Russian Roulette (Russkaya Mafiya) (21 page)

“Good choice, printyessa! Now, go keep moy sin company and he must bring you back many times!” Tate cuts in by saying his goodbyes.

Viktor walks out with us. When we arrive at the car, Viktor opens my door for me and gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Good night, Saystraa (sister).”

I smirk back at him. “Good night, Viktor.”

“Braat!” Viktor calls across the car and Tate gives him a fake salute before climbing in beside me.

My door closes and I’m left alone with Tate for the first time in three hours. I can’t believe we were here for that long. The time just flew by once his dad started in on his stories.

“My family loves you, Krasaaveetsa.” He looks like he’s glowing, he’s so happy.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far. I do like your family a lot though. Your mother is so lovely when she finally warms up and Mishka’s cooking was out of this world!”

“Oh, no? You don’t think so? My mother just invited you to a private lunch because she wants to plan a wedding for us, baby. The Babushka my father insisted you have is a fertility doll. My brother just kissed your cheek and called you ‘little sister.’ I’m pretty confident that they loved you tonight.”

Tate chuckles, shaking his head. “My mother would have spit in your face if she didn’t like you and my father would have called my Uncle Victor.” Well shit. I guess I did okay after all. I’m glad to be on the Mafia king and queen’s good side, that’s for sure. His mother would have spit? And to think I almost cried when she said I wasn’t good enough since I’m not Russian. What a crazy night, I can’t wait to tell Avery and London all about this.

“Wow, that’s just a tad bit overwhelming! I can’t imagine your mom spitting, maybe scratching my eyes out. I’ll tell you what though, if I keep eating Mishka’s cooking I’ll get fat! Then your dad will get his hopes up with that Babushka. That food was so fantastic!” He glances over at me, grinning as he drives.

“Yes, Mishka is a great cook. She is my grandmother and she taught me how to cook.”

“What, your gram? Why didn’t she sit with us then?”

“Mishka just prefers to cook, she is ‘old Russian.’ They did things differently back then. She cooks and she serves. She likes to take care of everyone and just observe. That lady is sneaky; she hears and witnesses everything. If anyone has a secret or some news to share, she always knows before everyone else does. When you talked about her cooking we laughed because we knew you had just won her. My mom had to give in; she’d never stand a chance if Mishka likes you.”

“Oh man, that is awesome! I wonder if my gram would be like that if she were here.”

I get sad inside and my heart squeezes.

“You didn’t know your grandmother, Krasaaveetsa?”

“No, I don’t remember her at all. She died from cancer when I was a year old. From what I’ve heard though, she was really protective and liked to help people in trouble. I hope I have some of that goodness in me, too.”

“You are full of goodness and beauty, little pet, don’t worry. She would be so proud if she were here today.” I shoot Tate a small smile and squeeze his forearm. I love him. I do, so much.

Suddenly, I’m jerked roughly in my seat, my eyes grow wide and my head flies into the dash. My head bounces off the hard surface and everything goes black.

THIRTEEN

EMILY

The accident

Two days later

i
awake disoriented, to a pounding headache and
beeping. I feel as though my body has been run over by a bus. The sheets are cold and scratchy. I have goose bumps adorning my skin everywhere and I feel miserably cold all over. Why do I feel so cold? And what is that damn beeping?

I open my eyes, fluttering them a few times as if I’ve been asleep for longer than usual. The florescent lights blaring down on me, seem extra bright. I rub my face a few times and something pinches my hand. Finally I can focus. I glance down and there’s a needle and tube connected to my hand. I take a deep breath and look around.

I’m in the hospital.
Fuck, why am I in the hospital? Did Jeremy do this?
I check my body over and notice there aren’t really any bruises or anything remarkably different that stands out. I don’t think it was him. Oh God, in fact I know it wasn’t him. Tate! Tate had gotten Jeremy. So why am I here?

I gaze all around, noticing that it’s a private room and I’m all alone. It looks like a freaking florist in here. There are roses of all colors, in different arrangements on the little table in front of my bed. Beside my bed, there is another smaller table. It has a stuffed animal that looks a lot like Muffin. There’s also a pitcher and a plastic cup. I’m assuming that it’s water.
Thank God
, I feel like I could drink a gallon right now.

I attempt to reach for the cup but the movement shoots sparks of pain through my whole body, “Ouch!” I yip, and sit as still as possible.

Come on…really? I’m dying of thirst here. Ugh and my head is pounding so much. I reach up to rub it and feel I have something wrapped around my forehead.
What the fuck?

The door to my room opens and I glance toward it. In walks Tate, he’s busy looking at the ground and hasn’t noticed me staring at him. A tear runs down his cheek and he wipes it away quickly.

I choke all raspy, “Baby?” Tate’s head snaps up; once he sees my eyes are open, he runs to my side.

“Moy Krasaaveetsa! Oh, thank God, you have finally awoken! I’ve been going crazy!” Tate runs his hands through his hair grasping the ends tightly. He sits down on the side of my uncomfortable hospital bed and lightly gives me a peck on the lips.

“Water, please?” I rasp out. Geez, my throat is so sore and dry, and I sound like a chain smoker.

“Of course. How are you feeling, are you in pain?” Tate peppers off questions and hands me a paper cup, half full of water. I drink the cool, refreshing liquid quickly. This brings a small smile to his face. I barely nod at the pitcher and he fills my cup again. I drink it down swiftly again, famished.

“Ugh, thanks.” I clear my throat a few times. “I hurt when I tried to move and get my own water. Why am I here?” I ask still confused and direct all of my attention to him.

He tilts his head quizzically, “You remember nothing?”

“No, I don’t and what do you mean I finally woke up? How long has it been?”

“Fuck, Krasaaveetsa, it’s been two really, reallllly long days you have been sleeping. The doctors said it was because your body was healing and also because of the strong painkillers, but I’ve been going fucking mad inside wanting you to wake.”

“Wow! Two days? What happened, Tate? The last thing I can remember, is telling your brother good night. I don’t understand, what’s wrong with me?”

“Shhhhh, calm down, baby. Nothing’s wrong, pet, you just hit your head really badly and had to get stitches on your forehead next to your hair.”

He turns my palm over carefully, showing me all the cuts up and down my arm, glancing over I notice a few gashes in my other arm as well. “Then there was the glass that went everywhere; you got cut up fairly good in a few places from that also.”

“My head is really foggy feeling and my body hurts.” I whisper and pout a little. It hurts so badly, but I don’t want to worry him even more.

“The doctor said the impact will probably give you whiplash in your neck, and your back will hurt for a few weeks. He said you are lucky to be so tiny because the car swallowed you up and protected you.”

“How did it protect me if I was knocked out for a few days? I mean look at me, Tate, I’m covered in marks.”

“Well, he said a bigger guy like me probably would have died in the passenger side. I was so scared. You were knocked out and un-responsive. I thought I had lost you.”

“God Tate, I’m so glad it was me sitting there and not you. Thank God I refused to drive your car.”

“No baby, just no. I wish none of this happened to you. I can’t bear to see you hurt like this, it fucking guts me, Krasaaveetsa.”

“I’ll be okay Tate, we’re fortunate to both be sitting here it sounds like.”

“The fool who hit us in her car, is also in the hospital. She almost died because she hit us so hard. Stupid bitch,” he hisses angrily. “The cops said she was drinking heavily and the alcohol helped relax her body.” Tate looks so livid when he starts to talk about the other person. His eyes grow hard and his forehead gets a wrinkle in the middle.

Squeezing his hand, I attempt to distract him, so he will look at me and quit thinking whatever thoughts have him so angry. He gazes at me and a few tears begin to stream down his cheeks. It literally feels like my heart is squeezing painfully to see him like this.

“Please, Tate, I’m okay. I’m right here and you’re here, and we’re both going to be just fine.”

“You just don’t know, Krasaaveetsa,” he murmurs, choked up, “I thought you were gone and I just found you. I haven’t had enough time for something to happen to you. I’m a selfish man, Krasaaveetsa, and I refuse to wait.”

He sits up with renewed focus. “I love you, beauty. I love you so damn much with all of me. I will give you everything of mine and anything I can in life to make you happy. Please agree that when you get better you will live with me permanently and that you will stay with me forever.” I smile softly at the words I have been longing to hear ever since I confessed my feelings to him.

“Let me take care of you and cherish you. Let me marry you and give you lots of babies?” Tears continue to roll down his face, he grins slightly as he finishes, talking about babies. Happiness washes over me, filling me so full that I could burst and I fall deeper in love with him.

“Yes, of course Tate. I will stay with you, I promise. I love you so very much, too.” He breaks out in a giant, pleased smile and gently peppers sweet kisses all over my face.

“My little love, you make me the happiest man in the world. I will take good care of you and love you always.”

Savoring each of his words, I relish in the fantastic feelings they give me, while I rub my hand on his unshaven face. I take a really good look at him, coming out of my fog a little more with time and notice he looks a mess.

My Tate is always so well put together. This man beside me is a wreck; he looks like he’s been through hell and back. His face is really scruffy; he has dark purplish bags under his eyes, and even they are red rimmed from his tears and lack of sleep. It appears as if he hasn’t showered in days. Tate’s in his white undershirt and a pair of dress pants; they are wrinkled and it’s not something he would normally wear.

“Hey, sugar dimples, what are you wearing?” I look at him crazy and he starts to laugh. Ah, there’s my Tate.

“I haven’t been home since the wreck. This is my undershirt and the pants I had on at dinner with my parents.” My God, my poor man.

“Oh, Tate,” I shoot him a sad look. “Please go take a shower, put some clean clothes on, eat and take a nap. I’m okay now and I’m wide awake. You need to go and take care of yourself also.”

“I’ll call Cam and let him know to tell the girls you’re okay and to bring me some clothes.” He gestures around the room. “We’re in a private suite, so I can just use the shower in here. Avery and London have been going nuts that you haven’t been awake, also. I told them both that as soon as you woke up, I’d call them so they can come see you. They were worried sick about you.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling through his contacts. “I have to let my parents know also. I know Mishka will want to send you something to eat, so you aren’t stuck eating hospital food.”

“Okay, sweets, that sounds good. I would love some food from Mishka if she wants to make it.” I whisper quietly. My head and throat are still hurting, along with every other single body part it seems. I hope London and Avery aren’t really too upset. I’ll never hear the end of how they were so worried about me and it’ll make me feel super guilty.

“Will you please ask London or Avery to grab my iPod and Kindle so I can read and listen to music, when I feel better?”

“Of course, Krasaaveetsa, anything you want.”
Wow.
That’s definitely the right answer. I can’t wait to jump his bones when I get out of here and no longer hurt.

Three days later…

“Oh my God, Tate! Get me out of here! I can’t stay in this freaking uncomfortable bed, any longer. It’s hard and making my butt go numb. At least take me home so I can see Muffin and be surrounded by my friends.” I plead, and Tate rolls his eyes at me, exasperated. I’ve been attempting this all day and I think he’s close to his breaking point.

“Krasaaveetsa, the doctor said you need to stay a few days still, just be patient. It’s for your health.”

I huff, “Tate, either you bust me out of here or I’m signing myself out and calling London.”

“Alright, you win. It’s been a few days since he said that, so I’ll tell him you are ready to go and see what he says, okay?” I roll my eyes at him and he sticks his tongue out at me.

“I don’t care what he says, I’m outta here!” I call out, teasing Tate. Finally, I break through to this stubborn man. I blow him kisses as he walks out. “Hate that you’re leaving, but I sure do love watching you go!” I chortle, smiling cheekily and winking at him, this time it’s him who rolls his eyes at me. He’s so freaking cute, I just love him.

About thirty minutes later the door to my hospital suite opens, with Tate and Dr. Hopkins coming in.

“Hello, Miss Emily. I hear you are ready to leave us?” He smirks and his old eyes twinkle.

My doctor has to be pushing sixty years old, if not older. Tate says he’s the best at this hospital and that’s why he’s assigned to me. He has a head full of white, fluffy hair and big green eyes. Dr. Hopkins looks like he’s in good shape for his age but may have eaten a few too many bowls of chocolate pudding from the cafeteria.

“Yes, sir, I’m ready to blow this popsicle stand!” He starts chuckling and Tate shakes his head in exasperation.

I guess you can say I’ve been quite entertaining to the staff here while on my pain medication. I had to be or I would have gone out of my mind. Now all of the nurses have started calling Tate ‘Sugar Dimples’ and it makes him blush profusely. If they come into the room he tries to act like he’s reading a magazine so he has something to hide behind. Especially if it’s Brenda; she’s this older lady that totally looks like a sweet grandma. When she learned of his nickname she actually walked up to him and pinched his cheeks. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to bust a stitch. It’s pretty great and entertaining to see him bashful.