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The Grachev Bratva has maintained a tight leash on the crime levels. Arsen kept his word to Josh, staying under the radar while his organization flourished. And, credit to Josh, he's stayed out of their way. How those two have gotten along without killing each other is a mystery. Perhaps fatherhood has tamed them both?
My car's headlights glint over the painted lines along the curb in front of Tsar's Lounge. I haven't been here since that fateful night years ago, when I was shoved into the backseat of a car by a man I used to hate.
I hope he hasn't been waiting long, I think, parking my car. I double-check my makeup in my center mirror. There'd been just enough time between leaving the ballet rehearsal to dodge into the studio's bathroom, throw on the slinky red dress I'd brought from home, then toss my hair up in a messy bun before patting on a quick bit of rouge lipstick and mascara.
I'm not actually worried about how I look. Arsen would tackle me if I was wearing a trash bag, but I want him to know I'm excited about tonight... that I'm trying to put in the effort. Oh, don't forget that! Ducking over to the passenger seat I grab the tiny silver package.
Locking my car, I shiver in the brisk night wind. The air has the stale taste of a snow storm on the cusp of arrival. I'd forgotten to pack a tasteful cardigan or bolero, so I accept my penance and cross the street in nothing but my heels and glittery dress. I glance around furtively, hoping nobody will catcall me... and I notice there's no one around.
It's not that late, there should be a ton of cars parked outside. I don't see any people loitering, either. Approaching the lounge gives me a funny sense of deja vu. Nudging the front door open, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Once they do I confirm what I suspected. Nobody is here?
Frowning uneasily, I shut the door and walk further inside. There's a rhythmic beat piping through the speakers in the walls, purple lights shifting all over the room to create long shadows that change with every second. "Hello?" I call out.
Crossing my arms, I tap a finger on my bare elbow, scanning for evidence that Arsen is here because I'm sure he is. I can read him like a book.
My attention zips to the VIP section. Nodding to myself, I take long strides, my heels clicking on the hard floor as I go.
“Arsen?” I peel the beaded curtains aside to reveal the interior of the private room.
His back is to me; he turns, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other. They’re white and a shade of red so deep they verge on black. Flowers from his own garden. The chocolate brown dress shirt strains to contain his broad chest, and when he approaches me with his angled smirk, I catch a whiff of sandalwood.
"I was beginning to think you'd bailed on me."
"Oh god, no!" I assure him. "I'm really sorry. Work got crazy. I should have called you so you'd know why I was late."
Arsen rakes his eyes over my body. I swear I can feel them on the curves of my breasts and hips in my tight dress. "You're forgiven."
I tremble from how hot his desire gets me. I make sure he sees me checking him out as well. "Here," I say, passing him the silver package. "Happy anniversary."
He looks at the present with his brow scrunching. "When I planned this date, I imagined giving you your gift first." We trade items; me, the flowers, and him the present. He places the champagne on the knee-high table in the middle of the room.
"I hope you like it," I say with a tiny smile. The roses smell amazing, I inhale them a few times while watching him unwrap his gift. Arsen holds up the crystalline bottle shaped like a swan. "It's vodka," I explain. "I wanted to find a goose, but no one makes bottles like that I guess."
Laughing as understanding warms his eyes, he turns the bottle in his hands to study it. "Our trip to my cabin really left an impression on you. Your turn." Setting the vodka carefully on the table he plucks a green velvet box from his pocket.
I take it, opening it with reverence as my heart begins to thud. "Oh, Arsen," I whisper. The necklace inside the box is as gold as the sun. The chain links are delicate enough that I'm afraid they'll break when I lift it. In the center of the necklace is a pendant shaped like a bird's cage.
Turning it in the light makes the bird inside twinkle.
He's watching me intensely, an eagerness in his face that transfers to his hands; they flex at his sides. "What do you think?"
The necklace twirls as it dangles in my fingers. Ptichka. Once upon a time, I'd used his nickname for me against him. But I'm not longer trapped in a cage. Bars don't surround me to throttle my ability to fly, they're a barrier to protect me from enemies who wish me harm.
"I love it."
Approaching me, he motions for me to pass the necklace to him. I do, spinning to face away. Arsen sweeps his fingers lightly over the bare skin of my shoulders. I've thrown my hair up, there's nothing for him to brush away—he's just looking for an excuse to touch me. He places the necklace around my neck, his breath tickling on my skin as he clicks the latch.
"Three years."
"At this rate we'll hit ten before we realize," I laugh.
"I'm looking forward to celebrating our hundredth. I love you, my ptichka."
My chest tightens from the swell of emotion. "I love you, too," I whisper, reaching to cup his jaw. His lips graze my ear. I moan on impulse, leaning my weight into his chest. Arsen slips his palms down my naked arms until he traces the insides of my wrists. His aim shifts, hands running up my stomach, over my ribs, through the valley of my breasts.
My hips grind backwards, finding his erection at full force. Heat attacks my pussy; I push my knees together, enjoying how squeezing my legs makes the pressure building in me feel even better. Sliding my hand between us I rub the front of his pants—he hisses through clenched teeth.
"Are we really alone in here?" I whisper.
"Very much so," he promises me.
“Good.” Grinning, I back away, then push him as hard as I can. He topples to sit on the huge black sofa, staring at me in surprise. "I don't want anyone to hear us celebrating."
THE END
