Her Russian Millionaire

“This thing is ancient. Are you sure you don’t just want me to take you to the hospital?” she asked.

“Band-Aids don’t exactly expire.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Peroxide should be in there, too.”

She collected the peroxide from the cabinet and a couple towels from the bar while he removed his shirt. The light blue blood-stained fabric was tossed into the corner of the room. Jalisa tried not to ogle him. It wasn’t right; the man was injured. Still, her eyes wandered over to his upper body.

He wasn’t as muscular as Stone, but he did have some definition. His abs hid while he was sitting forward, but when he stretched up to grab a towel from her, they peeked out. His shoulders were broad with a few freckles. A soft dusting of body hair trailed from his navel and disappeared under his pants. A tattoo of a Russian word sat just underneath his left collarbone.

Jalisa took the towel he was applying pressure with and spread it out on the floor to catch the peroxide. She pre-opened all of the gauze, tape, bandages, and ointment she would use and sat them on the sink counter. Almost dropping the peroxide when she caught him staring at her, she gently stretched his arm out.

“Um…this is going to hurt. I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay.” He leaned toward her, close enough for her to smell his woodsy cologne. “I’m tough. Didn’t you see the fight?”

“I did,” she admitted. “But you’re still human, and you still feel pain.”

“Go ahead,” he whispered.

She tipped the bottle and poured hydrogen peroxide all over his cut. His sharp intake of breath was proof that it did hurt. Bubbles fizzed around the cut, and pink tinted runoff dripped down to the towel. After repeating the process a few times, cold peroxide soaked into the knees of her jeans.

“You okay?” she asked before putting the cap back on the bottle.

“Doing fine.” The words were forced through gritted teeth.

“Liar.” The tension was broken with their shared laughter.

“While I’ve got you here, I want to thank you for beating Stone up. I’m not nearly strong enough to do it myself, and he really deserved it.” She quickly followed it up with, “Not that I condone violence, and I’m sure that if it had been left unsettled, God would have fixed it, but it is still nice to see a horrible man get what is coming to him.”

“If you feel that way then I guess you must have heard most of the conversation.” He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“When I got there, no one was bleeding,” she commented quietly. “I know about Marie bringing us here to make us into prostitutes.”

“It won’t happen,” Erik vowed. His eye held hers, truth swimming in their blue depths.

The two were quiet for a moment as Jalisa debated whether or not he was trustworthy. She thought things over while she inspected his wound. It wasn’t really that deep, but it was in a dangerous area: right on the forearm, in the meaty part that bleeds heavily. A few inches up and Stone would have accidently slit Erik’s wrist. She closed his wound with butterfly bandages.

“Did you really mean what you said? I have two weeks to build a life before Stone puts me in a stranger’s bed?” Her voice was as soft as her touches on his injuries.

“I did.”

“How can you be so sure? Why do you care in the first place?” She tapped a square of gauze over the butterfly bandages to soak up the blood.

“I know Stone. We go way back. I know how he typically works, and therefore I can predict his actions. As for why I care in the first place, well, I think anyone would care for such an amazing girl.” He tilted his head like a dog and brown hair spilled across his forehead. Jalisa reached up without thinking about it and brushed it back into place.

“Sorry.” Her cheeks burned in embarrassment as her brain caught up to her actions.

“It’s okay.” His non-injured hand came up and tucked one of her twists behind her ear. “Now we’re even.”

It was almost an accident. The two leaned closer and closer until it just happened. A rose petal of a kiss. Soft and gentle with a hint of love. A caressing of lips that promised so much more to come. It was over in a moment, but the feeling lingered.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you,” he murmured against her lips.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight.” She ducked her eyes down and tried to focus on anything else. Taping some gauze down, she rolled more over top of her previous work to protect it.

“Then allow me to take you on a date.” He pulled his arm back when she was finished.

“Where would you take me? I’d love to see more of Los Angeles.” Jalisa picked up his shirt from the corner and handed it to him, trying to create a distraction.

“I know just the place. How about next Monday?” He tugged the shirt on, blood and all.

“I’ll think about it.” She didn’t to commit to anything because of the change in her situation. No longer could she sleep soundly at night knowing that Stone was prowling around and plotting to use her body for financial gain.

Jalisa slipped out of the room without giving him a sure answer. Due to the lack of cocktails, the bar’s population had thinned out substantially. Marie was back and lounging behind the bar, popping some bubble gum in her mouth. Nikita was slumped over the bar, her lips moving quickly. Her older sister recognized the sight of her in prayer and tapped her gently on the shoulder.

“I was so worried.” Nikita embraced her sister. “Please explain what’s going on.”

“What is going on?” Marie poked her nose in. Jalisa noticed that her blood had been cleaned up and the only trace of the altercation was a few pink children’s band-aids decorating her limbs. “Please, explain, Jalisa.”

“Nothing.” Jalisa faked a smile. “I’m just having a bad stomachache. I think it might be stress. How do you deal with it?”

“Certainly not by putting a fourteen-year-old in charge of the bar.” Marie let a bit of her real personality slip before returning to her facade. “Sorry, I’m stressed, too. I mostly deal with it by shopping. Nothing like a little retail therapy! And alcohol. Lots of alcohol.”

“That doesn’t explain the blood on your shirt,” Nikita pointed out. Jalisa’s gray sweater had a few splotches of blood on the side from where she must have grazed Erik’s arm.

“Oh, that?” Jalisa batted her eyelashes at Marie to look innocent. “Grenadine syrup. I spilled it on myself. I think that might have actually contributed to the stress. I just felt so bad since you had just bought this for me. And it’s so cute.”

“It is so super cute.” Marie lit up as Jalisa began to speak her language.