Chapter 10
Andrew
Grigori’s housestill manages to fill me with awe, even though I’ve seen it a few times now. The massive columns fill me with twitches of arousal as I think of tying Chastity to the smooth surface or even stringing her up between two of them. Clearing my throat, I adjust myself, not caring if the bodyguards that are undoubtedly lurking around can see.
When the front door opens, I expect it to be some lackey, but when I see Grigori himself, I’m more than a little shocked. Internally, I give him a little bit of credit. Despite being a high-ranking drug lord, he still manages to come down to earth to muck about with us normal people. His eyes slide from left to right as he gives an almost imperceptible nod, confirming that there were indeed goons standing by.
He motions for me with a broad hand gesture and a large grin. I’m no psychic, but I’m fairly certain things are going back in his favor with Chelsea. Not that I care exactly, but she was my patient for a session and, as such, makes her part of my concern. I do leave a few fucks in my field for people who need help. Though I often tried to devoid myself of all forms of feeling, parts of my psyche remain human - much to my detriment.
My brain instantly goes back to Chasity. If only I could cut that part out. She’s bound to be the death of me at some point. A liability I won’t want to have. Sighing, I hike up the stairs, refusing to acknowledge the areas Grigori looked at previously. Who cares that they’re hired thugs that could probably end my life in a myriad of ways? I still don’t have to acknowledge them.
I knew the house was massive, but somehow, as he leads me down a corridor I didn’t visit the last few times I was here, it hits me even more just how loaded this guy is. I make a modest income, but I chose to put my money to better use than gilded walls and shiny floors that are no doubt polished daily.
Once he opens the door to the right, I’m bombarded by a barking, yelping mass of bones and fur. I knew Grigori had dogs, but until now, I hadn’t seen either of them. Chelsea couldn’t shut up about Sasha, but based on the fur pattern, it’s safe to assume this is the other one. I’ve never seen a borzoi in the flesh, but now, as I’m confronted by all that fluff and face, I grind to a halt. I don’t have a fear of dogs per se, but seeing it barreling towards me makes my gut churn in unease.
“Nikolai. Niko. Heel.”
To his credit, he stops, hanging his massive head, and slinks over to his master. I resist the impulse to cringe as I look at his too-skinny body and unproportioned head. Many people seem to find them delightful, but to me, it’s just another mass of fur and teeth, ready to bite you without provocation. I ease my way around them both and head into the office, keeping a wide berth between us.
“Come now, Andrew. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little dog.”
Grinding my teeth, I sit down in one of the chairs opposite the massive desk. “Little would not be something I would use to describe this creature. How in God’s name did you find a dog that looks like they’ve been put through a taffy stretcher?” Grigori laughs and feeds him a treat before pointing to the dog pillows on the side of the room. And here I thought we’d be alone; dog aliens need not apply.
“Niko here is a good boy. Excitable, but good.”
“I see there are two beds. Where’s the other one?”
“Ahhh, so they do make you nervous. Well, don’t worry, Sasha never leaves Chelsea’s side unless forced. I thought her to be a loyal companion to me, but it seems my heart isn’t the only one Chelsea stole.”
Sappy isn’t a good look for someone like Grigori. God. I hope I never look like that if I ever meet my “fated” one and only. I resist an eye roll just thinking those words. As if there is something magical to people coming together. It’s all a matter of science.
There are visuals - is the person pleasing to look at? Do they have a physique that triggers your brain into wanting to breed? Then, there are pheromones. That’s what seals the deal. There are, of course, exceptions when you just want a hole to fuck, but generally, the “one and only” only happens when the right stimuli match up with the receptors. When there’s a change in the stimuli, your body looks for the next one and only.
“This dog isn’t even a dog in the visual sense,” I retort, determined to get my brain away from the dangerous paths it’s taking. By all factors, Chastity wouldn’t even appeal to me. She doesn’t fit any of the criteria my body demands, and yet I want to take her under my wing and under my body for as long as she’ll let me. It’s dangerous, so very dangerous.
“How so? Does it not contain the essence of that which is dog?” Grigori studies me, his eyes twinkling. Could someone so versed in death and destruction also have an appreciation for the ancient philosophers?
“There’s the basics,” I respond, grateful for the shift in conversation. Perhaps a good dose of Plato or Aristotle will cool my blood and return me to rational thinking. “He has everything to coin him a dog, but I will insist that this is closer to bog creature than a typical dog.”
Grigori tilts his head back, laughter barking from his chest. The sound feels hoarse, as if he’s unaccustomed to such behaviors. Fascinating. Though it’s not surprising that one in his field probably doesn’t laugh much, one would think being around this muppet of a dog and the bratty antics of Chelsea would rid him of such restraints.
“If the basics are there, my good doctor, then the fact remains that he is, in fact, a dog. One that causes you unease.”
I toss my head back, refusing to let him get the upper hand. To know one’s weaknesses is to know how to destroy them. “Not at all. Dogs, in general, do not disturb me. This creature, however, is lacking what makes a dog a friend's companion and not just a trotting pile of long coats and limbs.”
“We will have to agree to disagree then, doctor. Now, tell me why you’re here. It can’t be to discuss the essence of dogs. Unless you’re tired of Chastity already and crave deeper conversation.”
There’s no good way to answer that question. I’m not tired of her and worry I never will be. Instead, I turn the conversation back to him and Chelsea. Perhaps by our conversation, I’ll get a better idea of how to keep Chastity safe and not have to worry about her so much. It’s not enough to know that Grigori will have my back if needed. She’s mine right now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her protected, even from herself.
“I’ve come to inquire about Chelsea. Have things improved since our talk?”
He pauses, opening his drawer and pulling out a wooden box. He fiddles with it for a moment before pulling out a cigar. With an upturn of his wrist, he offers it to me, but I decline. After sliding the length under his nose while inhaling, he clips off the end and turns it around to toast the end.
Once it’s nice and black, he sticks the end in his mouth, inhaling and puffing as he lights it. It takes him a few moments to get it just how he likes it before blowing on it, turning the whole end a glowing orange. I wait as he draws in his first breath and holds it for what seems like forever before letting it out in a large puff.
I’ve been around men that smoked cigars before, but most of them seemed to do it just to say they fit in. Grigori seems to savor his, making each step a ritual. I can appreciate the attention to detail he puts into it; it seems almost as meditative as when I prep my ropes for a scene.
“Things are much better. Your ways are not conventional, but you did more than I could. I threatened her with everything, and she still wouldn’t talk.”
“That’s because she has a heightened lack of self-preservation. For future reference, if you want to really threaten her, threaten someone or something she cares about. She’s the type that would rather die than submit if it calls for that, but make someone else pay, and she’ll crumble.”
Frowning, he inhales again. “I do not now, nor will I ever want to crumble her. She’s a strong woman that I enjoy clashing with. But you do have a point.”
I slide a glance over at the sleeping dog. “Hell, it wouldn’t take physical violence. Threaten to take Sasha away, and I’ll guarantee she’ll obey without question.”
As if on cue, the other dog opens his mouth in a large yawn, baring his teeth for a moment before shaking his massive head. Faint prickles of phantom pain from long ago cramp up my calf as I watch the large canines. The bite wasn’t my fault, and luckily any scarring was faint, but I’ll never forget the agony of trying to love something and having it turn on you. Never again. I straighten up, catching Grigori’s knowing grin.
“If that’s all, I have several meetings lined up for today.” His eyes study me as he places his cigar on the edge of his ashtray and gives it a light tap. The inch or so of ash that’s built up during our conversation gently drops to the bottom, and I watch it as my brain tries to sort out its feelings.
He’s dismissing me, but I feel his hesitation. It’s the same one that’s keeping me glued to the seat. “How do you deal with it?”
“With what? I have her back, nothing to deal with.”
“Yes, but I’m sure you’ve upped security or done something to make sure she’ll never be taken again.”
“Ahhh. Now I understand. You worry for Chastity.”
“Worrying would assume I don’t have a plan in place. I am seeking your advice so that worry never has to factor in.”
“Sure. Sure. Whatever you have to tell yourself, doctor.”