Page 23 of Natasha
"What do you mean by took care of it?" her mother asked.
"A friend came by unexpectedly. He took care of it."
"Did he hit him?"
"Yes."
"Knock the shit out of him?"
"Very much."
Natasha's mother put her hand over the phone, most likely to tell her grandmother what she'd said, and a minute later, her mother was back on the phone. "Grandmother says we will sue the fucker for the shit he has left in him."
A grin spread across Natasha's face at that, and she let out a little laugh. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"No one touches an Ochenko and gets away with it."
"True." Natasha nodded, even though her mother couldn't see it.
"We'll come over to make sure you are all right."
"Mama, I'm fine," Natasha protested. The last thing she wanted was her mother and grandmother at her house, making a fuss, going into hysterics over what couldn't be changed. But most of all, she wanted to stay in the rose-tinted bubble Silas had left her in for just a bit longer. If they came, it would be like reality setting in. The aftermath of Peachtree's actions wouldn't be something she could ignore, but her mother was having none of her excuses.
"Nonsense. We'll be there in an hour with food," her mother told her before the line went dead. Natasha frowned and tucked her phone into her back pocket. There would be no resting, not with the Ochenko women on the way.
True to her word, her mother and grandmother breezed into her house an hour later, arms laden with food and already talking excitedly about what they'd like to do to Mr. Peachtree. After dinner and much deliberation, hanging the brute by his toes from a lamp post in Central Park overnight seemed to be the most satisfactory punishment.
"The nerve," her grandmother seethed, "calling us as if we had done him wrong when he was the monster all along."
"I never liked him." Her mother set a teacup in front of Natasha with a shake of her head. "Something wasn't right in that man's eyes."
Natasha nodded along quietly, although she knew her mother was lying to herself. The day Peachtree had dropped his daughter off, she'd practically thrown Natasha at him. "He makes a lot of money. I should know; he can afford us, after all. Not to mention he paid a year in advance! A whole year, Natasha!"
But she said nothing because she knew it was easier for her mother to convince herself that she'd tried to protect Natasha in some way. Blessedly, the night ended, and Natasha took refuge in her bed. She loved her family, but they could be draining. It wasn't that they meant harm. It was just that they seemed to expect the world to bend to their will. Herself, included. And bending but not breaking for them was a tiring endeavor.
All in all, she was still grateful they had shown up. The company had been welcome, not to mention that they sufficiently exhausted Natasha so that she wouldn't be up all night in her excitement over Silas, and she fell into a dreamless sleep in record time.
* * *
Natasha wokeup the next day to several text messages, two from her mother, one from her grandmother, and then, finally, blessedly, the one she had been waiting for—from Silas. She'd given him her number on a scrap of paper before he'd left the day before, and when she hadn't heard from him that day, she'd wondered if he'd lost it.
"Silly girl," Natasha muttered to herself. It had only been a day.
What was this man turning her into? With a frown that she didn't quite mean, she eagerly opened his text message.
Good morning, baby girl. I hope you had a good day of rest. Let me know when you wake up. We can make plans for later.
Natasha grinned like an idiot. "Plans," she sighed happily, falling back into her bed. She'd never made plans for a Sunday with anyone. That day had always been reserved for recouping from hangovers or for rest and recuperation from a challenging performance.
Sundays were sacred. And now, Sundays were for Silas. The connection she'd just made didn't escape her, and she almost rolled her eyes at herself. Almost.
I'm up, Natasha sent quickly, and then she groaned.
"That's it?I'm up?" she grumbled to herself, tossing her phone down onto the bed next to her, not trusting herself to send anything more. She would wait until Silas responded, and hopefully, she'd improve with her next text.
A smiley face emoji appeared from Silas.What would you like to do today?
Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and considered the question. What did she want to do? What hadn't she done in a very long time that she enjoyed? Almost unbidden, the thought came to her, and she clapped her hands because it was the perfect suggestion for a Sunday in New York.
