“Go inside and get warm, Natalie. And relax, this is a good thing.”
Then he was gone, leaving my lips bruised and my mind in turmoil. Lost in my thoughts, I made my way up the stairs—
I started when Filip stepped in front of me on the landing.
There was fury in his eyes. “Have fun with the guard dog?”
Chapter 22
“I’ve been so worried about you!” Jess exclaimed when I called her that night.
“Really?” I’d kind of been worried about myself after Filip’s meltdown just hours ago. “What’s up?”
“Gee, I don’t know, maybe the fact that some mafiya thug wants to off my best friend.”
Oh, that. “Then why didn’t you call me on the new number I gave you?”
“How the hell do you call Russia from Greece? It’s like trying to figure out rela-fucking-tivity. And still, I gave it several shots. Of Ouzo. Seriously, you have no idea how much your situation is affecting me. I’ve been stress-eating my way across Greece.”
I frowned. “You don’t stress-eat—”
“Cock, Natalie. I was stress-eating cock. There, you made me say it, happy now?”
“Opa!”
“Twat.”
“Bitch.” Despite my foul mood, I had to check a grin. “I take it your trip was a success.”
“Of course it was. But I don’t want to talk about me, Richie Rich. I wanna know that you’re safe.”
Define “safe.” “I’ve been perfectly fine.”
She took me at my word. “So give me the details then! Tell me all about your gangster rumspringa.”
How to begin? I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. I was back to my old Natalie self—no hint of Natalya—but if I were fanciful, I’d say my eyes were more . . . knowing. “It might not be just a rumspringa. Kovalev wants me to stay on.” Any other woman would kill for an opportunity to live in a place like this, to get to know her father and study at a new university.
To be with a man as glorious and sexy as Sevastyan.
Radio silence from Jess. Then finally: “And you’re giving the prospect actual thought?”
“I’m feeling, uh, a little pressure to stay.” I told her about the last two weeks, the insane amount of gifts, my growing phobia of mass quantities of money, and the looming danger.
When I’d finished, she said, “You haven’t mentioned the cage-fighter unicorn.”
“I guess you could say we’ve gotten . . . involved.” How to explain this confusing situation? Sevastyan’s complicated nature? “With him, everything is extreme.” Just as Paxán had said. “The man is extremely sexy, complex, infuriating. Sometimes I feel like I’m already in love with him; sometimes I feel like I should be running the other way. Bottom line, I am extremely confused.” I detailed for her the highlights of our relationship and the specter of plight-hood, then gave her a blow-by-blow (har) of what had happened in the banya.
“That is so hot! You just gave me a wetty. Fap, fap, fap.”
“Will you be serious? Talk of bondage and whipping doesn’t even make you raise a brow?”
“Please. Nothing between consenting adults fazes me.” True to form, she zeroed in on her favorite detail: “You’ve STILL got your skin tag? Come on, Nat, this is getting ridiculous. Are you thinking with your vaj?”
“No!”
“There’s your problem right there.”
“Jess, I was hoping to get some real, unvarnished advice. I worry that I’m different because of that encounter, that I’m changed. But here’s the thing: I think . . . I think he might be too.”