See her
See her
"Oh, Mr Volkov. That magazine company wants to know if you want any copies of the issue that they featured you in. They called earlier to see if you were interested since it went out this morning," Harriet hovered in the doorway, her presence slightly intrusive yet expectant. The faint scent of her perfume floated in the office air.
"No, I don't really care. My uncle will buy one if he wants to use it to make fun of me that badly," I answered without looking up at her. My eyes remained glued to the two massive monitor screens on my desk, where graphs and emails sprawled out like a battlefield. I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders, and the lingering memory of Elena tugged insistently at the edges of my focus.
"You're right. So funny, Mr Volkov," she let loose an exaggerated laugh, the kind that grated slightly against my nerves. I barely dipped my head in a nod in response, trying to get her to leave without much fuss. She huffed through her nose, a small sign of indignation, but seconds later she vanished, leaving the faint echo of her heels behind.
Once the door to my office was shut and the haze in my head seemed to clear, I pushed myself to focus on work. If we had a new nightclub going up near the river, I had countless people to contact, schedules to coordinate, and problems to preempt before they even arose.
Unfortunately, my attention faltered, drifting again to the area surrounding the theater. It was close to where I would be this weekend with my aunt. My mind couldn’t stop circling back—would Elena still be the star of the show? Could anyone else possibly hold the stage after the second half of her performance had left me breathless and craving more than the memory could satisfy?
A strange, heavy pebble seemed to form in my chest. No matter how often I rubbed my chest, it refused to go away, pressing with insistent weight. There was a ballerina stuck in my mind, moving gracefully in slow motion, her eyes flashing with life and something dangerously intimate that wasn’t mine to take. I didn’t know how to get her out. My uncle had advised me against it, but by the end of the day, the tension thrumming beneath my skin had me questioning whether I should arrange another night with Elena.
"She's just the best lay I have had in a long time," I whispered inwardly, my own thoughts nearly catching me off guard. "Maybe one more time will get her out of my system. I can take my time and really get the most out of it."
I was a fool for thinking it. A cigarette called to me like a lifeline, a tiny reprieve from the storm of want and obsession that was Elena.
"My sweet, sweet nephew. Thank you so much for dinner. You know I love the tiramisu there,"
"Oh! and before the ballet," Aunt Annika's thick Russian accent floated in the air through the back of the Cadillac as I silently listened. She leaned forward, gesturing slightly to the driver, her jeweled hands glinting in the car’s dim light. "You know, my nephew here is richest boy in entire city!"
"Yes ma'am," the driver, Antonio, said with a steady tone. He knew very well who I was, but he also knew to indulge Annika when she was around me, tolerating her exuberance as part of the unspoken rules of service.
Antonio had been driving me for the past two years, but my aunt paid no attention to the faces of anyone who didn't directly work for her. She existed in her own world of glimmering diamonds and heavy furs.
"I helped to raise this boy. Raise good kids and they will repay you when you get older," she cooed, twirling the large diamond rings on her fingers with meticulous care. "Absolutely, ma'am," Antonio replied, a faint smile breaking through his practiced composure. "You two are going to have a great time at the ballet. I hear Swan Lake is one of the best performances out there," he added, voice carrying a hint of genuine anticipation.
"Of all time, it is the classic!" Annika exclaimed, straightening her fur coat with exaggerated pride as Antonio pulled up to the theater, the glow of the streetlights catching off the sleek black surface of the car.
"Alright, Tetya, let's go." I extended my hand to her, the contrast of my rough, work-roughened fingers against her delicate gloved ones making her smile with satisfaction. Once she was settled, I returned to the driver's window and Antonio rolled it down.
"You have the next two hours to yourself, but I will need you to take my Tetya home at the end of the show," I advised, pressing a crisp hundred-dollar bill into his hand. "Anything you need, Mr Volkov. Will you need me to come back for you after?" Antonio beamed at me, taking the money without breaking eye contact.
"That won't be necessary. I have plans for after the show, so I will find my own way," I added, adjusting my coat and glancing at my reflection in the car window.
"Understood, sir." Antonio nodded and rolled the window up.
I turned back to my aunt, huddled in her fancy gown and expensive fur coat. "You mind if I have a smoke before we go in?" I asked, the familiar warmth of a lighter against my fingers calling to me.
"Nasty habit, Andrey. You know I don't approve it," she shook her head, eyes narrowing slightly, then glanced around. "But your uncle isn't here. So, give me one too."
An abrupt laugh escaped me, a mixture of amusement and relief. Dimitri hated smoking, but Annika wasn’t afraid to partake in the nasty habit herself. We stood in comfortable silence as the theater lights spilled through the glass, bathing us in warm yellow illumination.
Annika loved watching people, reveling in the energy of a crowd, but I needed a moment to collect myself.
I would see Elena again tonight. Not just on stage, but I had booked her once again. Once more, at the Lotte New York Palace by midnight. My chest tightened, anticipation coiling in my stomach.
It was almost 8:00pm now, and I bristled as the hours ticked by while knowing what was coming. The cigarette only helped a fraction, but it was all I had.
"Let's go, Tetya. We have a ballet to watch," I said, offering my arm, and she smiled warmly as she took it. We walked around the fountain, the water glistening under the night lights, and joined the crowd heading into the theater. I had to admit—it was far more calming to be here with Annika than it was with Dimitri. Dimitri’s presence always demanded efficiency, power, and control, whereas Annika exuded unpredictability, whimsy, and indulgence.
"I am very excited to see the show. You know I did some ballet as little girl, back in Russia," she whispered to me, her voice a gentle melody that contrasted with the bustling city sounds outside. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly; Annika would tell anyone who listened. "I know you don't love ballet, but you will love this one. The dancer for Odette is the best I have ever seen," she added with certainty, her eyes gleaming in anticipation.
"I will be the judge of that," I spoke, watching her wag her finger playfully. The noises of New York faded away as the doors shut behind us, isolating us in a bubble of quiet opulence. I guided my aunt inside, and we made our way to our seats. I was pleasantly surprised to see they were in the same spot roped off for the mayor last weekend, giving me a sense of control in the midst of anticipation and desire.