The Revolution (36 page)

“Why?”

“I was worried I’d forgotten the music.”

“You didn’t. I heard you play by heart.”

His smile grows, pride seen in his expression. “Since it was moved cross country, I didn’t even know if it was in tune.”

Standing next to him, I run my fingers through his hair. “I had it tuned while you were on the road.”

“Thanks,” he replies shyly. “I woke you. I’m sorry.”

“Wake me anytime you need me.” His arms come around my waist and he rests his cheek to my stomach. I cradle his head to me.

“I wanted to play something more romantic for you the first time, maybe Tchaikovsky? But Beethoven has a way of capturing the music that plays inside me tonight.”

“You played the music inside you that needs to be heard.”

His arms tighten around me. “You’ve saved me in ways I didn’t know I needed saving, filling the holes where pieces escaped, and the light exposed me for the fraud I am.”

“You’re not a fraud. You’ve lived two lives. Those lives don’t have to be separate. You can be whole again.”

“I don’t want this attention, for people to see the gravity of my old life.”

“We all have skeletons we want left buried. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You have nothing you need to hide.”

“What if…” He doesn’t say anymore. He just closes his eyes and holds me.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, the hour growing longer, my body wearing down, not recovered yet. “You’re going to be okay.”

“You’ll be there tomorrow? You’ll come with me to the interview?”

Despite how I feel physically, I will be there for him like he’s been there for me. “I will be there however you need me to be.”

THIS. IS.
INSANITY.

Word got out, though no one accepts responsibility for the press leak.

The doors can’t open because of the crush of people surrounding our vehicle. When I look around I expect to see
The Resistance
fans. What I don’t expect to see are the Kazimir Petrowsky fans out in force. Russia’s great prodigy has returned and they are here in droves of support. Tommy tells the driver to go around to the parking garage.

Once we’re safely inside, three bodyguards wait just outside our door. Rochelle stands by the door waiting, another woman with a harsh black haircut and deep red lips is beside her on the phone. Tommy hops out and I unlatch my seatbelt. Kaz remains still, the same debate I saw in his eyes earlier playing in the intense expression. I squeeze his hand and the door opens.

The driver says, “
S’vasrasheniyem
, Petrowski.”

Looking back over my shoulder, I watch his mouth form the words, his lips speak the language. Before my very eyes, I watch Kaz Fabian become Kazimir Petrowski.

TWO HOURS EARLIER…

So tense.

“You’re tense.” I rub his shoulders, but they don’t ease under my touch.

“I’m nervous and I don’t get nervous.” Kaz sets his coffee mug in the sink and fills it with water to soak.
He’s so damn neat.
He puts me to shame.

I follow him into the bedroom and farther into the en-suite bathroom. He turns on the shower and I sit on the edge of the tub. “Opening up about my life… I’ve hid it for so long that it feels foreign to me now.”

“You don’t have a Russian accent, not even traces of one. I thought I heard something a few times, but nothing to make me think twice.”

“I let it go and watched a lot of American movies. I binged on Christopher Walken for a while, but I was told that was not typical. It was just easy to mimic. I watched Ryan Gosling movies, listened to
The Resistance
ironically, and went to a voice coach a few times. It was really just being here, blending into the culture that helped. I met Derrick and focused on his. That might have been a mistake. He’s got a laid-back Southern California dialect going on.” He laughs and it’s good to hear the sound. “Come in with me.”

“And make you feel better?”

An eyebrow is cocked and he smiles. “You always make me feel better.”

We undress and go into the shower together. The hot water washes away the worry that plagues me and I move in hopes that it does the same for him. His head falls back as the water covers him and his broad shoulders. He moans and I get dirty ideas just from the sight of him.

His heart is all giving. His kindness to me can never be repaid to the extent he deserves. I’ll do my best to show him how I care through love and devotion, through actions and words. I kiss his chest and he lifts to look at me and kisses my temple. I place another just a bit lower and his breathing picks up and I start to go down.

Strong hands stop my descent. “Wait.” When I look up at him, he says, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to do this for you. Do you want me?”

“I want you, so much.” He squeezes his eyes tight when he says the last part. Looking back into my eyes, he says, “But I don’t want you to think that I can’t wait for you to feel better. I can. I will. For you, I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready. I want this.”

His mouth opens but no words follow, just the sound of his breath as it deepens. I take him into my mouth slowly, enough to tease, enough to keep him on edge, to maintain control so he loses himself for a few seconds at the end. The same hands that held my arms rest on the back of my head as I take him deeper. Soon our movements are synchronized, his pleasure at the tip of my tongue and then engulfed until I’m swallowing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to let go, to release himself and his burdens, letting me carry them for a while.

Taking me by my elbows, Kaz helps me to my feet. The water rains down over us and I close my eyes letting it drench me completely. I don’t know how long we stand there, two bodies melded together as one.

Hearts beating together.

Breaths short and quick until long and even.

Tender strokes of fingertips and palms soothe our souls.

It could have been seconds, but I wish it could be hours. I wish we could stay cocooned in this sanctuary, protected within these walls for just a few more days. The world outside is deceivingly pretty with its blue skies and fluffy clouds. Birds can be heard chirping. Despite the beauty of the moment, tears still come.

“Why are you crying, baby?” he asks so softly it almost breaks my heart.

“I cry for you.”

“You don’t need to cry for me. Hiding who you are can never be hidden forever. The truth always comes out.”

“But it came because of me.”

“My hitting him brought the attention on me, not you.” My chin is lifted. I never hide from him. He’s seen me at my worst and loved me through it, healing me from the inside out. “But you need to know what you mean to me. Everything I do is because of you now and I have no regrets. This life is worth living because of you. The air crackles in excitement because you dared to enter the room inside my heart. The blood that flows through my veins flows because of you. Can’t you see, Lara? I’ll take any bad because I’ve tasted and savored the good. I feel alive again.” He kisses me wholeheartedly. “Because of you.”

“
S’VASRASHENIYEM
, PETROWSKI.”

Kaz replies in Russian,
“Spasibo tebe, moy drug.”
He follows me out of the large SUV and wraps his arm around me, holding me against his side. I’m not sure if the closeness is for him or me, but I feel the same, so I slip my arm under his jacket and around his taut middle. Rochelle leads, Tommy by Kaz’s side, the woman with the harsh hair behind us. She’s still on the phone, her smoky voice matching her hair.

“I don’t give a fuck. Make sure it’s done or you’re fired.”

As we’re whisked through an employee’s corridor of a hotel in downtown LA, I ask, “What did the driver say?”

“Welcome back.”

“And you?”

This time he looks down at me, and smiles. “I told him thank you.”

“That sounded like a lot of words for thank you.”

“We called each other friend.
Drug
means friend in Russian.”

“Really? That’s interesting. I guess that’s where our culture got the word from.”

He laughs. “Yes, probably.”

Tommy halts us and the entire group stops, waiting to move forward. The bodyguards are on full alert and block us from view. We’re given the all clear and collectively start moving again.

Thinking back on the crowds and the driver, I ask, “You were more than a prodigy, weren’t you?”

“A prodigy isn’t enough?”

“It is, but the crowd outside. They weren’t Resistance fans. They were Petrowski fans.”

“The name carries the weight of a blue bloodline. Russians are very loyal. As a people, we’ve ruled the world and been at the mercy of it. We are strong through and through and when one does well, it’s a reflection of the people themselves. Even if that person was born into royal society. Petrowski an extension of a great time in history, but in today’s society it just means we were born into wealth.”

Ms. Harsh Hair starts to talk to Kaz and Rochelle steps to my side. “We’ll be in the room, but across it. I’m told it’s a large suite where many interviews are held. You cannot say anything when they’re filming.”

“I won’t.”

She looks at me. “Nothing. Not even if you know it makes him uncomfortable to answer.” When I don’t reply, she adds, “We’ve gone over the questions several times, had some marked off, and others replaced, but we are bystanders only from this point on.”

Kaz’s hand finds mine and though we’re looking in opposite directions, our fingers mingle together. Together. We’re together in this. And we’ll get through it together.

A service elevator is waiting with doors wide open. Kaz has to get up to the suite and get mic’d. Unfortunately only half of us fit, so Ms. Harsh Hair asks me to wait for the second one along with Rochelle, a hotel manager, hotel security, and one of Kaz’s bodyguards. When the elevator door opens for us, I wait knowing the security guard is probably anxious to get to Kaz and do his job, but he holds out his hand and says, “After you.”

“Thanks.”

Rochelle and I step on and he walks on before the manager. The button is pushed and we’re off. Once we’re off, I whisper, “I need the restroom,” to Rochelle.

The manager answers, “Right this way. There’s one down the hall you can use.”

We start walking and the bodyguard follows behind us. I glance over my shoulder surprised to see him with us. The manager opens a suite and we all go inside. I offer, “You can go first since you need to get back to Kaz.”

“I’m assigned to you, Ms. Kessler.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“My job is to cover you, to protect you. I’m part of your security detail.”

“You are? Who hired you?”

“Mr. Fabian.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. I feel much safer with you here.” What am I saying? I inwardly roll my eyes at myself. Do bodyguards like to hear that or was that creepy? I bet it was creepy. Ugh. I just go to the bathroom and try to block out my embarrassment.