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“What?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill. She blinked them back, worried that crying would make her seem like a child. “No, Papa. Let’s talk to him. I’m sure there’s a reason someone would say such a thing. An explanation. I can’t call things off until I get his side.”
Papa snorted and waved his hand dismissively. “So he can fill your head with lies? Absolutely not. I have it on good authority he built his business by stealing cars. You can’t believe a word men like that say.”
“Who told you this? One of his enemies, or someone he had to fire?” Was she going to have to beg for an answer? Her father shook his head at her, like she was a stupid, unfortunate girl. “If he had a criminal record, would he even be allowed to leave the country?”
“Doesn’t matter. Maybe he never got caught but that doesn’t make him a good man, just a devious one.” He sucked his teeth for a moment, the sound setting Varushka’s nerves even more on edge. “Devious enough to lie to young girls and make them fall in love with him and his fat wallet.”
Varushka felt like she couldn’t get enough air. Her heart hammered at her ribs. Why did her father have to go so far with this crazy stalker business? He was going to ruin everything! Breathing deeply like Konstantin had trained her to do, she forced herself to calm. She was an adult and she could make her own decisions. Just because Papa was acting like this didn’t mean it was over.
She couldn’t let things with Konstantin be over—not when he made her so happy. For maybe the millionth time on this trip she twisted her engagement ring on her finger. It was the little collar he’d given her. It was the one she could wear in public. Touching the ring made him real again. She could almost feel his fingers in her hair, gentle until he wasn’t . . . And when he wasn’t . . .
“Let’s talk to Baba Nina,” she said reasonably. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have sent me to marry Konstantin if he was a criminal.”
“Don’t be so naive,” he grumbled. “He gives her money. She would
keep her mouth shut. Or maybe she doesn’t know. You can’t trust people like him.”
Oh just shut up, she wanted to yell. Instead she rolled her window down a crack and stuck her fingers out into the wind, glad to get the stench of her own desperation out of her nose.
As soon as they got home, she was making a phone call.
* * *
“Hey, little bird.” His sleepy voice at the end of the line made everything better. Varushka sank into a pile of hay behind the barn and sighed. She wanted to forget the ugly rumor her father had repeated about Konstantin and just talk to him about sexy nonsense things, but she’d never sleep if they didn’t get this sorted out.
“Hey,” she murmured. How did a girl ask the man she loved if he was a car thief?
“How’s your dedushka?” He didn’t yawn, but she could hear in his voice that he was stretching and maybe sitting up in bed. She imagined the sheet falling to his waist and the strong muscles of his chest flexing as he did it. Often when he woke his cock was hard and he was in the mood to snuggle up behind her and cuddlefuck her. She didn’t think there was a word for “cuddlefuck” in Russian. It was a serious shortcoming in her language.
She laid back in the hay and watched the sun as it flirted with the horizon, turning the sky orange, pink, and purple. Nine P.M. here meant four A.M. there. She’d rather be there, in her fiancé’s strong arms, tracing the lines of his tattoos. The only people in Nasva who had tattoos were old men, but the black words inked into his skin made Konstantin look dangerous. It had never occurred to her that the danger might be real.
“He’s not as bad as they made it sound,” she whispered. “I think they were trying to trick me into coming home.”
“They miss you. It’s to be expected,” he replied. “How long do you have to stay until you can come home?”
The way he said “home” made her stomach flutter. He meant their home, not just his. Even she was starting to feel that it was her home. Konstantin made sure she was safe and happy, but he didn’t police her like a father would. He never nagged her about stupid things she already knew about. She was his slave, but he treated her with more respect than anyone else ever had.
“I don’t know. My dad is being strange.” She closed her eyes and plunged on. “He’s convinced you’re a criminal and he’s trying to make me stay here and not marry you.”
“What?” His voice was alert then, like it got when he had too much coffee. “You have to come back. I mean . . . if you want to.”
“He’s being crazy, right? You don’t steal cars to make money on the side?” She laughed, hugging the phone with both hands and wishing he was just as close.
There was a long enough pause that Varushka pulled the phone back from her ear to see if the call had been dropped.
“It was a long time ago,” he said simply. “It was that or starve. I haven’t stolen a car since I was seventeen.”
A wave of dizziness made her glad she was lying down. She stared at a bird wheeling overhead, shocked and trying to decide how she felt about his confession. Her opinion on the matter mattered more than her family’s, didn’t it? It was ridiculous. She was the one marrying him. It was none of her father’s business anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
“It’s ancient history, Varushka. I never got caught and I try not to think about it.” There was no smugness in his voice, only resignation. “I can’t even be charged for it anymore. It’s not something I’m proud of. No one knows except a few of the guys I used to do it with and Banner and Ambrose. I didn’t tell you because I’ve worked hard to put that behind me. I’m not that man anymore.”
She paused. A memory dropped into place, suddenly making sense. “That man we met in the city . . . Fox. He’s one of them, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” He sighed, sounding annoyed, but not with her. “Fox, his brother, and his cousin. We were a force to be reckoned with. They’re still doing it, even though I’ve offered them honest work that pays well. They like the excitement too much.”
“They’re grown men. There’s nothing you can do,” she said. If they’d been as close as he made it sound, severing those relationships must have hurt. At least he had other, better friends, and a grandmother who wanted the best for him. “Does your baba know what you used to do?”
