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“You’re welcome in our home anytime,” Konstantin replied, smiling as genuinely as he could. The vein in his neck pulsed, urging him to run back to New York. Alone.
But he was a man. He’d made his bed and he’d lie in it.
* * *
A little bird.
Varushka clung to his hand and he felt every tiny bone against his palm and fingers. The plane bumped along as it descended, unaware of the terror it was inspiring in one of its passengers. The girl’s chest heaved, her breathing shallow and erratic. Eyes wide and wild, she was like a sparrow frantic to escape an unfamiliar cage.
Konstantin covered the back of her hand with his other one and made shushing sounds close to her ear. The poor sweet thing. This was only the first of a million things that might be a difficult adjustment in her new life with him. Knowing that all the fear she’d experience in the next few weeks would be his fault dredged up a fresh wave of guilt.
He was a bit of a sadist, but not that kind of sadist.
Why had he given in to Baba when she’d insisted on this? Of course, he’d always had a soft spot where Baba was concerned, but this went above and beyond familial duty. Frightening innocent young girls wasn’t his kink.
“Anytime now the plane’s wheels will come down, and you’ll feel it happen underneath us. There’s nothing wrong. This is what it feels like every time a plane lands.”
He wasn’t sure she was listening. The desperation in her eyes gave him the impression she was in her own private hell. She probably couldn’t hear anything except her own breathing.
When reassurance didn’t work, he moved on to plan B.
“Varushka,” he said sharply.
Her eyes cleared as though she was listening, but she looked a bit afraid of him.
“In life, there are a lot of things to be afraid of. Traveling by plane is not one of them. Now, you will relax your body, and focus on slowing down your breathing. Your mind and body are feeding off of each other’s panic. Stop. Now.” His tone was calm and firm. It was the sort of tone he used with a submissive who started to panic when she was bound.
The girl’s gaze clung to his face. She drew a slow, shaking breath, then another, using him as her focal point. She saw him rather than looking through him.
“Good girl.” He had the urge to pet her hair, but contented himself with stroking the back of her hand. “Relax your muscles. In ten minutes the plane will be on the ground. Almost done.”
Konstantin could tell she was trying hard not to cry.
It felt like the longest ten minutes of his life, but eventually the seat belt light turned off. As they disembarked, he kept hold of her hand, noticing the way her legs still trembled below the hem of her dress.
She looked adorable, even in the cheap dress that gave the impression it had been purchased in the children’s section of a discount department store. Konstantin wouldn’t have been surprised if someone thought she was too young for him. Sure, she was an adult and old enough to make her own decisions, but her innocence was palpable even to the casual observer.
They went to baggage claim and he retrieved their things. He kept a steadying hand on the girl as often as he could. She rubbernecked, and now that the fear of the plane had passed, she was greeting strangers politely, as though they were new friends she’d just had the pleasure of meeting. Anyone looking to take advantage of an easy mark would pick her out of a crowd in under a minute.
When they got to his car, she stood outside the passenger door and stared at it as though she was used to traveling by oxcart. He opened the door for her and helped her in, then buckled her seat belt, as she didn’t seem inclined to do it herself. He threw the suitcase and his duffel bag in the back.
Varushka was staring at him, astounded, when he slid into the driver’s seat.
“What?”
“Do all Americans own fancy new cars?” She ran a tentative hand over the dash, as though she was stroking a dog.
Considering the question, he pulled out of the parking space. “There’s a mix of new and old, just like there are in most other countries. Maybe we have more new cars than you do in Russia.” He shrugged. “I never really thought about it.” At least, he hadn’t thought about it in a long time.
“Of course you can afford a nice car.” She laughed timidly. “You just spend so much money on people in Nasva, I was surprised you had any left to spend on yourself.”
“I’m not a priest. I haven’t taken a vow of poverty.” Or any other sort of vow.
He tried to remember back to when he was a child and he’d moved here with his parents. He had a vague recollection of everything seeming shinier and newer. Of life moving faster and seeming less within his control. But that was a long time ago, when his parents had still been alive. The world flowed around him now, rather than him trying to adjust to the world.
Maneuvering through the city, Konstantin watched traffic while stealing glimpses of Varushka as she took in the sights. He pointed out landmarks as they passed. Once she was settled in, he’d have to take her sightseeing. New York City had plenty to impress her with, though he’d lived too close for too long to be dazzled by what it had to offer. He’d much rather take her to the beach house or one of his other recreational properties, where they could relax.
