Tempest - Book 1

- 1 -

I was always told to smile at men. 

Offer them a soft curl of my lips, a bashful flutter of my lashes. Resist the urge to shudder as their coarse lips bruised roughly against my soft cheeks.

"A pretty smile makes a pretty woman"

My mother would drone, the tendons in her neck always straining to withhold her chaste, clownish grin.

This was hard to do now, as these big brutes filled the limited standing space of my families sitting room.

"Yelena, my star."

Barked Dimitri, his crepe skinned hands clasping around mine. He was easily 90 years old, spindly legs tottering a swollen old body around with an exaggerative limp.I had known Dimitri since I was fresh from my mothers body. He is my fathers most trusted confidant, as well as his biggest cash sow.

I leaned to him, his soggy lips smearing my carefully powdered face. With a stark pat, his hands dropped from mine as he scuttled to the wet bar. I pressed my palms firmly against the silk of my short black dress.

He was always so clammy.

"What a beautiful daughter you have, Kerina."

Purred Egor. I curled my shoulders, shielding my over exposed chest from his grimy prying. Out of all of my fathers degenerates, he was the least favorable. So large and uncoordinated, bad manners exuding from him on all occasions. Finished with that pitiful mop of hair that always stirred wildly about his head, was extremely off putting.

"Hello Egor."

I murmured. He grinned at me, eyes racing over the svelte curve of my hips. I crossed my arms, turning to my mother.

"I'm going to the terrace for air."

I clipped, head craned slightly at Egor. She placed delicate fingers against my wrist.

"Don't linger out there, you know the importance of this night Yelena"

I shook her touch away. I sauntered through the crowd of pooling cigar smoke, and the heavy odor of vodka being poured into crystal glasses.

My fingers slid around the cool gilded handle of our terrace door.

A rush of balmy midnight air surrounded me, fluttering the ends of my hair carelessly around my shoulders. The night was thick with humidity, the breeze trickling around my body, sticking hotly against my chilled skin. I leaned against the stiff metal railing listening as the night called out to me. The dogs were barking, insects prattling, a sharp falsetto against the stillness of the sky.

A chilling finger ran against my spine, the hairs on my arm standing. I shook the uneasiness from my mind, my hands shaking slightly now.

"Yelena!"

My head snapped to the side, heart thumping against my rib cage.

"Coming mother!"

With a sure stride, I loped back into the house, the doors to the sitting room swung shut. A large black clothed man stood in front, face sternly set. His eyes narrowed, watching as I crossed into the foyer. 

My mother sat there, fingers plucking reluctantly on her cello.

I slid against the smooth leather of my fathers arm chair, my legs carefully tucked under me.

"How do you think it's going?"

I asked, studying my white finger tips.

My mother shrugged.