Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXXVII: One Odd Question

❝Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live.❞
—Dorothy Thompson

July 9, 2060.

After spending a couple more days in South Carolina at John's place, it was time that I headed back to New York... business calls. Alexander, who had gotten back from his trip to Sweden yesterday, was prepared to pick me up at the airport.

But there was another business I needed to attend to before that. Business with a certain Russian man.

So while I told John that I was heading to New York, I told Alexander that I was going to stay in South Carolina for an extra day.

I lied to both of them. I'm going to an island off of Cuba, where Nikolai happens to have a residence. Nikolai said he has results for me regarding the James Monroe case, and I requested we set up a meeting. 

And here I am, at the meeting.

"You do realize that I am a busy man," Nikolai coos, lounging in his swivel chair on the other side of his desk. He acts bothered by my presence, but the glint of allure in his eyes tells another story.

"I'd have you give me the news by phone, but Alexander suspects that we're being wiretapped," I say.

"How fascinating," Nikolai chirps, resting his chin in his hands and leaning closer, almost seeming to be bubbling with curiosity. "Monitoring all communications between Russian citizens is commonplace."

Government surveillance is known by the public, but it's tolerated because Big Brother is a menacing authority to counter. I grimace. "Clearly, this country doesn't care much for privacy."

"Oh, and tell me, my Bunny, what country does value privacy?"

My lips part, but no answer escapes. There is no valid answer because no government has ever valued the privacy of its citizens. Not even America, regardless of what the Constitution says. Why else would I be so concerned about getting wiretapped?

He has me at a dead end, and he sure is proud of it. 

Nikolai smirks, his grey eyes sparkling with hubris. "Now, let us get along with business, shall we?"

He seems awfully eager to discuss James Monroe. The fact that Nikolai hasn't said something along the lines of owning me, or hasn't whispered something lewd, is troubling. What is on his mind?

"Right," I say, figuring I shouldn't complain if this means I can get off this island soon. "You said that you possess information that you believe can assist me in my endeavor to destroy the reputation of James Monroe."

Nikolai's chair twists side to side; I'm already boring him. "More or less."

"Well, do you plan to present this information to me or...?"

"Not me," Nikolai shakes his head. After he says this, there is a light knock on the office door. "Come in."

I turn my head as the door swings open, and I nearly lose my breakfast at the sight of Vincent standing at the door. No, no. I can't bear looking at him!

I suck in a breath and turn away, dropping my head and clutching the sides of my leg, as if inflicting pain upon myself will take me away from this situation.

"You called, sir?" the cool, familiar voice of Vincent calls out.

"Gedeon, you have arrived," Nikolai beams, using that fucking name he created for Vincent. "Please, come in."

I hear the door close, and footsteps approach the desk. From the corner of my eye, I can see him stand to the side of Nikolai's desk, his hands folded behind his back, bowing a little to greet Nikolai.