He Travels the Fastest Who Travels Alone pt. 1.5 cross post
Aug 18, 2019 21:37:50 GMT -5
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Post by Roman Novack on Aug 18, 2019 21:37:50 GMT -5
“Romochka.” Her voice was like velvet and sweet, honey bourbon. Her lips were the color of her favorite cabernet sauvignon--and the dress she wore revealed far more than he liked. “Come.”
Roman felt frozen in place--his legs unable to follow her command much to her disapproval.
“Romochka--come,” she commanded once again. This time he felt himself gravitate towards her despite his mental objection to do so. His body moved by muscle memory to her beckon, and soon, he was uncomfortably close to her. The aroma of jasmine and honey wafted from her neck and bosom. Nadia’s hands cupped him by the cheeks, and she stroked his beard with the edges of her thumbs. “Good boy.”
His heart beat louder than the drums that played for the dragon dancers--his body feverish with the desire to take her by the neck and--.
“Young master?” Barrett Waldrop’s voice was the beacon he needed in the dark night to lure him back to reality. Novack’s eyes cut to the other man, and he frowned at him. “You were gone for a moment.”
Too long to be exact.
“No, young master,” Roman grumbled as he rose from the taupe, leather chair and made his way quickly to the penthouse’s bar. He poured a generously large tumbler of Kwei Chow baijiu that Nadia had requested for the room. He could feel Barrett’s eyes burrowing disapprovingly into the back of his head like two brown, aged termites. “No--old master--no master at all. Just me.”
“An impossible habit to break,” Waldrop replied with a chuckle. “You were still in primary school when I first came to work for your grandfather.”
The alcohol was more potent than he expected and caused him to wince upon taste. “Gyuh—That will put hair on your chest.” He lifted a few cubes of ice with metal tongs from the insulated ice bucket and dropped them into his glass. “You’ve been with my family for—twenty-seven years now?”
“Twenty-six,” Barrett corrected. “I’ve watched you mature into quite the gentleman.”
Roman laughed, “You must have stories upon stories to tell.”
“I have a fair share,” Barrett replied with the type of warm, grandfatherly smile Roman had loved about Pop Piotr. “You were a bit of a scamp.”
“Only a bit?” Nadia. Wasn’t she lovely in her champagne colored sequined Tadashi Shoji dress with the blouson waist. It cut tastefully low and lewdly high. Barrett greeted his employer while Roman slid his hand into the pocket of his slacks to retrieve his coin.
“I wanted to give the lad a fair grounding,” Barrett replied. Nadia kissed the older gentleman’s cheek and handed him an envelope that Roman assumed could be full of quite suspicious things as part of the woman’s nefarious schemes. Likely--it was money for something that she didn’t bother giving attention and now had to throw money at it to make it disappear. Forgotten gift--missed meeting with one of her sugar boardies.
His pet name for the men she sat alongside when they decided to let her take up Roman’s position in the holdings. Banking--realty--insurance. Money was in money. Munitions and bonds during the war. Invest back into it--wham--bam--(but mostly a lot of bootlegging) thank you, ma’am.
Those brown eyes of hers were quite haunting when they needed to be. He felt that thick awkwardness radiate from her very presence, and he shuddered.
“Congratulations, Romochka,” Nadia said. His lips drew into a smile, and he nodded. “I’m quite impressed with your performance. I knew you’d play to the crowd--and you did not disappoint in that. Charisma makes a memorable performance. The showman.”
He twirled his wrists in a showy manner and bowed. If he was anything--he was definitely a Novack man. Fools. All of them. It was painful to look at him sometimes, however. He reminded her far too much of his father--Aleksy.
“You’re going to love the next weekend I have planned for us,” the woman continued, pressing the painful reflection from her mind. He’d occasionally caught the glint in her eyes in the past where she had accidentally reflected on something that hit a nerve reminding him that the rock solid diva was also quite fragile as well. A porcelain doll.
“I’m busy,” Roman replied coldly.
“Whatever it is can wait,” Nadia retorted while slipping past him to fetch her own drink. Roman turned to track her movement as he’d hoped to see the dagger coming before she had had the chance to plunge it into his back. “We have dinner in two hours with Li Jun Xie--and I do believe he is bringing his daughter.
Ah, there it was--the true reason she’d had him tag along--to babysit the daughter of one of her would be business associates.
“Poor girl,” Roman muttered much to Nadia’s displeasure.
“You will be a perfect delight tonight,” Nadia commanded. “We’re guests in their home and their country after all. Once I have secured Zhoung account--you’re free to galavant off wherever with whomever you please.
He agonized.
“I ask very little of you, Romochka,” Nadia Volkov said to him.
This was a lie. In fact, Roman felt she asked quite a lot of him, especially as of late.
“Fine,” he sighed. Nadia rattled off something about his clothes in his room that he only half acknowledged before she strolled off to drink and pamper herself until the dinner date leaving Novack to his lonesome. He stared out the floor length windows of their suite to study the city below and thought of how long it would take a man’s heart to stop from the sheer terror of falling from this height to the pavement below. Only a greasy, broken smear would be left of a man—or woman.
Roman felt frozen in place--his legs unable to follow her command much to her disapproval.
“Romochka--come,” she commanded once again. This time he felt himself gravitate towards her despite his mental objection to do so. His body moved by muscle memory to her beckon, and soon, he was uncomfortably close to her. The aroma of jasmine and honey wafted from her neck and bosom. Nadia’s hands cupped him by the cheeks, and she stroked his beard with the edges of her thumbs. “Good boy.”
His heart beat louder than the drums that played for the dragon dancers--his body feverish with the desire to take her by the neck and--.
“Young master?” Barrett Waldrop’s voice was the beacon he needed in the dark night to lure him back to reality. Novack’s eyes cut to the other man, and he frowned at him. “You were gone for a moment.”
Too long to be exact.
“No, young master,” Roman grumbled as he rose from the taupe, leather chair and made his way quickly to the penthouse’s bar. He poured a generously large tumbler of Kwei Chow baijiu that Nadia had requested for the room. He could feel Barrett’s eyes burrowing disapprovingly into the back of his head like two brown, aged termites. “No--old master--no master at all. Just me.”
“An impossible habit to break,” Waldrop replied with a chuckle. “You were still in primary school when I first came to work for your grandfather.”
The alcohol was more potent than he expected and caused him to wince upon taste. “Gyuh—That will put hair on your chest.” He lifted a few cubes of ice with metal tongs from the insulated ice bucket and dropped them into his glass. “You’ve been with my family for—twenty-seven years now?”
“Twenty-six,” Barrett corrected. “I’ve watched you mature into quite the gentleman.”
Roman laughed, “You must have stories upon stories to tell.”
“I have a fair share,” Barrett replied with the type of warm, grandfatherly smile Roman had loved about Pop Piotr. “You were a bit of a scamp.”
“Only a bit?” Nadia. Wasn’t she lovely in her champagne colored sequined Tadashi Shoji dress with the blouson waist. It cut tastefully low and lewdly high. Barrett greeted his employer while Roman slid his hand into the pocket of his slacks to retrieve his coin.
“I wanted to give the lad a fair grounding,” Barrett replied. Nadia kissed the older gentleman’s cheek and handed him an envelope that Roman assumed could be full of quite suspicious things as part of the woman’s nefarious schemes. Likely--it was money for something that she didn’t bother giving attention and now had to throw money at it to make it disappear. Forgotten gift--missed meeting with one of her sugar boardies.
His pet name for the men she sat alongside when they decided to let her take up Roman’s position in the holdings. Banking--realty--insurance. Money was in money. Munitions and bonds during the war. Invest back into it--wham--bam--(but mostly a lot of bootlegging) thank you, ma’am.
Those brown eyes of hers were quite haunting when they needed to be. He felt that thick awkwardness radiate from her very presence, and he shuddered.
“Congratulations, Romochka,” Nadia said. His lips drew into a smile, and he nodded. “I’m quite impressed with your performance. I knew you’d play to the crowd--and you did not disappoint in that. Charisma makes a memorable performance. The showman.”
He twirled his wrists in a showy manner and bowed. If he was anything--he was definitely a Novack man. Fools. All of them. It was painful to look at him sometimes, however. He reminded her far too much of his father--Aleksy.
“You’re going to love the next weekend I have planned for us,” the woman continued, pressing the painful reflection from her mind. He’d occasionally caught the glint in her eyes in the past where she had accidentally reflected on something that hit a nerve reminding him that the rock solid diva was also quite fragile as well. A porcelain doll.
“I’m busy,” Roman replied coldly.
“Whatever it is can wait,” Nadia retorted while slipping past him to fetch her own drink. Roman turned to track her movement as he’d hoped to see the dagger coming before she had had the chance to plunge it into his back. “We have dinner in two hours with Li Jun Xie--and I do believe he is bringing his daughter.
Ah, there it was--the true reason she’d had him tag along--to babysit the daughter of one of her would be business associates.
“Poor girl,” Roman muttered much to Nadia’s displeasure.
“You will be a perfect delight tonight,” Nadia commanded. “We’re guests in their home and their country after all. Once I have secured Zhoung account--you’re free to galavant off wherever with whomever you please.
He agonized.
“I ask very little of you, Romochka,” Nadia Volkov said to him.
This was a lie. In fact, Roman felt she asked quite a lot of him, especially as of late.
“Fine,” he sighed. Nadia rattled off something about his clothes in his room that he only half acknowledged before she strolled off to drink and pamper herself until the dinner date leaving Novack to his lonesome. He stared out the floor length windows of their suite to study the city below and thought of how long it would take a man’s heart to stop from the sheer terror of falling from this height to the pavement below. Only a greasy, broken smear would be left of a man—or woman.