Page 26 of Brutal Secrets

Stuck for words, I stare down at my boots. I was wearing them the first time I saw him, when he walked in on me and Jimmy, and now I have to leave him behind and return to a world where there’s no one in my corner. I haven’t felt held and so wrapped up in the comfort of being cared for and seen since my parents were alive.

“Zolotaya.” Vadim squats in front of me so that I’m staring directly into the pale fire of his irises, searching for some future I wish was there. Did that last kiss mean anything?

“I wish we had more time,” I whisper against his lips as he presses his mouth against mine. His kiss is so soft. How can such a hard man touch me so gently while the people who are supposed to protect me are harsh and twisted?

“I do too, golden songbird.” His voice is low and soft, caressing me. “I do too.”

“Will you ever come to America?” I let the question fade away, lacking the courage to ask for more.

“Maybe.” He gets up and sits down next to me on the bank of chairs, putting his arm around me and drawing me to his wide chest. I rest my head against him and listen to the steady thud of his heartbeat. “I might.”

And for a moment, I feel a bright flare of hope.

He balances his chin on my hair, and his breath dances across my scalp. “But if I did, my life would be a world away from yours. I wouldn’t want to draw you into all my chaos.”

“If you did. We could try. Maybe. I wouldn’t mind. Do you think we could?” I draw circles against his chest with my fingers, and my words spin in circles that match them.

His retort is quick, cutting my musing short. “No, zolotaya. I don’t. You don’t know what you’re asking.” His words land like stones at the bottom of a well.

“You make me feel safe.”

His laughter reverberates against me. “Christ. I shouldn’t.”

“But you do. You don’t know the music business. It’s full of creeps like Jimmy. The power lies with pervy old guys in suits.”

His arms tighten around me. “You think men like me can’t send a signal to little worms like him? He’s a coward, and I have contacts in America. Why do you think I came to the airport with you? I won’t let him leave Moscow without a little chat about how things are going to work from now on.”

I sit up and trace the harsh lines of his face with my eyes. “Then why? If you care that much, why can’t we be something more?” I whisper.

He grips my arms and gives me a gentle shake. “Because this was beautiful. Wasn’t it? You felt it too.”

The weight of his gaze sears into me, and I nod, tasting the emotion on my tongue, feeling my throat clogging with tears.

“And that’s why it has to end. Sharp and sweet. It’s all I can give you.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Please. Don’t sully it. Don’t ask me to ruin you.”

He looks up as Jimmy walks into the airport, wheeling his bag behind him, and he rises to stand. Before he can pull away, I wrap my arms around him and whisper in his ear.

“You are worth everything, Vadim. Everything. Don’t forget.”

“Oh, zolotaya.” He stares down at me with a rueful expression. “If you knew me, you wouldn’t feel that way.”

He walks over to Jimmy and talks to him. I count down the minutes on the clock as I watch their body language. Jimmy shrugs and puffs up his chest, but as the conversation passes the three-minute mark, he hunches in on himself and looks wildly around the terminal, searching the shadows for something or someone he can’t see.

Vadim nods at him and walks away. Back toward the bank of chairs where I stand to meet him. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t look back. He just walks into the snowy darkness and out of my life.

Ten Years Later

Chapter Eighteen

Stevie isn’t just my bass player. He’s my oldest friend and he’s called in a favor, which is how I find myself in the VIP area of a Russian nightclub in Brighton Beach. I haven’t been to one of these dives in years. Not since I stopped searching for Vadim.

Stevie cradles the guitar like it’s an extension of his anatomy, fingering the strings and peering into the crowd below. Looks like fun down there. The DJ mixes an anonymous club track with a bit of old-school pop, and the crowd downstairs goes wild. Two hundred arms shoot into the air simultaneously as the beat drops and Madonna’s nasal vocals ring out. She sings about the people coming together. There’s a shout of joy, and the track speeds up.

It doesn’t surprise me that no one on the top level jumps up and down. They’re all pretending to be cool or they’re too jaded to have fun. But like it or not, these are my people now. Rich, successful, too bored to enjoy themselves.

I miss the old days when we were broke, but we had fun trying to get noticed. I wish I could disappear into the crowd and lose myself in the music, but I’d get mobbed for selfies by people who probably aren’t even fans and just want a picture for their social media.

In the middle of the crowd, I spot a pretty blond girl in a plastic tiara and sash that says 21 TODAY. She bounces up and down in the middle of a crowd of friends.

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