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Ugh, I don’t want to hear about him being nice and sweet. Those words aren’t supposed to be used to describe him. Aleksander Levin is a killer. He’s a very bad man in too many ways to list—remember that, Phoenix.
Amaya tells me everything that happened to me, in great detail. How I was hours from death, how concerned Aleksander was, the way he sat beside me to give me a blood transfusion directly from his arm to mine. None of it helps me to remember he’s a bad man.
Back in the large room, I hesitate as I get close to the bed. It’s one of those enormous things that normally I wouldn’t have a hard time getting on, but it would take a minute. Now I’m wondering if I can sleep on the floor. Amaya sets down a stepstool. Between it and the fact she’s stronger than she appears, I’m back in bed with only a towel wrapped around me.
There are new bandages and medical tape laid out at the bottom of the bed. She removes the old dressing, swabs it with an alcohol pad and fuck me it stings. Within minutes she’s done and helping me into a silky sleep button shirt with four large buttons down the front of it.
“This easier for you for now. There are other clothes but this for now. Use this moisturizer for skin. Not fancy but better for you.” She hands me a name brand I’ve heard of before but never purchased because of how expensive it is. I accept it and begin applying it to my left arm carefully.
“Why is my arm like this?” I can’t help asking as she ties the sling up again, firmly pressing my left wrist against my breast.
“Less movement. When hand at level for use, people use it. When hand up high, no attempt to use. Heal faster,” she explains.
“What about underwear?” I mumble as I run a hand over the shirt. Holy crap, this isn’t silky, it’s actual silk. Other clothes?
“You hungry? You need to eat.”
It isn’t a question. I shrug as I decide not to push the underwear thing in case I was handed another adult diaper. “I’m not hungry.”
Brown eyes tell me she isn’t above forcing me to eat. I give in since she was nice enough to help me with everything—whether it’s her job or not doesn’t matter. “Okay, I’m not picky.”
“Be right back.”
Giving up on applying the moisturizer to my legs, since bending over hurt like a motherfucker, I study the room. The walls are covered in a rich blue and silver wallpaper while the floor is thick, wide dark wood floors. A large rug in blue, silver, and browns is beneath the bed and almost the edges of the room. I’m in awe of the enormous glass wall. I never took the time to really see the skyscrapers in the city. Until I found out Milos and Aleksander lived in the Hancock building, I hadn’t been on Michigan Avenue since the year Ray disappeared.
This is supposed to be where I live, my new home. Aleksander has lost his mind. I wonder if I’m still dreaming or something. I don’t remember any dreams from the time I was out—only a sense of peace. Peace I hadn’t known before. The same peace I felt when Aleksander wrapped his arms around me. In his arms I was safe, no one would hurt me ever again. If they did they would have to go through Aleksander to do it. And no one would dare go up against him.
No, stop thinking like that. Aleksander Levin is dangerous. The reason no one would dare go up against him is because of how dangerous he is. Don’t you dare fall for him not letting you die as him doing something nice, as him being nice. Aleksander Levin isn’t nice or a good man. If he thought he could get away with it, I’d be dead right now.
Amaya is back carrying a plate with a peanut butter sandwich on white bread. I freeze at the smell of it. “I’m allergic.” I push the words out. “I’m allergic to peanut butter.”
Her eyes go wide. “I’m sorry. I get you something else.”
Closing my eyes, I nod. “Thank you. I should have told you—I wasn’t expecting it.”
“It’s okay.” I breathe deep as I battle to even out my breathing, no freaking out.You’re fine. It’s fine.
She’s back sooner than I expect. “Piroshki?”
“What’s in it?” I take the small plate with a puff pastry on it. It looks good.
“Mushroom and mashed potato. Very good.”
Cutting into it, it smells good. It tastes even better. I manage two bites before I’m desperate for something to drink. She hands me a glass of ice water.
“Thank you. This is really good. Did you make it?”
“Oh no, Mr. Aleksander, he has housekeeper. She come in and cook and clean for him.” She’s tidying the already clean room.
“Are you a real nurse?” I’m curious.
She nods as she tucks the bedsheets in around me. “I am studying to be doctor. I was nurse in Belarus. When I come to America no one hire me as nurse. They say I need to go to school here again and get license. I can only afford to become CNA and I hate it. Mrs. Levin, she tell Doctor about me. I work for him over a year and I can afford school full time. Eat more.”
I manage a few more bites but the pain is coming back. She gives me a pill and tells me to sleep. So I do.
* * *
Aleksander
