Hi! I'm back. Sorry for the delay. It was summer. I went on vacation. I got married. I got a better job too. So, I've been very busy. But as of now, this story is fully written. It'll be 30 chapters long for over 130K words.
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.
Chapter 16
Weeks passed by until Camille was finally free to get back to work. She hadn't gone back to live in her apartment though. Vladimir had offered her to come and live definitely in his. He had said it matter-of-factly. It would save her money and he would rest easier knowing she was in his bed every night. She'd said she'd think about it. It made sense, based on facts. She had thought so herself, before. The only real change it'd make would be the size of her wardrobe in his.
However, it was yet another step toward something serious. Like, life serious...
She decided to give herself until December and the coming of her mother to decide. She wanted to focus on this now. She'd need the apartment to receive them anyway.
Her daily routine went almost back to what it used to be. The only big change was that now, she had a Russian shadow everywhere she went. Most times, it was Piotr and she didn't mind. He and his dog went running with her in the beginning of afternoons and escorted her to and from work. She felt safer for it. However, sometimes it was another one of Vladimir's "cab drivers" and that usually was awkward. She never complained thought, getting rid of awkward shadows wasn't worth a kidnapping...
The only difficult time had been when she had to manage to ask Piotr personally to shadow her on one of her days off to go at a mysterious place and make him swear not to say a word about it to Vladimir. That had taken some convincing... As he finally agreed, she had stolen one of Vladimir's jackets and pants and went to meet Jessica future son-in-law. The woman hated when she called him like that.
Once in front of the address Jessica had given her, some private garage, she knocked on the half opened metallic shutter. She bent to go underneath it. Piotr followed her reluctantly. There, they discovered a workshop filled with saws and other pointy and deadly items, plunged in semi-darkness and not welcoming at all. Piotr drew his gun out.
"What kind of Christmas' present have you said you were planning to buy, Cami?"
She ignored him.
"Melvin?" She called out. "I'm a friend of Jessica's. Betsy's mom? She gave me your address."
A loud, metallic clang echoed in the workspace as a man got out of the shadows and let his crowbar fall on the ground. Bald and gigantic, Camille, craning her neck up to keep her eyes on his face, suddenly understood why the man scared the shit out of Jessica.
"Jessica sent you?" He asked. He had a strange look. He was probably a little simple. But also deadly. It was a chilling combination.
"Yes," she tried to be as soft as she could, big smile and all, "she gave me your address. I... hum, I have a friend who could use one of your specially weaved outfits."
"Alright," he replied. Camille couldn't hide her surprise. She had thought it would take more convincing.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Jessica is Betsy's mom." As if that explained it all. "You've got your friend's size?"
"Here," she handed him the clothes. He took it and started to take measures, not saying anything more. Piotr still had his gun out, made uneasy by the strange man. She began to walk closer to the latter, despite her shadow trying to grab her elbow to keep her away.
"Melvin?" She called, he looked back at her, waiting. "Do you think you can do something looking like these?" She motioned toward the clothes she'd brought. Vladimir wasn't a big fan of suits…
"Sure." He said.
"Great! Great." He really wasn't a talker. "And, how do you want to proceed?"
"Well, I start taking measures. Then, I do the weaving..." She cut him.
"No, I mean, how do you want me to proceed? When will it be ready?"
"Oh," He seemed to understand, finally. "I can have it ready in two weeks if I take my time."
"Please, do." She didn't want to be one of those who were making him work night and day. "And if I order two of these?"
"Then a month."
It would be two weeks before Christmas then.
"That'd be perfect. How much do I owe you?" He took time to think about it, probably calculating the costs. She guessed he wasn't exactly a clothes' shop so he didn't have fixed prices.
"Same clothes' quality?" He asked. "Not better?"
"No, he's not the fancy suit kind of guy." Melvin nodded.
"Two hundred bucks each." She agreed. It was a lot on her small salary but she'd saved a lot since Vladimir refused to let her pay for anything at his place and she didn't used hers anymore.
"See you in a month then."
On the way back, Piotr harassed her about the guy. Who was he? She didn't know really. What was so special about the clothes he sold? She couldn't tell him, she had promised Jessica. He was huge, did she reckon the Ranskahovs knew such a guy lived on their turf? She had no idea. But didn't she find him scary? Piotr, shut up.
Two weeks before Christmas, as promised, the clothes were ready when she went with Piotr again to pick them up. They were surprisingly well-tailored and light. It was perfect. When she got back home, she hid the package under the bed warning the cleaning lady when she came to keep it hidden. The woman smiled and nodded. She wasn't the chatty kind.
As she cleaned the apartment, Camille, unable to do nothing while someone was working beside her, decided to turn on the laptop in search of a solution to her never-ending Christmas trouble. Her mother and sister were coming in two weeks from now. They had everything ready and the three of them couldn't wait to be together again, at last.
Cherry on the cake was that Alexei went back to his family in Russia for Christmas, so the bar would be closed for three weeks. The two weeks of Christmas and New Year's Eve were among the closed ones so she would be able to spent all her time with her family. And maybe avoid telling her mom where she worked exactly…
However, despite her joy, Camille was anxious. First, because she had never been in physical contact with someone of her past life for quite some times and she hoped it wouldn't start back her PTSD. She sincerely hoped such a happy moment wouldn't be tarnished by this, by her own weakness. She had to be strong enough now. Well, she hoped…
Second reason was, she still hadn't solved the living arrangements conundrum. She couldn't let her mom and sister alone in her shitty apartment while she slept at Vladimir's. That was for sure. But sleeping on her couch now that she had two still newly healed cracked ribs didn't seem like a good idea either. Her last solution would be to rent a hotel room for three, for two weeks, at Christmas' time in New-York.
When Vladimir came home, the cleaning lady was already gone, carrying with her their bag of dirty clothes to give to the dry-cleaner. She would have washed her clothes herself but her boy didn't seem to see the need to own a washing machine… Camille, sat on a kitchen's stool, was still roaming the Internet in search of a free room in Manhattan that didn't require to have won the lottery to afford it. As the man came behind her, kissing the top of her head, he took notice of her search.
"Why are you searching for hotel rooms in Manhattan? Is this a new kinky game of yours? Should I be worried there is a man out there I should execute?"
He went for the fridge, in her back, to grab a beer. She was still focused on her search, desperate to find something, anything.
"It's not a kinky game, get that mind of yours out of the gutter. And your greatest threat might be Anatoly really, so up to you about the killing." She replied absentmindedly. "And thank you."
She grabbed the beer's bottle he had set for himself on the counter. She hid a smile as she took a sip in front of his disgruntled frown. He hated when she did that, stealing his food or drink. It reminded her of a dog. Which was why she did it every time she could. He went back to get another bottle out, putting it out of her reach this time. She got back to her treasure hunt.
"I'm looking for a room to rent for my sister and my mother and me for Christmas."
"Isn't it a bit late?" He asked back as he settled beside her, his hand snaking along the small of her back. "They'll be here in two weeks, right?"
"Yeah, well, that's why I couldn't be a wedding planner. In my defense, I thought we'd stay in my apartment, them on the bed and me on the couch."
"Camille, you can't sleep on your couch right now, you'll hurt your side again." It was said as an order. She ignored the tone only because she agreed.
"I know. But I'd thought I'd be fully healed by now. I was wrong. Hence the search for a hotel room. The late search."
Vladimir took a sip of his beer before adding:
"You could always have them stay here. They'd have the spare room and you'd get our bed."
She winced when she heard him. That was why she hadn't talked about it with him sooner. She appreciated the offer, really, but she could do without her mother meeting her mobster lover. Especially since said lover had Russian mobster king written all over himself and she couldn't see a way her mother wouldn't notice. However, she didn't want him to believe she was ashamed of him. She wasn't. Not really. She just wasn't exactly ready to face her mother's judgement on this. Her sister would be ecstatic to have such a badass sister, she'd bet. Which would only fuel her mother disapproval more…
Also, she loved her mother dearly but she was a pain in the ass to live with. She didn't want to put Vladimir trough that ordeal.
"I'd sleep at Anatoly's in the meantime." Vladimir added, as if he'd read her thought. Maybe he had seen it on her face.
"No!" Camille vehemently refused. "I appreciate the offer but I won't throw you out of your own place."
"You're not." He argued. "It might not have occurred to you yet, but I am not the kind of guy to look forward to meeting his girl's family." His scowl made her snort. Yes, she guessed family dinner would be torture for him. But still.
"Vladimir, I can't do that. It's…"
"Come on, Camille, stop being difficult. I don't care, really. If I can't see you for two weeks, I might as well spend them at my brother's. Plus, we'll have a lot of deliveries to do on the holidays. Lots of tourists looking for drugs. We will have to do some drops ourself. And I won't sleep properly if I know you're not here."
The girl hesitated and bit her lips, feeling guilty.
"I've got two conditions, thought." Ah… Here we go, she thought. With Vladimir, no good deed went without a price. She actually preferred it that way. "One, you come and live with me, for real. Two, Piotr stays as you bodyguard."
The United States didn't negotiate with terrorists. Camille did.
"Pushing me into agreeing to something isn't very gentlemanly." She commented with a pointed look. She knew he wanted her to stay here, officially, control freak that he was. She'd had bargained more time the last time he'd asked. Time was up, apparently.
"Point me to some Lady and I'll be a gentleman." He replied straight away, nonplussed. She hit him in the shoulder.
"Very funny, you arse!"
"Case proven." He was very smug as he drank his beer. She shot daggers at him. Since her living arrangements wasn't up for debate, she chose to try to negotiate point two.
"About Piotr, I'm not sure having some kind of bodyguard will sit well with my mum. It'd get her needlessly worried." She trailed off.
"She should be worried. You're a trouble magnet and you're banging the big bad Russian gangster on a daily basis."
At this, Camille let out a frustrated groan.
"Ugh! You're so not helping!" She tried another angle. "She might think he's my boyfriend."
Vladimir snorted derisively.
"As if! If she knows you well, she knows you're not the type to settle with anything less than an alpha male."
"We are wolves now, aren't we?" The guy was just so full of himself.
And yet, there was some truth to it. Thomas had been a fighter of sorts. Nobody could have stepped on his toes and, when he'd had an idea in mind, he had been worse than a dog with a bone… It had been rewarded with success too. By the time he died, he was one of the most promising elements of his firm, the youngest site manager to date. He'd had so many things left to do and live… The young woman shook herself out of this line of thought, focusing back on the present.
Vladimir was something else entirely and yet, she could see a pattern here. Piotr definitely didn't match it.
She frowned, not happy with the results of her thoughts.
"Alright, alright. I guess living here full time would be logical…"
"You're always here anyway, love." She knew but she still glared at him for his smugness.
"And I'd feel safer with Piotr around but… Do you think he could, I dunno, stay discreet?"
Vladimir nodded and kissed her cheek.
"Good girl."
"Screw you."
He screwed her instead.
After that problem being solved, sort of, the days until her family's arrival flew by so fast, she felt like it was sorcery! After one of hers and Vladimir's bed discussions, she had learned he was born on December 26th. Which made the task of gifting easy, he'd have one outfit for Christmas, one for his birthday. But also implied that she had to find something for Anatoly. His brother had insisted she didn't have to when she'd tried to grill him for ideas. She insisted. She saw Anatoly on regular basis, he was his brother, and she kind of started to like him. So, she wanted to. End of the debate.
She also had to buy her mother's and her sister's gifts, find some plan for the Christmas' meal – her mom would cook but she had to buy quite a few things for her to do so, Vladimir only having the strictly necessary things in his kitchen – and buy a tree!
The gifts' hunt amused Vladimir as it was Piotr who did the babysitting. From what he told his boss, he was traumatized. The tree he didn't mind either, at first, when she asked if she could buy one for the living room. When she borrowed his car, and his brother, to go a pick it up, he minded a little more. When his trunk ended up full of pine's thorns, he minded a lot more. She promised to clean it, but pointed out that it was probably not the worst thing this particular trunk had seen. Anatoly laughed during the whole argument. He laughed less when she recruited him to help decorating the tree, Vladimir having stormed off somewhere to pout.
The biggest argument yet had been about the kitchenware. She had bought things like knives, pots, pans, ladles and plates. The buying part he didn't mind. The you-wanted-me-to-live-here-you-have-me-so-get-your-guns-and-ammos-out-of-my-kitchen-'cause-I-need-the-drawers part, that set him on a rant. What if they got attacked while eating, hm? The man was a walking armory, for fuck's sake!
In the end, after they were done shooting daggers at each other, she agreed he could put one gun on the furthest drawer from the cooking space.
"Thanks, my lady is too kind!" He had grumbled between clenched teeth. She had stuck her tongue at him. In retaliation, he'd thrown her over his shoulder, put her in the shower and let the frigid water drench her. War ensued. They got both soaked. The bathroom tiles too. Thankfully, they found a fun way to get warmer again.
The second biggest argument had come with her moving the things off her apartment into his. She didn't have much. Except in term of clothes. Before she moved, Vladimir had asked her how much did she have to take back to his place. Given her assurance that it wasn't much, mostly clothes, they'd taken Vladimir's car and went to pack her things. Alexei, Anatoly and Jessica were waiting for them there. She'd gone days before to pack things into bags. It was decided the boys would take the bags while the girls would clean the rooms. They had planned to be finished in a couple of hours. It took longer.
First delay happened when Anatoly got stuck in her elevator. She had told them not to take it, they didn't believe her. A normal person would have waited for the mechanician to get the thing moving again. Anatoly opened a trap on the ceiling, hoisted himself through it and climbed the cables. Jessica had made her best impression of a fish when she saw him land on their floor.
Second delay happened when Vladimir, as per his habit, blew up a fuse. He had been steadily filling his trunk with her clothes, bags and purses and shoes when he started cursing and swearing.
"Woman!" He came face to face with her. Jessica let a small yelp out at his entrance in the main room they were washing. "You told me you had not much! How do you expect all this shit to fit into my place?! It needs an apartment of its own!"
Camille just stood straighter and held his glare.
"Want to back out? Now would be the time to say so." He was inches from her face but she didn't care. By now, she was used to his short temper. He would calm down as quickly as he got angry.
"'Course not." Even mad, he didn't lose sight of the fact she was just as pigheaded as he was and could easily decide to cancel the whole thing off. "But tell me, love," The word was spat with as much venom as he could, and that was quite a lot, "where do you plan to put all this crap?"
"Easy, love." She replied on the same tone, mimicking his face too as Jessica looked back and forth between them with worried eyes. Anatoly and Alexei ignored them. "You have a guest bedroom, remember? I'll just add a few shelves."
"A few, hm?"
"Yes, a few."
"And now you'll tell me you know how to fix a fucking shelf?"
"I was planning to ask for help." He knew he had her. She wasn't ready to surrender thought.
"And pray tell, who would be the lucky bastard you'll ask to help you?"
He was smiling like the cat who'd caught the mouse. It was an evil smirk that she wanted to wipe out from his face.
"Anatoly." She tried.
"Leave me out of it, sweetheart." Anatoly protested.
"Piotr, then."
"Piotr is my employee and he ain't gonna make no fucking holes in my fucking walls."
Fucker... Now, he was pulling ranks. Of course. She sighed and raised her hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright, I yield. I was planning to ask you." She confessed. "Once you'd be in a better mood." She muttered under her breath then.
After Vladimir and Camille were done spitting nastiness at each other – Alexei groaning a tired "Children..." as he hauled the last bags out – the drive back also became a rowdy affair. Camille had decided to buy pizza for everyone as it had been getting late. Everyone, including Jess, agreed to stay, which made her happy. But there were five of them and the car's trunk was full. Vladimir drove, of course. Alexei took the passenger's seat, which left the two women and Anatoly on the back.
Knowing Jessica's apprehension, Camille offered to take the seat in the middle. Anatoly, beside her, thought it'd be an amazing opportunity to bother her. He tickled her, pulled her hair, avoided her punches and laughed when she screamed in anguish.
"Children..." Alex tried again, to no avail. They were now almost on top of each other. The more enraged Camille got, the merrier her tormentor was.
"I'll show you, you fucking fucker!" She snarled as she tried to climb onto his lap to pull at his hair as a fair payback.
"What are you both?" Vladimir grumbled as he tried to drive among the mess. "Five?"
"That's the spirit!" His brother confirmed.
Jessica tried her best to avoid any harm but, despite her uneasiness, she laughed.
"It's a lost fight, Cami. Give it up." She tried.
She knew. Anatoly might be skinnier and smaller than his brother but what he lacked in bulk he made up in sinewy muscles. She fucking knew but damned it! She refused to be bullied by an overgrown kid.
In the end, Vladimir turned for his underground parking lot.
"If you keep that up, I'll throw the both of you out. From the apartment's window."
That was quite the fall. The troublemakers looked at each other.
"Peace?" Anatoly offered.
Camille nodded.
They emptied the car and put everything in the guestroom to sort later. Then, they drank a beer and ate pizzas. Camille was simply happy. This was her new world, her new life now. It wasn't perfect. Far from it. But it was home. She smiled like a fool the whole night.
to borma : Thank you again for your kind review. I didn't know Beyonce's song so I went and listened to it. Honestly my first though was : Is Camille really that sexy? Or is it Vladimir's fault? And then, I shrugged and thought : oh well, I like the idea now. So, let's say Partition is now officially the song they'll put on when they're being kinky while Camille's sister stay over ;)
