Page 47 of The Den of Sin
How could so much have gone wrong?I asked myself.
“Promise you’ll keep my babies safe, Nikola.” Her eyes never opened as she spoke those last words and drifted off to sleep.
“I promise.” Another promise to a dying woman.
Chapter Sixteen
Isabella
Istrolled through the French Quarter, the warm breeze a gentle caress on my skin. Tatiana had a hair appointment and there was no way I would spend such a warm day inside. I convinced Adrian I’d get on his nerves if I went along with him and Tatiana. The restlessness grew within me, like excess energy that I had to burn but didn’t know how.
I knew Adrian had someone watching me, at least he gave me a heads up. His driver dropped me off at the corner of St. Charles Avenue and a man that didn’t blend in at all, sat there casually pretending to read a magazine.
“Is that the guy that works for Adrian?” I asked the driver before I exited.
Upon his nod, I thanked him and exited the vehicle. It wasn’t till my mother’s death and revelations in her journal that I finally understood why Tatiana’s family needed so much protection. It turned out those rumors I heard in college had been well founded.
There is truth in every lie, Bella.My mother’s words rang in my ears.God, how right she was!
I casually strolled through the stores, enjoying the silence. Tatiana liked to talk and it was what I loved about her. But as an only child, I was used to being alone a lot. It didn’t bother me to do things alone, and I loved the silence.
The street painters at the square were my favorite. There were paintings of the French Quarter in a multitude of bright colors, paintings of the Garden District, saxophone players, and the New Orleans skyline. The Crescent City boasted a rhythm style and attitude unlike any other city I had ever been to. There was freewheeling fun and go-cups everywhere I looked. It wasn’t Carnival season but the vibrancy of this city and colors everywhere made it seem like it was. The smell of jambalaya and a crawfish boil mixed with the alcohol fragranced the air.
I aimlessly wandered around but would have loved to just sit on the bench and stare at them all. The performers and people painted silver were at each corner, attracting crowds. I didn’t stop though. The restlessness within me grew with each second.
My eye caught on a small corner with an older guy, smeared water colors all over his shirt, painting. Although he faced the Saint Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in North America, he surprised me. He wasn’t painting the church. And while other paintings around the square had loud and bold colors, so synonymous with this city, this guy was painting a serene picture with settled earth colors. I stood behind him, watching him as he created the image within his mind. Every so often he’d raise his head and stare at the church, but I knew in his mind, he wasn’t seeing the church. He had a picture in his own mind.
I must have stood there for an hour and as the image of a lone weeping willow tree surrounded by water slowly came to completion, so did my realization. This restlessness I felt was because I haven’t seen Vasili since the night he brought me home. It had been two whole days, after seeing him three times in a single day. I kept telling myself I regretted what we did in the car, but it was a lie. I didn’t regret it at all. In fact, I wanted more.
But the memory of the pain he caused was stopping me. Vasili acted like he wanted me but it could all be a pretense. After all, I’d found out firsthand how good he was at pretending.
But then why touch me again?I pondered.
He had me five years ago, he got his revenge against my mother and me. Unlike Vasili, I couldn’t hold the mistakes against my mother. She was young, only twenty when she met Vasili’s father. She fell in love, and yes, it was wrong. He was married, but his father was at fault too. And my mother paid a steep price for it. She lost a son.
I swallowed hard, the pain of my own loss choking me. All the pain he caused me and I still wanted him. Was that normal? I couldn’t control how my heart raced around him nor this longing for his touch and hushed whispers. One night with him became the epiphany of my life. From the moment we met, he was cold and hard but past all that exterior, there was passion and a heart that cared. All I had to do was look at Tatiana and Sasha and there was the evidence how much he cared.
Maybe he just didn't care for me, but he had a heart. I often wondered what his mother must have told Vasili to drive him to such an extreme to avenge her.
I blinked hard, pushing the emotions into a dark corner. None of it mattered really. He might want me, but it would never be more than that for him.
My eyes focused on the painting, and I realized the man completed it. He watched me, probably wondering why I stared at the painting like some kind of lunatic.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured. And it was, the peace and serenity mixed with the passion screamed on that 16 x 24 canvas. The weeping willow reminded me of Vasili and our rendezvous two nights ago in the car on our way home. “Is it for sale?”
He nodded.
“How much?” I asked. I couldn’t really afford to spend money right now without a job, but I really liked it. Although I wondered about my sanity at wanting it. It would forever remind me of Vasili. Maybe I liked torturing myself.
“A thousand dollars.”
It was too much. I shouldn’t do it. “I’ll take it.”
It took him five minutes to package it and process the payment. As I thanked him and turned around to leave, I bumped straight into a large man’s chest.
“Oops, I’m sorry,” I apologized, raising my head.
Dark blue eyes on a hard face met mine and something about them struck me as familiar. The man was tall, had a broad chest and strong body. I felt, more than saw, a few women passersby throw glances his way. There was a raw appeal to him, that tanned skin against dark blue eyes and dark hair. His full lips curved in a small smile, his eyes studying me with interest.
