Nikolai
“Why did you decide to open a restaurant?”
Ava’s question blindsides me a little, even though I expected her curiosity to surface eventually.
What happened thirteen years ago was something I never thought I’d be able to tell her and yet I did. Her reaction was nothing like I thought it would be. It came softly, and she looked at me with an understanding I couldn’t quite grasp, gently holding my hand.
When I met her gaze, the only emotion reflected was a quiet curiosity that had me wanting to tell her everything she asked. Not a trace of pity in sight.
I lean back in my chair, my fingers tapping the table softly as I meet her eyes.
“My mother loved to cook.” I say, “She wanted to open a restaurant when she was younger and if she hadn’t married my father I know she would’ve”
Her expression softens, and I feel the slightest sting in my chest. When I was younger my mother was my haven. She was the one person my brother and I could rely on and the only person to show me what love was in this cruel world.
Her death was something neither of us could have avoided and yet I spent countless nights blaming myself for it. If only I was stronger then maybe, maybe I could’ve helped her somehow.
“How did she die?”
I’ve never told anyone how my mother died, not even Kat knew the truth. My father had made sure to cover up her death the same way he covered up the death of the person who died beside her.
“When I was fourteen, my father discovered that my mother was having an affair with one of his men” Like many tales, love was the beginning of my mother’s tragedy.
“He summoned her to his office with the man she was accused of betraying him with, and then he sent for me”
I pause, my voice threatening to film me but I manage to gather the strength I need to continue. I still remember the look on my mother’s face when she begged me not to shoot her. Not to end her life. Her eyes were swollen from the tears she refused to shed and even though she looked at me, begging me not to do what my father wanted to do, her gaze felt distant, like she was staring right through me.
“My father was a proud man, Solnyshko. A man who would rather die than see his reputation tarnished. The thought of my mother’s affair becoming public would have reduced him to nothing-a joke among his men, a target of their ridicule. He couldn’t have that. So he called me. In the Bratva, the number one rule is that all traitors must die, and my mother’s infertility had branded her a traitor in his eyes. He wanted her dead but he didn’t want to be the one to have to kill her”
Her expression shifts as realization dawns. I can see the exact moment my confession sinks in. Her eyes widen, and her lips part as terror morphs her features.
“No, You were only fourteen”
I tilt my head, studying her reaction without any attachment, “In the Bratva Fourteen is not considered as young as you might think. My father made sure I was trained to kill, to follow his orders without hesitation. When he asked me to murder the one parent he knew I cared about, he was sure I wouldn’t refuse but then I did and punished me by making me watch him do it himself”
Ava’s hand flies to her mouth. The silence that follows is almost too loud, punctuated only by the soft music filtering onto the rooftop from the restaurant below.
“I begged him not to do it.” I continue, my voice tight. “Pleaded with him not to take her life. I asked if there was another way to save her but my father told me I needed to learn what it meant to lead and that my weakness would eventually destroy me.”
Her breathing quickens, and she leans forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “What happened to the man she was accused of being with?”
I glance away, my jaw tightening as the memory cuts through me like a blade. “My father had his men drag me out while he shot my mother. When he called me back, they were both dead-their bodies lying lifelessly side by side. He told me it was my responsibility to deal with them, to ensure my mother was buried since I wasn’t ‘man enough’ to do the job myself. I refused. I told him that since he was the one who killed her, then he should be the one to make sure that her body was taken care of. He didn’t take that too well.”
Memories of the countless nights I spent locked up with my mother’s lifeless body by my side each time my father saw my rebellion as a threat claw at my mind, threatening to resurface, but I bury it deep, locking it in the furthest corner of my mind where it cannot escape.
The first few times my father locked me up with my mother’s body were excruciating. The days seemed to stretch, and the nights felt endless, and yet, somehow, I managed to push through.
I do not remember how many times I had to be locked away with my mother’s corpse before I got used to the stench of rotting flesh, but eventually, I did.
I started to pretend that the maggots I saw crawling all over her skin were nothing but mere shadows, trapped in an endless cycle of rebirth and despair. Much like I was.
It was easier that way.
Ava’s hand trembles against her mouth, her wide eyes filled with despair and something else I can’t quite name. Pity? Fear? Maybe she finally sees the darkness that’s been woven so deeply into me since that day. Her hand in my grasp trembles slightly, barely unnoticeable
“I’ve never told anyone how my mother really died, Solnyshko. Not even Kat knows the truth and yet for some reason I want to tell you”
Even though a part of me is scared that she might run away or that my secrets may be too much for her to bear, I still want to tell her. I want to tell her everything there is to know about me. I want her to see my scars for what they truly are and not just the ones embedded in my flesh.
My wife looks like she’s about to cry and a part of me hates that I am responsible for the tears she’s holding back.
“I don’t understand how anyone would do that to their own child,” Ava whispers, her voice shaking. A single tear rolls down her cheek but she catches it before it can fall. I hate seeing any trace of sadness in her eyes and knowing that I’m the reason for her tears is a weight that I hate to bear.
My wife doesn’t look away from me no matter how much I wish she would. She squeezes my hand, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to ignite something warm in my chest.
“Your father was a terrible man and I’m glad you got your revenge after everything he put you through”
I chuckle, remembering the look of relief in her eyes when I told her that I’d been the one to take his life the night she saw my scars in the kitchen. When I told her that I was the one who killed my father I hadn’t expected to find the relief I saw gleaming in her eyes.
It’s no surprise she shares the same sentiment now that I’ve told her the things he did to me.
“Thank you for telling me what happened. You didn’t have to but I’m glad you did”
I smile at her. “Me too”
The rest of our meal is silent, and when Ava is done with her food, I stand and walk over to her side, gently taking her hand in mine.
Her brows furrow as her gaze drops to our intertwined fingers, “What are you doing?”
The confused look she had on her face should’ve put me off, but I was a man on a mission to give my wife the best first date she could ever imagine, and I was not going to let my father ruin another thing for me, least of all her.
“Dance with me, Solnyshko”, my request throws her off her guard, and she immediately starts retreating her hand from my grasp.
“I don’t think that’s a good Idea”
The corner of my mouth pulls downwards, “Why not?”
“I’m a terrible dancer”
I chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the sound coming from the restaurant, as I pull her hand back into mine, guiding her up to her feet. “So am I,”
“There’s no music”
“That can be arranged” I turn to the open bar, signalling the waiter present to put on some music with a subtle nod.
Seconds later, a soft, mellow tune, similar to the one playing downstairs, fills the rooftop, and I pull my wife with me to the centre of the dining area, right in the middle of the aisle.
“This is ridiculous” she laughs as I place one of her hands on my shoulder and mine on her waist, pulling her a little closer.
“Nothing is ridiculous when it’s with you”, I respond softly, as I start to lead her in a slow, steady rhythm.
Ava’s hand slips from my shoulder, guiding down to my chest, right above the spot where my heart is.
“Thank you for trusting me enough with your secrets” She murmurs, pressing her face into my chest. I tighten my hold around her waist, pulling her closer as the music picks up.
“Thank you for listening”
I’ve never been one to spill my secrets on a first date or feel the burning need to have my partner close, but with Ava, I find myself acting completely out of character. She brings out a side of me that wants to keep doing things I’ve never done before. Like asking her best friend if there’s a place she’s always dreamed of visiting and making it happen.
To my surprise, Cara hadn’t seemed the least bit hesitant in offering her help when I contacted her and was more than willing to provide any information I asked about Ava.
“Your best friend cares about you a lot, you know”, I murmur as we sway.
Ava’s smile softens as she looks up at me, her eyes reflecting the gentle glow from the lanterns above us.
“I know,” she whispers, resting her head gently against my shoulder, then she pulls away to look at me, “Wait a minute, how do you know that Cara cares about me?”
“I spoke to her.”
Her brows shoot up, “You did?”
I nod
“Why would you do that?”
I know she already knows the answer but the look in her eyes tells me she needs to hear it from my mouth.
“I wanted to know what I could do to make tonight memorable for you”
Her lips part slightly as if she’s about to say something, but no words come.
“Your friend provided a tremendous insight by the way”
Her gaze roams my face, her eyes searching, and for the first time since we met, I can’t tell what’s going on in her head.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She finally says, her voice low.
I tuck a loose strand behind her ear and cup her face gently. Her eyes flutter closed at my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. I savour the feel of her warmth beneath my fingertips.
“I know,” I say, “But I wanted to. I wanted to make tonight special for you because you’re my wife and your first date deserves to be nothing less than the best.”
Her lashes lift, revealing those captivating eyes I’m quickly becoming obsessed with. Her eyes, I’m starting to realize, are my favourite things about her.
“You can’t keep doing things like this and expect me not to get confused about what you want from me”
“I want everything from you”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean”
“I do mean it” My hand slides down her rib cage and I squeeze when my fingers stop on the curve of her hip, pulling her close.
“I want your laughter. I want your smiles.” My voice drops and a small shiver ripples throughout her entire body, “I want you, Ava Volkov, not just physically. I want your heart, your soul,” I’m so close to her now that my lips are practically touching hers, “I want everything you’re willing to give me and then I want to take more. I want it all. As long as it’s from you I want it.”
When I told her earlier that all my secrets would be hers I meant it. I wanted her to know me intimately, logically, both inside and out. I wanted her to want me even a fraction of how much I wanted her.
“I can’t… You can’t… we can’t”
I pull back just enough to press a soft kiss to her forehead, cutting off her words. “Just give me tonight. Only tonight, Solnyshko. For tonight, let me pretend that I am yours,” I whisper, pleading.
Her bottom lip quivers slightly, and it takes every willpower I process within me not to lean down and suck the tender flesh into my mouth.
“Okay,” she murmurs softly, her voice trembling with emotion. My wife presses her face into my chest once more, her fingers twisting around the lapels of my jacket. Resting my chin on the top of her head, I guide her through the song, knowing that tonight will never be enough but it’s a step I’m willing to take if it means I get to have more of this.