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She hands me a full wineglass, and I nearly drop it. “Um. Thanks.” I take a sip and the crisp sweetness that hits my tongue nearly makes me moan.
“Valentina,” Mikhail begins excitedly, a little twinkle in his eye as he looks between me and the woman, “meet my sister, Celia. She’s designing your wedding dress.”
I nearly choke on my drink. Andrei and I have been planning the wedding, but I hadn’t realized someone was already working on my dress. I thought I’d have to shop from a catalog or something.
“Oh,” Celia chides, smacking her brother’s arm. “We can talk business later. Here, let’s sit.” We follow her into a living space that’s masterfully designed, with white upholstery and a glass coffee table. Celia curls her legs beneath her on a large sofa and cradles her wineglass against her chest.
Mikhail clears his throat as we get settled on opposite sides of the table. “I actually need to make a call.” He leans down to press a kiss to the top of my head. “We’re in no rush, Valentina, so relax.”
“What happened to no detours?” I raise an eyebrow, and he smiles brilliantly, like he isn’t in danger of getting in trouble.
“Leave Andrei to me, malyshka. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He walks out of the room, and I’m left with only my wine, my nerves, and Mikhail’s sister, Celia.
I take another sip of heaven as Celia studies me.
“Mm-hmm. I knew from your picture that you were pretty, but you look fabulous in person. I’m so glad that dress suits you. How have you been enjoying your new clothes?”
“How do you know about that?”
Is Mikhail a chatterbox, after all?
She rolls her eyes, and even that seems delicate. “I see Mikhail’s told me all about you, but he hasn’t so much as mentioned me.” Even as she shakes her head, she laughs, the sound like silver bells. “Mikhail called me in such a tizzy the other day. Said that you were back at the estate and needing an entire wardrobe for all the fun things you’d be up to in the city. It’s rare I get the chance to dress someone up and plan their entire brand, so I had a ball picking out everything for you! But you’ll have to let me know which pieces you liked most, and which you haven’t worn. I might have an eye for what fits, but that doesn’t mean they’re all your style.”
She suddenly smacks the couch pillow by her side. “Oh! Look at me go on.” Smiling apologetically, she takes a small breath. “Sorry, I get a bit carried away. I run a boutique here in the city. You just happened to catch me on a day off at home.” She tilts her head toward me, like she’s about to reveal a secret. “That’s rare for anyone in this family. We’re usually up to our eyeballs in work.” Her gaze flicks toward the room where Mikhail disappeared. “Case in point. Your boyfriend’s working right now when he should be in here with you.”
I set my wineglass down a little too hard and the glass-on-glass screeches. “Oh, he’s not?—”
Celia waves her hand at me. “Please. He’s always pestering me about what to get you as a gift. He never puts that kind of thought into anything other than business. Trust me, he’s your boyfriend, even if you don’t see him as one.”
My cheeks warm, and this time, it isn’t from the wine. I can’t think of what to say.
I’m having an affair with your brother, and you’re stuck designing a wedding dress for me to marry his best friend.
But really, is it an affair if all three men are knowingly involved?
Celia nods sympathetically. “It’s complicated, I know. These things always are.” She reaches across the coffee table and squeezes my knee affectionately. “But don’t worry, I’m not judging. In fact, I’m a little jealous.”
This time, it’s her turn to blush. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like with two men. You know, in the bedroom.” She takes another sip of her wine. “Or, well, outside of it too, really. Or all the time. Do they take turns? Do you go on dates with both of them? What’s the sleeping situation like? Mikhail won’t tell me, no matter how many times I ask.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek as I try to come up with an answer. “We haven’t really...discussed all of that.” I feel my blush deepening as my mind drifts back to the time we did spend together. All four of us. “It’s been happening kind of fast...with all three of them.”
Celia’s eyebrows lift past her bangs. “Whoa. Hold on. Three of them? Who’s the third guy?”
As she rattles off possible suspects, ranging from the muscled landscaper to the greased-up mechanic, I find myself laughing and joking along with her, coming up with even more ridiculous possibilities. Once we’ve exhausted our creativity about who, we start rattling off steamy scenarios about where and how, imagining all the ways in which all three of my lovers end up naked in the same room as me.
At first, the jokes feel impersonal, like we’re making fun of my budding relationship with three Russian mafiosos, but the longer we talk about it and the more ridiculous the scenarios we fabricate, I realize that this is bonding.
I’ve never had a girlfriend before, and Celia’s more than happy to set the bar high for all who come after her.
More wine is shared, and once we’ve settled that I’m also banging the hot bodyguard, we quickly shift into more serious conversation.
Celia empties her wineglass before giving me a long look. “Let me be honest with you, Valentina. My brother...can be a hard man to love.” She stares into her empty glass for a long moment. “It’s not his fault. I don’t think he tries to be difficult. But it takes a different kind of woman to love a man like him. Like any of them. You have to be tough and unyielding, or the lifestyle will break you.”
She squeezes my hand and gives me a sad smile. “These men pick one woman. That’s it. You’re it for them. So, if you can’t handle this life...” She trails off with a sigh. “I know you left before. It’s all anyone’s talked about for five years.” Her gaze hardens as she leans back, glances out the room to make sure Mikhail is out of earshot, then returns to me. “My brother is stubborn. He can handle a lot. When our dad died, Mikhail picked up everything like he was meant for the transition. Like it was smooth.” She pulls a sour face. “But we both know that when Dad died, he left the company in shambles. He’d been funneling money out of it for weeks to hatch some sort of escape plan.”
The story sounds eerily familiar, and I shiver as the memory of the cold wind on the beach rises to the surface. Mikhail’s story about the man who was never buried.
I didn’t realize that was his father.
