Vera, already swinging her hips to the faster beat, admitted, “That might have unintentionally been the plan.”
“Are you doing a honeymoon away from Moscow later?”
“Probably not, but I don’t care.”
She was happy.
Could Hannah see it?
Her friend glowed with her own inner joy. It was hard to miss. “Well, you know the villa is taken care of with me, right?”
Vera winked. “Oh, so you’re not planning to throw one of your infamous parties, then?”
“Are you giving me permission?”
As quick as ever.
Hannah couldn’t turn the opportunity down.
Vera barked a sharp laugh. “Hell no.”
Hannah pouted her painted-red lips exaggeratedly. “You’re no fun.” She nodded at the sectional where it’d been shoved against the wall. “Let’s sit.”
Vera’s feet throbbed.
A little.
She still didn’t regret opting for the shoes with a small heel, but she didn’t refuse Hannah’s offer when it meant she could rest her feet, either.
With a sigh, she agreed, “Yeah I need a break. Nobody told me that somebody had created an entire playlist of music to dance to.”
“You didn’t need to worry about that, too.” Hannah beamed—the smug pride clear—as the two women fell into the plush leather cushions of the couch side by side. Her friend’s eyes twinkled in that familiar way that Vera only associated with Hannah.
“And thank you for doing that,” Vera said, wanting her friend to know just how much she appreciated every little touch Hannah put on her special day. The memories were absolutely everything to Vera. “The music, the breakfast with my mom this morning. Even—”
Hannah lifted one shoulder, interjecting with, “At this point, you’re basically my only friend. And that’s fine. I needed to get away from the noise everyone else makes to figure out who I am. Yeah, Vera, I’d do anything for you. You already kind of did that for me.”
It was that moment when one of the men who had slipped out of the room earlier decided to make a return.
Igor nodded with a tight smile at Vera’s mother and father as he passed them in the entryway. It softened with more kindness when his attention landed on Vera and Hannah. He came to stand in front of them, folding his hands behind his back. Beside her, Hannah instantly fidgeted; she glanced down but it didn’t hide the new wash of color in her cheeks. Vera couldn’t miss it.
Hell, Igor hadn’t even opened his mouth to speak yet.
Yep.
Hannah had a crush.
Vera didn’t know exactly when it started, or where. She didn’t point out that the awkward panic Hannah had first felt around Igor was practically non-existent now.
“Do you want to have a dance with me, sweets?” Igor asked.
Hannah was quick to look up then, but not before tossing a glance at Vera. “Maybe, yeah.”
“Is it maybe, or yeah?”
That question had Hannah smirking back, probably ready with a quippy reply.
Vera decided to leave the two to their verbal foreplay, and whatever else was happening. “I’m going to find my husband,” she said, pushing up from the couch.
The two she left behind didn’t say goodbye.
Or they didn’t have the sense to.
2.
“You’re back to that again, yeah?”
Vaslav didn’t acknowledge the fact that he had heard Igor’s question from the doorway of the den. Instead, he took another swig from the glass filled with ice and cold water. Only then did he spin around on his office chair to face the waiting man. Igor stayed in the doorway, haloed by the brighter hallway lights. He didn’t move past the threshold. A new thing the man had started doing ever since Vaslav drew the invisible line he refused to cross between them.
The Kiril line.
“Say that again?” Vaslav asked, pretending like he hadn’t heard Igor and inviting the man to stick his foot even farther into his mouth. “I didn’t quite catch it, Igor.”
He didn’t actually wait for Igor to respond before he tossed back the handful of pills he’d been hiding in his palm. What liquid remained in his glass helped to wash the pills back.
Bogdan was all too happy to write a prescription if his patient promised to follow directions and show up to appointments—he even made it possible for Vaslav to have his medications delivered.
He didn’t necessarily promise to follow all of the doctor’s rules, even if he did say what he had to in order to make the man more agreeable. It was what it was.
Vaslav was trying.
What more did they all want?
“Does Vera know that you’re back to popping pills and chugging liquor?” Igor asked, getting straight to the point the second time around. “Alone in your den in the dark, I might add.”
Usually, Vaslav liked blunt and straightforward. Igor was lucky that at the moment, Vaslav at least respected the fact that he was both.
“I’m happy to see you’ve found your balls,” he told his oldest friend.
“And that’s not an answer to my question,” Igor returned, still chill where he stood in the doorway with his hands tucked loosely in his pockets.
Vaslav gave Igor credit—if due, so be it.
The man showed up for the day. He even wore the pale yellow vest and bowtie set that Vera picked out to match Hannah’s gown. Igor didn’t complain, wasn’t late, and never let his true mood be known to the rest of the people around them that day. He let the woman of the hour have her day to shine and be adored, and Vaslav truly appreciated that from Igor.
All things considered.
Setting the glass to the top of his desk, Vaslav pushed two fingers down through freezing ice cubes until the tips of his digits were able to touch the mouthful of liquid that remained at the very bottom. Pulling his fingers back out just as fast, he flicked the droplets of water that had gathered at the tips in Igor’s direction. The other man didn’t so much as flinch.
Vaslav snorted. “It’s water and ice. Not vodka, or anything else, yeah? Mira brought it to me. She knows I need to take my pills around this—”
“Since when do you keep a schedule for your Vicodin and sleeping pills?”
“It was more than just those,” Vaslav shot back hotly.
Not that it did him any favors to admit it.
Igor didn’t react except to say, “But that’s not really the point, is it?”
Dammit.
Instead of outright explaining the schedule of his current meds—and because he refused to feed Igor’s current need to provoke Vaslav’s aggression—he yanked open a drawer on the desk, and from it, pulled a pillbox made up of twenty-one steel boxes.
Three rows of seven.
Morning, noon, and night.
Each box had a top, engraved with the day of the week and designated time of day, that could be easily flipped open. At first glance, one might not see the engravings depending on the light. It didn’t look like the standard pillbox that came to his mind. That’s also what he liked the most about it.
Vaslav popped open the next evening’s designated box and dumped out the few pills waiting inside to the top of his desk. They scattered across the old gloss until every single one came to a stop in different places. All the while, Igor didn’t move a muscle.