Nico
Pullingmy phone from my pants pocket, I see that one of my Brigadiers is calling me. A string of Russian cuss words leave my mouth. I don’t have time to deal with this shit now. Laying here with my Dusha Moya, I don’t want the outside ugliness to ruin this moment. I’ve kept my distance so that she doesn't ever have to witness the dark and disturbing scenarios that I’ve got to deal with.
“Da?” I murmur into the phone.
“We’ve got major problems.” The background on his end of the line is loud, and I can barely hear Anton over all the thundering noise.
“That being what?” I make sure to keep an even tone so as not to wake the sleeping woman beside me.
“Shipment is late with no communication from them of any kind,” Anton hisses angrily.
I growl deep in my chest as this is not the first shipment in so many months to not show up on schedule. Neither Timur nor myself have been able to figure out what's going on. Our contacts in the police department swears it’s not them. That means there is someone making movements against the organization. Aubrey shifts on my chest moaning, causing my dick to jump in my tight slacks.
I don’t have fucking time for this shit right now.
“I’ll let Timur know what’s going on. Keep your phone close and don’t let anyone know what’s going on. We’ll be there later to check in and figure out how to proceed. This is getting out of fucking control.” I know I’m being harsh on him, although with that thought, it’s Anton’s job to take care of this stuff.
“You know, it’s really sexy when you growl in frustration like that, right?” Aubrey mumbles into my chest.
“Dusha Moya, you're supposed to be resting. Not listening to my phone calls.” I tsk her.
“It’s really hard to do that when your pillow is rumbly and growly,” she whispers, snuggling deeper into my side.
“Prosti, Dusha Moya,” I murmur, not at all liking that I woke her.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re saying when you speak in Russian?” she inquires, her head shifting to look up at me.
I peer down at her, and when I do, I get lost in the depths of her hazel-hued eyes. Her eyes give nothing away, all while pulling you in, doing so in a way that makes you want to lay all your truths at her feet. We watch each other, not saying anything while I trace every curve and line of her gorgeous face. I commit the way that she looks and feels into my memory, so that when I take my place and slink back into the shadows I’ll have her light to hold on to, to keep the demons at bay—even if for a second.
“People always assume because of the scowl you constantly wear on your face, that you’re angry. In these moments, though, I see that it hides a depth of sadness and pain,” Aubrey whispers, running a finger downward from my temple to my cheek, and landing at the corner of my mouth.
“Nyet!” I deny, my throat is tight and constricted.
“I do know that one.” She chuckles, rolling away from me as if she is going to get up and escape, ignoring the fact that she’s supposed to be taking it easy.
“Nyet, where do you think you are going?” I reach for her, only for her to avoid my attempts and moves away from me.
“I’m going to go use the restroom, and possibly take a bath, Nico. Is that okay with the gatekeeper?” Seeing the fire in her composure makes me believe, for just a moment, that I can hold on to it, and her, forever.
“Doc says you need to rest,” I tell her, standing and stretching before going to help her get off the bed.
Just as I make it to her, she stands, swaying slightly. Growling low and deep, I bend, picking Aubrey up bridal style and carrying her towards the bathroom. Once we make it there, I place her on her feet while steadily holding onto her hips, making sure she is stable and not about to faint on me. She smiles over her right shoulder, grinning at me.
“I’ll take it from her, sir,” she teases, with a wink as she steps into her white bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I don’t move a muscle or take a breath as I stand there, staring at the bright, white door. After what seems like the longest three minutes of my life, Aubrey pulls the door open, her skin looking paler than a sheet of crisp paper.
“Umm, Nico, I think I’m about to—” I reach for her just as her eyes roll back behind her eyelids.
I catch her before she can hit the ground. When I draw her into my chest, she snuggles deeper into me, sighing with contentment. I make my way back down toward her bedroom, noticing how everything is nondescript, no personal touches seen on the walls, no family photos—as if she’s trying to forget that part of her life. Even the hallway is bright white, Dismissing my curiosity about why everything is so pristine, and showroom ready, I continue walking into her room. This place doesn’t fit the mold of this fiery woman that I’ve come to know. And not for the first time, I truly wonder why she tries to hide herself away like this.
Laying her onto her bed, I tuck her in, and kiss her forehead. My vibrating phone brings me out of my inner curiousness, slamming me back into reality. It pinging is an indication that it’s time to get back to work. I hate leaving her, but I don’t have any other choice. My position doesn’t allow choices, stalling, nor pre-laid schedules. When a call comes in, I answer.
Looking around the room for a notebook or sheath of paper that I could write on to leave her a note nothing catches my eye. But like the rest of her home, not an inch of it is out of place, and no clutter of any kind is strewn about. Going into the hallway, I see another door, I head that way and push it open, finding a perfectly decorated, and spotless, white office. I open the journal sitting on her desk, and plucking a pen from the holder that happens to be stuffed to the brim with the exact same pens.
Dusha Moya,
I had to go deal with business.
