Beloved chaos

XXVII| Haven

|Vera Maklakova|

Growing up so guarded and protected these situations never come to mind. You never think you're going to be as close to death as everyone else because money is power, money can buy you anything, especially protection. I remember well the day my father took me along when he hung those policemen on the bridge, above the Volga's frozen water...it was all so still and quiet. I felt how each snowflake collided with my warm skin, and my rapid breathing was deafening.

Though my father was harsh and had his odd methods to prepare for the world, he was never shy to tell me that he loved me and that every step he took was to create a safer environment for me because even if money can buy protection like the one I've had since I was a baby – that means four SUVs in my main escort, a tracking device I had removed when I turned 18, being trained for every situation that might come my way, a bunker where I would be taken in case my life was in danger and the list goes on. My father always protected me as if I was the president of the most powerful nation on Earth, but I've always just been a Russian girl with a lot of money and dreams of becoming something more than just that.

"Do you think I'll ever be more than this?" I asked Irina as I read an article about me on a gossip blog of Moscow's high spheres.

"Read it to me," she said, sitting in front of her mirror as she did her makeup.

I cleared my throat "Vera Maklakova, the heiress of an empire that makes oligarchs tremble, wore custom Saint Laurent little black dress with a lace window for nipples and the coveted Versace platform strappy sandals to visit her beau in London. Ms Maklakova has been said to be brilliant but all we seem to see is a pair of silky legs and deep cleavage. She has been rumored to have an open relationship with her current flame: Archibald Knight, the CEO of his family's empire. Sources say she has been quick to suggest threesomes, foursomes, and sometimes even orgies as a way to spice up the relationship with him and the British beau. Has it been her idea? Or has it all been Knight who might be losing interest in his sex bomb?"

Irina looked at me over my shoulder "Well, you are a sex bomb but Archibald isn't in love with you because you have an open relationship which is also not true. They described you as a pretty object owned by a big important man and that's not what you are, Vera; you have more drive than anybody I've ever met, someone with great ideas that are waiting to come to life – they defiled your value for reads and that's wrong. Even if everything that was said in that horrid blog was true, it still doesn't give them the right to bring you down as they did."

"Well it's certainly working," I put down my phone and lay down, looking up at the ceiling. "I've always thought I'm destined to change my family's business for good; create doors for people who have been told no a million times but some nights I just think I'm a lost girl with fancy clothes and a hot boyfriend and that I'll never be anything beyond that," I confessed, distraught at the thought of never meeting the expectations I've created for myself.

Irina sighed deeply before hopping on the bed with me "I've always thought you are extraordinary and you cannot let yourself be concerned about what the petty people on the internet say because a lot is jealousy, a lot is just to create a narrative interesting enough to have people follow after it for months on end; you are not just a rich girl with custom Saint Laurent – you also have custom Bottega, Chanel, Dior, Fendi, and Versace."

I giggled, playfully pushing her "Shut the fuck up."

"Oh I wish, that way I wouldn't get into so much trouble," My best friend shrugged with a grin. "Want to jump on the bed and sing at the top of our lungs?"

"Yeah," I nodded with a smile "that would be lovely."

Irina always knew how to cheer me up, knew exactly what to say to pull me out of dark places and when she was gone a lot of the joy I had died with her. A joy that was restored by my ex-fiancé and later shattered by the same, but then restored – piece by piece – by myself, and it's become something I want to share with Diavolo for the rest of my life.