she called over the metal clang of him roughly shifting the side-by-side into gear. “You don’t know what I’ll do; you don’t even know if I love you, and I bet that’s what scares you, too. I thought you didn’t like to be called a coward? So why are you being one?”
His foot slammed hard into the brake before the bike could roll more than a few inches forward, and his head snapped to the side. “Kisska—”
The front door slammed shut.
He didn’t even see her go inside.
You silly woman, he thought.
She didn’t fully comprehend what she had just asked for; her unintended challenge met its mark like an arrow straight through the heart. A love like his would absolutely ruin her.
Vaslav shot one last glance at the front door before he hit the gas. Well, then—game on, Vera.
*
The following chilly, damp night found Vaslav reclining in one of the wicker chairs as the sun started to set beyond the trees. Not with the rest of the set in front of the outdoor fire pit, but rather, further down on the hill where the taller grass swayed at his knees when he stood.
Halfway between the house and the tree line.
Almost nowhere.
It felt like it when he was drunk, anyway.
The tip of his finger toyed with the rim of the mostly empty bottle of vodka where it rested between the legs of the chair. It wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t stand to sit outside in nothing more than a thick sweater and denim. He might as well take advantage of the good weather. Or rather, what remained of it.
With eighty proof swimming thick in his veins, he could almost be lulled into a comfortable nap with his neck resting on the curved back of the chair, and each of his legs stretched out in cool, tall grass. If it weren’t for the familiar growl of an engine ...