Se connecterAnna
"It's really been four months since you last saw him?" Blair asks from where she sits on the vanity dresser, a thick comb running through her hair. "And he has your number, yet hasn't called or texted back?" I bite my bottom lip, a familiar feeling of hurt which I've been accustomed ever since that night that changed my life months ago. "No," I shake my head , shoulders sagging. "Not one text. Not one call." "Bastard." I can't recount how many times Blair and I have gone over this same conversation. It's like a daily routine for us. A sacred moment, one I am beginning to dread. Because it only reemphasizes what I've been trying to run away from since that night. That it is only a matter of time before Salvatore is reduced to a figment of my imagination. "Can you blame him? I'm clearly too much to handle." Blair turns to me with a death glare. "Never say that again. You're perfect." "So why don't they stay?" "I don't know, but there's nothing wrong with you, babe. Don't let these men's lack of commitment make you doubt yourself." It's always like this when Salvatore is brought up — me shit talking myself, and Blair assuring me that I'm fine. I believe her, of course. I feel okay, and I'm beginning to think it's the universe being unkind to me for some reason. I've never met a man like Salvatore. A man who seemed larger than life when one got close enough to really know him. I still hear his words, feel his touch, see his smiles in my dreams. I haven't been actively trying to find a man to replace him. I never will. Ever since that night, it's been radio silence. Not that I expected him to keep up with communication, but I looked forward to a little hey or a missed call from him to ask about how I'm feeling. How life is going for me. Four months past, and nothing. I lost my job at Belfast after that night. Haven't been able to find a new one, and have been practically living off Blair and her generous parents all because I don't want to move back in with my parents in Ohio. My mother still can't believe I've broken up with Collins. Even now as her call comes in, and I groan, I know we're about to go over the same conversation again. "You're not going to take that?" Blair asks after I let the phone ring past five minutes. "It's Mom," I mumble. "Oh." Blair nods in understanding, and stands, saying as she exits. "My prayers are with you." "I'll surely need them." When she's gone, I pick up the phone, and sigh. "Good afternoon, Mom." "What took you so long in picking up?" She asks, her tone nasal and scathing. "Am I disturbing you? I'm only calling to find out how you're faring." "I'm fine, Mom." "And Collins? Have you spoken with him today? Tried to see if you can salvage things?" "Mother, Collins and Diana have their wedding fixed in a week. Whatever went down between us is over. Forever. Please accept it and move on." There's silence. A heavy one that lasts for what feels like century. For once I feel like I've made progress in opening her eyes to reality. "A week, you say? That's more than enough time for a reconciliation. I'm sure he'll listen and take you back. You just have to try." My cheeks flame up, and my hands curl in fists, rage flooding my veins. I guess we're still stuck at a spot. "I'm not trying any such thing. Collins and I are OVER. Please understand that!" "And this is exactly why he threw you out! You have a nasty temper. My goodness!" "Oh, so now it's my temper? We've gone over this same thing over and over again, and I'm so exhausted. You're not even listening to me. Collins cheated on me, and felt no remorse. I promise you, he's better off with Diana. The woman he's always loved." When that last bit leaves my mouth, Salvatore comes to mind again. I wonder what he's doing right now. What he'll say if he knew I'm carrying his baby. I'm three months pregnant. No one knows. Not even Blair. And most definitely, not my mother. "We're a civilized, functioning, moral family, Anna. We don't do broken homes. Never have, never will." "Guess I'll be the first." "Stupid girl. Do you honestly think in all the forty years I've been married to your father he hasn't cheated on me? You need Collins. He's your husband." "No, he's not. We're divorced." "That can be salvaged. You'll tell the court you were out of your mind while signing those papers." "And you think that will change anything?" "I am your mother, Anna. What do you know about keeping a man, huh? Take my advice, and go back to Collins. Do anything he tells you to do. Wear flashy dresses, swoon over his gifts, just make sure you stay under his roof." "I'm pregnant, Mother." The words are out before I can think better of it, and when I hear her exhale on the phone, I feel a bit lighter. It's been weeks of keeping this a secret, and Mom is the last person I intended to reveal this to. I might regret this, but for now I'm glad to have it off my chest. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?" "I'm pregnant." "This is such great news! My prayers have finally been answered! Collins will be so pleased — " "It's not his." If the first bombshell didn't do it, the second one sure does. She doesn't speak for what feels like years. I close my eyes and count relentlessly. When her voice floats over again, it's strained and cautious. "Who the hell else could it belong to?" "I'd rather not say." "You better start talking. Do you realize the gravity of what you've just done? Your father would be furious!" "Mother, please." "I can't believe this! After everything I've done for you. I sacrificed a lot of things to give you a roof over your head, to put food on your table, and bring you up to be a decent young lady. Where did I go wrong? Tell me, where?" She bursts into tears, and I hold the phone away from my ear, guilt prickling my skin. Shit. Knew it was a bad idea to tell her about this. "I'm sorry." "The Whitfield family has fallen! You've brought so much shame to us." Her voice pitches high but manages to stay quiet. "Your grandmother would roll in her grave if only she knew." When I don't answer, she goes on ranting. "I know I raised you better than this! And how are you repaying me for everything? By getting pregnant and not knowing the father — " "I know the father," I say weakly. "Who is he? Tell me, then." "He's... someone." "That's not an answer, Anna, and you know it." "Mother," I rub my temple, feeling a migraine set in. "Please let's not do this." "Does he know?" "No. I haven't... I haven't spoken with him for months." "Anna! My God!" Mother sighs with exasperation and no small amount of frustration. "You cannot sit here and tell me you plan on raising this child by yourself. Without any help, financial or otherwise, from the father. At least care about what the people will think!" "They don't matter," I deadpan. "Never have and never will." "This is hysterical," she whispers in horror. I can hear her platform shoes hitting the floor. She's pacing right now. Seconds away from another outburst. "Let me get this straight. You have no job, currently staying at your friend's, no money, your father and I are not even close by to help...what the hell are you thinking, Anna?" I shrug. "I'll let the universe decide what I should do." "Sure, but you're not — " I cut the call, and turn the phone off, exhaling in relief. It's always a lot conversing with Mom. She always drains me with her persistence and impatience. Luckily, I don't have to speak to her for the next few hours. I need a break. No, I need a breather. I've been holed up inside this room ever since I got back from the hospital with the news of the pregnancy, trying to figure out how to break the news to the people I care about. I'm sure as hell keeping this baby. Blair comes in, looking worried. "How did that go?" Our eyes lock, and I sigh. "Same old. She wasn't listening." "Hmm. That's her headache. Get dressed." I fix her a stare. "Where are we going?" "You want to sit down there or find out, babes? Come on. We're going to catch some fun, as well as seek out potential job opportunities. You'll see." Knowing Blair, I can tell this is going to go exactly how she plans it. I'm thankful, because this may be the breather I need. "Give me ten. I'll be out front before you know it." "Good girl."Viktor"What size would you like that in?"I consider the different options. "Give me two of the travel vials and four large bottles. Personalized, as we discussed. My assistant will handle the payment."I hit the button on the receiver for Galina to pick up and finish everything that needs doing. Today's first task is to have a custom perfume made for Anna to wear. Something from me that marks her as mine in the best way.Last night was incredible. Much needed. Long awaited.Until it turned into something different that I still can't quite figure out.Why did she run from me? What on earth did I do to make her hide in the shower and lock me out of my own bedroom?I haven't pushed her for an answer. It's possible that our little romp pushed her far enough and that's what sent her into this panic. She didn't even give her driver a run for his money this morning like she usually does. Just packed up, piled in, and let him take her to work without a word of complaint.I shouldn't let it
Anna"Viktor," I hear myself whine. "Viktor, please..."Those strong hands smooth down my back until they hook into the waistband of my sweatpants and panties. He doesn't let go of my nipple with his mouth as he slides both items down my thighs and drops them in a pile at our feet.Part of me feels so self-conscious about the changes in my body. My stomach is fuller, my breasts are larger—hell, I think my thighs have grown a bit thicker, too. I'm not the woman he first undressed in that storage closet.But just when I'm ready to plaster a self-conscious hand in front of my belly, Viktor seizes my wrist in a grasp firm enough to shock a surprised little yelp out of me."If you think for even one second I'm letting you hide any part of yourself from me, you're fucking delusional," he snarls. "I want to see all of you. Every last, beautiful inch."He descends with kisses, down the swell of my breasts and the swell of my belly and the swell of my throbbing labia."So beautiful," I hear hi
AnnaSeveral pierogies and a crisp salad later, Viktor and I are laughing over a joke he heard Nik tell one of his men. "It's even better in Russian." He sips on his water, still chuckling. "Fuck, I gotta remember that one for Rina.""Do you speak Russian?" Almost immediately, I want to kick myself for asking such a stupid question. "I mean, I hear you say a few words and phrases sometimes, but...""But am I fluent? Yes." He sets his glass back down and smiles at me with all the warmth I wish he'd have every day. Asya was right: his stomach is a direct road to the best version of him. "I was born here in America, as were Rina and Nik. But our father insisted we go back and visit frequently. He wanted to keep us rooted in both worlds, Old and New.""You must have loved it."Viktor thinks about it for a moment. "For the most part, yeah. Especially at Christmastime. The lights on the snow... I'd be bundled up so tight, I couldn't put my arms down below my waist. But it was worth it."I t
AnnaWe both hear the front door open. Asya smiles at me knowingly while I start to panic.“Keep at it, moya docha,” she mutters to me on her way to the cabinets. “I’ll set the table.”It’s a longer moment than I expect before Viktor appears in the archway of the kitchen. He’s sniffing the air with a growing smile, and my stomach does a little flip.Will he like it? Will he forgive my lumpy, misshapen interpretation of his favorite food?The moment he sees his mother in the dining room, he freezes. “Mama? What are you doing here?”Asya is completely unfazed. “I had to come see the beautiful mother of my grandchild! And give a few pointers for dinner.” She winks at me as she finishes arranging the silverware.I notice she only grabbed enough for two place settings. “Aren’t you joining us?”“Thank you, docha, but I have my own plans.” She walks over to me and kisses my cheek. “Besides, you’ll want your alone time.”For the first time since I’ve met him, Viktor looks completely bewildere
AnnaAn hour later, Asya and I are busting up laughing while I utterly fail at stuffing the dough for meaty pierogies. I’m either overfilling or rolling the dough too thin, because the membrane keeps breaking no matter how delicately I handle it.“You’re doing much better than I did when I first learned!” Asya exclaims while watching me struggle with joining the seams of my second attempt. “The trick is being able to measure a balance with your eyes. And better a thick dough than a broken one, yes?”“So what do I do with this… this… whatever the hell this is?” I laugh as I hold up my sad attempt at international cuisine.She plucks it from my hand and lays it out on the counter. “Take it apart and try again. Smaller meat, thicker dough.”“But what if it looks bad? Or it’s too small compared to the others?”“Then we eat it as a tester. Always test your cooking before serving, moya docha. Better a fat chef than a skinny husband.”I damn near choke on my own spit when she says that. Husb
AnnaAnother day, another trudge through the muck of a job I used to love. More and more, I wonder if I ever actually loved it, or if I just loved the freedom away from Collins and my parents and their never-ending attempts to control every last aspect of my life.When the day ends, my afternoon guard brings me home. I don’t bother making a fuss about who drives this time.“Hold on,” Viktor barks when we reach the penthouse door. He pulls me back and steps in front of me, drawing his gun in the same motion. I don’t know what’s got him on edge all of a sudden, but when I try to ask what’s wrong, he gestures for me to remain quiet.My heart jumps into my throat.Slowly and silently, he eases the door open and creeps inside.Someone’s in the kitchen. That must have been what alerted him: someone clanking and clinking and making all sorts of noises with our dishes. Viktor isn’t due home for at least another hour or two, and we don’t usually have an in-house guard stay behind all day.Vikt







