Chapter Two
Trista
Being in Russia has been an experience I never dreamed was possible. Not only did I come to visit, but I’ve moved into my best friend’s boyfriend’s old apartment after he moved into the house she lives in with her grandparents.
It made sense for him to move in with her since she takes care of them and so I moved in here. From what she tells me, Kronid helps quite a bit, too, especially with her grandfather. She said they play cards and have created quite the bond these days.
As much as I thought I might get a bit homesick, I don’t miss being back in the States one bit. I’ve finally started to find peace in myself and I’m happy with where I am right now.
Well, as happy as I can be. I’m still hiding all I’ve been through from Dema and everyone else I’ve become friends with. Okay, not everyone. Ruslan and Sascha, my neighbors, are the only ones who know.
Ruslan saw the marks when I first came here and questioned me. I didn’t want to tell them, but when you have two men plow you full of vodka, you tend to get a little loose-lipped. They did promise to keep it to themselves after I cried my eyes out and told them everything. The three of us have dinner together several times a week, mainly because they don’t want me alone, and to be honest, I don’t want to be alone. I enjoy their company far too much. They’re great guys.
During the day, I work at Pins and Needles as their receptionist. It’s great working here alongside some pretty amazing people. The bonus is I get to see Dema quite often and the double bonus is the fact Sascha works at the café across the street. I might happen to go over there a couple times a day for a refill on my coffee and a quick mental break.
I don’t know exactly what Ruslan does for a living, but I do know he’s a brute of a man and dresses well for his job. I made a joke one day that he looked like he walked right out of one of my dark mafia romance books. He’d given me a wicked grin while shaking his head.
This morning after getting to Pins and Needles, I sit at my desk looking over today’s appointments and smile. A few of them are coming in to get more work done to pieces they’re in the process of getting. There’s also a couple that’re starting theirs. I love seeing what people’s minds come up with.
I’d asked Dema to come up with something for me to go with what Ally had done for me back in the States. She came up with something phenomenal, and I love it. I proudly show it off while at work since she finished it a few weeks ago. She gave me a diamond above my breasts with two roses on either side. The roses matched the ones on my arms with the woman and sad eyes. When I asked Dema why she chose to go with a diamond she said it’s because I’m a diamond in the rough. I rose above the hardship and became who I am. It warmed my heart how my friend thought so highly of me. If only she knew just how weak I really am.
“Trista, you changed your hair,” Dema says, breaking through my thoughts as she comes inside.
“What are you doing here? I thought it was your day off,” I mutter, looking at the schedule to double-check. I swear she was off, but I could be going crazy.
“It is. I’m here to snag Kronid for lunch,” she says with a grin.
“I’m sure that’s all.” I giggle, rolling my eyes and smile. I love her to death and she can be a nut. No one here realized just how much of a nut she can be until after everything happened with her and Kronid. She’s lightened up a lot since then and I love seeing her happy.
I wish I could have something like this for myself, but I know it won’t happen.
“So, tell me what made you change your hair color,” Dema asks while leaning forward, not bothering to go to Kronid’s office. I’m sure this is ‘cause he already knows she’s here. I swear, though, I’ve never been behind the doors leading to the back. Rumor has it that they have such high tech here they know what we’re talking about. One of the artists told me that, but they might just be screwing around with me.
“I just felt like a change. I’d been tired of the simple dirty blonde hairstyle and wanted something different.” I shrug, not wanting to give her the real reason. Because my ex beat me until I couldn’t see straight doesn’t seem like an answer Dema would want or the fact I’m trying to rediscover myself after being lost for such a long time.
I needed a change and I didn’t want the blonde hair anymore, not after the nightmare that slowly became my reality. Speaking of nightmares, I’ve been having them so much lately. One night I screamed so loudly, Ruslan and Sascha heard me. The dream had been about the night I left my apartment back home for good.
You think you can do better than me? I don’t think so. You’re nothing but a blonde whore.
Even now, I hear his words like he’s directly in front of me, and the way he pulled my hair . . . the burning sensation still shoots down my neck at the thought. Everything happened so quickly that night, the way he shoved me onto the floor, the way he sneered.
I won’t let you leave me. I fuckin’ own you, bitch. No one will ever get you from me.
But most importantly, the moment he knelt down next
