[fic] Cruel Intentions: Retribution Two
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE (in advance)! Here’s the update (though content not quite appropriate for celebration).
Title: Retribution Two
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Major angst, drug use, adultery
Characters: Mikhail, Feodora, Alexei
Spoiler: None this chapter for manga, but spoiler for CI
Disclaimer: All characters belong to YA sensei.
Notes: Thank you angel0399 for the great beta job! I’m so sorry to have to burden you with this. hugs
Previous Chapters: On the side bar of my lj
Note: No Fei this chapter, but I promise it’s for his own good. ^_^ My muse is being an angel, and updates should be fast while she’s kind.
The Egyptian cotton sheet rustled as the slender body underneath moved slowly from side to side on the spacious, king sized bed. Feodora opened her eyes slowly to the complete darkness of the bedroom, which told her there were still a few hours before sunrise. A sigh of disappointment and hopelessness escaped her lips as she turned to the other side of the bed. Empty⎯ just as it was when she went to sleep.
It was one of those times when she both feared and loathed the sight of the digital clock by her bed. The damned object hammered a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge in her heart. However, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, the truth was there: Mikhail wasn’t home. He’d spent another night clubbing, drinking, or being somewhere with someone else that was better than home and better than being with her.
Ever since he’d returned to Moscow nearly four weeks ago, her long absent husband had spent just a few nights at the house. Even then, he was sometimes startled awake in the middle of the night by a disturbing dream, and would spend the rest of it drinking alone by the bar until dawn. Other times, he’d get dressed and leave the house until late morning when he had to return to work. While she was glad to have him back home, deep down she felt it was better when he wasn’t there at all; at least she didn’t have to feel so useless and rejected everyday. But with all her pain and suffering, she knew that Mikhail wasn’t suffering any less. It was as though a certain memory would drive him into madness unless he occupied his mind with something else. The worst thing about it was that there was nothing she could do to help. That was the extent of her uselessness in his life, even though she had known him for nearly 30 years, and being, by title, his wife. Mikhail had shut out everyone from his life ever since he came back to Moscow. Just like more than a decade ago when …
She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as the memory of that event resurfaced. She could still remember those images of him lying helpless on the hospital bed, as pale as a corpse. It was for that dreadful memory that she’d kept her mouth shut and contained her own pain. At that state, Mikhail could take no more pressure⎯ at least it would not come from her.
The alarm went off at six A.M. It was time to wake up and get ready for Vladimir Arbatov’s birthday reception - the day when all the prominent faces of the Russian underworld would gather along with the politicians in his own house. It was the most important date of the year. Still, Mikhail was nowhere to be found on the compound.
Taking a long, deep breath, gathering the strength she could hardly find within her at that point, Feodora rose from the bed and dressed herself to perfection, despite the lacking emotion she felt in her heart. No matter how broken the situation was, no one was allowed to see it. In their world, conflicts and weaknesses within the family meant death. It was up to her to hold things together, and she would die trying if only to prove she was the one who deserved to be by his side.
***
Suite 1103, Feodora stared at the sign as she stood outside a hotel room. She took a deep breath before inserting the keycard into the slot. It was one of those times when she had to assert herself more than she’d like to obtain it from the front desk.. Bracing herself for what she was about to see, she entered with as much confidence as she could gather given the circumstance.
The door creaked a little once opened, and as she entered, the strong smell of alcohol blew in her face, telling her that the last bottle had been opened recently. She made her way through the living room, taking care not to step on the cigarette butts and empty glasses that scattered all over the floor from the entrance to the bedroom door. There, she stood in silence, looking at the sheets stained crimson with wine and a woman’s bra carelessly left on the foot of the bed. On it were her husband and an Asian woman with long, jet-black hair lying by his side, naked from head to toe.
She smiled sarcastically to herself at the scene⎯ she pictured this in her head, even before entering the room. However, she wondered why her stomach still turned at the sight. It was hardly her first time seeing Mikhail with someone else. Throughout their teen years and up until college, before they started dating, she’d had to drag him out from dorm rooms and hotels - among other places - to get him to exams and wherever else his presence was required. Finding his location was her talent, and just minutes ago, she was sure that she’d gotten used to the picture in front of her. But the scent of another woman still made her nauseous, and the images that came to her mind as she walked through the scene still hurt, like a dagger through her heart.
Shaking away the dreadful emotions, she picked up a corner of the heavy duvet and flung it open in one forceful move, revealing the two naked bodies on the bed. The woman was immediately startled from her sleep, while Mikhail continued to lay there, fast asleep.
“Who the hell are you?” The woman asked in alarm and irritation at the unexpected intruder as she quickly covered herself with the sheet. It wasn’t until her high-pitched voice started screeching that the man by her side began to move, but still, without an attempt to be involved in the situation.
Feodora didn’t bother to answer; instead she pulled out a check book from her purse, wrote and signed it before handing it over by the tip of her fingers. No contact was to be allowed between her and the female embodiment of the man who ruined her life. Mikhail must have been rather desperate, for the woman was, at most, a cheap substitute for that Chinese man her husband was so infatuated with. “This should be enough. Put your clothes on and leave,” she said without a hint of emotion in her voice. It would be the end of the world before she found herself in the same position as these women, who allow themselves to be pissed upon as a man’s sexual relief, enough to see them as some kind of threat.
“I’m not a whore. How dare you?” she screeched at the gesture.
A sigh of irritation escaped Feodora’s lips before she tossed the check in front of the woman, who, upon reading the numbers and the name on it, quickly removed herself and the check from the bed before heading to the door. Everyone knew Mikhail Arbatov’s wife wasn’t just some pinup girl he picked up from the street. She was a woman born into an equally powerful family⎯ one with a reputation as bloody as the Arbatovs. Sleeping with her husband was one thing, but crossing this woman imposed more danger than just losing a big check.
As the woman left, Mikhail sat up on the bed with his face buried in the palm of his hand, trying to cope with the throbbing pain that threatened to split his brain in half. At that point, he could remember nothing, be it the woman’s identity, where they’d met, or how he’d gotten in that hotel suite. All he knew was that he had a few drinks, and then he woke up to find Feodora standing there by the bed, looking down at him with her usual disapproving eyes every time she’d come to get him out of bed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Your father’s guests will arrive in 30 minutes. I suggest you get off the bed and clean up,” she demanded, yanking the curtains open all the way to let in the sunlight.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mikhail groaned irritatingly. It had been just a few hours since he’d gone to sleep, and in that state, he simply didn’t give a damn about some stupid obligations.
“Yes, you are. I’m not going to let you ruin your life over this,” she demanded. The reception was too important to be missed. Mikhail needed the connection if he was going to take over the family. “If not for yourself, do this for your father.”
Mikhail shut his eyes tightly as the headache grew stronger. Despite his efforts to control himself, the unbearable pain has ripped apart his patience. At that point, he wished everything would just stop: the loud and annoying sound of the heater, Feodora’s voice, his hangover, the pain in his stomach, the world and everyone in it. Everything. “You’re invading my privacy. Get out.” The last sentence was more than a request; it was a command, one that housed no room for discussion and spoken in the most brutal way possible.
“You know,” Feodora said, gritting her teeth at the severity of those words that proved just how unimportant she was to him. “I don’t care how you treat me or how many times you don’t come home. And I will live with the fact that you would sleep with just about any whore rather than your wife. But as long as you’re an Arbatov, you will uphold this family’s reputation that your father has worked so hard to build.” She paused to take a deep breath as she realized her voice was shaking. Whatever happened, she mustn’t cry. Not then, when Mikhail was sitting in front of her looking like a total wreck.
“You’re not alone in this world. And if you can’t even see what you still have in front of you, then you’re nothing more than a scum. Now, get up and pull yourself together.”
Pull himself together? Mikhail sneered at the remark as he covered his face with his hand, trying to cope with the headache that continued to grow stronger by the minute. Feodora was asking for something he didn’t know how to do. Everywhere he went was a place he didn’t want to be. Every sight he saw was plain and unappealing. The wine tasted like water; even the countless beautiful women he’d had sex with in the last few weeks didn’t fulfill his needs. He was running out of places to run away to. And the reality of what he’d left behind in Hong Kong was catching up with him.
Lighting up a cigarette someone left by the bed and placing it between his lips, he filled his lungs with smoke⎯ he wished would ease some of the pain he was suffering. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.
“Maybe I am scum. And maybe you should find a new husband. Because, frankly, I can’t see shit,” Mikhail said with a sarcastic smile as he rose from the bed. Perhaps he should go to the reception if only to keep himself occupied. Then, he could put on a mask and shut out the things that kept on haunting him ever since he’d returned from Macau.
Feodora stood in silence, feeling numb from head to toe, as Mikhail walked pass her towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Nothing she said seemed to penetrate the wall he’d built to keep everyone out from the small space he’d locked himself in. And while she was glad to see that he’d decided to go to the reception, deep down, she knew nothing had changed. The man she knew and loved was disappearing by the minute and the worst, she feared, had yet to come⎯ all because of one man.
She made her way around the room, picking up the clothes her husband left on the floor, along with the rest of the evidence of him and everything that took place there the previous night with another woman, perhaps two or even three. It didn’t hurt that much, especially because Mikhail’s attitude had made it clear they were nothing more than his sexual reliefs. The one she had to worry about weren’t these whores, but someone over 4,000 miles away who possessed the power to destroy the man she loved without having to show his presence.
As she made her way to the living room to find the rest of his belongings, she paused at the sight of something on the coffee table⎯ a trace of fine, pure white powder left scattered on the glass. Her heart skipped as she made her way closer to see the substance she knew by heart without having to taste it. But she had to make sure, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow the truth with her wits and composure intact.
She reached out slowly, dragging her finger across the table as though it was the hardest thing to do in her life and brought it to her lips. Just one taste and she knew her most dreadful fear had been answered. Cocaine.
A firm footstep startled her from her thoughts. She turned around to see Mikhail standing by the door to the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking at her with full knowledge of what she’d just discovered. There wasn’t an explanation, not a word spoken in an attempt to cover up an act he knew too well was strictly forbidden.
“How long have you been doing this?” she asked, her voice trembled as tears began to pool in her eyes. Not this… not again!
“It’s none of your business,” Mikhail replied without the slightest concern and continued to walk towards her. “My clothes,” he said, holding out his hand for the garment she held in her arms.
Without another word, she lashed out and slapped him hard on the cheek.
“Not my business? How dare you?” she said in a broken voice as tears rolled down her cheeks⎯ tears she had tried to contain ever since he came back home and treated her as though she didn’t exist. “I am your wife, and I will not let you throw your life away for him!”
At the end of the sentence, a strong, large hand snatched the slender neck and squeezed hard, lifting the delicate body clear off the floor. Choking as the grip grew tighter by the second, she thrashed her legs and attempted to pry off the hand that was strangling the life out of her with no success. Mikhail had lost it, and those blue eyes held nothing but fury.
“I don’t want to hear one word about him! Do you understand me?!” Mikhail warned, yelling at the woman whose life now rested in his hand. Something in him snapped the moment Feodora mentioned the very man he’d done everything in the past few weeks to erase from his mind. Somehow, and in some way, his anger seemed to accumulate rather than lessen no matter what he’d tried, whether it was alcohol, sex, or even drugs. On that day, it was released in the form of violence against the one woman he’d tried to keep away from the hell he was descending to. But even with that awareness, he couldn’t stop himself, despite the tears that ran down her cheeks and the sound she made as she cried for her life.
The phone rang from somewhere near and startled him from the blinding rage that consumed his mind. Without thinking, Mikhail quickly released his grip and searched the couch for the phone.
For the next few minutes, Feodora sat there helpless and shaken with fear, watching her husband search desperately for an old phone he always kept with him - the one he refused to disconnect even when he’d switched to a new number. Tears continued to flow as she tried to catch her breath and saw his expression change before her eyes. For a moment, hope returned to those blue eyes that had been void of all emotions for weeks. But, all that disappeared the moment he saw the caller ID. It was a sight she’d witnessed many times since he came back, but she didn’t realize before how significant it was to him. She was still alive only because of one phone call - the one her husband thought it came from that man.
It was the first time Mikhail had used violence against her, the first time she’d seen him lose his cool and allowed himself to be consumed by such an uncontrollable rage. When he searched for that phone, it was as though he was searching for his drugs 15 years ago. He was aching for something he’d forbidden himself to touch as though he was going through another episode of withdrawal. Only this time, there was no cure or rehabilitation to help him through it. Despite everything he just said, deep down she knew a part of him still refused to let go, just as he refused to take off that gold bracelet that cuffed him to this madness, just as he continued to wait for the phone call that never came.
***
It was already dark when the plane landed. Alexei adjusted his tie as he stepped out of the helicopter that just picked him up from the airport⎯ a necessity to get him back to the house in time for the special evening. His father’s reception was an event that lasted from morning until late at night - one that involved old men talking during the day, and a real celebration at night over dinner. As always, being the younger son in the family excused him from having to be there in the morning, and he’d planned his flight to get him here only for dinner. But that day, he didn’t come just for the reception. He came to see Mikhail over something that had been on his mind for the past few weeks.
He stood in front of the game room on the second floor, looking at the partially opened door that revealed the minimally lit space that seemed to be empty. Perhaps he’d been given the wrong information regarding the whereabouts of his brother. But just then, he heard a noise⎯ a whisper⎯ that came from inside and decided to enter.
Lying on the couch was the man who was unmistakably his brother, but the woman straddling over him, whose dress had been pulled up to reveal the side of her thighs, wasn’t someone Alexei was expecting. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and the woman immediately looked up. Even in the dark, he could tell she was someone of high stature⎯ possibly someone’s daughter who was a guest at the event. It would explain why she showed embarrassment and shame when caught, prompting her to leave the room as fast as she could without another word spoken.
“Couldn’t you at least knock first, you moron?” Mikhail complained as he rose from the couch, ignoring the buttons on his shirt that had been undone half way down his chest.
“Hey, I’m not the one fucking another woman while my wife is right downstairs,” Alexei argued. While it was a scene he grew up with almost daily, it had been a while since his brother had last entertained himself with a woman. It was something Mikhail would never do while in a relationship with Fei Long. Apparently, they must have really broken up this time for his brother to return to his playboy self. But then again, Mikhail was never this heartless as to commit such adultery right under Feodora’s nose, considering that she had also been a childhood friend.
“I’ve been away for a month, and you already grow some conscience. How remarkable,” Mikhail rolled his eyes as he lit himself a joint. “That was the Minister of Defense’s daughter. She’s grown up to be quite a fine woman, hasn’t she?”
“Well, you know me. I’d be more interested in his son,” Alexei shrugged. To him, that woman wasn’t even as pretty as Feodora, and with Fei Long, she was no comparison.
“I forgot, you’re strictly gay,” Mikhail said with a laugh before walking towards his younger brother, throwing his arm around the other man. Somehow, seeing Alexei put him in a slightly better mood. Perhaps due to the fact that he needed something different in his otherwise plain and unpleasant days, or perhaps he was simply high. “Apart from the interruption, it’s good to see you. Come, have a drink with me.”
Taken aback by the sudden display of affection from a brother he’d often crossed, Alexei didn’t respond. He seated himself quietly at the bar, watching as Mikhail fixed them some drinks, and noticed the slight change in his brother. His hair, that had grown a little longer since they’d last met, was left loose and untidy, and it looked as though the man hadn’t shaved for a few days. No matter how irresponsible he was, Mikhail had always been neat and clean in his appearance. Something wasn’t quite right. But perhaps, it was a normal thing for a man to go through after a bad break up, especially when Mikhail had never been through one before.
“You all right?” Still, he couldn’t help but asked.
“Why the question?” Mikhail smiled as though it had been a joke, even when Alexei’s tone was anything but. It wasn’t everyday that his little brat brother would want to know how he was. In the back of his mind, he could sense there was something strange in the way Alexei had approached him that day, but he was a little too high on cocaine to figure it out.
“I’m just asking,” Alexei said with a quick shrug, as though he was just making conversation. Deep down, however, he wished Mikhail would answer the question.
“Come on, I know you,” Mikhail said with a knowing smile. “The last time you came to me with that face, you’d just fucked up a deal and I had to fly 10,000 miles with you to save your ass. What is it this time? I’m feeling rather charitable tonight, so tell me.”
Those words, coupled with the smile that almost seemed euphoric on Mikhail’s face, prompted Alexei to quickly reach for Mikhail’s arm, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up past his elbow without hesitation.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mikhail asked irritatingly, his eyes glared as he attempted to pull back his arm, only to find that Alexei’s grip had tightened.
“Are you high on something?” Alexei asked, staring straight into his brother’s unfocused eyes.
“Weed,” he answered, gesturing at the roll of marijuana in his other hand. Having just been through one with Feodora, he was in no mood to hear another episode of worries and panics from Alexei.
“Just weed?” Alexei confirmed, partially relieved that there were no marks or bruises on that arm. Perhaps he’d been thinking too much about it, or perhaps the man was just drunk on top of being high. After all, Mikhail had been more or less cleared of addiction for over a decade, except now, he seemed to have turned into a heavy smoker, be it pot or cigarettes.
“Fuck off,” Mikhail warned; he yanked his arm free and continued filling the glasses with ice, keeping his back to Alexei so his expression would not be visible. He had no need to explain himself to anyone⎯ Alexei should know better.
“No, really, are you all right?” Alexei asked again, this time in a more serious tone.
Mikhail turned around again, placing the drinks in his hand on the bar table and looked straight into his brother’s eyes. At that moment, such a question got on his nerves the most. “Why don’t you cut the crap? What do you want from me?”
Alexei stared back at the other man, searching for the answer his only brother refused to give in words, and found nothing. There was no emotion on that face, and those eyes were just plain cold and empty. He’d expected to see some sadness or longing in them considering the situation, or perhaps something equally disturbing, like he saw in Fei Long’s eyes. But there was none of it. Either he was too good at covering it up, or he had truly gotten over the dragon. But since Mikhail wanted to press the issue, he might as well just give it to the man.
He picked up the drink, twirled the glass a few times before taking a sip from it with his eyes still fixed on Mikhail’s. “I want him.”
The room fell into a suffocating silence for what seemed, to both men, like an eternity. Those words didn’t need an explanation⎯ Mikhail understood their meaning all too perfectly. At a moment like this, it was funny how even the purest cocaine he’d just snorted didn’t manage to numb the pain that suddenly struck him like lightning. While he had always been aware of Alexei’s attraction to Fei Long, it always had been something obviously shallow. But, the look in Alexei’s green eyes that day made it a confession that changed everything he’d always believed to be true. And all he could do was to stand there and swallow it all.
“You need to tell me right now if you’re in or out,” Alexei continued with no trace of playfulness on his face. Things were different before, when he’d taken the dragon out of lust, while he wasn’t aware of the extent of his brother’s love for the man. However, this time, he wasn’t playing around. He needed to know if Mikhail had truly decided to cut all ties. This time, he wanted to be fair.
Drawing the roll of nearly finished weed to his lips, Mikhail took a long puff on the joint and slowly emptied his lungs before his eyes navigated away from the other man to the drinks on the table. The question was one he’d already answered weeks ago on that casino ship. But somehow, it was sickeningly painful to drive the words from his throat, especially in front of Alexei, who was basically asking for permission to pursue the one man he’d ever truly cared for⎯ the one he’d already decided to let go.
“Do what you want. He’s not my problem anymore.” He’d made a decision, and one day or another, Fei Long would be in someone else’s arms, whether it was his own brother, or that Japanese man he was so infatuated with. What difference would it make how much he hated himself for saying those words, or how much pain it was to basically deliver the man he loves to his own brother on a silver plate? The truth was he could tear out his heart, and Fei Long still wouldn’t be his.
He walked out of that room without another word, and Alexei, too, made no further comment. The deal had been done, the confession was over, but somehow Alexei’s words kept echoing in his mind endlessly.
Soon, a dreadful memory from not so long ago entered his mind and he suddenly felt the need to vomit. He could still remember everything, down to the way Alexei answered the phone and told him Fei Long was lying on his bed, to the sound of his heart being snatched out of his chest the moment he heard. Why now, when after all this time he’d succeeded in putting all of that behind him, does such a memory come back to him like it had just happened yesterday? Why was he shaking like his heart was going to stop any minute?
His steps quickened as he headed towards his room. It has to stop. This suffocating feeling in his lungs that was making him gasp desperately for air, the images that kept running through his mind and were making him dizzy, and the unbearable pain in his stomach that felt like it was being punched from the inside. He needed something⎯ something strong, something fast.
The bedroom door flung opened as he entered and headed straight to the walk-in wardrobe. His hands shook uncontrollably as he rummaged through the drawers, desperately searching for something that would save him from the agony that was eating him alive. It was almost the same feeling he had long overcome⎯ the unbearable craving, the nausea and the restlessness that made his whole body shiver 15 years ago.
The next thing he knew, he was on the floor with a needle in one hand and a cigarette in the other, waiting for the next eight seconds that seemed like an eternity as he puffed on the cigarette, knowing it would prolong the effect he was about to get. And there it was, the rush that engulfed his whole being⎯ the intense pleasure going 300 mph that he hadn’t felt for more than a decade. He closed his eyes as he felt himself fall from the sky onto a bed of a million feathers, and the warmth that wrapped around him as euphoria kicked in. This was it: the same exhilarating pleasure of being in Fei Long’s arms, the butterflies in his stomach that were always present when Fei Long smiled at him, the orgasmic feeling he couldn’t get with anyone else. It was exactly what his body had been craving for weeks⎯ the craving that was now being fulfilled by a single shot of heroin.
Someone stepped into the room and was standing over him. He didn’t care to open his eyes and look, not for the sobs that followed, nor the warmth of the slender arms that wrapped around him so tightly, as though the object in its embrace would be lost otherwise.
“What have you done?” A voice sounded as though it came from a distance, even when the words were spoken right next to his cheek, now damp with someone’s tears. A pair of soft, delicate hands cradled his face as he felt a soft kiss on his forehead and a warm embrace that followed. Someone whispered something in his ear as he slipped into unconsciousness⎯ something he was too far removed to comprehend.
“What has he done to you?”
****
P.S. Sorry if there’s any mistake on the drug-related issue. I have 0 experience in it (I don’t even smoke ^^!) and the last time I asked a few friends who might know something about the effects of ecstasy when I wrote CI, they all freaked out for a week thinking I was going to try it or something. So this has been a result of Internet research only. And I am not trying to promote drug use/abuse in anyway.
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Title: Retribution Two
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Major angst, drug use, adultery
Characters: Mikhail, Feodora, Alexei
Spoiler: None this chapter for manga, but spoiler for CI
Disclaimer: All characters belong to YA sensei.
Notes: Thank you angel0399 for the great beta job! I’m so sorry to have to burden you with this. hugs
Previous Chapters: On the side bar of my lj
Note: No Fei this chapter, but I promise it’s for his own good. ^_^ My muse is being an angel, and updates should be fast while she’s kind.
The Egyptian cotton sheet rustled as the slender body underneath moved slowly from side to side on the spacious, king sized bed. Feodora opened her eyes slowly to the complete darkness of the bedroom, which told her there were still a few hours before sunrise. A sigh of disappointment and hopelessness escaped her lips as she turned to the other side of the bed. Empty⎯ just as it was when she went to sleep.
It was one of those times when she both feared and loathed the sight of the digital clock by her bed. The damned object hammered a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge in her heart. However, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, the truth was there: Mikhail wasn’t home. He’d spent another night clubbing, drinking, or being somewhere with someone else that was better than home and better than being with her.
Ever since he’d returned to Moscow nearly four weeks ago, her long absent husband had spent just a few nights at the house. Even then, he was sometimes startled awake in the middle of the night by a disturbing dream, and would spend the rest of it drinking alone by the bar until dawn. Other times, he’d get dressed and leave the house until late morning when he had to return to work. While she was glad to have him back home, deep down she felt it was better when he wasn’t there at all; at least she didn’t have to feel so useless and rejected everyday. But with all her pain and suffering, she knew that Mikhail wasn’t suffering any less. It was as though a certain memory would drive him into madness unless he occupied his mind with something else. The worst thing about it was that there was nothing she could do to help. That was the extent of her uselessness in his life, even though she had known him for nearly 30 years, and being, by title, his wife. Mikhail had shut out everyone from his life ever since he came back to Moscow. Just like more than a decade ago when …
She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as the memory of that event resurfaced. She could still remember those images of him lying helpless on the hospital bed, as pale as a corpse. It was for that dreadful memory that she’d kept her mouth shut and contained her own pain. At that state, Mikhail could take no more pressure⎯ at least it would not come from her.
The alarm went off at six A.M. It was time to wake up and get ready for Vladimir Arbatov’s birthday reception - the day when all the prominent faces of the Russian underworld would gather along with the politicians in his own house. It was the most important date of the year. Still, Mikhail was nowhere to be found on the compound.
Taking a long, deep breath, gathering the strength she could hardly find within her at that point, Feodora rose from the bed and dressed herself to perfection, despite the lacking emotion she felt in her heart. No matter how broken the situation was, no one was allowed to see it. In their world, conflicts and weaknesses within the family meant death. It was up to her to hold things together, and she would die trying if only to prove she was the one who deserved to be by his side.
***
Suite 1103, Feodora stared at the sign as she stood outside a hotel room. She took a deep breath before inserting the keycard into the slot. It was one of those times when she had to assert herself more than she’d like to obtain it from the front desk.. Bracing herself for what she was about to see, she entered with as much confidence as she could gather given the circumstance.
The door creaked a little once opened, and as she entered, the strong smell of alcohol blew in her face, telling her that the last bottle had been opened recently. She made her way through the living room, taking care not to step on the cigarette butts and empty glasses that scattered all over the floor from the entrance to the bedroom door. There, she stood in silence, looking at the sheets stained crimson with wine and a woman’s bra carelessly left on the foot of the bed. On it were her husband and an Asian woman with long, jet-black hair lying by his side, naked from head to toe.
She smiled sarcastically to herself at the scene⎯ she pictured this in her head, even before entering the room. However, she wondered why her stomach still turned at the sight. It was hardly her first time seeing Mikhail with someone else. Throughout their teen years and up until college, before they started dating, she’d had to drag him out from dorm rooms and hotels - among other places - to get him to exams and wherever else his presence was required. Finding his location was her talent, and just minutes ago, she was sure that she’d gotten used to the picture in front of her. But the scent of another woman still made her nauseous, and the images that came to her mind as she walked through the scene still hurt, like a dagger through her heart.
Shaking away the dreadful emotions, she picked up a corner of the heavy duvet and flung it open in one forceful move, revealing the two naked bodies on the bed. The woman was immediately startled from her sleep, while Mikhail continued to lay there, fast asleep.
“Who the hell are you?” The woman asked in alarm and irritation at the unexpected intruder as she quickly covered herself with the sheet. It wasn’t until her high-pitched voice started screeching that the man by her side began to move, but still, without an attempt to be involved in the situation.
Feodora didn’t bother to answer; instead she pulled out a check book from her purse, wrote and signed it before handing it over by the tip of her fingers. No contact was to be allowed between her and the female embodiment of the man who ruined her life. Mikhail must have been rather desperate, for the woman was, at most, a cheap substitute for that Chinese man her husband was so infatuated with. “This should be enough. Put your clothes on and leave,” she said without a hint of emotion in her voice. It would be the end of the world before she found herself in the same position as these women, who allow themselves to be pissed upon as a man’s sexual relief, enough to see them as some kind of threat.
“I’m not a whore. How dare you?” she screeched at the gesture.
A sigh of irritation escaped Feodora’s lips before she tossed the check in front of the woman, who, upon reading the numbers and the name on it, quickly removed herself and the check from the bed before heading to the door. Everyone knew Mikhail Arbatov’s wife wasn’t just some pinup girl he picked up from the street. She was a woman born into an equally powerful family⎯ one with a reputation as bloody as the Arbatovs. Sleeping with her husband was one thing, but crossing this woman imposed more danger than just losing a big check.
As the woman left, Mikhail sat up on the bed with his face buried in the palm of his hand, trying to cope with the throbbing pain that threatened to split his brain in half. At that point, he could remember nothing, be it the woman’s identity, where they’d met, or how he’d gotten in that hotel suite. All he knew was that he had a few drinks, and then he woke up to find Feodora standing there by the bed, looking down at him with her usual disapproving eyes every time she’d come to get him out of bed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Your father’s guests will arrive in 30 minutes. I suggest you get off the bed and clean up,” she demanded, yanking the curtains open all the way to let in the sunlight.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mikhail groaned irritatingly. It had been just a few hours since he’d gone to sleep, and in that state, he simply didn’t give a damn about some stupid obligations.
“Yes, you are. I’m not going to let you ruin your life over this,” she demanded. The reception was too important to be missed. Mikhail needed the connection if he was going to take over the family. “If not for yourself, do this for your father.”
Mikhail shut his eyes tightly as the headache grew stronger. Despite his efforts to control himself, the unbearable pain has ripped apart his patience. At that point, he wished everything would just stop: the loud and annoying sound of the heater, Feodora’s voice, his hangover, the pain in his stomach, the world and everyone in it. Everything. “You’re invading my privacy. Get out.” The last sentence was more than a request; it was a command, one that housed no room for discussion and spoken in the most brutal way possible.
“You know,” Feodora said, gritting her teeth at the severity of those words that proved just how unimportant she was to him. “I don’t care how you treat me or how many times you don’t come home. And I will live with the fact that you would sleep with just about any whore rather than your wife. But as long as you’re an Arbatov, you will uphold this family’s reputation that your father has worked so hard to build.” She paused to take a deep breath as she realized her voice was shaking. Whatever happened, she mustn’t cry. Not then, when Mikhail was sitting in front of her looking like a total wreck.
“You’re not alone in this world. And if you can’t even see what you still have in front of you, then you’re nothing more than a scum. Now, get up and pull yourself together.”
Pull himself together? Mikhail sneered at the remark as he covered his face with his hand, trying to cope with the headache that continued to grow stronger by the minute. Feodora was asking for something he didn’t know how to do. Everywhere he went was a place he didn’t want to be. Every sight he saw was plain and unappealing. The wine tasted like water; even the countless beautiful women he’d had sex with in the last few weeks didn’t fulfill his needs. He was running out of places to run away to. And the reality of what he’d left behind in Hong Kong was catching up with him.
Lighting up a cigarette someone left by the bed and placing it between his lips, he filled his lungs with smoke⎯ he wished would ease some of the pain he was suffering. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.
“Maybe I am scum. And maybe you should find a new husband. Because, frankly, I can’t see shit,” Mikhail said with a sarcastic smile as he rose from the bed. Perhaps he should go to the reception if only to keep himself occupied. Then, he could put on a mask and shut out the things that kept on haunting him ever since he’d returned from Macau.
Feodora stood in silence, feeling numb from head to toe, as Mikhail walked pass her towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Nothing she said seemed to penetrate the wall he’d built to keep everyone out from the small space he’d locked himself in. And while she was glad to see that he’d decided to go to the reception, deep down, she knew nothing had changed. The man she knew and loved was disappearing by the minute and the worst, she feared, had yet to come⎯ all because of one man.
She made her way around the room, picking up the clothes her husband left on the floor, along with the rest of the evidence of him and everything that took place there the previous night with another woman, perhaps two or even three. It didn’t hurt that much, especially because Mikhail’s attitude had made it clear they were nothing more than his sexual reliefs. The one she had to worry about weren’t these whores, but someone over 4,000 miles away who possessed the power to destroy the man she loved without having to show his presence.
As she made her way to the living room to find the rest of his belongings, she paused at the sight of something on the coffee table⎯ a trace of fine, pure white powder left scattered on the glass. Her heart skipped as she made her way closer to see the substance she knew by heart without having to taste it. But she had to make sure, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow the truth with her wits and composure intact.
She reached out slowly, dragging her finger across the table as though it was the hardest thing to do in her life and brought it to her lips. Just one taste and she knew her most dreadful fear had been answered. Cocaine.
A firm footstep startled her from her thoughts. She turned around to see Mikhail standing by the door to the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking at her with full knowledge of what she’d just discovered. There wasn’t an explanation, not a word spoken in an attempt to cover up an act he knew too well was strictly forbidden.
“How long have you been doing this?” she asked, her voice trembled as tears began to pool in her eyes. Not this… not again!
“It’s none of your business,” Mikhail replied without the slightest concern and continued to walk towards her. “My clothes,” he said, holding out his hand for the garment she held in her arms.
Without another word, she lashed out and slapped him hard on the cheek.
“Not my business? How dare you?” she said in a broken voice as tears rolled down her cheeks⎯ tears she had tried to contain ever since he came back home and treated her as though she didn’t exist. “I am your wife, and I will not let you throw your life away for him!”
At the end of the sentence, a strong, large hand snatched the slender neck and squeezed hard, lifting the delicate body clear off the floor. Choking as the grip grew tighter by the second, she thrashed her legs and attempted to pry off the hand that was strangling the life out of her with no success. Mikhail had lost it, and those blue eyes held nothing but fury.
“I don’t want to hear one word about him! Do you understand me?!” Mikhail warned, yelling at the woman whose life now rested in his hand. Something in him snapped the moment Feodora mentioned the very man he’d done everything in the past few weeks to erase from his mind. Somehow, and in some way, his anger seemed to accumulate rather than lessen no matter what he’d tried, whether it was alcohol, sex, or even drugs. On that day, it was released in the form of violence against the one woman he’d tried to keep away from the hell he was descending to. But even with that awareness, he couldn’t stop himself, despite the tears that ran down her cheeks and the sound she made as she cried for her life.
The phone rang from somewhere near and startled him from the blinding rage that consumed his mind. Without thinking, Mikhail quickly released his grip and searched the couch for the phone.
For the next few minutes, Feodora sat there helpless and shaken with fear, watching her husband search desperately for an old phone he always kept with him - the one he refused to disconnect even when he’d switched to a new number. Tears continued to flow as she tried to catch her breath and saw his expression change before her eyes. For a moment, hope returned to those blue eyes that had been void of all emotions for weeks. But, all that disappeared the moment he saw the caller ID. It was a sight she’d witnessed many times since he came back, but she didn’t realize before how significant it was to him. She was still alive only because of one phone call - the one her husband thought it came from that man.
It was the first time Mikhail had used violence against her, the first time she’d seen him lose his cool and allowed himself to be consumed by such an uncontrollable rage. When he searched for that phone, it was as though he was searching for his drugs 15 years ago. He was aching for something he’d forbidden himself to touch as though he was going through another episode of withdrawal. Only this time, there was no cure or rehabilitation to help him through it. Despite everything he just said, deep down she knew a part of him still refused to let go, just as he refused to take off that gold bracelet that cuffed him to this madness, just as he continued to wait for the phone call that never came.
***
It was already dark when the plane landed. Alexei adjusted his tie as he stepped out of the helicopter that just picked him up from the airport⎯ a necessity to get him back to the house in time for the special evening. His father’s reception was an event that lasted from morning until late at night - one that involved old men talking during the day, and a real celebration at night over dinner. As always, being the younger son in the family excused him from having to be there in the morning, and he’d planned his flight to get him here only for dinner. But that day, he didn’t come just for the reception. He came to see Mikhail over something that had been on his mind for the past few weeks.
He stood in front of the game room on the second floor, looking at the partially opened door that revealed the minimally lit space that seemed to be empty. Perhaps he’d been given the wrong information regarding the whereabouts of his brother. But just then, he heard a noise⎯ a whisper⎯ that came from inside and decided to enter.
Lying on the couch was the man who was unmistakably his brother, but the woman straddling over him, whose dress had been pulled up to reveal the side of her thighs, wasn’t someone Alexei was expecting. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and the woman immediately looked up. Even in the dark, he could tell she was someone of high stature⎯ possibly someone’s daughter who was a guest at the event. It would explain why she showed embarrassment and shame when caught, prompting her to leave the room as fast as she could without another word spoken.
“Couldn’t you at least knock first, you moron?” Mikhail complained as he rose from the couch, ignoring the buttons on his shirt that had been undone half way down his chest.
“Hey, I’m not the one fucking another woman while my wife is right downstairs,” Alexei argued. While it was a scene he grew up with almost daily, it had been a while since his brother had last entertained himself with a woman. It was something Mikhail would never do while in a relationship with Fei Long. Apparently, they must have really broken up this time for his brother to return to his playboy self. But then again, Mikhail was never this heartless as to commit such adultery right under Feodora’s nose, considering that she had also been a childhood friend.
“I’ve been away for a month, and you already grow some conscience. How remarkable,” Mikhail rolled his eyes as he lit himself a joint. “That was the Minister of Defense’s daughter. She’s grown up to be quite a fine woman, hasn’t she?”
“Well, you know me. I’d be more interested in his son,” Alexei shrugged. To him, that woman wasn’t even as pretty as Feodora, and with Fei Long, she was no comparison.
“I forgot, you’re strictly gay,” Mikhail said with a laugh before walking towards his younger brother, throwing his arm around the other man. Somehow, seeing Alexei put him in a slightly better mood. Perhaps due to the fact that he needed something different in his otherwise plain and unpleasant days, or perhaps he was simply high. “Apart from the interruption, it’s good to see you. Come, have a drink with me.”
Taken aback by the sudden display of affection from a brother he’d often crossed, Alexei didn’t respond. He seated himself quietly at the bar, watching as Mikhail fixed them some drinks, and noticed the slight change in his brother. His hair, that had grown a little longer since they’d last met, was left loose and untidy, and it looked as though the man hadn’t shaved for a few days. No matter how irresponsible he was, Mikhail had always been neat and clean in his appearance. Something wasn’t quite right. But perhaps, it was a normal thing for a man to go through after a bad break up, especially when Mikhail had never been through one before.
“You all right?” Still, he couldn’t help but asked.
“Why the question?” Mikhail smiled as though it had been a joke, even when Alexei’s tone was anything but. It wasn’t everyday that his little brat brother would want to know how he was. In the back of his mind, he could sense there was something strange in the way Alexei had approached him that day, but he was a little too high on cocaine to figure it out.
“I’m just asking,” Alexei said with a quick shrug, as though he was just making conversation. Deep down, however, he wished Mikhail would answer the question.
“Come on, I know you,” Mikhail said with a knowing smile. “The last time you came to me with that face, you’d just fucked up a deal and I had to fly 10,000 miles with you to save your ass. What is it this time? I’m feeling rather charitable tonight, so tell me.”
Those words, coupled with the smile that almost seemed euphoric on Mikhail’s face, prompted Alexei to quickly reach for Mikhail’s arm, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up past his elbow without hesitation.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mikhail asked irritatingly, his eyes glared as he attempted to pull back his arm, only to find that Alexei’s grip had tightened.
“Are you high on something?” Alexei asked, staring straight into his brother’s unfocused eyes.
“Weed,” he answered, gesturing at the roll of marijuana in his other hand. Having just been through one with Feodora, he was in no mood to hear another episode of worries and panics from Alexei.
“Just weed?” Alexei confirmed, partially relieved that there were no marks or bruises on that arm. Perhaps he’d been thinking too much about it, or perhaps the man was just drunk on top of being high. After all, Mikhail had been more or less cleared of addiction for over a decade, except now, he seemed to have turned into a heavy smoker, be it pot or cigarettes.
“Fuck off,” Mikhail warned; he yanked his arm free and continued filling the glasses with ice, keeping his back to Alexei so his expression would not be visible. He had no need to explain himself to anyone⎯ Alexei should know better.
“No, really, are you all right?” Alexei asked again, this time in a more serious tone.
Mikhail turned around again, placing the drinks in his hand on the bar table and looked straight into his brother’s eyes. At that moment, such a question got on his nerves the most. “Why don’t you cut the crap? What do you want from me?”
Alexei stared back at the other man, searching for the answer his only brother refused to give in words, and found nothing. There was no emotion on that face, and those eyes were just plain cold and empty. He’d expected to see some sadness or longing in them considering the situation, or perhaps something equally disturbing, like he saw in Fei Long’s eyes. But there was none of it. Either he was too good at covering it up, or he had truly gotten over the dragon. But since Mikhail wanted to press the issue, he might as well just give it to the man.
He picked up the drink, twirled the glass a few times before taking a sip from it with his eyes still fixed on Mikhail’s. “I want him.”
The room fell into a suffocating silence for what seemed, to both men, like an eternity. Those words didn’t need an explanation⎯ Mikhail understood their meaning all too perfectly. At a moment like this, it was funny how even the purest cocaine he’d just snorted didn’t manage to numb the pain that suddenly struck him like lightning. While he had always been aware of Alexei’s attraction to Fei Long, it always had been something obviously shallow. But, the look in Alexei’s green eyes that day made it a confession that changed everything he’d always believed to be true. And all he could do was to stand there and swallow it all.
“You need to tell me right now if you’re in or out,” Alexei continued with no trace of playfulness on his face. Things were different before, when he’d taken the dragon out of lust, while he wasn’t aware of the extent of his brother’s love for the man. However, this time, he wasn’t playing around. He needed to know if Mikhail had truly decided to cut all ties. This time, he wanted to be fair.
Drawing the roll of nearly finished weed to his lips, Mikhail took a long puff on the joint and slowly emptied his lungs before his eyes navigated away from the other man to the drinks on the table. The question was one he’d already answered weeks ago on that casino ship. But somehow, it was sickeningly painful to drive the words from his throat, especially in front of Alexei, who was basically asking for permission to pursue the one man he’d ever truly cared for⎯ the one he’d already decided to let go.
“Do what you want. He’s not my problem anymore.” He’d made a decision, and one day or another, Fei Long would be in someone else’s arms, whether it was his own brother, or that Japanese man he was so infatuated with. What difference would it make how much he hated himself for saying those words, or how much pain it was to basically deliver the man he loves to his own brother on a silver plate? The truth was he could tear out his heart, and Fei Long still wouldn’t be his.
He walked out of that room without another word, and Alexei, too, made no further comment. The deal had been done, the confession was over, but somehow Alexei’s words kept echoing in his mind endlessly.
Soon, a dreadful memory from not so long ago entered his mind and he suddenly felt the need to vomit. He could still remember everything, down to the way Alexei answered the phone and told him Fei Long was lying on his bed, to the sound of his heart being snatched out of his chest the moment he heard. Why now, when after all this time he’d succeeded in putting all of that behind him, does such a memory come back to him like it had just happened yesterday? Why was he shaking like his heart was going to stop any minute?
His steps quickened as he headed towards his room. It has to stop. This suffocating feeling in his lungs that was making him gasp desperately for air, the images that kept running through his mind and were making him dizzy, and the unbearable pain in his stomach that felt like it was being punched from the inside. He needed something⎯ something strong, something fast.
The bedroom door flung opened as he entered and headed straight to the walk-in wardrobe. His hands shook uncontrollably as he rummaged through the drawers, desperately searching for something that would save him from the agony that was eating him alive. It was almost the same feeling he had long overcome⎯ the unbearable craving, the nausea and the restlessness that made his whole body shiver 15 years ago.
The next thing he knew, he was on the floor with a needle in one hand and a cigarette in the other, waiting for the next eight seconds that seemed like an eternity as he puffed on the cigarette, knowing it would prolong the effect he was about to get. And there it was, the rush that engulfed his whole being⎯ the intense pleasure going 300 mph that he hadn’t felt for more than a decade. He closed his eyes as he felt himself fall from the sky onto a bed of a million feathers, and the warmth that wrapped around him as euphoria kicked in. This was it: the same exhilarating pleasure of being in Fei Long’s arms, the butterflies in his stomach that were always present when Fei Long smiled at him, the orgasmic feeling he couldn’t get with anyone else. It was exactly what his body had been craving for weeks⎯ the craving that was now being fulfilled by a single shot of heroin.
Someone stepped into the room and was standing over him. He didn’t care to open his eyes and look, not for the sobs that followed, nor the warmth of the slender arms that wrapped around him so tightly, as though the object in its embrace would be lost otherwise.
“What have you done?” A voice sounded as though it came from a distance, even when the words were spoken right next to his cheek, now damp with someone’s tears. A pair of soft, delicate hands cradled his face as he felt a soft kiss on his forehead and a warm embrace that followed. Someone whispered something in his ear as he slipped into unconsciousness⎯ something he was too far removed to comprehend.
“What has he done to you?”
****
P.S. Sorry if there’s any mistake on the drug-related issue. I have 0 experience in it (I don’t even smoke ^^!) and the last time I asked a few friends who might know something about the effects of ecstasy when I wrote CI, they all freaked out for a week thinking I was going to try it or something. So this has been a result of Internet research only. And I am not trying to promote drug use/abuse in anyway.
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