Kostya Page 12

  “I feel like shit for being jealous and for not being enthusiastic about their showers. Like I know it’s my job as Vivian’s friend to throw her baby shower but I start thinking about me and Ivan and how long we’ve been together and how we still haven’t gotten a positive test. Starting my period this morning and then having to hear about the nursery plans and the baby names—I just couldn’t keep it inside. But what kind of friend am I to be jealous about stuff like this?”

  “You’re a good friend, Erin, and I know that if Vivian or Bianca knew that you were going through this they would do anything to make you feel better.” Lena tried to be the voice of reason to her distraught friend. “Hell, knowing Vivian, she would be on the phone to every single fertility specialist in the city demanding they fit you in today for a checkup. She and Bianca would never begrudge you feeling jealous or sad or whatever it is that you feel when you see their big baby bumps.”

  It wasn’t uncommon to hear things like this at the salon. Sometimes I felt more like a therapist than a stylist, to be honest. But I didn’t know that Erin and Ivan were having problems getting pregnant. They hadn’t even been married a full year yet, but maybe they had been trying since their engagement?

  “What if I’m like my mom and Ruby? What if I have endometriosis? What if I can’t have kids? Ivan wants to be a dad so badly, and I want to be a mom and have lots of babies. What if I can’t have them?”

  “Then I’ll have your babies for you,” Lena said matter-of-factly.

  “What?” Erin asked, her voice thick from crying.

  “Girl, I was built to have babies. Look at these hips! Look at my backside and these tits! After Yuri and I have had a baby, I’ll be your surrogate.”

  My eyes widened at the very calm and confident way Lena made her offer. She could have been talking about loaning Erin her car instead of her uterus.

  “You’re serious,” Erin said a moment later. “You would really be our surrogate if it comes to that?”

  “Of course, I would! You’re like my sister, and I love you. We’re family, Erin. I would do anything for my family.”

  “Even carry a giant Ivan-sized baby?”

  “Well, it will have to be a C-section!”

  The two friends started laughing and giggling, and I took that as my cue to hurriedly push the two hampers to the laundry room. A short time later, after starting a load of laundry, I peeked out of the room just in time to see Erin and Lena emerge from the bathroom with arms linked.

  “You need a massage,” Lena decided. “We’ll see if one of the therapists can work you in, okay? And when we’re done here, we’ll raid Yuri’s wine cellar for something stupidly expensive, order something totally unhealthy and binge Netflix …”

  When the hall was clear, I left the laundry room. What I had heard, I would never repeat. Like a lawyer, I believed in the stylist-client privilege.

  Back in the spa, I found Bianca giving Benny and Vivian hugs as she rushed off to a bridal appointment at her boutique. It seemed that Lena had already moved on to her appointment with Nisha, and Erin had been taken back to a massage room. Only Vivian and Benny were left as they finished their manicures.

  “I think it’s good that you and Nikolai are talking about it,” Benny was saying as she admired the soft peach shade on her nails. “When I couldn’t stop crying and couldn’t sleep and had all that anxiety, Dimitri and I didn’t know what was wrong. I felt like a horrible mother, and he felt like a terrible father and husband. He thought all the problems were his fault because he was working too much or wasn’t getting up enough with Sofia at night, but that wasn’t the case. It was just hormones and the chemicals in my brain that needed an adjustment.”

  “But you feel okay on the medicine now?” Vivian asked, her worry clear by the tone of her voice as she slipped back into her rings and bracelets.

  “The difference was night and day once the medication kicked in,” Benny assured her. “I only needed a low dose, and it was safe for breastfeeding. If you need it, you’ll be fine, and the baby will do great because his mommy is healthy and happy.”

  His? That was the first I had heard of Vivian having a boy. I would have to make a note for Savannah. She loved buying baby gifts for our clients and making sure they had their complimentary prenatal and postnatal massages and pedicures booked.

  I waited until there was a lull in the conversation between them to walk over and smile and ask them if they were ready for their haircuts. I gathered up their handbags and phones so they wouldn’t have to worry about dinging their manicures or getting lotion and hand serum stains on the leather. While Vivian made a quick beeline for the restroom, I led Benny to her stylist. When I was done, I found Lana walking Vivian to my styling station. They were chattering away in Russian, and I was glad to see that Vivian had taken an interest in Lana.

  “How was your spa appointment?” I asked as Vivian settled into the chair at my station.

  “Very good.” She flashed her fresh manicure at me. “What do you think?”

  “Rock Royalty?” I guessed, pretty sure I had nailed the deep purple shade.

  “Yes.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “I wanted something fun and different this time.”

  “And do you want to do something fun and different with your hair?” I combed my fingers through her long, dark waves.

  She laughed. “Definitely not. Nikolai would have a stroke if I walked into the house with shorter hair.” She touched the ends, winding them around her finger, and a look flitted across her face. It must have been a good memory because a wicked little smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “No, let’s just trim the ends and a blowout if you have time.”

  “I have time.” I touched her shoulder and met her smile in the mirror. “Let’s get you to one of the sinks for a shampoo.”

  We took the corner sink, and I draped and fixed a cape around her neck before helping her lean back in the chair. I adjusted the footrest for her, hoping to ease the strain on her lower back. Remembering that she was more tender-headed, I kept the water temp warm but not too hot. “Is this okay?”

  “Feels fine,” she said, smiling up at me.

  We made small talk as I lathered, conditioned and rinsed her hair. When we moved back to my station, we kept talking about her latest art projects, a gala she was co-hosting in November and how hard it was to find elegant evening wear in maternity styles.

  “And it doesn’t help that I seem to be growing every day,” she added, rubbing her stomach. “If I buy a dress this week, it might not fit me next month.”

  “I’m sure someone at Bianca’s boutique could alter your dress,” I suggested as I trimmed and tapered. “She’s probably going to have the same problem.”

  “Only worse since she is having twins,” Vivian replied. “She finally gave up the high heels this week. Well,” she laughed, “I should say that Sergei went through her closet and boxed them all up and brought them to my house for safekeeping. He was convinced she’s going to lose her balance and get hurt all in the name of fashion.”

  “She does love her high heels.” I cross-checked my cut. “I’m surprised that shoe collection of hers isn’t under lock and key. It must have cost her a fortune, all those Jimmy Choos and Manolos and Louboutins.”

  “She went ballistic when she got home and her closet was empty. He came by the house later that night to load them all back into his SUV and take them home. Had his tail tucked right between his legs,” she added with a laugh.

  “My God, can you imagine how hard she must have made him grovel?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he thought of something to make her forget how frustrated she was with him.”

  The mischievous gleam in Vivian’s eyes made me blush. Sergei was alpha to the core, and it was obvious to anyone who saw him with Bianca that he loved her and thought she was the sexiest woman alive. My face got hot as I imagined what a man like that was like in bed. “I’m sure he did.”

  “Speaking of men and frustr
ation…”

  At first, I thought she was talking about me, but then I noticed her gaze had drifted to Ten. Her giant bodyguard was coming out of the hallway, probably after making a trip to the bathroom, and had his gaze fixed on Nisha as she styled Lena’s hair. I could practically feel the heat of his desire from here.

  “I think he’s going to stay frustrated,” I gently warned. “Nisha isn’t really in the market for a man right now.”

  “Ten is tenacious. He won’t let that stop him, not if he thinks there’s even a snowball’s chance in hell of her returning his interest.”

  “Is that why they call him Ten?” I opened a drawer at my station and removed a round brush. “Because he’s tenacious?”

  “No.”

  I had the feeling that this was one of those gray areas of her life so I didn’t ask for any further explanation. Rising on tiptoes, I grabbed the blow dryer dangling from the ceiling and began to dry her hair. As I worked, I thought of Kostya and all the gray areas of his life that would become the gray areas of mine if I went after him.

  “Are you okay?” Vivian asked while I pulled a straightener down her glossy strands. “You got quiet.”

  “I’m just thinking.”

  “About?”

  It finally occurred to me that Vivian was the only person I could trust to talk about something like this. I glanced around and noticed we were alone. Even so, I kept my voice low and asked, “When did you know that you wanted your husband even with all of his…baggage?”

  Vivian waited until I had cleared the straightener from the ends of her hair to turn in the chair for a better look at me. She seemed to be looking deep inside me, as if trying to decide whether I could be trusted. She must have seen something that convinced her of my trustworthiness. “It was never a question for me. I love him. All of him,” she added. “Even the shadowy parts.”

  The shadowy parts? That was a nice way to describe all the dark and dangerous things the men we cared about did.

  “Is the man with baggage someone I might know?”

  Certain I could trust her, I confessed, “It’s Kostya.”

  “Kostya?” She seemed utterly shocked. “How did—?”

  “We’re neighbors. We have been for the last couple of years. We aren’t dating. Like officially or anything,” I added hastily. “We’ve been dancing around it for a while. A month ago, we had this perfect breakfast and morning together—”

  “And then he pulled back and away from you?”

  I nodded. “Basically.”

  “Kostya is like Nikolai in a lot of ways. They’re quiet men. They’re private. They’re also very complicated and stubborn.” She touched the bracelet on my arm as if seeing it for the first time. “This is one of Zoya’s pieces. I know her work, and I also know that Kostya must have given it to you.”

  “For Christmas,” I confirmed.

  “What did you give him? I mean, if that’s not too personal a question to ask, of course.”

  “A certificate to the animal shelter.”

  Vivian smiled. “That is the sweetest gift idea.”

  “I don’t think he was very excited about it. He still hasn’t used it.”

  “They’ve been very busy,” Vivian said carefully. “It’s been a difficult year so far. Lots of expansion and growth and turnover,” she added, prudently choosing her language. “It really hasn’t been a good time to add a dog to his life.”

  “I told him we could adopt one together and share responsibilities.”

  “What did he think about that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And what does he think about you two dating?”

  I shrugged a bit sadly. “He told me to take four weeks to think about whether I really wanted to get involved with him.”

  “Has it been four weeks?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “And I haven’t seen him,” I said, stepping back behind her to finish styling her hair.

  “Do you want him?” She held my gaze in the mirror. “Do you want him and all of the shadowy parts? Do you want to be part of his complicated life? Do you want to make your life more complicated?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t think. I didn’t question. I simply answered truthfully. “I do want him in my life.”

  “Then you have to tell him,” Vivian replied matter-of-factly. “Be forceful, if necessary. Sometimes these men of ours can be hardheaded.”

  These men of ours…

  As I finished Vivian’s hair, I caught sight of the crown tattoo on the back of her neck. If things with Kostya progressed the way I wanted I might someday be part of her family. There was something strangely alluring about the idea of belonging to something so powerful and yet so very secret.

  When I was finished with Vivian’s haircut and style, I swept the cape away and carried it to the hamper tucked away in a nearby cabinet while she snapped a selfie. That mischievous smile of hers was back as she typed in a quick message and sent her photo.

  Taking her guest folio from my top drawer, I asked, “Do you want to schedule another trim for six or eight weeks?”

  “Let’s do six.” She walked next to me to the reception desk where I handed off her guest folio and told Billie to book her for another trim. Before I left to tidy up my station, Vivian touched my arm. “If you ever want to talk, I’m always around for a chat.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that offer.”

  “Just come by the house or find me at Samovar. I’m usually there for the lunch rush.”

  “I will.”

  When I returned to my station, I discovered one of Vivian’s gold bracelets on the counter where her handbag had been. Picking it up, I started to call out to her, hoping to catch her before she left, but then I spotted the appointment card tucked under the bracelet and the note she had scribbled onto it.

  I’ll send Kostya to pick this up. Good luck!

  I pocketed the delicate bracelet for safekeeping and tried to stop grinning. Apparently, the queen of Houston’s underworld had decided to make some luck for me.

  Chapter Eight

  “I DON’T KNOW what to do. She doesn’t listen to me anymore. She thinks he loves her, but she’s just a child. She doesn’t know what love is.”

  Kostya stood back, leaning against the kitchen doorway as the tired, crying mother poured out her problems to Nikolai. Seated at the round table in Rada’s neatly kept home, the boss listened intently as the older woman told him what everyone on the street already knew—her sixteen-year-old daughter had run off with one of Lalo’s street slingers.

  “He hits her,” she cried with despair. “Not just the time Ilya took care of it. Another time, just a few days ago. She had marks on her arms. Purple marks, big and angry.”

  Assaulting Tiffany, Rada’s only child, was as serious to Nikolai as if it had been his own blood. Rada’s late husband had worked for the family back in Moscow. When she had emigrated to Houston with her sister and brother-in-law, they had all found work and protection under Nikolai. Rada had worked at Samovar since before its opening day, first as a line cook and now in the back of the house as the day-to-day operations manager. She ran the restaurant like a mother, being tough when necessary and always encouraging and kind. She was a good woman, and no one had a bad thing to say about her.

  And to see her weeping over her wayward daughter, crying so hard she sounded as if she might make herself sick, tugged at something deep inside Kostya. Marco and the girl had vanished, but they wouldn’t be missing long. Not if he had anything to do with it.

  “We took care of this before,” Nikolai reminded her, not unkindly but sternly. “Ilya made sure that Marco got the message not to touch her again and to leave her alone, but she went back to him and now…”

  After Tiffany had been found with Marco that first time, Nikolai had sent Ilya to straighten Marco out and put an end to his dalliance with an underage girl under their protection. Ilya had given him a message—with fists and b
oots. By the time his crew had been done with Marco, he’d ended up in the hospital, limping and pissing blood.

  But it wasn’t enough to break up the two illicit lovers. Before long, Tiffany had gone right back to sneaking around with the older dope slinger. Lalo had been told to get his man in line, but he clearly didn’t have any control over his crews. And now here they all were with a teenage girl missing and the very real chance the police would get involved. If the police found him first and put him in an interrogation room, Marco would break—and then what?

  “I don’t know what to do,” Rada repeated, sobbing so hard that Kostya worried she might choke. This was a mother who had clearly reached the end of her fucking rope.

  Nikolai pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it into Rada’s hand. “You don’t need to worry about this anymore.”

  Nikolai didn’t need to say anything else. Rada understood what he meant. Tiffany would be found and returned. Marco would be dealt with and Lalo would pay whatever reparations Rada demanded. The police would be kept out of a family problem and that would be that.

  He stayed behind to assign two men to watch the house, just in case Tiffany or Marco decided to come back. By the time he caught up with Nikolai, the crew shadowing them had already loaded up and were waiting for their instructions. His hand on the passenger door handle, Nikolai asked, “Do we know where Marco is?”

  “I sent Danny to chase him down. He sent a message to let me know that Lalo is playing games and won’t tell him anything about Marco.”

  Once they were safe inside the car, Nikolai exhaled roughly and jerked on his seatbelt. “Letting Hector put Lalo in charge of Houston was the biggest fucking mistake I’ve ever made.”

  “I wouldn’t call it the biggest mistake you’ve ever made,” he replied, thinking of at least two other times Nikolai had royally fucked things up.

  Nikolai nailed him with a warning glare before remarking, “I should have let Besian and Alexei finish Lalo off when they had the chance ten years ago. That prick is dangerous to all of us. He’s flashy and stupid. He doesn’t respect the code. He can’t even control his men.”