The Beauty Who Loved Him by Bethany-Kris

10.

“I thought you weregrabbing your shoes from the den?”

Vera didn’t startle at the sudden appearance of Vaslav behind her despite the fact she hadn’t even heard his approach. Showing him the flats that dangled from her fingers, a pair Kiril had included in a bag he packed of her belongings, she said, “I did.”

He seemed to notice the section of pictures in matte black frames that had caught her attention in the main hall. Vera never had the chance to properly browse the walls upon walls of images that spanned at least a century. There were more faces that she didn’t recognize than ones she did. Until she came upon the ones of Irina.

Guessing by the similarly dressed people in the background, and the grand hall with sweeping silks hanging from the ceiling between large chandeliers, Vera believed it was an event of some sort.

She eyed Vaslav as he leaned a bit closer, needing to come over her shoulder as he squinted at the small four by six inch framed images of his dead wife. Tall and thin, Irina wore a gown that accentuated her elegance with a bodice covered in multi-sized white pearls that contoured to her body from her hips up. Those pearls continued down the sleeves where they stopped at her wrists. The entire skirt of the dress, made of silk and sheer chiffon, billowed in wind Vera couldn’t feel.

She smiled brightly.

Radiating from the frame.

The other images featured a handful of women that Vera didn’t recognize and didn’t intend to ask about. Only two of the pictures featured Vaslav scowling at the camera in a black tuxedo.

“I’m not fond of getting my picture taken,” he said. “She wrangled me in for a few that day; it isn’t every day you shake the hand of the Russian President.”

“Are there anymore—”

“No, those are what survived.”

Vera blinked. “Survived what?”

The way he was quick to move back from the wall of photos had Vera spinning around on her heels. Just in enough time to see the flinch race down the left side of Vaslav’s face. He quickly rubbed it away with the pads of his fingertips, scowling all the while.

“You don’t have to explain.”

He dragged in a lungful of air, and muttered under his breath before saying, “We had a fight a couple of nights before she was killed, it’s why I wasn’t home. Part of the reason.”

Foolishly, maybe, Vera thought he would say the other pictures from his wedding had been ruined in one of his fits. Had he lied and said exactly that, she would have easily believed him.

“She had them all displayed in the master suites, and they were fodder to fire that night,” he explained, letting out the air he’d been holding as he spoke. Vera thought she might have seen a bit of tension release from his chest as it fell with the exhale, but he was terribly hard to read sometimes.

“Truth is,” Vaslav said, staring past Vera at the photos that had been hung without any real rhyme or reason much like the rest on the main entry, “it wasn’t even the third time we’d taken to throwing picture frames at one another and screaming across the room back and forth. Mira was just quicker about saving what could be salvaged after a brawl between the two of us by then. She knew how to manage that hurricane coming through.”

Vera bet it was with a discreet quickness, too. After all, there was no way the woman who shared rooms just above Vaslav’s private suite in the home didn’t hear the things that went on between him and Vera, hell, she’d walked in on it more than once. Yet, it was as if the woman had an ingrained—or well learned—sense of minding her own damn business.

“The rest of these,” he added, gesturing to the many, many walls of photos and family portraits, “ended up getting moved to the hall over the years. Some of it came from storage, and the rest came from different rooms I had renovated. Mira calls it my hall of ghosts. I find some of the pictures help me retain different things ... memories, in a way. Or at least, the story of them.”

Calling it his hall of ghosts didn’t make it more appealing. Vera had other things to focus on, however.

“You told me you loved her.”

A choppy chuckle muffled into Vaslav’s hand. “I did, too much.”

“But you fought—”

“Like cats and fucking dogs,” he muttered with a dark laugh. “All the time, no? We had a way of picking at one another. Finding that pressure point and digging right in just because we could. I wasn’t any better than her, it was like foreplay. She didn’t know anything different, and I liked that meanness in her more than I should have.”

Vera couldn’t imagine craving a love full of volatility and viciousness. Never mind needing it. “Because it reminded you of yours?”

Vaslav nodded once. “In every way.”

“How can you smile about that?”

“Am I? Well.”

He even scrubbed a palm down his mouth but the grin stretching his lips remained. The thing was, he hadn’t stopped looking at the section of photos, even as he spoke with her. Vera moved beside him and curled her arm in along his. Laying her cheek against his lower bicep, she said, “She looks happy there.”

“I remember it being a good night. That was the first time we met properly but I had been in her circles for a while. It was all good, really.”

“Even the bad bits, the fights and all of that?”

She glanced up to see his brow fall a bit at the question.

“Hurt people hurt people,” Vaslav finally settled on saying.

“That’s not a clear answer.”

Vaslav shrugged, and leaned down to press a featherlight, and unexpected, kiss on the top of her head that made Vera smile. “Complicated things usually aren’t ... hmm?”

Fair enough.

“You should get your bag ready,” he told her after pulling away. “Igor called. Kiril is ten minutes away, and he’s in the mood to make the drive to the city tonight.”

She had been shocked when he let Kiril take the ROV out for a rip just because the kid asked. Vaslav agreed on two conditions. Kiril wore the helmet, no excuses. He also had to stay off the neighbor’s nearby properties.

“I could stay another night,” she offered.

What was one more on top of the week she’d already spent alone with him? Not that every night was as good as the last, some were harder than others with his shifting moods and varying pain levels, but she didn’t have anything to complain about. And frankly, she didn’t have anything else to do.

Vaslav arched an eyebrow. “I hear you have a friend to see, and I know you have a dress to buy.”

Vera’s nose scrunched up. “You were listening to my call last night?”

She hadn’t expected the late-night call from Hannah in Italy, but it made a lot more sense when her friend explained she’d finally gotten details about her ex-husband’s funeral. Hannah intended on attending no matter how much Vera tried to convince her friend that it might not be a good idea.

Hannah wasn’t hearing it.

I need this, she’d told Vera. I need to know it’s real.

How could she argue with that? In the end, Vera offered Hannah a place to stay so she didn’t have to room in a hotel for a couple of days, and even to attend the funeral of Viktor Antonovich. As long as her friend promised the two could stay out of sight and out of the way while they did it.

“Hannah sounded very upset,” Vaslav noted.

He had the nerve to look serious.

Not at all guilty of eavesdropping.

“Knock it off, Vas.”

He smirked, saying, “Listen, you have things to handle, and you might as well take the time to do it because you can’t get anything done here with me.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Vera had an event coordinator to find to plan a small wedding in a very short amount of time. Vaslav had already made it clear where he wanted the wedding to take place, and the man he intended to marry the two of them. If those things were already settled, and Vera didn’t really have a reason to argue about it, then that made some things simpler for her. She still needed to return to The Swan House to get what remained of her things. The longer she left her belongings in the locker, the better chance she had of not getting it back. Even if it was just an old pair of ballet shoes she couldn’t even wear and a change of clothes ... that didn’t matter to her.

It was still hers.

Feliks might have proven how much Vera was worth to him, but she wouldn’t give the bastard anything extra in the meantime.

“I’ll still be here when you get things rounded up,” Vaslav said. “Hell, I might even drop in for a date.”

That had Vera brightening. “A date, like ...” She waved a finger between the two of them. “With me and you?”

“Da, yes.”

Vera shut one eye. “Really?”

He didn’t seem like the type considering the amount of effort he put into staying at home. Literally. While the people around him, Igor, Mira, and even Kiril, came and went from the house and property without much fanfare, Vaslav couldn’t say the same. She didn’t want to call him a hermit, but he certainly wasn’t living a very public life, either.

“If things go right,” he settled on saying.

She didn’t have a clue what he meant.

Then, Vaslav nodded her way. “Get an appropriate dress for that, too, yeah? While you’re already out shopping for something white.”

“What, a date?”

“Yes, a second dress for a date.”

He was still on that?

Vera shook her head. “I don’t know what kind of imaginary date you’re planning so how—”

“It’s not imaginary, kisska.”

“I’m just saying.”

He gave her a pensive look.

She winked right back.

“At least tell me what kind of dress to look for,” she said.

“Tasteful. Black. Formal, but not too ...” Vaslav pulled a long face. “Black-tie.”

“Like an event?”

“Oh, I’m not going to any event.”

“But I need a formal black dress,” she pressed.

He shrugged. “They’re good to have.”

“I already have five.”

“Pick a new one.”

“Are you paying?”

That earned her a sharp laugh, and almost like it was on cue, Vaslav pulled an item from the back pocket of his slacks. “Actually, kisska, I am. And for anything else you might need, too.”

He held the card up for her to see. Black all around with gold lettering that spelled out her name, the card number, and the expiration date, he spun it between two fingers, and then yanked it out of her reach when she tried to grab it.

“Does that say Vera Pashkov?” she asked.

He still held it out of reach. “Patience is a virtue.”

“If you wanted a virtuous woman, you wouldn’t like bending me over as much as you do.” The amused shock that danced over Vaslav’s otherwise stony expression had Vera grinning herself. She took his momentary distraction as a chance to snatch the shiny black credit card out of his hand before he had a chance to stop her.

Sure enough, Vera found it was her first name on the card. The surname, however, came from the man across from her. Interestingly enough, despite the two-tone double circles made of solid colors to say it was a credit card, there was no other branding to tie the card to a bank.

Vera opened her mouth to ask how exactly he managed to get the card, less interested now in the new surname, but he stopped her from saying a thing when his hand snagged her wrist in a cuff-like grip. He took one yank of her arm for Vera to stumble into Vaslav, and she swore her heart felt each of those shaky steps. The organ raced out of control inside her ribcage when the man flattered her chest against his when he pushed his hand against the small of her back, and he stared down at her.

“What?” Vera asked.

He didn’t even blink. “I’m not sure what I want to do now.”

“What?”

Just like a parrot.

Vaslav didn’t seem to mind.

“A part of me would like to show you what happens to people who take things from my hands just to make sure you won’t do it again,” he said, his piercing stare skipping down to where her lips still curved with her sly smile. It was the way he sneered back, as annoyed as he was bemused by her antics but with a much shorter fuse than most people, that kept Vera in place. “And then you stand there, and you smile at me like you’ve won something, and that’s all I fucking see.”

Her brow puckered with her next question. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

She didn’t think so.

Vaslav let go of her wrist, he’d not taken the card back from her, but his other hand at the small of her back didn’t leave, keeping her crushed against him. She felt every breath; for a man who didn’t like to be around other people, he didn’t seem to mind keeping her close.

She didn’t get to look at the card again. He distracted her with the sweep of his fingers along the wispy pieces of her hair that framed her face. Then, he tapped the high point on her cheekbone with the pad of his index finger, making sure he gaze didn’t move from his for even a split second.

“The card came in with the courier the day before your father left,” he explained, that hand of his at her back tapping all five fingers like her spine was his personal drum to make a beat. “It was in the works the day after you gave the go ahead on a wedding. I’m aware you have a good deal of money to your name, and I won’t even consider touching it. The card, however, covers everything else from here on out. There is not a limit, or a bottom.”

“So no spankings if I spend more than I should?” Vera asked with wide eyes just to seem all the more innocent. As fake as it was.

Vaslav knew it, too. “Right. Just ask for that, yeah? As for the name on the card, you little witch—”

Vera’s grin widened even further. “Tell me you don’t like it.”

Vaslav didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t think you would mind if I assumed you’d want a more western influence on your marriage name.”

She couldn’t deny that he melted her heart into a beatless puddle with the news. It wasn’t something she considered. This had been fast, and while a piece of her felt like it had known him her entire life ... There was still a lot to learn. His consideration of her homeland was terribly sweet because he had proven on more than one occasion that he didn’t think of others very often, if at all.

She knew better than to point it out.

Vera went the opposite direction when she asked, oozing saccharine, “Just what do you do to people that take things from your hands?”

Honestly curiosity made her ask. Her secret love of risks had her asking the question the way she did, however.

Maybe that was her first mistake.

“I cut theirs off,” he deadpanned.

No, the question wasn’t a mistake at all. Falling in love with him was.

Too bad she didn’t regret it.

Vera lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Vaslav’s still lips. Before he could even kiss her back, she was already rocking back on her heels. Waving the card that he didn’t even look at, she said, “Thank you for this.”

“I expect regular statements showing you spent money. Reasonable money, a coffee here and there just won’t do.”

Well, then. It was his money. She could surely spend it.

“Will do, Vas.”

“Come here.”

Vaslav grabbed her wrist once more, but this time, it wasn’t quite as tight as he tugged her up for another kiss that he demanded. She parted her lips only slightly for him to take what he wanted from her pout. The lingering hint of mint she found on the tip of his tongue had her senses buzzing, and his facial hair, filling in nicely again, tickled her with every stroke of his mouth over hers.

All too soon, he pulled away.

Vera wouldn’t have that.

“Hannah isn’t flying in for two more days, and the funeral isn’t until Friday, anyway,” Vera told Vaslav when he still didn’t let her step back from him because his hand had not yet left her body. “I don’t really care if Kiril doesn’t mind making the drive tonight. I want to stay.”

For as long as she could. And she didn’t plan on staying away for much longer, either.

Vaslav’s tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip as he murmured, “Then, I guess you’re staying, kisska.”