“It’s a seamless bikini.”
“It’s fucking nude!”
“Okay, Mikhail, whatever you say.”
“Why?”
“Because that was what we agreed on.”
“Who is we?” I wanna bite her.
“The sponsors, editors, and photographers.”
“And Blake?”
Her eyes narrow. “There’s nothing going on with me and Blake, just like there’s nothing going on with you and your right hand, who I know is a woman. You hired her for the money she can bring in and the arrangements such as ours she can make happen. Blake hired me for the money, and by the way, I got paid twice my usual rate for that shot, which was pretty great. And,” she showed me three fingers, “filled three empty slots in my schedule right after that shot was published, not to mention I’m gonna hustle while I’m on the shoot of those three to pimp my furniture store.”
My wife is ambitious. I like this. I purse my lips and nod. “You sparred that round well.”
“Thank you.” She rubs my back. “How are you feeling?”
“Horny. But I gotta clear up some stuff with you. I don’t want the world to see my wife naked.”
Her hand flies off my back as if I burned her. “It’s just tits and ass. Half the population of Earth has them.”
“Those are my tits and ass, so only I have the right to see them. You understand?”
“I think you think you own me.”
“I do think that, and I can’t unthink it.”
She shakes her head and opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “From today on out, there is only onewewho decides on howlife and what we do goes forward. Thatweare me and you and our people. We are ‘The We.’ The other people arethey, because when push comes to shove, I wanna know you’re in my corner and I damn well will be in yours. Is that clear?”
I get up and walk away because I’ve said what I had to say and I won’t compromise. There’re plenty of models who don’t do nude or seamless or whatever the fuck this new world is turning into. She needs to set those limits for me, and I’ll do whatever she asks. Whatever. I’ll do it.
8
Kaya
The second Mikhaildisappears into the bedroom, I notice the fill in the hole on the door. Instead of replacing the entire door, they’re gonna patch it up. I like the color of the wood, and it matches everything in this beautiful home I’m pretty sure Ivana decorated for me.
I dig my phone out of my purse, walk outside, and call her. It rings several times. I call again and again until she finally picks up, her voice sounding sleepy.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say. “I’m sorry for waking you.”
“It’s fine. How are you guys doing?”
Around this time last year, I met Ivana at a charity function, and we hit it off pretty fast, talking long into the night and getting drunk after everyone left. Things slipped past our mouth filters, and she remembered, called me a few days later with a proposal. We met again, and she encouraged me to set up a furniture place and funnel money there without my brother or father knowing.
It was supposed to be a bogus company, kind of like one of those the worldwide Mafias are running, but I fell in love with the idea and stuck with it, letting it become the real deal.
A few months back, when we plotted our mutual escapes, hers from this lifestyle and mine from my brother, who kept taking most of my profit citing old family rules that died in the fifth century, she came up with Mikhail. She showed me pictures, assured me he’d treat me well, and asked I don’t judge him for being a little rough around the edges.
At first, I refused her idea. Who wanted to marry a Russian mobster that looked like he wanted to murder everyone in his path? But when my brother started poking around, he got real close to the furniture company and the thousands I stashed there, Ivana moved in again. This time, I agreed, and she asked that we play this smart, citing that if it were guys playing girls, we would never even have to have two conversations.
We’d move in for the kill, positioning ourselves for maximum protection. Her ruthlessness didn’t suit me, but she’s a survivor, and damn it, so am I. I couldn’t let my brother take my money. We had to play him, make it look like it was his idea, and that he’d make more if he married me off. That last part was true.
I played the part, and now I’m done and ready to move on with my new life, which means actually have a relationship with my husband. If possible.
