47 Friendly Recommendation

Putting a very clear full stop to anything between me and Nazar, I didn’t think it would hit me this damn hard. After the brunet drove me “home,” I kind of slipped into a haze and don’t even remember how I called a taxi and ended up in my real apartment.

Heavy, depressing thoughts rushed through me like a hurricane, because with Nazar it had been incredible, in every sense. That’s a rare thing for me.

I completely lost my appetite, became scattered, and half the time I don’t even hear what people say to me, because I’m constantly stuck in my own head… in memories. Nazar is everywhere.

Sometimes I swear I hear his pleasant voice, but the moment I try to find where it’s coming from, I realize it’s just my imagination.

When the hell did I get so used to him? At what point did he sink into my skin, my thoughts, my feelings this deep?

I suddenly stopped talking to my mom and Kirill, which has my mother seriously worried. She doesn’t understand this sudden change at all. Even Kir called me a couple of times, worried, trying to figure out what’s going on. I only told him that I cut off all communication with Nazar, so there’s no point in playing our little performance anymore. Now he’s free, and so am I. The kid listened to my rant and then dropped a verdict that actually made me smile.

“You just fell for that guy, that’s why you’re suffering now! I told you to stop the game and tell him the truth! I think he would’ve understood, he was hooked on you too.”

Strangely, I don’t even feel like arguing with him, foam at the mouth and all that. Of course, I don’t think the same way Kirill does, that’s just a kid’s fantasy, but… why do I suddenly want to just call Nazar like before, talk about nothing, listen to his sarcasm and jokes, that velvety baritone with a slight rasp?

I remember how soft his hair felt when I buried my fingers in it, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss while drowning in the pleasure of being with him. I remember the feel of his tense hands holding me, his intoxicating scent, the taste of his skin.

Damn it! I even bought myself a small bottle of the same cologne! When it hits especially hard, I fall asleep with it, like he’s right there next to me.

I let Nazar into my heart and soul, even though I was so desperate not to. Played myself. But with a man like him, there was no other way. He’s too perfect. Especially for me. My current state can be summed up in one perfectly fitting phrase: “We’re so screwed.” No better way to put it…

I regret so much! Not that he was in my life, but that I ended up in his. I’m no better than his ex-wife. Worse, even. At least she gave him those amazing kids…

And what can I give him? The moment he finds out the truth about my job and all the lies, he’ll despise me. I don’t want that. I don’t want to see disappointment in his eyes. Eyes that will never look at me the same way again. Better like this.

Time drags on, but it’s not getting any easier. Feels like it’s only getting worse. I tried to dull the pain the way I always used to. It used to work.

The problem is, after Nazar, every other man seems… off. Crooked, weird, smelly, full of flaws. Not green-eyed enough, not chestnut-haired enough, not perfect enough in body, smile, voice, height, anything. It’s like I got hit with some cruel curse that completely killed my interest in intimacy. Intimacy with anyone else…

That led me to some… not exactly great decisions I’m not proud of. But at least for a moment, it helps. The problems fade, and my brain shuts up.

“Anya! Ann!” Ksyusha bursts into the dressing room like a hurricane right after I come back from another dance. She’s practically buzzing, eyes shining, ready to spill some “earth-shattering” news. “You won’t believe who Flick showed up with today, and who beat the living shit out of him!” she laughs, nearly losing it.

“What?” I ask flatly, not really catching her meaning, and definitely not sharing her excitement.

“Flick got his nose broken, lost a couple of teeth, and got dragged out of the club,” she snickers, clearly enjoying it. “But that’s not even the main thing! Some man booked you for a private!!! Shade himself!”

“Who?” I grimace skeptically.

What a nickname. People really love their edgy little aliases… and idiots fall for it. Like Ksyusha. Tell her some “Skull,” “Demon,” “Ghoul,” “Knuckles,” or now “Shade” showed up, and she’s already running headfirst toward them like a moth to a flame.

“Shade! Oh my God, you seriously don’t know…” she rolls her eyes and rushes closer, plopping her skinny ass onto my makeup table, ready to enlighten poor clueless me. “I don’t really get what he was doing hanging out with Flick today, or why he beat the hell out of him, but that’s not the point,” she waves it off. “So! There are these two Yartsev brothers, Shade and Demon, like… total maniacs. Identical twins and absolute fucking eye candy! Handsome, dangerous, popular, loaded, and just walking sex! The younger one, Demon, is a serious businessman now, but he’s been married for a while. They say it’s for love, and he’s got a whole pack of kids. But the ooooolder one,” she rolls her eyes dreamily, smirking at me, “single, gorgeous, and very available to female attention! He’s a damn tornado in bed, does things… Our girls would rip each other’s throats out just to get into his bed, and the ones who have been with him would gladly pay any money just to end up under him again. Though,” she chuckles, “they actually could pay, because he used to work as an escort for a while. Women paid serious cash to get properly fucked by him. But that ended when someone leaked info about his little side gig. Huge scandal. Turned out the son and brother of some big respected businessmen was doing escort work with a happy ending. It blew up so badly he had to quit, leaving all his fans in total depression. Which is a damn shame,” she sighs. “I’d pay too, honestly. Lately all I get are weak-ass guys… And you could use it too, especially since he’s into you. The second he saw you on stage, he ditched our Rita without a second thought. Poor girl, but she’ll live. You need it more. Sorry for being blunt, but you’ve looked like death lately! Shut down, distant, skinny as hell… So get up, move that fine ass, and go! Not riding a man like that is basically a crime against yourself! And if you chicken out, I’m not talking to you anymore! Go, and remember, I’m expecting the dirtiest details from tonight’s “meeting”! Don’t screw it up and embarrass us all!”

“Well, damn,” I laugh at this level of “care” and her very straightforward recommendation of sex. “You really sold it. Got me curious. Fine, I’ll go check out this… Shade of yours.”