Page 24 of Lord of Pain
"Hey, look! It's time for brunch," I interrupt hastily. "Why don't the two of you join me in the kitchen and we'll cook something?"
Ivan's been standing silently this whole time, watching the introductions with some amusement. He's older than Roman, Ithink maybe early 30's to Roman's late 20's. It's clear, though, that he has the same sense of humor because he's chuckling quietly to Roman as they follow us.
"Anything else you want me to take care of today, Boss?" Ivan asks.
"No, you've got it," Roman says, "Thank you."
I've noticed he treats his men with respect and that raises him in my estimation. I endured years of Jack and my mother looking down on employees. Jack used to love to hector the waitstaff at the country club, knowing they couldn't do anything about it. Then to prove he was a colossal prick, he'd leave them a lousy tip. I'd always go back and add an extra twenty or forty bucks to the tab with my apologies.
"What are we making?" Rose asks, seating herself and pulling out her phone, not making a move towards any of the appliances as she starts a round ofCrushable.
Opening the fridge door, I survey the contents. There are fresh eggs, and three or four different kinds of cheese, peppers, and tomatoes. "Roman, do you have any potatoes and onions?"
He opens a cabinet door, pulling down a basket for me. Even his produce is lined up neatly; red onions in one tidy row, then white onions, and then garlic making an even column. Next, he hands me a basket of red and white potatoes.
"I've never seen anyone color coordinate their vegetables before," Iris blurts.
"Yeah," Alexsey says, leaning against the counter and popping a cherry tomato in his mouth. "Roman is extra anal about his domain."
Personally, I find his sense of order soothing, but Roman laughs, clearly not needing any defense. By the time the frittata is made, he's pulled out a juicer and made fresh orange juice and then with a grin, he takes a bottle of vodka out of the freezer.
"Oh, for god's sake," I sigh.
"Excellent!" Rose says happily. "We've had orange juice with champagne, but never with vodka. Screwdrivers, another one to check off the list, Iris."
"What would be the point of orange juice if it didn't have vodka in it?" Alexsey asks. "It's just there as the delivery agent with a little vitamin C, so you convince yourself that it's healthy."
I feel my rigid spine loosening by small degrees as everyone eats, laughing and talking. The sun is shining through the big garden window over the sink, and the house is blessedly quiet, aside from us. I'm so used to the clamor of sirens, neighbors shouting, the endless drone of traffic, that finding peace in the house of a Russian BratvaVorseems almost unsettling.
***
After lunch, Roman and Alexsey clear the table, stacking the dishes in the dishwasher and leaving the pan in the sink. "I have a housekeeper who will come by to take care of this," Roman says, trying to usher me away from the kitchen.
"What happened to you being all Mr. Clean? That's rude to leave dirty dishes out like that," I fret. "It's a beautiful copper pan, and I can't just leave it abandoned in the sink. With your neat-freak tendencies, this should make your day." I scrub the pan quickly as he watches me, bemused.
"You have such an overbuilt sense of responsibility." He leans against the island, resting his elbows onto the granite to get closer to me. "Tell me something," he says, low, intimate.
I don't have the nerves for this. I think.Is this going to be another round of filthy innuendos?
He tilts his head slightly, his green eyes glinting in the sunlight. "Did you…" His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did you put that blonde wig back on at the fundraiser and finish out the evening in your undercover role as a server?"
"Well, yes," I say indignantly. "They were already short-staffed! I couldn't leave them in the lurch like that. That would be so rude."
Romanhowlswith laughter, his huge shoulders shaking, head thrown back and I see the sharp claw of a tattoo extending from his shirt collar. Just that glimpse hits me hard and I wonder if this is what it's like for men when they get a look at your lingerie.
"Come on," he says when he's finally got himself back under control, the asshole. "I'm going to take you and your sisters on a tour so you know which parts of the house you're free to be in and which ones are off limits."
I'm immediately worried for Rose and Iris. "You don't bring your… uh, work home with you, do you?"
Oh, that just sets him off again. Stepping closer and backing me up against the fridge, he whispers in my ear, "Which kind of business are you thinking of, sweet Violet? My sex club work?"
Putting a hand to his chest and shoving him off me - an action that is becoming increasingly familiar - I say, "No, the kind that involveseyeballs."
He raises a brow, but the conversation is cut short as my sisters and Alexsey come back in. Rose and Iris are circling him like bees on honey and I can tell his practiced lover boy routine is wearing thin and he's already looking exhausted. This makes me feel unaccountably fond and a bit proud of my sisters, the diabolical little fiends.
Roman guides us through the first floor quickly, the kitchen, bathroom, living room, and a study that's locked. "This is always off-limits." Roman says this with no hint of a smile. There's a long hallway leading to a pantry and another to a mudroom paneled with three heavily locked closets.
"Also off-limits," Alexsey adds helpfully.
