After such an eventful day, and with it being almost ten at night when we arrived at the airport, I ended up falling asleep on Gavril’s private jet. It was just too decked out with comfortable, luxurious seats, and the shots of vodka we clinked together right after takeoff didn’t help me stay awake.
The light thump of the wheels touching down woke me up, and I scrambled to see nothing more than another airport, but the smattering of tall palm trees gave away a tropical location. Warm, humid air enveloped us as we descended the steps onto the tarmac, and I turned in a circle until I spotted a sign that said ‘Welcome to Miami’.
“I’ve never been here,” I said, excited and revitalized after my long nap.
The sun was rising over the tops of the buildings and swaying palm trees. It was already morning on this side of the country. Gavril gave me a squeeze as we waited for our bags to be loaded into a waiting car.
“You said it wouldn’t be hard to find a place you’ve never been,” he reminded me. “Are you happy about it?”
“Very,” I said honestly. A long time ago, both Masha and I had been given world maps that you could color in as you visited the different countries, cities, or states.
Masha was serious about hers, coming home from each new trip and ostentatiously scribbling over the latest place she’d just traveled. Mine was stuffed in a drawer somewhere back home in Moscow, and if I had kept up with it, only a few parts of my home country and one small sliver of America would be shaded in.
I nearly had an anxiety attack, making myself go to a pottery class on my own, and here I was in a brand new city with a huge, charismatic man who should have had me cowering in a corner. Instead, I leaned into his quick hug.
The car was ready, and I kept my nose pressed to the window while Gavril checked his phone. I should have been trying to peer over his shoulder, but I only had eyes for the new sights. Pretty soon, we passed over a causeway surrounded by water and ended up at a mansion on what seemed like its own private island within the city. There were only a few other houses surrounding it, and the one we pulled into was the grandest by far.
Pure white columns rose the full two stories at the entrance, flanked on each side by bright hibiscus and asprawling stairway leading to the massive front doors. White marble balconies lined the second story, encasing French doors covered with breezy, sheer curtains.
After we passed through the ornate, wrought iron gate and the driver parked in the curving drive in front of the stairs, he jumped out to fling open our doors. A valet hurried forward to get the bags out of the trunk, and a stately butler, fully dressed in a day suit straight out of Downton Abbey, appeared on top of the steps.
“Welcome, Mr. Bocharov, Mrs. Bocharov,” he said, lightly popping down the stairs to give a little bow and assure us the house was ready.
I had always been surrounded by wealth, but for the most part, my family, especially my down-to-earth parents, shunned this sort of formality. My jaw must have been nearly touching my chest as I watched Gavril try to remain polite while clearly bothered by the fanfare.
So much for being alone. While the success of my plan to find someone to get me a phone increased, I couldn’t say I was thrilled about it. Damn it, I was too excited about a new experience for once in my life.
“I told Morozov not to make a fuss,” Gavril muttered. He took out his phone and tapped on a contact I got a glimpse of before he pressed the phone to his ear. “Leo,” he said when he got an answer. “Yes, yes, we arrived just fine. It’s a splendid welcome, but everyone has to go. Yes, even the cook.”
Of course, I recognized the name. Anyone in the Bratva knew about the family that ruled Miami as well as parts of New York. We’d never had any trouble from them, and as far as I knew, they kept to themselves in Russia and stayed out of WestCoast business. Obviously, they didn’t have any beef with the Collective either, if Gavril was borrowing one of their houses.
We followed the butler, who didn’t seem all that perturbed that he was being evicted, and he gave us a tour of the magnificent house. On the outside, it was completely classical with the clustered topiaries and regal palms spaced equally along the drive. On the inside, it was airy and modern, with bright cushions, splashy art on the walls, and shiny teak wood accents.
A wall of glass doors that opened one by one like an accordion, folding up, looked out on a pristine white sand beach. The sun was still low over the water, reflecting off the azure ocean in a blinding line of golden light. The sound of the waves lapping the shore was gentle and soothing, nothing like the crash of the Pacific.
I was close to vibrating with anticipation to get my toes in the surf and feel that warm sun on my skin.
“Get one of those bikinis on,” Gavril said. “Or better yet, don’t.”
“If that’s all, sir?” the butler asked, discreetly averting his eyes in case I started stripping my clothes off there and then.
“Yes, thank you, now please get lost,” Gavril barked.
Still unperturbed, the butler left, never to be seen again. We were really alone. In a house that had several phones. Yes, I hadn’t been so dazzled on the brief tour not to notice a sleek, silver one attached to the kitchen wall and another, old-fashioned style desk phone in an office that had been made ready for Gavril’s use.
They weren’t going anywhere, and Gavril was already unbuttoning his shirt and flinging it behind him as he rantoward the waves. I wasn’t about to let him beat me and took off at full tilt. I crashed into him, climbing onto his back as he stopped above the darker sand to kick his shoes off.
With a laugh, he twisted me around so I was now in his arms and at his mercy.
“Don’t you dare,” I said.
Too late, I was tossed into the water with my clothes and shoes still on. It was colder than I imagined, and I jumped up as fast as a cat, flying at him to drag him in with me.
Who was I? Who was this man chasing me and splashing me in an attempt at revenge for soaking his eight-hundred-dollar shoes? How could we be having so much fun?
Almost like we weren’t enemies at all.
The next few days were just as magical, all because of Gavril. He didn’t seem like a brute anymore, at least not to me. If he was taking calls, he made sure I wasn’t around, and he almost always had a smile on his face when I caught his eye.
