M For Moscow

11 | meeting miron

"Miron Sokolov." he introduced himself without extending a hand. Casually, he leaned against the wall, taking in my appearance from the previous night and probably all the smells radiating off of me.

"Macy Rhodes." I replied dryly, hoping it was enough to scare him off.

But it didn't.

"And how was your night?" he asked, nodding at the room I had just crept out from.

"Oh," I mumbled, laughing nervously. "It-it wasn't like that."

"What was it like?"

I huffed. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." he implied, sending me a wink and crossing his arms.

Normally, a jawline like that would've made me want to stay longer talking to him, but today, I had bigger problems than this guy.

"Well, I've got to go. Very not nice meeting you." I told him, continuing my walk towards the elevators.

I heard his laugh before everything fell into the silence of my foot against the carpet. Except it wasn't mine alone.

I snapped my head behind me to see an amused Miron strutting down the hallway, in his groomed suit and tie, in the same direction as me. Groaning loudly, I walked faster, hoping I could close the doors on him before he got in.

As I did, Miron started lunging into his steps until he was right on my tail. There was nothing left to do but sprint. My finger went to repeatedly press the down button as if it'd somehow get the elevator here faster. By the time he arrived, the doors finally opened, blowing my plans to the ground.

He threw me a gracious smile and held it open with his arm.

"Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes at him and entered, hitting the close button just as he got in. He wagged his finger at me before hitting 'G'. We rode down quietly, with me not wanting to speak at all and him wanting to speak but knowing full well that I wouldn't reply.

When the doors pulled open again, I didn't wait for him to hold it. As triumphantly as I could, I walked over the marble floors, my bare feet hitting the ground with a light tap. I went straight for the sliding doors to call a taxi.

"You won't get one." Miron stated, appearing beside me once more. He lit a cigarette and blew a thick cloud in my face as he talked. "They don't come here."

"Well, why not?"

He swivelled around and pointed at the sign behind us. It read in big bold characters: Alpha Heights.

I still didn't get the reference.

"What about it?"

Shocked, he blinked his eyes at me and pointed again, a little bit harsher and stronger. I looked once more and tilted my head at him.

He laughed a frustrated laugh. "You really don't know?"

"No clue." I replied bluntly. 

Miron threw his cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it with the heel of his shoe before turning to me. "Alpha Heights has a reputation of one night stands and drunk sex. It is owned by Sergei Volkov, you know? And between you and me, I think he was the one that earned the reputation."

He chuckled at his joke as I stared at him, a horrified expression locked onto my face, barely registering the wave of his hand and the pull-up of a very sleek tinted car.

The driver, a man with a receding hairline and moustache, immediately came out and opened the door for Miron, who gladly pushed me inside, locking the doors.

Not that I was in much of a state to try and escape.

The name Sergei Volkov kept running through my mind.

Where have I heard that name before?

Back in Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, I only knew a Sergei from kindergarten but he moved from Russia to the land down under, so it definitely couldn't be him.

Could it?

As I wracked my brain for answers, Miron poured two glasses of bubbly liquid and handed me one. He clinked his against mine, which was dangling loose in my hand, and knocked on the driver's window.

"Where to, Macy?"

No answer.

Miron tried again. "Macy? Where would you like to go?"

This time, my ears finally picked it up although it took my head much longer to process it.

Where else could I go?

"Rosen Gold, please." I answered with a tight-pursed smile and a hopeful glint that Luka Gold was not home right now.

What would he think of me if he saw me like this?

The almost-bald man nodded his head and hit the accelerator at full speed. The car seemed to zoom through the traffic, blocking off cars and missing pedestrians by just a fraction. If that wasn't damage enough, the champagne in my head kept threatening to spill all over my way-too-expensive diamond dress from last night.

And that wasn't the only thing that threatened to spill out.

Once we got to our destination, I collapsed onto the cold floor and puked all my regrets out, swearing to never drink as much as I must've drank last night.

Miron laughed, stepping around my puddle of vomit and handing me a napkin from his freshly-pressed suit.

"Thank you." I mumbled as he pulled me up to my feet. The blood rushed to my legs, causing me to stumble forwards before getting my balance.

"Are you alright?" he asked, laughing again and opening his arms as if I was a ticking time-bomb and he had no clue how to cut a wire.

I'd be terrific if I popped a couple of pills and slept a month's worth of sleep with the memories of the following night still safely stored in my head, but guess what. They're not!

I told him 'Yes', anyways. If it was one thing Moscow taught me, it was that silence was always, always the answer.

I watched as he nodded his head, placed an awkward hand on my shoulder in replacement of a hug, and climbed back onto the leather seats. Just as the door was about to come to a close and the car would jet into outer space, something in my void of a mind clicked.

"Hey."

Miron peeked his head through the gap.

"If Alpha Heights was a place of one night stands and big, bad reputations, why were you there?"

In all the time I've spent with him that day, he had managed to laugh at least thirteen of those times to jokes that weren't exactly jokes. But this maniacal, deeply-concerning smile without a single giggle sent chills running up and down my spine.

He played it cool.

"That's a story for another time, isn't it?"

***

Soooo what do you guys think of Miron?

Little backstory to the name, I had a big, BIG crush on a guy named Miron when I was living in Russia. He was this gorgeous guy and an amazing dancer but we never really got to talk because I was and still am a shy little bean that refuses to grow into a sprout :/

But I'm glad I'm a bean.

As always! Thank you three thousand for following me, reading my
work and just supporting me all the time. This is really my dream and I hope it one day comes true.

Lots of love,
Mel