BOOK TWO
The Beast is back in Dubna. Let the obsession begin.
Finished with the Italian and home in his motherland, Vaslav Pashkov should be happy to isolate away in his safe and private hills. But the unfortunate detail of unfinished business with his dead friend drags him back to the city and puts Vera Avdonin straight into his waiting hands yet again.
Every meddling step he takes into her life only drags her closer to him whether she likes it or not. Somebody’s bound to notice. How much will they pay?
Welcome to Russia—while here, you will play by his rules.
*
The Lies Between Lovers is Part Two of Vera and Vaslav’s story in The Beast of Moscow Saga. It should only be read after Part One.
Finished with the Italian and home in his motherland, Vaslav Pashkov should be happy to isolate away in his safe and private hills. But the unfortunate detail of unfinished business with his dead friend drags him back to the city and puts Vera Avdonin straight into his waiting hands yet again.
Every meddling step he takes into her life only drags her closer to him whether she likes it or not. Somebody’s bound to notice. How much will they pay?
Welcome to Russia—while here, you will play by his rules.
*
The Lies Between Lovers is Part Two of Vera and Vaslav’s story in The Beast of Moscow Saga. It should only be read after Part One.
1.
“Vera Giana, how dare you?”
“Hannah—”
“I have been calling you for days!”
Four, actually. Since the day she arrived back from Paris.
Vera figured the exact number wouldn’t really matter to Hannah at the moment seeing as how it was the first time she’d picked up her friend’s calls. She couldn’t even use the excuse that she hadn’t noticed because that would be a boldfaced lie.
“You sound like my mother,” Vera said, eyeing the quiet street for any sign of the car that was supposed to arrive at her villa.
Hannah’s forlorn sigh crackled through the phone’s speakers. “I miss Claire.”
Vera did, too. It was hard not to when the very memory of her stepmother’s comforting, loving aura was enough to make her warm on the windy walkway. Hannah’s adoration for Vera’s mother was a testament to Claire’s sweet nature considering her friend had only met her mother twice in person.
“Maybe I’ll call her and tell her something is up with you,” Hannah said, reminding Vera that she wasn’t going to let this issue of hers go.
“You know, sometimes people just need time to think by themselves, Hannah.”
“Yeah, well—”
“I’m sorry if I worried you.”
The responding silence gave Vera the chance to check the street again, only to find the same thing waiting for her. Nothing but a group of kids kicking a ball at the far turn. She checked her watch--he did say ten.
But it was now quarter past.
“Did you even hear me?” Hannah asked, the annoyance clear.
Vera winced, knowing she couldn’t hide the fact that she hadn’t been listening when her friend came back to the conversation, and that probably wasn’t going to help her case where Hannah’s worry was concerned. Perfect.
“No,” she muttered.
“What are you doing? It sounds windy.”
“Waiting outside my place.”
“For?” Hannah pressed.
“I’m going to lunch with someone,” Vera replied carefully.
Or it was close enough to noon that lunch was the only real option she could go for without giving Hannah too many details. The only thing Vera planned to do today was cross one more thing off her list. She’d been avoiding it; ending it, really.
Feliks, that was, and properly stepping back from her role at The Swan House.
“Are you hiding something again?” Hannah asked.
“Again?”
“Like in Paris—come on, Vera, don’t deny it. You were being purposefully secretive about the guy you came with, and then he shows up at the tower, has a—”
“Stop.”
She didn’t want to get into Vaslav, or what happened that night under the tower. It wasn’t her place to discuss those things, or the private life of a man Hannah didn’t personally know. Even if that man had stepped off a jet and walked away from her without a look back after telling her that she would in fact marry him. Without details as to how exactly that would happen.
Four days later, Vera still didn’t have any damn answers. Hell, maybe that was for the best.
“You didn’t even call me about breakfast the next morning like you promised to!”
“I was up and gone before I could,” Vera replied just as hotly.
Except Hannah wouldn’t know that—you didn’t explain, she told herself. Not to mention, all the phone calls she had ignored. Was this really her friend’s fault?
Vera already knew the answer to that.
“I’m sorry,” Vera said again, turning her back to the street and facing her villa instead. She hadn’t even seen her neighbor, Mr. Anatoly, since arriving home. Faced with a fast-approaching fall season, he would usually be outside prepping his garden beds for a final harvest.
Or maybe she had been too distracted to notice.
“I have a lot of things on my mind,” she added when Hannah stayed silent.
Her friend picked up on that.
“Like what?” Hannah asked. “The guy?”
“What guy?”
“What guy,” her friend replied with a little laugh. “The guy, Vera. The one you came to Paris with. Who else?”
Vaslav was only one problem of many that Vera currently faced and didn’t know how to deal with. Or maybe he was one issue that she didn’t have to think about to deal with right this second, because he hadn’t attempted to contact her by any means once since she stepped off the jet—even leaving her to find her own way home from the airport, not that it was too hard to do so.
“Vera?” Hannah asked quietly.
“I’m—”
The playful shouts of children and the crunch of tires rolling across asphalt stopped Vera from explaining exactly what had her so distracted—a culmination of things, really. She turned back to the street to find the reason for the children’s yells rolling closer to her home in a two-door black sedan.
He was even driving.
“I have to go, Feliks is here,” she told Hannah.
Well, almost. Another fifty feet and the prick would be parked in front of her place. At least he hadn’t been driving recklessly because the children felt safe enough to go back into the bend on the street to play with their bright red soccer ball.
“Feliks?” Hannah shrieked. “What are you doing with that asshole again?”
Vera bristled at the again comment. Like the very fact that she even spoke about the man meant there was something happening in a romantic or personal sense beyond what she couldn’t control--work.
“I decided last night to tell him I was going to quit before I have to go back to work, actually,” she explained, trying to keep her tone level.
Did she succeed?
Not particularly.
“Oh,” Hannah returned.
“Yeah,” Vera muttered, eyeing the approaching vehicle as it rolled to a stop. “I don’t want to do it in front of the kids; that’s not fair to them. And even though he is an asshole that doesn’t deserve anything from me, and doesn’t have a current contract that he can keep me tied up in, I respect The Swan House enough to do it privately and figure out a way that quitting can work for everybody.”
Hannah scoffed at that. “You think it’ll really work like that with Feliks?”
“Why would he even care if I stayed? I only teach kids ballet.”
“He’s just not the type,” her friend said.
“The type to what?”
“To feel like he’s lost something.”
“I’m not something. I’m me.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not something to him.”
Vera didn’t like that at all.
“I have to go,” she told Hannah. “He’s parked and waiting.”
Not that she could see Feliks through the blacked-out front and rear windows of the sedan once he was parked.
“Lunch, you said?”
“Yeah.”
“Make sure you call me—and I mean it, too,” her friend added sternly. “We need to talk.”
“I thought we just did?”
“No, there’s other stuff, Vera. We both know it.”
Truthfully, she didn’t know anything.
Vera figured that was part of her problem, if not the biggest one. She didn’t tell Hannah that, and instead, said goodbye to her friend with a promise to call when she was feeling up to chatting. Not that she could say when exactly that time would be.
Stuffing the phone into the pocket of her trench coat, Vera stepped to the edge of the walkway, and reached for the car’s passenger door to open it. Feliks hadn’t even bothered to get out of the car or roll down the window to greet her, instead letting her go to him. He didn’t grunt hello or anything as she slid into the passenger seat and buckled up after she’d placed her handbag to the floor.
In fact, he pulled the car away from the side of the street before she had the chance to close the damn door.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” Vera asked him, noticing the three-piece black on black suit that looked tailor fit and brand new that Feliks wore. “You were the one who was late.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said in a smirk, not even passing her a glance under his opaque aviator shades. “The man of the hour won’t give a shit if I’m late, anyway.”
She blinked, confused.
“What, I thought we were going to lunch?”
Now there was a man of the hour?
“Who said anything about lunch?” Feliks asked.
“I figured because of the time—”
Finally, the man pushed his sunglasses high to the top of his head, giving her access to see the bloodshot eyes that Feliks had been probably trying to keep hidden. He sounded about as annoyed as he looked when he glanced over at her with a knotted brow and narrowed eyes to say, “I also told you to wear black, Vera.”
She peered down at the standard cocktail dress she had pulled out of her closet, barely giving the request by Feliks any thought at the time. Maybe they were going to one of those restaurants he liked that preferred to keep a dress code for its patrons, as ridiculous as she thought that was.
“I’m not going to some party with you,” she said. “I said I wanted to talk about what happened.”
Feliks nodded, and his foot pressed harder to the gas, sending the car lurching forward. “And we will,” he returned. “After.”
“After what?”
“The funeral.” He grinned, then, sending a chill racing down her spine at the coldness she found staring back from him. “I needed a date, and apparently, you had time today.”
“Hannah—”
“I have been calling you for days!”
Four, actually. Since the day she arrived back from Paris.
Vera figured the exact number wouldn’t really matter to Hannah at the moment seeing as how it was the first time she’d picked up her friend’s calls. She couldn’t even use the excuse that she hadn’t noticed because that would be a boldfaced lie.
“You sound like my mother,” Vera said, eyeing the quiet street for any sign of the car that was supposed to arrive at her villa.
Hannah’s forlorn sigh crackled through the phone’s speakers. “I miss Claire.”
Vera did, too. It was hard not to when the very memory of her stepmother’s comforting, loving aura was enough to make her warm on the windy walkway. Hannah’s adoration for Vera’s mother was a testament to Claire’s sweet nature considering her friend had only met her mother twice in person.
“Maybe I’ll call her and tell her something is up with you,” Hannah said, reminding Vera that she wasn’t going to let this issue of hers go.
“You know, sometimes people just need time to think by themselves, Hannah.”
“Yeah, well—”
“I’m sorry if I worried you.”
The responding silence gave Vera the chance to check the street again, only to find the same thing waiting for her. Nothing but a group of kids kicking a ball at the far turn. She checked her watch--he did say ten.
But it was now quarter past.
“Did you even hear me?” Hannah asked, the annoyance clear.
Vera winced, knowing she couldn’t hide the fact that she hadn’t been listening when her friend came back to the conversation, and that probably wasn’t going to help her case where Hannah’s worry was concerned. Perfect.
“No,” she muttered.
“What are you doing? It sounds windy.”
“Waiting outside my place.”
“For?” Hannah pressed.
“I’m going to lunch with someone,” Vera replied carefully.
Or it was close enough to noon that lunch was the only real option she could go for without giving Hannah too many details. The only thing Vera planned to do today was cross one more thing off her list. She’d been avoiding it; ending it, really.
Feliks, that was, and properly stepping back from her role at The Swan House.
“Are you hiding something again?” Hannah asked.
“Again?”
“Like in Paris—come on, Vera, don’t deny it. You were being purposefully secretive about the guy you came with, and then he shows up at the tower, has a—”
“Stop.”
She didn’t want to get into Vaslav, or what happened that night under the tower. It wasn’t her place to discuss those things, or the private life of a man Hannah didn’t personally know. Even if that man had stepped off a jet and walked away from her without a look back after telling her that she would in fact marry him. Without details as to how exactly that would happen.
Four days later, Vera still didn’t have any damn answers. Hell, maybe that was for the best.
“You didn’t even call me about breakfast the next morning like you promised to!”
“I was up and gone before I could,” Vera replied just as hotly.
Except Hannah wouldn’t know that—you didn’t explain, she told herself. Not to mention, all the phone calls she had ignored. Was this really her friend’s fault?
Vera already knew the answer to that.
“I’m sorry,” Vera said again, turning her back to the street and facing her villa instead. She hadn’t even seen her neighbor, Mr. Anatoly, since arriving home. Faced with a fast-approaching fall season, he would usually be outside prepping his garden beds for a final harvest.
Or maybe she had been too distracted to notice.
“I have a lot of things on my mind,” she added when Hannah stayed silent.
Her friend picked up on that.
“Like what?” Hannah asked. “The guy?”
“What guy?”
“What guy,” her friend replied with a little laugh. “The guy, Vera. The one you came to Paris with. Who else?”
Vaslav was only one problem of many that Vera currently faced and didn’t know how to deal with. Or maybe he was one issue that she didn’t have to think about to deal with right this second, because he hadn’t attempted to contact her by any means once since she stepped off the jet—even leaving her to find her own way home from the airport, not that it was too hard to do so.
“Vera?” Hannah asked quietly.
“I’m—”
The playful shouts of children and the crunch of tires rolling across asphalt stopped Vera from explaining exactly what had her so distracted—a culmination of things, really. She turned back to the street to find the reason for the children’s yells rolling closer to her home in a two-door black sedan.
He was even driving.
“I have to go, Feliks is here,” she told Hannah.
Well, almost. Another fifty feet and the prick would be parked in front of her place. At least he hadn’t been driving recklessly because the children felt safe enough to go back into the bend on the street to play with their bright red soccer ball.
“Feliks?” Hannah shrieked. “What are you doing with that asshole again?”
Vera bristled at the again comment. Like the very fact that she even spoke about the man meant there was something happening in a romantic or personal sense beyond what she couldn’t control--work.
“I decided last night to tell him I was going to quit before I have to go back to work, actually,” she explained, trying to keep her tone level.
Did she succeed?
Not particularly.
“Oh,” Hannah returned.
“Yeah,” Vera muttered, eyeing the approaching vehicle as it rolled to a stop. “I don’t want to do it in front of the kids; that’s not fair to them. And even though he is an asshole that doesn’t deserve anything from me, and doesn’t have a current contract that he can keep me tied up in, I respect The Swan House enough to do it privately and figure out a way that quitting can work for everybody.”
Hannah scoffed at that. “You think it’ll really work like that with Feliks?”
“Why would he even care if I stayed? I only teach kids ballet.”
“He’s just not the type,” her friend said.
“The type to what?”
“To feel like he’s lost something.”
“I’m not something. I’m me.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not something to him.”
Vera didn’t like that at all.
“I have to go,” she told Hannah. “He’s parked and waiting.”
Not that she could see Feliks through the blacked-out front and rear windows of the sedan once he was parked.
“Lunch, you said?”
“Yeah.”
“Make sure you call me—and I mean it, too,” her friend added sternly. “We need to talk.”
“I thought we just did?”
“No, there’s other stuff, Vera. We both know it.”
Truthfully, she didn’t know anything.
Vera figured that was part of her problem, if not the biggest one. She didn’t tell Hannah that, and instead, said goodbye to her friend with a promise to call when she was feeling up to chatting. Not that she could say when exactly that time would be.
Stuffing the phone into the pocket of her trench coat, Vera stepped to the edge of the walkway, and reached for the car’s passenger door to open it. Feliks hadn’t even bothered to get out of the car or roll down the window to greet her, instead letting her go to him. He didn’t grunt hello or anything as she slid into the passenger seat and buckled up after she’d placed her handbag to the floor.
In fact, he pulled the car away from the side of the street before she had the chance to close the damn door.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” Vera asked him, noticing the three-piece black on black suit that looked tailor fit and brand new that Feliks wore. “You were the one who was late.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said in a smirk, not even passing her a glance under his opaque aviator shades. “The man of the hour won’t give a shit if I’m late, anyway.”
She blinked, confused.
“What, I thought we were going to lunch?”
Now there was a man of the hour?
“Who said anything about lunch?” Feliks asked.
“I figured because of the time—”
Finally, the man pushed his sunglasses high to the top of his head, giving her access to see the bloodshot eyes that Feliks had been probably trying to keep hidden. He sounded about as annoyed as he looked when he glanced over at her with a knotted brow and narrowed eyes to say, “I also told you to wear black, Vera.”
She peered down at the standard cocktail dress she had pulled out of her closet, barely giving the request by Feliks any thought at the time. Maybe they were going to one of those restaurants he liked that preferred to keep a dress code for its patrons, as ridiculous as she thought that was.
“I’m not going to some party with you,” she said. “I said I wanted to talk about what happened.”
Feliks nodded, and his foot pressed harder to the gas, sending the car lurching forward. “And we will,” he returned. “After.”
“After what?”
“The funeral.” He grinned, then, sending a chill racing down her spine at the coldness she found staring back from him. “I needed a date, and apparently, you had time today.”