Page 9 of Unholy Matrimony
13. My beautiful flower
Chapter five
Kalina
The drive to the cafe is silent. Lenya is still fuming from the situation with my father. If he only knew what happens behind the walls of our home. I try to break the silence with small talk. “So, what do you do for your father? Other than procure an arranged marriage for yourself.” The corner of his mouth turns up in the slightest smile.
“Malyshka1, are you sure you want to know what I do? You might want to run away if you do.” He says, a devilish grin on his face.
“Like I have a choice?”I say.
“I’d just chase you again.” He winks.
“You can say that I make people see reason when it comes to business proposals. The three of us,” motioning to Oleg and Ilya, “also take care of situations with troublesome people, as the need arises. “
I don't know if he is purposefully being vague, or if he thinks I am just naïve. I am no stranger to who and what the Bratva is. Growing up in Moscow my whole life, the Bratva runs the city. Not the politicians, not the police. They had connections in government and influenced everything. I look at him, frustrated. “You know I know the Bratva is a criminal organization? I'm not dense. Please don't treat me like I am. So … your job is to beat people? Take care of situations …you kill them?”
You can feel the atmosphere of the car change, the air feels thick. The three men share glances at each other before someone finally speaks. “It's kill or be killed, give a beat down or you're the one getting beat,” Ilya states matter-of-factly. Oleg nods his head in agreement but does not say a word. I look over at Lenya. He is stiff and emotionless. Until he looks me in the eye. His eyes tell a different story.
Pain, so much pain. Sorrow. If this was the life he chose, then why do his eyes say something completely different? It makes me want to reach out and touch his face. To let him know, I see.
Our eyes stay connected as if he is trying to tell me everything without speaking. I know his heart hurts, but he isn’t willing to talk. The moment felt like an eternity, and it wasn't until the car stopped that I finally looked away. He cleared his throat. “Looks like we are here… can you two go in and grab two tables”. Understanding that he needed a moment, they exited the car, Ilya tossing back the keys.
When the doors shut, he is no longer looking at my face, but down at my hands. As I look down, he grabs my hands in his. “These hands are so pure…innocent. While the ones holding them have caused so much pain, delivered so much death.” My eyes stay on our entwined hands, his next words were unexpected. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I’m a selfish bastard…I saw an opportunity and took advantage of it. My father wanted your family's business at his disposal and there you were, the object of my every desire. From the moment I laid eyes on you in that church, I became infatuated. I had to have you. When you never even looked my way, I became obsessed.”
He was obsessed? With me?
“You never even looked at me, let alone other men, and you were so devoted to your faith. I got worried that there wasn't a chance. That you were thinking of becoming a nun or something?” His eyes drifted to mine and his hazel eyes pierced my heart as he said, “I couldn't live my life knowing you were locked up in a monastery. Never knowing what it’s like to be touched, caressed…loved.”
The honesty he was giving me at this moment struck me. He didn't have to give this to me, but he was.
Was this him trying to manipulate me? Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, it left. I was looking into the eyes of a hurt and broken man, that was baring his soul to me. He took advantage of a situation to keep me from a life that I honestly was considering. I was always worried about who Papa would try to set me up with, and I would rather have been a nun than be married to any of the men he would choose. Especially if they were anything like him.
Staring at this man sitting before me, I know I have a choice. The choice to make this situation difficult and fight every part. Or I can embrace this and take charge of the new life I am being given. We are still holding each other's gaze, so I take a deep breath. Knowing I’ve already decided. I don’t want to fight.
“I may not agree with how things have gone, and I am still very mad about my choice being taken away. I will make you this promise when we are inside and you decide to talk… I will listen with an open heart. Your hidden pain is palpable, and I too have hidden pain. Maybe we can unburden ourselves? I won’t lie to you. Monasticism was my chosen path to avoid marrying someone selected by my Papa. Would it have been the right choice? I honestly can’t say. But I would have lived with it. But I also think you are giving me a chance to live a life that I wouldn’t have been able to have. Not that being involved with the Bratva is what I would have chosen. I get an opportunity to be married to someone I won’t hate…I'm not sold on that yet, though.”
Bringing my hand from under his to rest it on top, I pat it gently. “We should probably go eat before your friends come looking for us.”
He brings my hand to his lips. “You are an angel here on Earth, Kalina. I am committed to spending my life becoming worthy of you.” He reaches for his door, opens it, and steps on the sidewalk. He helps me out of the car, locking it, and then he slips his arm around my back. We start at the entrance of the cafe.
Lenya held the door open for me and I entered the cutest little cafe, and the air was fragrant with the scent of freshly baked bread. A server guided us to a little table for two near the corner of the room. He sees Oleg and Ilya having coffee at a table towards the door. Acknowledging them, we make our way to our table.
It was warm here. I unbuttoned my coat, with Lenya standing behind me to remove it. As I take a seat, he holds the chair's back and slides it in. He moves towards the front of the cafe where a coat rack is situated. He hangs mine and starts taking his off. I remember his shirt was a mess from our moment in the forest. It's dried but looks stained. Embarrassment seeps in, and just when I am going to hide my face…he unbuttons his shirt.
I can’t help but look as he pulls his dress shirt off, revealing a fitted white shirt. Crisp and white, with no staining. It gives just a hint of the fact that he has a torso full of tattoos. I never thought I would find tattoos so attractive. Just the thought of them is making me feel butterflies. He catches me watching him. It feels like a magnetic force between us, pulling. My breath catches and the smile that is on his face is one of satisfaction and lust.
He heads back over and he comes from behind me, his hand caresses my shoulder and trails down my arm. A gentle flame to my skin, that I miss the moment it's removed. He sits across from me. We don't exchange any words, but they are unnecessary. The server walks over and asks if we know what we will have, so I look at the menu and start perusing all the fasting options. Lenya orders his Khachapuri, and after a few moments, I order the mushroom Khinkali. She walks away, but not after stealing a glance at Lenya.
He didn’t even look at her. She is a beautiful woman, and he barely acknowledged her existence. He stayed locked on me. My own mama doesn’t have that kind of devotion from my papa. His eyes wander just like most men. Lenya never looks away, so fixated on my face. My heart beats faster because of it.
Waiting for him to break the silence, I shift around in my seat to tame the desire between my thighs. Noticing that I am flushed, it probably doesn't take much to see that I'm aroused. Lenya clears his throat,“So Friday. I even wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. That was my father’s doing.”
It caused quite a stir with the elder members of the parish, I let out an exasperated laugh. “Yes, some people were not happy at all. But there is nothing we can do about it. Just roll with it, as they say.”
“People will get over it. There hasn't been a wedding at that parish in years. There hasn't even been a baptism there in who knows how long,” he says after taking a long drink from his coffee cup.
“My sister was the last one, almost sixteen years ago.” I say.