Luck (2 page)

“Your first?” Tristan asks.

“I’ve never dated anybody else before,” I tell him. “I’m only sixteen. Plus, I have three… two… big brothers. They don’t exactly make it easy to guys who like me. They’re pretty big, so all the guys in Russia were scared of them.”

“Huh,” he says.

“You scared to go to Russia now?” I ask. “My brothers will definitely give you a hard time. Because they won’t know that we’re pretend dating. They’ll think we’re for real dating.”

“I’m not scared,” Tristan says.

“You should be. I am,” I admit. “You should’ve seen how Dimitri was teased the first time he brought home Elana. Every time they got close to each other or held hands we would whistle at them. It was kind of hilarious.”

And okay, yeah, maybe I did a little teasing myself. I’m his little sister. It’s my job.

“Eduard and I used to make kissy noises every time they were over,” I say, laughing.

“Well, I don’t plan on holding your hand,” he says. “Because that would be really awkward. But let’s not talk about it now. Christmas is still over two months away.”

I nod.

Obviously I hit a sore spot.

Memo to self: Tristan does not like to be teased about hand holding.

He must have had a bad breakup.

“We need to get out of this room,” Tristan tells me, standing up. “If I look at another purple flower or ballon, I may vomit.”

I laugh, but follow him.

Maybe Tristan is hating this just as much as I am.

He’s a twenty one year old man. He probably
does
hate babysitting a sixteen year old girl.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, as we walk out of the dorm.

“You’re sorry?” he asks.

I nod. “I’ve only apologized two, now three, times in my life. But I just wanted to say sorry that you have to babysit me. I’m sure there are a million things you’d rather be doing right now.”

He stops and turns towards me. “I’m not going to count this as one of your three apologizes, because that is the most ridiculous apology I’ve ever heard. I want to keep you safe, Katerina. Always.”

“Because I’m your job. Right,” I say.

“Not because you’re my job. Because you’re you,” he says, then starts walking. “Come on. I need to leave this campus. There are way too many teenagers here, and I’m starting to get a headache.”

I laugh, but follow him to his car. I am not sure what kind of car it is, but it’s black, shiny and very new. On the inside, I see a symbol that says BMW. It’s not as flashy as I expected, consider he is a spy, but it’s still nice.

“You’re taking me with you, so I guess you’re technically not getting away from all the teenagers,” I say.

“Katerina, trust me when I say this, you’re only a teenager by age. Your maturity is far above these idiots,” he says, then shakes his head. “I shouldn’t say that. I was a teenager not that long ago. But it seems like forever. I grew up way too fast. Kind of like you.”

“Right. Because your brother died too,” I say. “When you were my age. So five years ago?”

“Yeah,” he answers, then clears his throat. “Do you want to get food?”

“Sure,” I say.

“There is a Russian restaurant in town,” he tells me, putting the car in reverse. In the center, I see the back up camera turn on and I watch it as we back up.

“That would be amazing. I miss Russian food. No offense, but American food is horrible,” I say. “I think I understand why Americans are so fat.”

He laughs. “You probably shouldn’t say that to anybody else.”

“I say it to you because you’re not fat,” I say.

“There are fat people in Russia too,” he says. “I’ve been there, you know.”

“Yeah, there are. It’s just different,” I say. “And I blame Russian’s obesity problems on the western world. Some people started adopting an American diet. My mum, even though she’s from London, adopted a very Russian style of cooking. I think it’s because this older lady that used to live next door to us. Her and my mum were always hanging out and she taught my mum how to cook.”

“That’s awesome,” he says. “My mom was an awful cook. She burnt literally everything she made. It drove my dad crazy. Growing up, I ate a lot of takeout food. I don’t know how I never got fat. We had pizza or Chinese food almost every night.”

Tristan never talks about his family. I like that he’s talking about them now.

“Your family sounds awesome,” I say.

He tenses up. “Are you cold?” he asks, clearly changing the subject.

And just like like, Tristan is done talking about anything personal.

At least I got that much out of him.

The accident.

The second Tristan and I walk into the restaurant, I know it will be good.

First, because it smells like home.

Second, because the girl at the counter has a Russian accent.

Tristan and I order our food. The girl asks me where I’m from, and I tell her. I get to speak in my native tongue to somebody who isn’t a psycho killer, so I’m pretty excited about it. I hope I get to come back soon.

Tristan and I sit at a table close to the front, away from the window. He takes the chair facing the door, and I figure that is on purpose. Everything that he does is very calculated and always for a reason.

He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Maybe in different ways that what most people would consider “smart”. He’s very analytical. Nothing goes unnoticed by him—ever. Tomorrow, if I were to ask him what the girl behind the counter looked like, he’d be able to describe her perfectly. That’s probably why he has the job he does.

But he’s been very quiet since the car, after he told me about his family. I hate that he’s shut me out, but I don’t know what to do. Sure, he’s my bodyguard, but he’s more than that. Over the past month, he’s became my friend. And I want him to be happy. Especially since he’s stuck babysitting me.

“Tristan, do you really think my dad sent me here so I could get an in with the kids here?” I ask. “So I could… you know…”
kill them
. The words die on my lips before I can say them.

He looks at me. “I don’t think that’s the only reason, no.”

“Then why?” I ask. “I can’t figure it out.”

“I figured you’d know by now,” he says. “Your cousin goes to school here.”

“My cousin?” I ask.

“Jade Bello,” he says.

“Jade. That means Dean Bello is my…” I let my voice trail off.

“Aunt. Your mother’s sister,” he says.

“That’s why Jade’s eyes looked so familiar to me. They’re so blue. Like mine and like my mum’s,” I say. “Wow. I have a cousin.”

“Your aunt got you in here on a scholarship,” he says.

“Why do I need a scholarship if my dad’s a billionaire?”

“Because you’re not supposed to know he’s a billionaire. Neither is your mom,” he says. “He’s supposed to be an engineer, remember? Not a terrorist.”

“Right,” I say, then shiver. I wonder how he got billions.

The girl from behind the counter comes and brings our drinks and then goes back behind the counter to take the order of somebody else. I just sit there, wondering how many lives my father has taken. How could he? He knows how it feels to lose—first with his mum and dad when he was a kid, and then with his son more recently.

“Katerina, I don’t want you to be mad, but I did some research on you… on your family,” he says. “It’s kind of my job. And when I was finding out stuff about you, I kind of ran across some information about the accident.”

The accident.

Those words ring in my head.

“You won’t talk to me about your family,” I say, feeling defensive. The accident is the
last
thing on the planet that I ever want to talk about—with him or with anybody else. “So you have no right to bring that up.”

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I won’t bring it up again unless you want to talk about it. I just wanted you to know that if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

“I don’t,” I say.

Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

Thankfully, the girl comes with our food and sits it in front of us. It smells amazing.

I take a few seconds to pray over my food and then start eating.

“This is amazing,” I say, stuffing a second bite into my mouth.

“It’s better than last time I was here,” he says. “It had an American touch to it last time. Now, it tastes truly authentic.”

“They probably change it up so Americans like it,” I say. “Since I’m Russian, they didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I think you’re right. I went to Japan once. Their sushi is nothing like ours,” he says. “They actually have street venders that sell these giant squid legs. And when you go to the movies, they actually sell fried squid like American theaters sell popcorn.”

“I like squid,” I say, thinking I’d fit in there.

“You know, I didn’t think I did until that trip. My older brother kept telling me how amazing it was. I finally caved and tried it,” he says. “It was so good. After that I decided that I want to try every kind of food that I can find, at least once. I could be missing out on my favorite new food, you know?”

“I’ve always been adventurous with food,” I say. “Alik, however, is not at all. One time my mum made him eat a green bean when we were kids and he actually cried. It was really funny. Dimitri, Eduard and I made fun of him for years over that one.”

I laugh, thinking about the memory.

My chest aches a bit, thinking about how much I miss my brothers.

“You miss them,” he says, it’s not a question.

“Sometimes so bad that I can hardly stand it.”

“I bet they miss you too.”

“They haven’t called me,” I say. “Nobody has. Not even my mum.”

“Maybe you should call them.”

Maybe I should.

We eat the rest of our dinner and then head back to the dorms.

Tristan finally goes back to his dorm room, but he does leave one of Damon’s bodyguards to stay with me. The older guy rolls a sleeping bag onto my floor and goes to sleep. When Savannah comes in, she gives me a questioning look, but doesn’t say anything. I just shrug.

This is my life now.

Just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, the guy snores really loud, startling me.

I put a pillow over my head and groan.

This is going to be a long night.

TWO

Crazy girls.

“You look awful,” Tristan says to me when I meet him for our early morning workout.

I ended up getting about two hours of sleep last night. Savannah didn’t seem at all effected by the snoring. That girl could sleep through anything.

“You sure know how to knock a girl off her feet,” I say. Sarcasm seems to flow out of me when I’m tired. “Do you say that to all the girls?”

He laughs.

I like hearing his laugh, especially after seeing how sad he was last night after bring up his family.

“You just had to give me the bodyguard who snores,” I say.

He laughs harder. “As much as I’d love to take credit for that one, it’s all on Damon.”

“Let’s hold on the training for a second,” I say, pulling out my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving Damon a five a.m. wake up call,” I say, grinning mischievously.

The phone rings a few times before I hear a very sleepy, “Hello.”

“Damon Hartley,” I say, using a scolding tone. I wish I knew his middle name. “How dare you send me the bodyguard who snores.”

He starts laughing so hard that I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

Tristan, who is standing beside me, grins when he hears.

“Laugh all you want, Damon. But I will get you back,” I say, then end the call. I take off running down the path, knowing that Tristan will catch up.

Now, I just need to plot my revenge.

Tristan quickly catches up with me and we do our usual Sunday work out—running five miles and then we use a punching bag. He shows me what position to put my feet in when I go to punch somebody, and he shows me how to efficiently knock somebody off their feet with my legs. Afterwards, I’m sweaty and gross.

“I think I want to teach you how to shoot a gun,” he says.

“Are you forgetting I’m from Russia?” I ask. “I know how to use a gun. Probably better than you. I’ve been shooting since I was ten years old. My dad used to take me target practicing a a few times every year.”

“That’s good,” he says. “I want to take you to a target range. I’m going to get you a conceal and carry so you can keep a gun on you.”

“How can I get a conceal and carry? I’m not even a US resident,” I say.

“Actually, you are. You officially have a dual citizenship with Russia and the US,” he says.

“Isn’t it hard to get a dual citizenship? And doesn’t that take years?”

“I work for the government. It’s amazing what I can do just spending five minutes on the computer,” he says.

“You’re scary. In a good way. I think.”

“I like my job,” he says.

“I feel sorry for any girl you date, though. You will know her life history before you even go on your first date. Kind of ruins the romantic element of surprise,” I say.

“Or, you know, it keeps me from getting stalked when I dump her in two weeks. Some girls are crazy, and I’d rather find out before than after.”

I laugh.

“Besides, I don’t date. Girls are a waste of time. Like I said, I like my job. A girlfriend would complain that I work too much. And I do, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. My job is my life,” he says.

“That’s sad. Don’t you want a wife? Kids? A family?” I ask.

“Maybe when I’m older,” he says.

“Americans are so weird,” I say, as we walk out of the gym. I was warm, but when the chill of the morning air hits me, I slip on my hoodie.

“Going to church with me?” Tristan asks, right before we part ways.

“Like always,” I answer, then walk into my dorm so I can get a shower.

I wonder why he’s leaving me alone, then I realize I’m being followed by another one of Damon’s bodyguards. Joy.

You can’t turn down Prince Charming.

That night, I decide that I need to get out of my dorm room. And away from bodyguards, even though I know that isn’t going to happen. Not really. But I go to the party on the soccer fields. Maybe I can pretend they’re not following my every step.