M For Moscow

16 | hammer called reality

My heartbeat rose. My breathing quickened. And the rolls of deodorant failed to trap the balls of my sweat (again).

I didn't have to ask — I already knew the answer — and yet, I felt compelled to, like I was in such a desperate state to appear naive and innocent.

"What do you mean, Miron?"

He cocked his head to the side in a way that asked if he really had to explain everything to me and breathed out a long sigh. I watched as he elbowed himself onto the table and leaned closer towards me on eye-level.

"We both know what happened that night."

Inside me was screaming. She channeled out a string of profanities at lightning speed as outer me jiggled my knee underneath the table, the fear of being found out as Moscow's latest toy not yet reaching my eyes.

Did he know what I know? Or worse, did he know something I didn't know?

"What do you think you know?" I sneered at him in a poor attempt of trying to look as intimidating as he did.

"I think I know that you slept with someone that night."

Karina didn't mention anything about sleeping.

Miron leaned back in the chair, a satisfied grin plastered onto his lips as he took in my on-the-edge appearance. It was only halfway through the leg bouncing, the colour draining and the gnawing of the skin on my lips did something click in his brain that I obviously did not know what he knew.

"You didn't know?"

I looked up from the beads of condensation forming on the glass of water in front of me. Miron's smirk was replaced with a more concerned, worried expression written on his forehead. He placed a comforting hand over mine just as the waiter appeared with the bill. He slipped his card over the tab and waved her off with his free hand.

"But-but Karina said Sergei doesn't just sleep with random girls." I sputtered out, unable to comprehend everything he had said.

"Sergei? Sergei Volkov?" he repeated, gasping, flipping his head back and forth from the table beside us.

I bit my lip at him, my way of admitting the disgusting truth.

He let go of my hand to stretch the skin of his cheeks down his face. For a while, he looked like the man from 'The Scream'.

Albeit, I was a bit ludicrous for leaving it at that with Karina. I could've pushed harder, dug deeper into the truth of it all. But I let it go.

Why did I let it go?

Just because she made me believe she had done it to plenty of girls before me didn't make it okay.

It was nothing close to okay.

A feeling of disgust grew inside of me at the thought of someone inside of me. Although society's view of virginity as something worth keeping was another tactic my mother instilled into my brain to keep me away from the male species, a part of that decision always came from my belief in God. I wanted to wait until marriage. Not only because of my faith, but because I wanted my first time to be with someone I actually loved and not some random old guy I met at a party even if he had rolls of cash in his pockets.

"Macy," Miron interrupted my thoughts. "I hate to say this but I think he did it."

I suddenly felt used, like I was that piece of tissue wiped with snot and thrown into the nearest garbage with the rest of the trash. I looked down at my skirt, feeling the fabric beneath my fingers, imagining Sergei doing the same. I snatched my hand away.

My voice broke. "How do you know this?"

"Because, I was there that night. Not there there in the room with you guys, please. But I was at Alpha Heights that night for an," he whispered the next part, "all men's fashion week. I got myself a room on the same floor as Sergei and every night I've been hearing giggles and heels knocked against walls. I don't care what anyone says but a drunken 'yes' is not consent!"

Miron slammed his palm onto the table in the heat of the moment, causing a few people to turn heads including the crowd of paparazzi that was now forming in front of Fagiani's. Refusing to have any more ugly pictures of me published online, I flipped up the menu to hide my face just as Miron mouthed a 'sorry' and did the same.

By then, my lips were trembling at the thought of Sergei bringing home a girl every night like she was a piece of complementary newspaper next to his breakfast tray. Probably the worst and most selfish part of it all, I hated to be one of them.

With the truth finally laid out in front of me in boxes with arrows pointing at the next one and the next one, realisation dawned on me on what I had to do next now that I was in my first ever serious relationship and was far from letting a small inconvenience like this one ruin it.

"I have to tell Luka, don't I?"

"Yeah, you do."

The water on the glass was now dripping onto the table, soaking the cloth underneath it until there was a puddle of grey.

Through the gaps of my hair, I looked back up to Miron, the guy I half-expected to be a playboy due to his appearances in tabloids but was actual a sweet, caring person with a hammer called reality to knock some sense into me.

If any ounce of my body cared about Luka, I had to tell him the truth. I owed him that much.

"Will you come with me?"

***

THERE YOU HAVE IT!

All the answers to what really happened that night revealed and wow, what a tool Sergei is. He's probably my least favourite character and I created him.

Also, check out my new cover for MFM. I thought the last one was a bit gloomy and didn't really stick to the plot at all so I decided to go with an animated, sales-themed cover instead! This book has more than a hundred reads right now, which I know is a pretty small milestone, but I'm eternally grateful nevertheless! Thank you!

Lots of love,

Mel