VIKTOR TARASOV
"ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT to go down this road?"
Misha's asked disinterestedly behind me as my forefinger pressed against the call button of the elevator.
"Did Aleksei put you up to this?" I asked in return just as the doors dinged open. We stepped into the empty elevator, commencing our journey upward.
He lugged his big frame against a corner, popping a shoulder casually. "Maybe."
He couldn't care less whatever the fuck I had going on with my life, and I respected the fact that he couldn't pretend. His blind loyalty to Aleksei was the only reason he was here in the first place, and he couldn't be more obvious with his disinterest.
"I have no choice in the matter. She caught me in a rather tricky situation."
"One you didn't have to deal with yourself. Alek could have had Lev clean up your mess in a few days."
"Nyet. You know how I like to tie up loose ends myself."
He snorted loudly. "Bullshit. I'd have believed that lousy excuse if I were twenty years younger, but I'm no fool, Viktor."
"Your and Aleksei's actions in the last year proved otherwise, but let's agree to disagree."
I felt rather than see him go cold behind me, effectively putting an end to the conversation.
"Suit yourself," he said in a clipped tone, hurling out expletives under his breath.
"Touchy." I chuckled to myself.
Would I ever get tired of poking fun at them after everything that transpired with Aleksei's bride? Probably not. I loved watching them go quiet when they came to terms with the fact that they'd been horrible judges of her character.
Or not.
We would never know. Aleksei wanted nothing to do with his ex-wife, and Misha was a follower. Kind of.
I straightened my jacket out, checking the mirror for any visible wrinkles in my clothes. Today was my first time meeting her conscious after a stretch of nine months, not that she'd mind my appearance in her reported state.
If anything, she'd claw an eye out before she noticed how put together I was, or if I even bothered with pants on my way out of the house.
I had a feeling she would be that... unsettled, putting it simply.
I got off the elevator on the private hospital floor, and immediately I was bombarded with the sound of glass crashing on the floor.
Interesting. She was more indignant than I thought.
Her theatrics brought a smile to my lips. It was amusing seeing a different side of her. Her stoicism had intrigued me when I first laid eyes on her, but I'd had a feeling that seeing her lose control would be even more exciting.
The nearer I drew to her door, the clearer her voice became, husky from disuse, but furious no less.
"Stop telling me to calm down!" She shrieked. "I said I want to speak with my guardian. I don't know who this Mrs. Tarasov you speak of is, but that is in no way, shape or form my last name. And last time I checked, I wasn't married."
My, how passionate.
By the time I stood in front of the door, I was full on smiling. I couldn't remember the last time I cracked a real one, but here she was, nearly reducing me to laughter.
"We understand, but you're still a patient of this hospital. We're obligated to take care of you, so calm down, ma'am," a nurse calmly intercepted, the nervousness in her tone enough to drown out the entire hospital. "We won't call you Mrs. Tarasov anymore, but we really do have to check your vi-"
"There you go with that Mrs. Tarasov nonsense again. I'm telling you; you have the wrong person! If you don't let me speak to my guardian right now, I swear, I'm going to sue for emotional distress once I get out of here."
I took that as my cue to step in, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. Instant relief crossed the nurses' faces, when they saw me, but hers remained unchanged, indifferent even.
No. I was wrong. She wasn't indifferent.
She was hopeful, and I watched as the tiny bit of hope in her eyes disintegrated, her lips pursed like she was in the middle of saying something.
"Here I am, wife. You really shouldn't make trouble for the nice nurses. They've worked so hard these last few months."
***
DAHLIA WESTBROOKE
THE WORST PART ABOUT consistently drifting in and out of consciousness was one people rarely talked about.
The urge to get out of bed consistently trampled by the overwhelming tiredness that prevented you from having control over your bodily functions. Wanting to move a limb as a cloud of dizziness washed over you again, knocking you out before you knew it.
Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and fucking repeat until it felt like you were genuinely going to lose your mind.
"Shush. She's waking," I registered a voice hovering over me.
Great. The start of another vicious cycle. The nurses fluttered about around me, but before I could fully get a grasp of my surroundings, my eyelids fell shut again.
"Nothing looks out of the ordinary, but please, get Dr. Michaelson. You know how particular her husband is about her health."
Okay, fuck going back to sleep. If there was any way to clear the lethargic feeling weighing down on my mind, that was surely it. What husband were they talking about?
I forcibly opened my eyes, fully registering my surroundings in what felt like forever.
The room was new, unfamiliar, and more importantly, I had no clue who these nurses were. As much as I hated it, I frequented the hospital more than the average person, and due to daddy dearest's connections, I was usually assigned to the same private room to keep things hush-hush. That also meant I had a rotation of nurses that nursed me back to health during one of my episodes, and neither of these nurses could I recognize.
Again, what was that talk about a husband?
"Hello, Mrs. Tarasov," the blonde, older nurse flashed me a tentative smile. "How are you feeling?"
She had a welcoming look on her face, but it did nothing to ease the raging anxiety and slew of questions running through my mind at a million miles per hour.
I shook my head, and even that slight action felt too much. "You have your patients mixed up, sorry. I'm unmarried, and I have no clue who this Mrs. Tarasov you speak of is."
Her smile faltered. "No?" She exchanged knowing glances with the other nurses in the room, and for a second, I swore I saw pity flashing through their eyes.
My danger radar was at an all time high now, flashing bright red in my vision. What had my father gotten me into this time?
I searched my mind to remember if I'd slipped up on one of my duties, but I came up with nothing. I'd been obedient these last few weeks. Other than that, I couldn't help my failing health and eating habits that led to these frequent hospital visits.
"Where's my guardian?" I asked quietly, searching their faces for any slip up to clue me in on what the heck was going on.
"He's on his way, I'm sure. Mr. Tarasov usually arrives around this time everyday. In the meantime, you can calm down. I understand your concern, but we aren't here to hurt you, Mrs. Tarasov."
I jumped out of the bed too quickly, because I swayed immediately I got on my feet, causing varying degrees of panic and horror to cross the nurses' face.
"Please, get back in bed. It's too soon to be up and about."
I held up a finger, preventing her from coming closer as I gripped the bedside table to still my frame. "That. Stop doing that. I don't know who this Tarasov person is, so please stop calling me that. Get me my father instead. George Brown, that's his name. Or better still, get me Dr. Lavigne. He'll clear up this entire misunderstanding."
They exchanged another weird look before another nurse finally spoke up, her tone just as calm as her subordinate's. "We understand. But please, get back in bed."
My already fraying control snapped, and I yelled, "Stop looking at me like I'm crazy. I know what I'm talking about." A horrifying thought crossed my mind, and my stomach rolled with nausea. "Have I- have I been kidnapped?" I stuttered, my gaze darting to the door behind them.
I was in no shape to ward off three healthy-looking women, if that was the case. They'd get me before I could even cross the threshold, so bolting out of the door was out. Asking for my father, it was.
"Not at all," the blonde nurse answered in the most patronizing tone ever. "You're at the hospital, and right now, you need to get back in bed, so we can check your vitals."
She took a step forward, and in a bid to get away from her, I knocked over the vase on the table, sending glass shattering into a million pieces across the tiled floor. "Please, get me my father," I pleaded. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown at this point, and the last thing I wanted was another trip to the psych ward. But if things kept going the way they were, I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep it together for long.
"Okay, let's calm down now."
"Stop telling me to calm down!" I snapped, already at my wits' end. "I said I want to speak with my guardian. I don't know who this Mrs. Tarasov you speak of is, but that is in no way, shape or form my last name. And last time I checked, I wasn't married."
I was panting heavily at the end of my speech, but I needed them to get it through their heads that this was all a gross misunderstanding.
"We understand, but you're still a patient of this hospital. We're obligated to take care of you, so calm down, ma'am. We won't call you Mrs. Tarasov anymore, but we really do have to check your vi-"
"There you go with that Mrs. Tarasov nonsense again. I'm telling you, you have the wrong person!" I was full-on hysterical at this point, a complete contrast to how I usually behaved, but I was hoping the ruckus in the room would draw the attention of others. Assuming this was a real hospital, of course. I hadn't completely ruled off the possibility of me being kidnapped. "If you don't let me speak to my guardian right now, I swear, I'm going to sue for emotional distress once I get out of here."
The knob twisted from the other side of the door, and a brief wave of relief washed over me. Finally. My father was here. As much as I despised the man, there was no one I wanted to see more than him at this moment.
"Fa-"
The words died in my throat when a gigantic man leisurely strolled into the room, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Here I am, wife. You really shouldn't make trouble for the nice nurses. They've worked so hard these last few months."
His asinine statement was my final straw in the midst of all this fuckery. This time when my eyelids fell shut, I didn't try to fight against the incoming wave of unconsciousness.
This time, I fully welcomed the darkness with open arms.