Chapter 2: Seduction: Chapter 2

One, two, three, four, five. I count the bags I’m bringing with me on my flight one more time.

Is it too much? I have a tendency to overpack because I want to be prepared, but the last thing I want is to stand out. Does a grad student moving to an international study program really need that many bags? Thankfully, I’ve condensed the books I need into one heavy suitcase, and everything else fits in the lightweight luggage I bought especially for this trip.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in!” I straighten my shoulders and bite my lip as I glance at the clock. I need to leave in an hour if I’m going to arrive two hours and twenty minutes before my scheduled flight. I’ve never flown at a regular airport before, always using my father’s private jets, but it’s time, and my research says two hours and twenty minutes is a perfect plan.

“Oh, honey. Vera.” My mother’s voice wavers from the doorway. Her short hair, once a thick, glossy black, is speckled with gray, but the lines around her eyes hint at someone who loves to laugh and does so often. Now, however, her eyes are brimming with tears.

I swallow a lump in my own throat.

“Is this real?” She walks over to me and takes me in her arms, holding me away a little to look in my eyes. “You look so grown up.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. If she starts to cry, then I’m going to cry, and I can’t do that. Nope. Not now.

But my mother’s a strong woman, and she raised me to be the same. I take a deep, calming breath and start to tell her I’ll call her every night and FaceTime every Sunday because that’s the best time I can fit in a call with my rigorous schedule. But when I open my mouth, all that comes out is, “Oh, Mom. I’m going to miss you so much.”

Then we’re both crying and hugging each other. It’s a good thing I don’t wear make-up because I’m sure it would be smeared all over the place with these fat, ugly tears. I’m leaving my best friend.

“I wish I could go with you,” she whispers. “Are you sure I can’t? I could take up an apartment downtown or rent a house a bit away. I could⁠—”

“Mom,” I tell her gently. “You’re needed here. You’re planning Lydia’s wedding, and I won’t even have time to see you if you did come. My schedule’s insane. Makes my undergrad days look like a cakewalk. But I promise I’ll be in touch, and it’s only six months.”

Only six months. It sounds like an eternity to be in a foreign land, away from home. I love my home. While it’s been unconventional, to say the least, my mother did everything she could to keep our childhood normal.

I glance at my watch. Half an hour left.

“Alright,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll put on my big girl panties and deal with it. I cried when I sent you to kindergarten, you know.”

I smile. “I know.” She’s told me this story a hundred times. My father was away on business, and it was my first day. Apparently, I ‘bravely soldiered on’ even though I’m mostly quiet and introverted, while my mother hung back and called her mother, and they both sobbed about it together on the phone.

“Your grandmother came to see you before you go. She’s downstairs. Come, let’s have a cup of tea together, and you can tell her all about what you’ll be doing there.”

I hide a smile because it’s kind of cute. My mom wants me to explain to my grandmother because she doesn’t quite understand it herself. It’s alright, though. I’d be surprised if my father even knew where I was going.

“My only regret now is never teaching you Russian,” she says, biting her lip.

I wave my hand at her. “Mom, the majority of the people I’ll be spending my time with are American anyway. I’ll pick up what I need to. And anyway, they say the best way to learn a language is full immersion, so I’ve got that covered.” I force a laugh. I’m skilled at medicine and particularly good at all things science, but linguistics, not so much. Lydia got all those genes.

I am admittedly a little nervous that I don’t speak the language, but I only found out two weeks ago I was accepted into the program because of an additional grant. There was no time to learn the language.

My mother never taught me Russian because she hates my father. That’s no secret. So she did her best to make sure that I was fully raised American in every way she could. A descendant of Polish immigrants, my mother had no use for the Russian language, and my father is too self-absorbed and absent to ever really care.

Mom reaches for the bag. “Oh, Mom, not that one. It’s got my books in it, and it’s so heavy.”

She strains under the weight but winks at me. “It’s fine. Go on, now. Let’s go see your grandmother.”

“Mom, seriously. Take the lighter one.”

I manage to wrestle the heavy bag out of her hands and cajole her into taking the backpack.

“Alright, alright,” she says. “Let’s get these downstairs. I have something to tell you before you go.” When she doesn’t meet my eyes, my curiosity is piqued.

I carry two of my bags to the bottom of the stairs then go back for the remaining two. When my father’s here, he prefers to have hired staff help with things like this, but when he’s gone, Mom dismisses all staff. I like to be as normal as possible and don’t want to draw unwanted attention to myself.

“What did you need to tell me?” I ask as we head to the living room, where I’ll be able to see when the Uber arrives and can visit with my grandmother before I go.

“Your father called this morning,” she says, walking beside me and not meeting my eyes.

“Yes? Does he want to meet me at the airport? Go out to dinner when I arrive?” I roll my eyes. He likes to pretend he’s a doting father, but she and I both know better. He’ll do neither of those things.

“No,” she says carefully. “He. . . he’s insisting you have a bodyguard while you’re traveling.”

My jaw drops open, and I freeze in place as I stare at her. “What?”

Mom’s kind blue eyes grow concerned, and her brows draw together, the lines around her mouth softening. “I tried to talk him out of it because I know how you are, Vera. I know how badly you want to have your independence. But he says Moscow isn’t safe, and he insists.” She looks away and finally admits in a little voice. “And I have to agree, he’s right. It isn’t safe. I’ll feel so much better knowing you’re under the protection of someone when you’re not with me or your father.”

I stare at her. “Mom! I can’t have a bodyguard. I’m a grad student! I don’t want anyone to know where I come from or who I really am.”

Her eyes narrow at that, and she stands taller. “You be proud of who you are, Vera Ivanova. You got into this program of your own volition, with no interference from your father. I saw to that. No one needs to know who your father is.”

“So I just show up with a bodyguard and people won’t think anything of it? There are only five of us in the program!” I stifle a groan, tempted to moan out loud like a thwarted teen. This is the worst possible news.

“You’ll find a way to keep your distance. No one will even know he’s with you. He can stand far away from you and only stay there in case of emergency.”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Is there anything I can say to change his mind?”

Mom sighs. “No, especially because, in this instance, I agree with him. Now, go honey. See your grandma before your ride gets here.”

With a sigh, I enter the living room. Grandma sits ramrod straight, a teacup in hand. Her eyes twinkle at me, and she pats the seat beside her with an impish little smile. “Vera,” she says in her wobbly voice, her accent thick. “Maybe he’ll be handsome. You can tell me all about it and give an old lady a chance to live vicariously for once. Now come in here and tell me all about it.” She wags a well-manicured red nail at me. “And don’t argue with your mother before you’re on your way over the Big Pond.”

I kiss Grandma’s cheeks and take a seat next to her. “I’m not arguing with her, I just⁠—”

“I know what arguing sounds like,” Grandma says, taking another sip of tea. Her eyes harden. “Don’t argue with your mother.”

I stifle a groan. These two are my biggest supporters, so when I don’t have their backing, I don’t stand a chance. I lived a sheltered life for so long and hoped this would be my first chance to escape the confines of my strict upbringing.

I close my mouth and don’t talk back because what’s even the point now? My ride is on the way and when I get to the airport, I’m going to meet him. My new bodyguard. If he’s anything like my father’s past guards, I know exactly what to expect. To put it mildly, Grandma will be sorely disappointed by the ‘handsome bodyguard.’

“So tell me, Vera. Tell me everything you’ll be doing.”

I can’t help but smile. This is my jam. “I’ll be at the Advanced Academy of Biomedical Research and Innovation in Moscow for the next six months⁠—”

“It’s exclusive,” Mom interrupts. “They’ve combined cutting-edge medical research with practical field study.” I hide a smirk. Mom studied the program guide back and forward. “Her grad studies are paid in full because she’s a genius, matka.”

I shake my head. “I’m not a genius.”

“Vera, don’t be self-deprecating,” Mom says with a wave of her hand. “You’re going into a field that has the potential of making such a huge difference for high-risk medical conditions! They have rigorous admissions, and only exceptional candidates are accepted.”

I smile and turn to my grandmother, who already looks a bit confused. “The curriculum is designed by some of the leaders in the field of military medicine, disaster response, and emergency medical services. We finally get to combine theory with extensive hands-on training and real-world simulations.”

“Really,” Grandma says, intrigued. “Like what?”

My heartbeat quickens. This is my passion, my baby. I love talking about this. “Like how to give advanced trauma support in a combat situation, how to complete emergency surgical procedures without standard preparation, or how to handle a mass outbreak of biological warfare.”

Grandma blinks at me. “It sounds like a TV show.”

I can’t help but grin. “I did have a professor who was a consultant for a production studio in Hollywood.” My heart is heavy, though. I’ll miss her and my mother. They were my rocks my whole childhood. And even though they both heavily sheltered me, it almost made up for the lack of any real presence from my father.

My mother looks out the window as a white SUV pulls up out front. Her breath catches as my eyes water.

How do you say goodbye to the only person who ever truly loved you?

I had to do it at one point, but I didn’t expect this to feel like such a blow. I kiss Mom’s cheek and don’t try to stop myself from crying since it’s pointless. “I’ll miss you,” I whisper in her ear. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“Don’t forget to call,” Grandma says, wiping her own eyes with a handkerchief.

“Of course not!”

“And you will visit at the holidays?”

“I’ll be home by the time we have any holidays of importance,” I say with a sad smile. I have to be the brave one here. I turn to the door and grab my bags but stop and stare when the back door of the car opens.

“Mom,” I say over my shoulder. “You said my bodyguard was meeting me at the airport. Who’s this?”

I stare. This is no tall, lanky man. He’s. . . enormous. Well over six feet tall. Muscled. Tattooed, probably from head to toe. With a menacing scowl, a sharp jawline, and steely eyes that pierce right through me, I feel like I’m staring at a darker, more lethal version of Superman.

Imposing. Rugged. Primal.

Hot.

His dark hair is cropped short, accentuating his chiseled jawline and piercing gaze. Despite his intimidating appearance, there’s a sense of controlled power about him, evident in his precise movements and calculated demeanor.

Did my father just make up for an entire lifetime of neglecting me by going overboard with the bodyguard?

“Oh my God,” Mom whispers beside me. “If Jason Bourne were real. . . And on steroids.”

That’s who I couldn’t quite place. He looks like the assassin from those books I loved and the movies my mother did.

“He’s coming this way,” I whisper to my mother. “Oh my God, he’s coming over.”

I stick my hand out like some weirdo. He stares for a minute and finally engulfs my much smaller hand in his larger, rougher one. I shiver and hope he doesn’t notice.

“I’m Vera,” I say because I always make a point to be polite. “And you are?”

“Markov.” His voice is deep, his tone short and clipped. I barely register the touch of his rough, warm palm against mine before he recoils and bends to take the bags.

Grandma stares at me and gives a knowing nod. My cheeks heat.

“Oh, be careful, that one’s heavy,” I say when he reaches for the book bag, but he lifts it as if it weighs nothing at all. “I can help.” He still doesn’t respond but just takes the bags and puts them in the back of the car. Even the driver doesn’t get out. Wordlessly, he holds the door open and gestures for me to follow.

“Well,” I say in a whisper to my mom and grandma. “I guess this is it. Thankfully he doesn’t seem like he’s into small talk. I hate small talk. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

“It won’t be,” my mother says in my ear, kissing my cheek. “I am so proud of you, Vera. Go, sweetie. Go catch your flight and call me the minute you touch down!”

“Honey, you don’t need to do any talking with a man like that,” my grandma says, her eyes wide but twinkling.

“Mom!” My mother looks abashed. “That’s her bodyguard.”

My grandma only shrugs. “Even better. Let an old woman have her fun.”

I laugh despite the tears that brim in my eyes.

My new bodyguard stands aloof. Waiting. Hot, yes, but he might as well be carved from stone.

It feels a bit surreal, like I’m on a movie set or something, as I get into the seat, and he shuts the door behind me. It’s warm in here and smells faintly of cinnamon. The driver nods and lifts a hand to me. “Don’t bother talkin’ to that guy,” he says. “He only speaks Russian.”

I sigh and lean back in my seat as he joins me. Suspicion confirmed.

I guess I would feel a bit safer around a man like him if he didn’t look at me like I was the enemy.