Alexei And Grace

17 | Damage Control

MY FIRST WEEK ON THE job passed surprisingly quickly. For the first few days, I was flooded by Alexei's men who all seemed eager to see me for one reason or another. It looked like they hadn't had access to any form of medical care for a while—I treated everything from the common cold and tonsillitis to infected wounds and sprains. What struck me was the lack of severity of the injuries I saw. As yet, there had been no broken bones or bullet holes—but I knew that couldn't hold out much longer.

So far, I'd got to know quite a few of Alex's men. Even those who weren't sick occasionally stopped by to use the recreational half of the room, where there was a TV, a PlayStation and, surprisingly, several board games. Often they'd chat to me while I worked, or they'd ask me to join them in a game of cards or monopoly.

          There was Vadim, Alexei's personal driver who brought me to and from work whenever required. He and I engaged in light conversation but he never came down to where I worked—I figured he was too busy and didn't need down-time as much as the others. The three men I noticed frequenting the lounge most often were Sergei, Dmitry and Yury. The longest time I had ever been downstairs alone was around an hour—the rest of the time, one of those three were there. Almost like Alex had them on a rota to keep an eye on me.

I could already distinguish between their personalities quite easily; Sergei seemed to have an aura of authority about him which the others did not, or at least not to the same extent. Yet he was always kind to me, in a serious way. He'd taught me a couple of card games and had promised, at some point, to teach me poker. Dmitry was the most serious and callous of the three. Though he wasn't outwardly unpleasant, I could tell he didn't appreciate my presence in the same way that the others did. He would greet me when he first came down but other than that conversation seemed to be a no-go. He didn't strike me as the type for idle chit chat. Yury was  the joker. He hardly had a serious word to say—unlike Sergei—and managed to make me laugh harder than I had done in months.

In this flurry of new people I had met, there was one stark absence. I hadn't seen Alexei since my first day on the job. I knew he was a busy guy, but it bothered me that he hadn't stopped by even once. How was I supposed to know if I was doing a good enough job? How was I supposed to find out any answers to the questions I'd thought of during my first week at work? Deep down, though, I knew my feelings weren't related to my job in the slightest. I just wanted to see him again. To hear his gruff voice and remind myself that he wasn't just a figment of my imagination.

          While Yury kept me entertained during our time together, Sergei acted almost like a therapist. Or at the very least a friend. He asked me about my life. We talked about my dad and how difficult it was coping with his injuries—we talked about Jonah and how uncertain our relationship currently was. But after a week passed, I was growing tired of hearing my own voice. I was sick of hearing my own life story. So I decided to change things up. If I wanted to know where Alexei was, or why I hadn't seen him, why didn't I just ask?

"It's been a busy week," I commented to Sergei as he sipped on a glass of scotch with his feet up on the coffee table. That was one thing I'd noticed about almost all of Alexei's men—they had a perpetual glass of alcohol in their hands.

Sergei watched me lazily as I wiped down the surfaces of the medical room. "We haven't had a Doctor here in a while," he said amusedly. "Let alone one like you."

I blushed at the implication of his comment. "Well, a lot of them seemed to have more domestic problems than physical ones," I laughed. "Do you know how many times I've been asked for marriage advice this week?"