5
Ivan
I must confess that I was nervous throughout our ride home. In the entirety of my twenty-three years of life, I had never lived with a woman who was not my relative. My heart pounded aggressively against its cage, and my grip on the steering wheel was slackened by sweat. What made me more nervous was the fact that she might have sensed my nervousness and laughed in mockery of me. I mean, who wouldn’t find it funny that the consignee of the Brotherhood was scared sh*tless of living in the same house with a woman?
When we got to my apartment, I could tell from Amina’s unfazed expression that the girl had tasted wealth—not just any kind of wealth but a lot of constant wealth. Before I became this wealthy, I struggled for a long time trying to make ends meet. I worked as a bartender, a waiter, and even a valet before I got recruited into the Brotherhood and climbed my way into power. Don Oleg treated me as his son and trained me until I was Mafia quality, although he said I was too soft to be a pusher of anything and named me his consigliere against the wishes of the other gang members, who complained that I was just a child. When Don Oleg drove me to this apartment, I could not believe my eyes. I stood with my jaw ajar and was euphoric when the key opened up the front door. I thanked him for a week straight, and he had to threaten to take the apartment away before I stopped.
"You mean I’ll live here with you? Amina’s voice cut through my thoughts.
"Yes, for as long as you need to. Let me show you your room. I replied, walked off, and paused halfway to make sure she was following.
"You should know that if you ever try to escape, you’d cause a lot of problems for your father and yourself. I warned.
"You’d kill me? Amina asked in a mocking tone.
"If necessary." I said it curtly and opened the door to her room, which had already been prepared for her the day before her arrival.
"You should take a shower and get changed. You need a lot of rest; we’ve got classes tomorrow. I informed her and sauntered out of the room.
Thirty minutes later, as I dozed off on the cushion in the living room, I heard Amina shout my name.
"Ivan!" she cried, and I rushed to see what it was. On entering her room, her hair was wet, and it dripped water down her face, and there were shiny droplets on her chin. Across her caramel chest was a baby pink towel, and I flushed.
"Tell me, Ivan! Isn't it knocking on your mafia codes? She fumed as she folded her arms across her chest protectively.
"Why were you calling for me if you were undressed? I shot back. I could feel a deeper flush on my cheeks. Come on, the girl was beautiful.
"What’s with the blushing? Is Mafia Boy scared? Amina taunted me, and the alarms went off in my head. My heart skipped three beats at once, and my legs propelled me towards her.
"What are you doing, Ivan? Back off." There were threads of fear in her speech. My brain was telling me to stop moving, but my body moved until I had pinned her to the wall. Our faces were inches apart, and she shut her eyes and shouted:
"If you touch me, Ivan, I’ll tell my father, and he will make sure to gut you with a cutlass!"
I placed my hands on the wall, slightly above her shoulders, tilted my neck, and whispered into her ears:
"If I ever touch you, Jewel, you’ll want it. You’d want it so bad. I knew I had won when I saw the tiny mounds of goosebumps arise on her skin.
"Now, why did you call for me? I asked and am now in control.
"I mean, there are no clothes for me here," she stuttered. Shit. I had forgotten to buy some clothes for my hostage.
"I’m sorry, I’ll find something for you to wear tonight; we can go shopping before our classes tomorrow. I said this and walked out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind me. I found her a sweater and some brown cotton pants of mine, which I feared would be both too big for her; they were. She had to fold the legs of the pants to avoid tripping on them, and the sweater sleeves were inches longer than her arms, but she left them dangling that way.
The next morning. I awoke my hostage, and we drove towards the mall downtown to shop for her clothing. As we walked around the mall, picking clothes, we got an embarrassing number of endearing smiles, mostly from older women. A woman even called us and said,
"Vy prekrasnaya para! She chirped and rolled her cart of children’s shoes towards the counter.
"What was that now? Amina asked with a frown on her brow.
"She said we were a beautiful couple. I interpreted indifferently.
Oh, fuck that, fuck this, Ivan, I’ve got clothes; we just need to drive to my home and get my stuff. Amina cried; she dropped back a leather coat she had been considering and glared at me.
"I’m sorry, Jewel; you aren’t allowed to go home while you remain a hostage. I stated.
"My name is Amina," she snapped, and she picked up the leather coat, put it into her cart, and rolled it away. After she had finished selecting, I checked through her bags, and something was just not right.
"There are no clothes," I began.
"What do you mean, no clothes?" she asked.
"No dinner gowns, no party dresses, just a bunch of coats, pants, and stockings. I said.
With a puzzled look on her face, Amina said:
"Dinner gowns? What for?"
"Oh, come on now, are you kidding me? I’m the consigliere of the Brotherhood; my life is an eventful one, and as long as you remain my hostage, so is yours."
"Now get back in there and pick some real clothes. I added, and I stifled a laugh as she walked off with a huge scowl on her face. I watched her test tons of dresses and try out lots of jewelry, shaking my head each time one was too much or too little. She was shy with embarrassment, and it made me enjoy the sight even more. She emerged with tons of beautiful dresses, but the best for me was the black satin dress with a thigh-high slit, sequined, and silk feathers from the start to finish of the slit.