Painted Scars: Chapter 5

I look blankly at Maxim, who is standing in front of my desk with his arms crossed at his chest, wondering where he is getting his stupid ideas from all of a sudden.

“No,” I say.

“Why not? It’s a perfect opportunity. She can say she just got lost or that she’s exploring the house.”

“Because one, she probably never saw a listening device in her life and wouldn’t know how or where to place it. And two, no one will believe that she just wandered into Leonid’s room or his office by accident. We don’t know who else is involved. Could be someone from the staff or one of the security guys. I don’t want her tipping off Leonid or his partner sooner than intended.”

“You are sure it was Leonid?”

“Very.”

“Let’s just bag him right away then. Get Mikhail to work on him. He’ll be singing like a bird by morning.”

“And if it wasn’t him?” I ask. “Do you have any idea how it would impact the morale and trust of my men if I tortured one of my own without proof, only to have him turn out innocent?”

“Well, then we have reached a dead-end, Roman.” He takes off his glasses and sighs, “I’ve been listening to the recordings for months and didn’t find anything other than standard gossip. Did you know that Kostya is sleeping with both Valentina and Olga?”

“I don’t give a damn who is sleeping with whom. Which rooms have you bugged so far?”

“The library, the lounge, dining room, both downstairs bathrooms, the basement, armory as well. Varya bugged the kitchen and the pantry for me. That’s it.”

“The cars?”

“All except Leonid’s, Mikhail’s, and Sergei’s.”

“You don’t have to bug Sergei’s car. If he had been the one who set up that bomb, I would have been dead. Together with the whole damn block probably. It’s not Mikhail either.” I tap my finger on the desk, thinking. “Have Valentina place a bug in Leonid’s room and the office.”

“Valentina?”

“Why not? She can be trusted.”

He shakes his head. “Well, let me put it this way. Last night, Nina was sitting on your lap, with her hair in disarray, barefoot, clutching her arm around your neck as you were groping her leg under her dress. Your shirt was unbuttoned, and you were kissing her like a man possessed,” Maxim says and raises his eyebrows at me. “The whole staff knew every single detail the moment Valentina rushed back to the kitchen, as well as her conclusion that you two are soul mates and will have beautiful babies soon. She’s loyal, but her tongue is a mile long. There is no way she can keep her mouth shut even if her life depended on it.”

“Fucking great.” I take a deep breath and look at the ceiling. Is there anyone in this household who is even remotely sane?

“We should get Nina to do it. The staff or the men still haven’t met her, and if you instruct her to pose like a giggly, simple-minded idiot, no one will pay attention to what she’s doing.”

“I would never marry a giggly simple-minded idiot, Maxim. Everyone knows that.”

“Of course, you would. You are a man possessed, remember?”

I close my eyes and shake my head in irritation. One of these days, I’m going to strangle Valentina.

“That’s settled then.” Maxim straightens his jacket, puts his glasses on, and turns to leave. “Let me know when you want me to come and explain the procedure to Nina.”

When I get back to my suite in the east wing, I don’t see Nina anywhere–not in the kitchen or the living room–so I head to her room, which I find empty as well. For a moment I think she changed her mind and somehow got away. I turn my wheelchair, planning on raising the alarm, when I notice her, and the pressure I didn’t realize was gripping my chest vanishes.

She is sitting cross-legged in the furthest corner of the library with her back to the bookshelf, a bunch of paper towels spread on the floor around her. I wheel myself across the living room, stop a few paces away, and watch. She’s sketching something on one of the paper towels. It’s very basic, but I can see the shape of a woman holding something in front of her. Most of the other paper towels scattered around bear similar compositions, some just unrecognizable lines, others more detailed. I couldn’t have been gone more than an hour. How did she manage to do all that in such a short time?

“Can you send someone to my place to bring my stuff?” Nina asks without removing her eyes from the drawing. “There are three large boxes in the living room. Tell them to be careful, my canvases and paints are inside.”

“When do you need them?”

“Yesterday. Since I’m stuck here, I better do something useful with my time. I have the exhibition in three weeks, and I only have six pieces done. I need nine more, as well as the big guy.”

“The big guy?”

“My main piece. I ordered the canvas for that one, it’ll arrive next week.”

I watch her work a few more minutes, noticing the way she narrows her eyes on some detail from time to time, or how she cocks her head to the side and bites her cheek when she is thinking. Her hair is a mess of tangled strands which she collected at the top of her head and fixed there with a pencil. Such a strange creature. So different from the women I’m used to spending my time with. It’s refreshing, and dangerously alluring.

“I need to talk to you, when you are done,” I say when I manage to take my eyes off her. “I’ll be in the living room.”

“Yup.” She places the finished sketch on the side, takes the last unused paper towel, and starts drawing on it.

It looks like I’m being dismissed.

After making a trip to my bedroom to grab the laptop I keep there, I transfer myself to the sofa and turn on the news. I prop my right leg on the table in front of me, open the laptop in my lap, and start going through the emails. I’m almost done when Nina drops down next to me and yawns.

“Sorry, I got carried away. What did you want to talk about?”

I close the laptop and turn to face her. “I need you to do something for me while you’re here.”

“Like vacuum and dust?” She scrunches her nose. “I don’t remember agreeing to that. Ironing is okay, dusting as well, but I hate vacuuming.”

“To place some bugs here in the house, without anyone noticing.”

She looks at me with a mix of confusion and disgust on her face, so it seems I have to clarify. “Listening devices. Not insects.”

“That is a really strange request, Mr. Petrov. Care to elaborate?”

“It’s Roman from now on. Please make sure you don’t slip when someone is around.”

“I won’t slip, Roman.” She smiles and winks at me. She fucking winks at me.

I sigh. “I have reason to believe that at least one of the persons who organized the bomb meant to kill me is here in this house. Maxim covered most of the rooms with bugs two months ago, but he can’t place them in the last few without risking someone seeing him.”

“Well, I’m touched by your belief in my capabilities, but I really can’t see how I’m going to manage that if he couldn’t.”

“Because if anyone saw Maxim entering any of those rooms, they’ll know something’s not right. But if anyone catches you, you can always say that you got lost.”

“Your house is huge, but I don’t think that I would get so lost as to enter the wrong room.” She looks offended. “I’m not an idiot.”

“That brings us to the second thing we need to discuss, and it concerns how people who live and work here perceive you. I need you to appear . . . let’s say shallow.”

“You mean stupid?”

“Not exactly. What I need is that, when people see you entering the room, they aren’t wary or suspicious. I want them to secretly roll their eyes and not notice what you’re doing, because they assume you’re . . . harmless.”

She watches me in surprise, then laughs. It’s unguarded and genuine laugh which reaches her eyes. “Okay, you definitely mean stupid. Okay. I’ll need a few minutes.”

She leans back into the cushions, throws her head back, and with her face turned up toward the ceiling, she closes her eyes. She stays like that for a few moments and then starts speaking.

“Shallow. Harmless. A little bit stupid. Crazy in love with you, of course. Needs access to every part of the house. Let’s see . . . Who am I? Well, Roman’s trophy wife, of course. I am pretty, elegant, and extremely snobbish. I love wearing expensive clothes, just the best labels. I’m not really into dresses unless the occasion requires it. I much more prefer designer jeans, paired with silky blouses. The heels are a must.”

She pauses, opens her eyes, and turns toward me.

“Are heels a must, what do you think?” She scrunches her tiny nose. “Of course, they are. Damn it. I hate wearing heels.”

She closes her eyes again and continues.

“The heels are a must, and I have dozens of them. Roman loves when I wear them, he says they make my butt look amazing. I’m also very self-conscious about my height and wearing heels all the time makes me forget how short I am. My favorite pastime is shopping, and I buy a ton of clothes. My husband has to allocate one driver specifically for me and my shopping sprees.”

Another pause and she turns toward me again.

“Roman, I’ll need funds to support her addiction with clothes. She is an impulse buyer.”

“You’ll get anything you need,” I laugh. She’s completely nuts.

“My husband is crazy about me, and he allows me to do whatever I want with the house like rearrange furniture, so the vibe of the house works better with the earth vibrations. The house feels terribly cold, so I buy a bunch of indoor plants and spread them everywhere. I also tour every single room because I want to make sure the unobstructed energy flows, so I rearrange paintings and mirrors. I also hate the dining room table, it’s so overstated and I decide to swap it with a sleek glass one I found in one of the interior design magazines.”

Another pause.

“This woman is expensive, Roman. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Your funeral.” she shrugs and continues, “My husband doesn’t like when he’s interrupted, but of course, that doesn’t apply to me. I often come into his office just to check up on him and exchange a few kisses. It annoys his men so much. They wonder what Roman sees in me and why he allows me so much freedom, and then decide he’s thinking with his dick. I’m always around, and they hate it.”

I’m fascinated with the way she’s creating this new person. It’s both crazy and brilliant. “She must be amazing in bed, to be able to wrap her husband around her finger that way,” I comment.

“Of course, she is. How else would she make him lose his mind like that? She’s not very bright, but she gives the best blowjobs.”

I imagine Nina doing just that, and my dick gets instantly hard.

She opens her eyes and pins me with her gaze. “I guess that’s enough for the start, I’ll develop her more along the way. What do you think? Would she do?”

“Do you do this often? Create different personalities and slide into them,” I ask, trying to suppress the need to grab her and kiss her silly.

“I did when I was a kid. It was a game. My mom hated it. Imagine having your daughter come down one morning and reject the breakfast, declaring that she’s been a vegetarian for years when she just had ham and eggs for dinner the previous day. She yawns again. “Would you mind if I go take a nap? I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Why?”

Nina blinks, looks the other way, and jumps from the sofa. “The bed was too soft.”

I watch her as she runs to her bedroom and wonder why her cheeks reddened.

When I leave my room after my nap, I find an older woman standing in Roman’s kitchen, putting groceries into the fridge. She’s short with gray hair, wearing a classy yellow dress. When she hears me, she turns and smiles widely, which makes the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes stand out.

“I was wondering where you were,” she says with a heavy accent. “The kitchen has been bursting with gossip since last night.”

“Nina, this is Varya,” Roman says entering the kitchen. “Varya knows about our agreement.”

The older woman looks me over, from the top of my head and down, making me feel like I’m sixteen and meeting the mom of my boyfriend for the first time. This woman is important to Roman, it’s evident from the sound of his voice when he talks to her. He seems, somehow, less guarded. If he shared the truth about our deal with her, it means he trusts her, and I don’t think that Roman trusts many people.

“So, when is the wedding planned?” she asks.

“In a few weeks.” I shrug.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Roman.” Varya turns to him. “If you keep Nina here that long, you’ll have to introduce her to your men. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to introduce her as your . . . lover.”

“You think we should do it sooner?” he asks.

“Yes. When you take her to your men, it should be as your wife. No one will respect her otherwise.”

Roman watches Varya for a few moments, then takes his phone and makes a call.

“Maxim, change of plans. Reschedule the marriage official. For tomorrow afternoon.”

Whoa, what?

“That’s much better.” Varya smiles. “When should I send the dinner?”

“In an hour.”

“Perfect. I’ll make sure it’s Valentina who brings it, she described the scene she walked into yesterday with such detail. Very talented tattletale, that one. The whole kitchen staff and some of the men who were present listened to her with wide eyes, commenting how you never bring women to your home and how special this one must be.” Varya turns to leave but stops at the door. “Make sure she catches you doing something more intimate this time. You don’t want people to become suspicious when you announce that you two got married so suddenly, Roman.”

I stare at the door that Varya just went through, confused and slightly panicked, then turn to Roman. “We are not having sex so that your maid can catch us.”

He laughs and heads toward his bedroom. “I’m going to take a shower and change. If you plan on doing the same, be quick and put on something lacy.”

“Excuse me?”

“There won’t be any sex involved. But Valentina will be bringing dinner to my room, and you are going to be there.” He throws the words over his shoulder.

“In your room?”

“In my bed, Nina.”

I’m rummaging through the kitchen drawer looking for a corkscrew when I hear the door to Nina’s room open. I lift my head and stare. Nina is standing in the doorway looking like some dark princess in a short lacy night-thing, with her midnight hair falling free on either side of her face.

She enters the kitchen on bare feet and comes to stand right in front of me, but she keeps her head down looking at my feet. On the outside she seems relaxed, but then she looks up and her back goes rigid. So, it’s like I assumed, it’s not being close to me that bothers her. It’s my height.

I remove the left crutch from under my armpit to lean it against the kitchen island, bend to grab Nina around her waist with my left arm, and lift her to sit onto the counter in front of me.

“There. Better?” I ask, but she only stares at me with wide eyes.

I turn to retrieve the left crutch from behind me and when I face her again, I see a stray tear trailing down her face. The sight guts me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “It’s not you, Roman.”

“I know.” I reach out to place my palm on her cheek and brush away the tear.“I’m going to kill him, malysh. It’s going to be slow, and it’s going to be painful. Just give me his name.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking. Give me his fucking name.”

“I said no. I’m not making anyone a murderer.”

“Too late for that, Nina. The name.”

“Leave it. I’m not telling you. Just . . . leave it, damn it.”

I take a deep breath and try to bottle up the need to smash into something.

“Okay. I’ll leave it for now. But you are just delaying the inevitable.”

The phone starts ringing in my bedroom. It’s probably Varya checking up to see if we’re ready for dinner, but I’m not in a mood for playing games anymore.

“I have to get that.” I turn to head toward the bedroom and hear Nina getting down from the counter.

She follows, keeping herself a few steps behind me, matching my slow pace. The phone stops ringing just as I reach the nightstand.

“I’ll tell Varya to leave the tray in front of the door,” I say as I lower myself to sit on the edge of the bed. “You can go back to your room or wait in the kitchen.”

“No.” She reaches for the crutches I leaned next to me and slides them under the bed. I watch as she removes the bedcover and gets herself under the blanket.

“Come on,” she says, lifting the corner of the blanket.

Making sure there is enough space between us, I lay down expecting her to stay back. Instead, she throws her leg around me and climbs on top, lowering her head to place it on my chest. I barely breathe, trying my best not to move even a muscle, afraid of spooking her. We stay like that for a few moments, me lying still with her sprawled over my chest.

“Put your arms around me.”

I do as she says, watching for any sign of distress, but there isn’t any. What an unusual creature she is, and it feels so good to hold her in my arms like this. I wish it wasn’t just for the show.

“Is this okay?” I rasp.

“Yup,” she says and closes her eyes. “I need to give you a few pointers.”

“All right.”

“No holding my wrists or squeezing my neck.” She says, and I feel the cold rush down my spine. “Also, no pinning me down with your body.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, Roman goes still under me. I hate speaking about this, but I had to tell him. I don’t want to risk freaking out on him if he unknowingly did some of those things. He just lays there, and I hear his heartbeat quicken under my ear, and then he removes his arms from my back.

“Go back to your room, malysh. We are not doing this,” he says in a clipped tone.

Shit. I knew he would react this way.

“It’s okay, Roman.”

“No. You’ve been hurt. I’m not going to make you—”

“You are not making me do anything.” I raise my head to look at him, then crawl up until my face is right in front of him.

“Nina—” he starts, but I quickly put my finger over his lips.

“I had sex . . . after. I have no problem with being in the same bed as you. I won’t freak out if you are holding me, or from being close to you.”

His lips are so soft, and for a moment I’m distracted by the sight of him watching me with such intensity. He is so beautiful.

“It never came to that,” I continue. “He . . . he never got to hurt me that way. I smashed his laptop into his head before he managed to do anything.”

“You hit his head with a laptop.”

“Twice. Broke his nose with the second blow and ran away.” I shrug and run my finger over Roman’s eyebrow. “It still fucked up my head. I can’t control my reactions sometimes, but it had nothing to do with you.”

“Are you sure? I need you to be sure, Nina.”

“I’m sure.”

I hear steps approaching along with the faint clinging of plates and cutlery. It’s a perfect excuse, so I lower my head and kiss him. It was meant to be just a quick kiss, but the moment I feel his lips on mine all rational thoughts go flying, and in the next moment my hands are clutching him to me with all my might. There is this need to somehow get closer to him rising inside of me, which seems silly since I’m already sprawled all over his chest with my legs on either side of him.

There is a gasp from somewhere behind me. I break the kiss and look over my shoulder to find the girl from yesterday standing in the doorway with a platter of food in her hands, her mouth half open and eyes wide. I yelp and quickly grab the hem of my lacy nighty which had ridden up my back and tug it down over Roman’s hands that are currently clutching my butt. Hopefully, she’ll skip retelling seeing my black lacy thong to everyone in the kitchen.

“Pakhan, I’m . . . sorry, I didn’t know—”

“Just put it in the kitchen and leave,” Roman snaps from beneath me like he was mad at her for coming in, which doesn’t make sense. We’re doing all this for her sake anyway. Well, he is at least. As for me, I am not sure if I am pretending. And that scares the shit out of me.

I wait until the girl leaves, then look down at Roman. “I’ll just . . . go now,” I say, but I don’t make a move to get off him.

He just stares at me with narrowed eyes, still holding his hands on my butt. The skin on his chest is so warm under my palms, his lips so very close. I would only have to lean forward a little to taste them again. Would it be so bad if I stayed here with him instead? Yeah, it probably would. I make a move to get down from him and his hands disappear from my backside immediately.

“I need to go buy some clothes,” I say as I get down from the bed, grab a sandwich from the tray the maid left, and head toward the door. “Your snobby wife wouldn’t be caught dead walking around in one of my hoodies.”

“I’ll take you in the morning. Be ready at nine.”

I look back at him and see him lying sprawled in the bed, his hands crossed behind his head, which makes his already huge frame look even larger. No one should be that good-looking. And I missed the opportunity to check out his tattoos, again. Damn.

“Okay. Good night then,” I say and run out from the room.