He searched my face before muttering, “Who the fuck are you, Mina Harris?”
I rolled my eyes at him and his goddamn dramatics. “You know who I am, Sasha.” I mumbled, “I’m just a girl.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re not.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he said it softly, and there was less acid in that statement than I had ever heard from Sasha. My brows bunched. “Hey. Are you okay?”
He ran a hand down his face. “No. Not really.” I wasn’t prepared for that admission, nor when he, suddenly looking weary, confessed, “If this doesn’t work, we’re going to have to shut down. We’re losing too much money.”
I knew this. It hadn’t been said, but we all knew it. It was one of the reasons the girls were working as hard as they were, and when Sasha surprised us all with an all-new interior, our excitement for opening night doubled.
The club looked classier than ever. While the stage remained the same, new flooring had been put down, and gone were the red velvet drapes, replaced with heavy black curtains that looked elegant and stylish. Most tables were replaced with booths with black leather seats and white pins. The bar stools were exchanged for high-back chairs. The walls had been painted black, and Sasha had paid a man an exorbitant amount of money to have the photographs I took of the girls in playful and provocative positions spray-painted every few feet.
Our flyers were a hit. Lev, Vik, Nas, Anika, and I made our way all over, posting posters on the walls of popular hangouts and handing out flyers. It had been a long few days, but the hype was showing. Our social media page—which was Nas’ idea, God bless her—skyrocketed overnight, with people tagging their friends in interest. Women who wanted to dance for the club had contacted us via email and expressed how thrilling it was to have a local burlesque act.
The current reaction was a positive one. Now we had to wait and see if our hard work had paid off.
“It’s all going to work out,” I told him, my confidence flaring.
He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tightly. “If it doesn’t, we’re fucked. We invested everything into this place.”
I stood, walking out the door. “Ugh. No negative Nancy’s allowed.” I called back, “We’re going to make it work, dammit.”
As God was my witness, we were going to make it work.
When I got home that night, I told Lev I would be up to bed in a minute, wanting a moment alone before I picked up my cell and dialed the number.
I was calling in a favor.
Chapter Forty-Four
Mina
I sat on the sofa, my legs curled up under me, sipping my coffee while watching Lidi dance to one of the many catchy Wiggles songs that was playing on the TV. She put her hands in the air, clapped when prompted, stomped her little chubby feet, and sang along, although I wasn’t really sure what language Lidi thought The Wiggles sang in. It sounded like she was going with Swahili.
Lev walked in, coffee mug in hand, looked at his little girl, and smiled, shaking his head. I grinned, and my shoulders shook in silent laughter. He was in the middle of getting ready for his workout, checking his watch, walking around in sweat pants and no tee, and my gut clenched at the sight of his bare torso.
Those broad shoulders just did it for me. And when we had our time alone, I held onto them, hanging on for the ride like nobody’s business.
The faint red mark on the left shoulder had me flushing hard. I might have used that shoulder to ground me after my orgasm by biting into it and clutching at him, my nails embedded in his upper arms as I moaned through my release.
The front door opened quietly and Sasha let himself in, still looking sleep-mussed in his blue jeans and black tee, making his way right for the little girl dancing in front of the television. He didn’t bother with hellos. He snatched Lidiya up and she squealed excitedly, “Asha, putta down. Putta down.”
His voice croaky, he told her, “Ada made pancakes. You want pancakes, princess?” She stopped fighting and cinched her arms around his neck. He cocked her high on his hip and, with a jerk of his chin, strode out the door.
This happened more often that not. I was wrong when I suggested that Sasha and Nastasia fighting for Lidiya’s attention was just a phase. Truth was, they treated Lidi as if she was the daughter neither had, and they loved her to pieces.
Lev checked his watch again, and I knew it was time for him to go. As soon as we woke, I made him his tasteless oatmeal and he ate it in silence. I mean, how else would you eat oatmeal that possibly tasted like cardboard? There were no ‘mmmm’s and ‘yum’s to be had. Let’s be honest. It tasted like trash. I wasn’t sure how he could stomach it.
Correction. I’d eaten trash that tasted better than unsweetened oatmeal.
Blech.
He came forward, his eyes soft, and towered his large body over me, reaching down to grip my chin as he planted warm, gentle kisses to my lips. “I have to go.”
He went to move back, but I snagged him, my fingers dipping into the waist of his pants. “You can play hooky. We can go back to bed and play patty cake.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “We’ve got at least half an hour before Sasha brings Lidi home.”
“But I always work out between ten and twelve.”
I nodded. “I know. But one day off won’t kill you, right?”
He looked confused. “But I always work out between ten and twelve.”
My eyes rolled a little, but I straightened quickly with a smile. “I know, but—”
He cut me off, his voice quiet, anxious almost. “I always work out between ten and twelve.”
This was one of those moments. One of those moments where your head tells you not to push, but you’re not sure if you hold back. I came to realize rather quickly that messing with Lev’s routine was a big no-no. Nothing made my man more irritated than someone screwing with his schedule.
I understood the underlining issues. He craved a semblance of normal in a world where he felt different. His childhood had done things to him that made him the way he was today.
Did that frustrate me? At times, yes.
Lev could not be fixed. And I didn’t want to repair the broken part of him. He was perfectly imperfect, and I was his in heart and soul.
More importantly, he was mine. And that was a big deal. Lev did not give himself to people. They merely borrowed his time. And here I was, his attention given fully to a person who probably didn’t deserve it. I was grateful though, and I often reminded myself that he had compromised a lot of himself for me and I needed to do the same.
Releasing the elastic at his pants, I reached up to finger the swinging anchor pendant he had bought me and I smiled gently, knowing I’d have to pick my battles. “Okay, sweetie. Have fun.”
His shoulders slumped in the immense relief I imagined he felt at my quick out. His hands came up and he laid them on my cheeks in gratitude. When his lips descended, I found myself leaned up, into him, needing his lips on me. He kissed me softly once, twice, three times, then whispered against my lips, “I love you, Mina.”
It was the first time he had said the words. I felt his love, but hearing the words…wow. It was breathtaking. I’d come to realize the saying was true. Patience was a virtue.
I kissed him again. And again. And before I could drag him down onto the sofa with me, I pushed him away gently. “Go. Now. Or I’ll tackle you to the ground.”
His eyes smiled and he chuckled lightly. He threw me a wink before he left, and I threw myself back on the couch and blew out a long breath. “Have mercy.”
My man was a serious case of sexy.
The front door opened again, and just as my excitement flared at the thought of Lev disregarding his routine and spending the morning in bed with me, Nas stuck her head through the crack and called out, “Pancakes at Sasha’s. Move your ass, kukla. I’m starved.”