“Then why is everyone staring at us?” Ava winced. “Shit, including my manager. He’s looking right at us.” She busied herself with papers behind the counter. “I promise only to learn swimming with you, okay? Now leave before I get in trouble.”
I turned and saw an older male with an unfortunate toupee glowering at us.
“Do you get sales commission?” I asked Ava without taking my eyes off her manager, who marched toward us, his paunch jiggling over his belt with each step.
“Yes. Why?”
“I’d like to buy a piece from the gallery.” I turned back to Ava when her manager reached us. His name tag read “Fred.” Figured. He was a Fred if I ever saw one. “The most expensive one you have.”
Her jaw dropped. “Alex, the most expensive piece in the gallery is—”
“Perfect for your needs, I’m sure,” Fred cut in. He’d lost his scowl and now beamed at me like I was the second coming of Jesus. “Ava, why don’t you ring this gentleman up for the Richard Argus moonlight piece?”
She looked uneasy. “But—”
“Now.”
My smile cut across my face with the precision of a honed knife. “Careful with the tone, Fred. Ava is your best employee. You wouldn’t want to alienate her or any customers who value her opinion very highly, would you?”
He blinked, his eyes darting around as his tiny brain struggled to process the not-so-subtle threat behind my words. “N-no, of course not,” Fred stuttered. “In fact, Ava, you stay right here with this gentleman. I’ll pack the piece myself.”
“But she’ll get the commission.” I arched an eyebrow.
“Yes.” The manager nodded so fast he resembled a bobblehead doll. “Of course.”
While he scurried off to another part of the gallery, Ava leaned in and hissed, “Alex, the piece costs $40,000.”
“Really? Shit.”
“I’m sure we can—”
“I thought it was expensive.” I allowed myself a soft laugh at her stunned expression. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll own a new piece of art, you’ll receive a hefty commission, and your manager will kiss your ass until the end of days. Win-win.”
Fred returned with a large black-and-white print.
Fifteen minutes later, the print had been packaged with the same care one would use to handle a newborn baby, and my bank account was forty thousand dollars lighter.
“This weekend, our usual time, Z Hotel,” I told Ava after dismissing Fred.
Her eyebrows shot up. We usually practiced at one of our houses or near a lake or Thayer’s pool so she could get more comfortable near water.
“It has the best indoor pool in D.C.,” I explained. “You’re ready for actual swimming lessons.”
She’d been ready for a while, but I’d wanted to make sure before throwing her into the deep end, so to speak.
Ava sucked in a breath. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I flashed a crooked smile. “See you Saturday, Sunshine.”
I left the gallery in a remarkably better mood than when I’d entered.
21
Ava
The day had finally come.
I stood five feet away from the pool, my skin etched with goosebumps even though the temperature hovered at a toasty eighty-four degrees thanks to the hotel’s state-of-the-art heating system.
I wore a one-piece Eres swimsuit, courtesy of Alex, who’d handed me the shopping bag without a word when he picked me up for our lesson today.
After weeks of learning relaxation techniques and acclimating myself to the thought of being in water, it was time for me to get in the water.
I wanted to throw up. Panic gripped me, its icy claws digging into my sweat-slicked skin and drawing invisible blood. My stomach pumped in rhythm with my wild heart, causing my breakfast to slosh around like rubber ducks in a bath.
“Breathe.” Alex’s calm voice steadied me somewhat. “Remember our lessons.”
“Okay.” I dragged in a lungful of air and almost gagged at the smell of chlorine. “I can do this, I can do this,” I chanted.
“I’ll go in first.” He stepped into the pool until he was waist-deep in the water and held out his hand.
I stared at him, willing my feet to move.
“I’ll be right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He radiated calm confidence. “Do you trust me?”
I gulped. “Y-yes.”
I realized with a start that I did. One hundred percent. Alex may not be the nicest or easiest person to get along with, but I trusted him with my life. Literally.
I edged toward the pool and held my breath as I stepped in and grabbed his hand, letting his strength calm my thundering nerves. The water sloshed around my thighs, and I stumbled.
The hotel’s pool room spun, the pale blue walls and terracotta tiles flashing before me in a blur. Oh God, I can’t do this. I can’t—
“Close your eyes. Deep breaths,” Alex said. “That’s it…”
I did as he instructed, allowing his voice to wash over me until most of the panic subsided.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Better.” I cleared my throat and tried to focus on the small radius around us instead of the entire pool. It was a standard Olympic-size pool, but it might as well be the Atlantic Ocean. “I—I’m ready.”
As ready as I’ll ever be.
We started on the shallow end, and Alex had me walk around so I could get used to the feeling of the water and my body’s buoyancy. After that, we went deeper until I was submerged up to my shoulders. I clung to the relaxation techniques I’d learned over the past few months, and they worked—until we reached the part of the lesson where I had to put my head underwater.
I closed my eyes before I dipped my face in, unable to bear the sight of the water rushing toward me.
“Help! Mommy, help me!”
The words echoed in my head.
So cold. So dark.
I couldn’t breathe.
Something glinted at the edges of my consciousness. A faint memory, perhaps, but it floated away every time I tried to grasp it.
“Please!”
I sank deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper still.
Pleasepleaseplease.
Icantbreathecantbreathecantbreathe.
“Ava!”
I gasped, the sound of my name jerking me back to the present. My screams echoed against the stone walls before fading into oblivion. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been under. It felt like mere seconds, but judging by how cold I was and how much my throat hurt, it must’ve been longer.
Alex clutched my arms, his face white. “Jesus,” he breathed, pulling me roughly into his chest while I choked out a sob. We were no longer in the pool—he must’ve carried me out during my mini blackout. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re out.”
“I’m sorry.” I buried my face in his chest, embarrassed and furious with myself. “I thought I could do it. I thought—”
“You did great,” he said firmly. “This is your first lesson. There’ll be more, and you’ll get better each time.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
I shuddered, curling into his warmth. He felt strong and solid beneath my touch, and I was once again struck by the contradiction that was Alex Volkov. So cold and uncaring to the world, yet so warm and protective when he wanted to be. I’d known him for eight years, yet I hadn’t known him at all.