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I stamped my feet and pulled my coat tighter around my body.
“I know!” Maria exclaimed. “It’s freezing here.”
We were on a break during the second day of business meetings, and Maria wanted to have a smoke. We wandered our way outside of the Ground Forces building on the Frunzenskaya embankment. Maria finished up her first cigarette and promptly pulled another out of the pack.
When we arrived three days ago, we had been given the remainder of that day to adjust to the time zone and rest. We were staying in a nearby hotel in the middle of the city by the Moskva River. I smiled thinking of how my room was directly next to Ruel’s. We even shared a wall.
Ruel had been running the meetings, as I assumed he would be. Maria and I had left him schmoozing with the officials inside the conference room. His actions towards me slightly shifted once we arrived. He had become more brazen, more attentive. It was as though the crossing of a border gave him the freedom to act on impulse, which I didn’t mind one bit.
“We should probably get back in,” Maria said, putting out her third cigarette. She wasn’t that avid of a smoker, so I figured she’d burned through them because of the cold air. Cold was an understatement. It was colder than anything I had ever experienced. A constant chill lingered in my bones and every extremity and exposed skin surface hurt or was completely numb. I had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be warm.
We quickly made our way back inside the building. The heated air caused my ears to burn as if I had just run them under hot water. When I reentered the conference room, Ruel greeted me with a giant grin and we all took our seats. He made his way back up to the front and, in Russian, cued the man operating the presentation slides to start the next slide show. He switched to English for the presentation itself, but occasionally dropped back into Russian to field the various officials’ questions.
There was a certain thrill in watching Ruel run a meeting. Especially one that would likely lead to a long-term billion-dollar contract. I found his authoritative command extraordinarily sexy and each time he glanced in my direction, my body reacted strongly, and I had to mentally calm myself down. At one point, I was certain he had given a slight grin as if he knew what he was doing to me.
I continued to study him as he spoke, not really listening to what he was saying, but rather how he said it. I focused on each intonation, each pause, each smile, each frown. He was the perfect actor. Almost better than I used to be. I remembered Ronaldo and what I’d done for him. Ruel was definitely not a better actor. I shuddered minutely and tried to focus back in on something, anything. The sound of someone’s watch was enough to do it, and I allowed my mind to become entranced with the rhythmic ticking. When I looked back up, Ruel held my eyes with an intent gaze. I gave a quick, platonic type of smile, then looked down at my notes.
We broke for the final time before the conclusion of the both the meeting and, consequently, the day. As I made my way down the hall, Ruel caught up and matched my stride.
“Were you upset during the meeting?” he asked softly.
“What do you mean?” I hadn’t given any obvious indication that I’d been upset.
“You shuddered at something. You tuned me out and looked lost in thought. But then something upset you, and you came back to the present.”
I looked at him. His earnest expression stuck. Could he still be acting?
“A memory,” I said casually.
“Do you often have bad memories surface?”
Did I? I thought a moment. “You know, it happens more often now that we’re hanging out.”
“We can stop if you’d like. I don’t want to cause you any pain.”
“No,” I said quickly, a little too quickly. But he just smiled and gave me a small wink, then nodded his head towards the women’s restroom to his right.
“I believe this is your stop, Emma.”
“Yes, I do believe it is.”
I hesitated before pulling away from him. The energy between us seemed to keep us close together, almost as if it were out of control. As I made my way towards the door, I felt his hand on the small of my back. I chuckled to myself, thinking about how much I preferred the Russian Ruel to the Ruel I knew in America.
When I returned to the conference room, Generál-Polkóvnik, or Colonel General Artur Zhuravlev, was speaking with some of the officers. I looked at Ruel, wondering why the general was there. Had we secured the contract? I didn’t even know if he would be in charge of that. It seemed unlikely, plus there were still more meetings tomorrow. Ruel, reading my expression, shook his head, signifying that Zhuravlev wasn’t there for the contract. Ruel then turned his attention to the room and flashed a smile.
“Generál-Polkóvnik Zhuravlev would like to say a few words to conclude today’s meetings,” he said, stepping aside for Zhuravlev to come forward.
“Hello, I trust that the meetings went well today,” he began with a smile. Unlike the other officers, his voice had only a trace of a Russian accent. “I’m pleased to announce that tomorrow night, we are holding a dinner ball for officers and their guests. I would like to extend an invitation to you, our guests, to please join us.”
I went to look at Ruel, but Maria caught my eye first, looking ecstatic. Of course, I thought, this was definitely Maria’s kind of thing. Not to mention she had been attempting to chat up a younger officer who had come in during one of the earlier presentations. I couldn’t help but grin and roll my eyes at her.
“You seem pleased,” Zhuravlev said to Maria, picking up on her energy.
“Yes, sir, I am,” she bubbled. “We rarely have dinner balls in the U.S.”
“Well, I’m glad we can treat you.” He smiled and turned his attention to the man who had been running the presentation slides and said something in Russian. The man immediately got up and handed official invitations to the four of us.
I traced the black embossed Russian lettering, all illegible to me. I knew Ruel would translate it to us, though. I mused at the thought of Ruel and me at a dinner ball in a foreign land. It was a bit like a fairy tale.
—
“I’m glad you didn’t bring a dress, either.” Maria said to me, balancing against a pole as we stood on the crowded metro train. “Who would’ve thought we’d have to go to a ball?”
“Seriously,” I said. The Thursday meetings had knocked off early to allow us time to get ready for the evening’s events.
Maria had talked me into going down to GUM, the famous high-end, historical shopping center in Red Square. When I protested the prices, she simply shrugged and rolled her eyes. “You only live once, Em. I know you can afford it on your salary.” Then she threw in the clincher. “Besides, when else are you going to go to a ball with Ruel?” I couldn’t argue this.
The metro came to our stop, and the bulk of the train exited with us onto the crowded platform. I clung tightly to my purse until we had climbed up to the street level, away from the crowd and back into the cold. After a quick walk, we were in Red Square. It was breathtaking, if not a bit austere. I took in the sights: the high red walls of the Kremlin, the colorful domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral, the red and white of Kazan Cathedral, and finally, the enormous white stone facade that was GUM.
“Come on!” Maria said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the shops.
We navigated our way around the ice skating rink located directly out front and into the central entrance. Nothing I ever experienced could have prepared me for the interior of the building. A giant fountain spouted water in the center of three expansive rows of shops. The sun filtered in between the thick, hanging clouds outside, and through the massive glass ceiling. The building towered three stories high and each row was infinitely long. It more resembled a massive train station than a shopping center. I looked over at Maria.
“Welcome to GUM,” she said simply with a rather large smile. “Now stop gaping, it’s unattractive.”
I immediately closed my mouth and chuckled.
Maria grabbed an English language directory map from a kiosk, and we walked forward towards the fountain that completely drew us in; there was no other explanation. Once we reached the atrium area that housed the fountain itself, Maria launched rather passionately into a lengthy recap of GUM’s history.
“It was originally called the Upper Trading Stalls and built in the seventeenth century as wooden stalls enclosed in stone. That led to lots of fires due to heaters in the winters, as you can imagine, and in 1815, a much larger building went up in its place. This was shoddily done and in 1869 the mayor, or whatever they called it then, set out to demolish and rebuild it again. The shop owners were naturally not big fans of this, as it meant lots of money lost during the downtime, and an ongoing stalemate between the two sides went on for decades. A joint stock company was created that gave the shop owners, who, mind you, had owned these shops for generations, stock in the company itself. The owners of the smaller shops were basically screwed, though. It’s always that way, isn’t it? Anyway, a competition was held for a new building design, and in 1893, a new place opened. There was another decline due to war and political things, but in 1953, another reconstruction happened and voila, here we are. Impressively, it was the largest shopping center in the Western world for quite a while.”
Finally Maria paused and realized I was staring at her with an awed expression.
“What?” she asked, and quickly looked behind her to make sure my expression was intended for her.
“Oh, nothing. I just forget sometimes…”
“Forget what? That I’m just as smart as you?” Maria laughed. “We do work on the same projects, you know.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Maria waved off my apology and breezily said, “No, no, it’s to be expected. Intelligence and mental disorder come hand in hand. I deal with mine by dumbing down to Tony’s level and having frivolous fun. You just bottle it up and withdraw from everyone. I do prefer my way to yours, but to each her own. Besides, Ruel seems to be pulling you out of your shell. It’s nice to see you, well, happier.”
I said nothing. I knew that Ruel made me happier, but I hadn’t realized that it was so obvious. Plus, Maria having a mental disorder? Of course I did, but it just seemed impossible that she did, too. She was just so . . . normal. Maria grabbed hold of my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“It’s okay, Emma. Everything will be fine.” She smiled reassuringly, like a parent would at a distressed teenager. “Now, come on, what’s better than retail therapy?”
I laughed and nodded. Here she was, my one friend. I knew now our relationship was real.
“So, is Andrew coming tonight?” I asked Maria through the fitting room wall at Dior.
“I’m not sure. He’s missing his family quite a bit. He may just zone out in his room, maybe call them for a bit. Noon on a Thursday, his wife should be able to talk, she doesn’t work.”
“Is he still moving his flight up to tomorrow?”
“No, I talked him into staying to come sightseeing with me instead,” she said. “Now show me the dress, already.”
“Almost ready.”
“Is it better than the others? Will Ruel and his sumptuous muscles be able to keep away?” she said, laughing.
“Ha. Ha.” I called and came out of the fitting room. The dress was a halter top with a deep, plunging neckline. Its form fitting, forest green charmeuse silk flowed down to the floor.
“That’s the one. No question,” she said, looking me up and down. “Ruel isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off of you.”
“Good.” I smirked. “Now stop gaping. It’s unattractive.”
—
I stood and gave a final glance in the mirror when I heard Ruel’s light tapping on my hotel room door. The thin heels of my new shoes pressed lightly into the recently re-carpeted floor as I walked to the door. The cling of the silk fabric simultaneously felt familiar and foreign. It had long been my companion throughout the heists. Why did Ruel bring this feeling back? Had our instant connection actually been a previous familiarity? I had successfully blocked off entire persons and relationships before, had I blocked Ruel out of my memory? I took a deep breath, composing my emotions, and opened the door.
I let out an involuntary gasp at the beauty that stood before me. No, never in million years could I have blocked him out.
I took in his dinner jacket. It was an Armani—a tailored Armani. Had he just happened to bring it along with him or had he spend his afternoon purchasing it and having it tailored? This reminded me of the line from a Bond film, one where a female companion said to Bond, “There are dinner jackets and dinner jackets.” Ruel’s was without a doubt the latter. I smiled.
My eyes traced the line of his sharp jawbone and finally made their way up to his gaze. It was soft, yet piercing. No one had looked at me that way before.
“Good evening, Emma,” he said, and pulled my right hand to his lips to kiss it. “You look—no, no, there are no words.”
I stood there speechless, actually having no words. At least none that seemed to make their way out of my mouth. Then, without a mental warning, I threw my arms around his neck. His frame shook in laughter underneath my embrace. His arms went to my bare back, pulling me close to him, stroking my loosely curled hair.
“Well, hello,” he murmured, his mouth pulled into a smirk.
I breathed deeply, willing the extra oxygen to calm down my sudden emotional outburst. He pulled me tighter. Then I felt it. A hard, metal object in his jacket’s breast pocket. A familiar shape. A gun.
The color started to drain from my face and I knew I had to stop it immediately. When I pulled away from him, I had to look normal. I couldn’t give away that I had felt the gun. I desperately tried to think of something to make me blush. I settled on what Maria had said earlier about his “sumptuous muscles”. The words themselves were hilarious, but they also triggered the thought of seeing those muscles without a shirt covering them. I blushed deeply, took another deep breath, and pulled away from him.
“Sorry about that,” I said, giving a laugh.
“Not at all,” he smiled. I looked at his eyes and saw they were no different than before. He didn’t suspect anything.
“Shall we go, then?” I said, grinning. My acting had kicked in, just like old times working for Ronaldo. It felt like I’d just been thrust into a job, and I had to fool Ruel that all was well. But why? I wasn’t afraid of the gun itself, I could probably disarm him if necessary. I was scared of what might happen if Ruel realized I knew he had it. I didn’t know how the dynamics would change between us, because I wasn’t sure why he had a gun in the first place.
As Ruel led the way down to the elevator, my mind raced through the possibilities. Perhaps he was merely paranoid and it made him feel safer. That seemed unlikely. This was Ruel. He was extremely fit, all-seeing, meticulous, and highly intelligent with a keen memory. Though, as Maria mentioned, some found him standoffish and withdrawn, once he turned on his charm, he set people at such ease they would do whatever he wanted.
As Ruel motioned for me to exit the elevator ahead of him, I noticed his silver, square cufflinks when his shirtsleeve slid forward, unsheathing itself from his dinner jacket. His dinner jacket. It finally clicked. How had I not recognized this before? Emma, you’re so thick! I berated myself.
Ruel led the way through to the lobby and out to the waiting town car.
“A town car? When did we get so posh?” I said, my acting in full swing. We had been taking taxis all week.
Ruel laughed and waited for me to get into the back of the sleek, black car.
“The Russians sent it,” he said, sliding in next to me.
“Ah, I see. At least we know they can foot the bill for our product.”
“Yes, or are fine with going into national debt,” Ruel said in a playful tone.
“I wonder what else they’ll shower us with.” I looked at him allowing my eyes to glisten with an innocent excitement. Then in my Ruel voice I said, “Hopefully with something extraordinary.”
My reference to him seemed obvious to me. He was the extraordinary thing with which the Russians had showered us. I waited for his eyes to dart away suddenly, the way they often did when he trailed off mid-thought whenever it seemed like he was about to tell me something he shouldn’t. Whenever he was about to tell me he was a spy. I waited, but it never came.
Instead I watched as his body moved towards me. Survival instincts set in immediately, and I left my smile on my face. Inwardly racing for a solution, outwardly remaining engaged with the situation. Ruel’s face was inches from mine. His hand had reached my face and he cradled my jawbone in his palm briefly before moving his hand around the back of my neck. It was only a miniscule change, but I knew with that hand placement, he could snap my neck in three seconds. He would depress a pressure point on my neck, a brief incapacitation, but enough time to reach up his other hand and twist hard enough to sever my spinal cord. Three seconds until his job here was done. He would call in to Maria, apologizing that we were unable to come. She would buy it, pleased that he and I were alone for the night. And then, well, he would dispose of the body—my body—and leave. Case closed. Mission accomplished.
I waited for the fear to overcome me. The last moments of life to take on some meaning. But nothing came. No fear, no adrenaline, no survival plan. Then another emotion took a gentle hold of me, something I had never experienced: a sense of serenity, of trust.
“Ruel,” I breathed in hardly a whisper. My acting had stopped.
His hand dropped to the top of my bare rib cage, out of the danger zone. He pulled away from me slightly, just enough to be able to look me deep in the eyes. I closed them, sacrificing my strongest sense, an enormous symbol of trust given the circumstances.
“Emma,” I heard him say in the same manner. Then his lips were on mine. I kissed him back. It was soft, calm.
I felt the car stop moving. He pulled away and leaned his forehead on mine.
“We’re here.” he said.
“So we are.”
The driver opened the back door, and the rush of freezing air flooded into the dark space. It was all I needed to snap out of that serenity. I should have known it would be a fleeting emotion.
“You ready?” Ruel asked, taking a hold of my hand.
I nodded. But I was not ready, not for this. Bigger questions remained—whom was he working for? And, most importantly, why me?
I squeezed his hand and followed him out of the car.
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