Novel & Cerita By Vladimir Nabokov

The right and left of the narrow hallway were bookshelves. She stood staring at the wall and she saw it was not flat. There was a block from the wall that jutted inside. She pushed the wall, and it opened. She couldn't blink with admiration when she saw the glass book inside the wall. The book was so beautiful and old she had never seen such a book before. She then took the book and closed the wall. “Calista, I found you.” It startled her to hear someone speak softly to her from behind her, making her turn around, and she saw Vladimir standing not far from her with his eyes fixed on hers.

“Enough to come crawling out of the shadows after nearly twenty years.” The air between them pulsed with quiet danger. Viktor Natov wasn’t just a threat—he was history reborn. He was the architect of the ruin that had driven the Volkov family from Bulgaria. He had orchestrated the assassination that had taken Yelena Volkov’s life. And for that alone, Dante knew that working with him was dancing on a blade’s edge. But sometimes, you needed a monster to destroy another.

I question curious as I walk down the hall without giving the least importance to the blood that flows through my hands. The huge empty hall by the time of day in which the men are resting and others are fulfilling the routes keeping the traffic active, receiving information about the Italians. I pulled the pack of cigarettes out of my pocket took my mouth and lit it. The draught does not diminish the fury I feel but the toxic taste that fills my lungs softens the beast that cries out for blood. "Nabukov won’t say anything about the contract to Lyana." He crosses his arms leaning his back against the opposite wall.

Four huge shelves lines the walls, books of various kinds arranged in them. He must be a lover of books. “Staying in an isolated place requires unique hobbies,” he says, sliding out a book. “Most of these have been read.” He flips the book open. “What is your favorite book?” Vladimir’s attention is buried in the book. “I don’t like novels.” “What books do you like?” “Anything but novels.” “You have bad taste in things.” He closes the book and returns to its position. Leaning against the shelf, he shoves his hands into his pockets, gazing at me. “Who was he?”

It sank even deeper but I tried not to show it. "Why are you telling me? You usually don't." He was quiet, till he breathed. "I don't know," before his footsteps got entirely erased. * * * * My fingers trailed across the spine of the books and I stopped on a white covered book. I pull it out of the shelf and hold it in both hands. "Crime and Punishment," I read aloud before gazing down at the author's name. "Fyodor Dos-tos-to-eeev-evsky?" I squint my eyes. "Fyodor Dostoevsky!"

Vladimir said, pecking my nose. Smiling, I apologize again. After we exchange a small conversation, Vladimir laid down on my lap. He was getting a small nap, and I continued reading my book. Vladimir took a long nap; he was tired. I know he didn’t tell me, but I could see how tired he was, especially after my heat.

He wondered if the change was permanent or if they were going to go back to how things were… before Alice. He sighed and walked into the mansion. Even though he did not have any feelings, he would not feel good if he had to kill Vorenus. They came a long way together. “Bring me a drink of Cognac,” Vladimir said to his butler as he walked into the library. He browsed through the books, slowly, traveling down memory lane. He knew most of these men personally – Shakespeare, Thomas Middleton, Robert Greene… it was such a pity that these men did not gain as much fame as Williams. Some of them were as good as – if not even better than the world-famous playwright.

I saw Tasha turn her head a little towards me in the backseat. I opened my eyes again when I saw my phone lit up. My brows furrowed when I saw Tasha's name in my notifications. From: Tasha Veda girl, are you okay back there? I quickly typed an answer. To: Tasha Veda yes of course stupid why are you still texting we are in the same car She glanced at me before she typed something on her phone. From: Tasha Veda stupid do you really want morris to know that you nearly went home to a different house and not to your condo???

He put his arm around her shoulders pulling her close as he stared indignantly at Mikhail. “Where I go she goes.” Ruben stated in a voice not to be contested. Vladimir had been standing by the great bookcase that lined one entire wall, flicking through a book as Ruben had entered. He closed the book with a snap and put it back, causing just enough of a distraction between Mikhail and Ruben to break the tension. He seated himself in the other chair that angled across from Mikhail’s and faced the sofa. “You know you’re late…in your own house.” Vlad’s eyes sparkled as he smiled, his eyes sliding from Ruben to Kat. “How could you possibly be late?”

image he worked so hard to maintain. I closed the closet, still grinning, and wandered into his bedroom. On his nightstand I found more books, all by Fyodor Dostoevsky: Crime and Punishment, Notes from Underground, The Idiot, White Nights. I picked one up and flipped through it. The pages were worn, corners folded and some lines underlined. He wasn't just pretending to like this stuff, he really was a superfan of Russian literature. I didn't believe it when he first told me, but now I believed it without a doubt.