What sixteen-year-old wasn’t allowed to go to their own party? And what sixteen-year-old was asleep at this time of night, on a Saturday night?Questions flooded my mind as I judged Anton on his parenting.
Immediately, I wanted to search her eyes for the sadness I knew hid there. But, she kept her head down. I’m not sure if she was avoiding my gaze or her fathers’ glare. But then she spoke and it was what I imagined an angel singing to sound like.
“Sorry, father. I just wanted some water.” Anastasia kept her eyes low to the ground as she stepped past.
My eyes followed her before she disappeared around the corner. No longer in my line of sight, I turned to her father. Our gazes locked on each other, his eyes growing wide with realization, as though he could see the wheels turning in my head.
It seemed that we had a new business to discuss.
We spoke at the same time, my “I want her” only slightly overpowering his booming “NO”.
“No,” he said again, stronger this time. “Not my daughter, she’s only a child.”
I hated how he had a point, she was only sixteen. What would my brothers think? No, she was too young. But I felt the pull in the marrow of my bones. I knew it. She was meant to be mine.
Think Nikolai, think.
I needed to be quick on my feet, to find a way to buy me some time. I needed a way to test his family loyalty, what would he give to keep his daughter? If anything at all.
“You want me to stay away from her? Thirty per cent.” I gave him the ultimatum like I was offering him a slice of pie. He nodded quickly in answer to my offer as soft footsteps approached from down the hall.
“By weeks’ end.” On that note, my angel rounded the corner and stopped upon seeing us. For the first time, our eyes met. I was thrown aback by the way her eyes narrowed into slits, at me! What the hell had I done? Well actually, I’d done a lot of unspeakable things, but nothing she knew of. I swore that her eyes had been looking right through me as if she knew all my secrets from just one look.
“Goodnight, father.” She walked past us once more, moving up the stairs and back to her room. Not an acknowledgement, not a word exchanged.
One look and she had me hooked.
Five Years Later...
“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t do it,” I told my boss for the third time. With the phone pressed between my shoulder and ear, my hands full of grocery bags, I struggled to open the door to my fifth-floor apartment. I made a sound of aggravation as the keys slipped through my hands. My boss mistakenly took that the wrong way. My forehead banged against the door as my body drooped with exhaustion.
The phone slipped from its spot in the crook of my neck, the sound of it landing on the floor caused me to wince.
Ugh.
For fuck’s sake.
Life was simply fucking splendid. What the hell else could’ve gone wrong?
I put the shopping bags down to pick up my phone and keys. My boss was still on the line waffling on about my bad attitude, and he was right - I did have a bad attitude. I was about to hang-up on him.
The absolute cheek on him! He rang me to ask if I could work the bar tonight, my only night off this week. And, I wasn’t even off because I have night school. Which was pretty pointless at the minute because I’d had to miss two classes this week already. Unfortunately, I can’t turn down overtime at the bar - I need a roof over my head and food on my plate.
I kicked the door shut behind me causing it to slam rather loudly. By the time I reached the kitchen to drop off my bags, my boss had hung up on me. Oh well, good. Glad he finally got the picture.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket before setting about the kitchen to unpack my shopping. I was already running late, so I needed to move as fast as I could. I’d been expected to stop by my father’s house to drop off his medication… half an hour ago. It wasn’t an urgent matter but my father had a strict schedule he liked to keep to, and he hated to be kept waiting.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I groaned for what seemed like the umpteenth time that afternoon.
I didn’t have time for visitors right now.
I grabbed my father’s meds and my purse before making my way to the door. A quick glance through the peephole made my stomach turn and my shoulders sag. Mike, my landlord slash neighbor slash ex-boyfriend stood on the other side of the cheap wood.
Our relationship was a shit show, but in my defense, he wasn’t the landlord when I moved in. His brother was.
Not that I knew that at the time.
