He barely glanced my way. “Get in the bedroom.”
“Naughty lion.” She pouted. “At least, say hi.”
He walked off without uttering a word.
Kazimir had shoved me on edge. There appeared to be no love between them. Just sex. I didn’t think it was a healthy relationship at all.
Later, O confessed that Kazimir was Valentina’s brother. That was when I knew things would spiral out of control. And no matter how much I tried; I couldn’t stop her from crashing into herself.
Now, O’s dead. Did Kazimir find out and kill her? Or was it Valentina who did it?
Because of her death, I had decided to stay far away from Misha.
And then last night, he delivered dozens of roses to the stage and had been a perfect gentlemen the whole time.
I don’t want to stay away from him. I want to see where this goes.
I slipped my finger along the round diamond, wishing it was Misha’s hands along my breasts. My nipples hardened at the thought.
No. I’ll be safe. This situation is completely different from O and Valentina. And even O and Kazimir. We’re different. Besides, we’re just dating. Nothing more. As soon as it seems dangerous in any way, I’ll stop.
I glanced out the window and bit my lip.
The limo rounded the corner, displaying another shock for the day.
What is going on?
Hundreds of people held signs in their hands, waving them in the air.
I read a few of the signs as the limo sped by.
“Smirnov is out!”
“Away with the Tsar!”
“Stop stealing our future!”
I didn’t know what was going on, but this was a big deal. I’d heard rumblings of protests starting earlier this week. They’d sounded a bit normal. However, none had been so harsh against the president.
In many ways it was illegal to even protest against the president. Nothing was officially written down. There was just a whole lot of red tape in regard to being vocal against him.
Staging an ongoing protest in Russia wasn’t an easy feat. One needed permission from local authorities, if more than one person wanted to participate in a public demonstration. There was little tolerance for dissent. In other words, it was hard for people to get a green light. And if they hadn’t gotten permission, then they’d be jailed and face high fines.
In regard to today, there was no way these protestors had gained permission. They’d come into the streets ready to be jailed and even harmed.
Oh shit. It’s about to go down.
A movement had been slowly rising in the past months, and it had encompassed everyone. Recently, a Russian rebel named Gagovok had risen to the platform. Someone had given him heavy backing. Not many complained publicly about the Kremlin. The ones that did were found with their organs lying next to them on their living room carpet.
But Gagovok had remained unharmed, and his movement intrigued many, even me.
When he held anti-corruption rallies, many came out. All of them. The internet-savvy youths whom Smirnov had ruled since they were children. The older farmers from the countryside that remembered the old Soviet times and were still afraid of the Kremlin. Gagovok energized both sides of the spectrum, young and old, educated and working class. He’d even gained support for the few ethnic populations that were scattered around the country—Afro-Russians, gypsies, forgotten immigrants, etc.
This could change Russia.
I stared out the window.
More people poured out onto the streets as the limo eased closer to the ballet theater.
We stopped right in front of the theater.
A couple of straggling protestors marched by.
My guards stood near the door but didn’t open it.
I watched the old and young chant and march by my window, shouting their words out in Russian, “Smirnov is a thief! Out, Smirnov!”
My heart hammered in my chest.
“Out, Smirnov!”
My guard opened my door. “It’s okay to come now.”
I nodded and left the vehicle.
A chilly wind brushed against my skin. Watching the protestors in the streets made me feel a bit silly with worrying about Misha. There were people dealing with bigger dilemmas.
Corruption had been a big problem in Russia, just like in America. I didn’t know how it worked in my old country of the USA, but in Russia, the Bratva had their wicked fingers in the government along with other criminals.
How much of a part did Misha play in all of this? Probably not much at all. But what if he did? How much of his life would I be able to handle?
Chapter 6
Misha
I’d left my limo with Ava and had a car delivered. As soon as it arrived, I hopped in and sped off.
Of course the day that Fuego accidentally kidnaps my Ava’s grandmother, there had to be protestors creating traffic in the streets. I was slowly realizing why the Kremlin had been among my missed calls.
Come on. Get out of the road.
I honked my horn. Other deadlocked cars honked back. They were just as pissed as I was that we hadn’t moved in ten minutes. I glanced at my phone and looked at the picture of Ava that the designer had sent.