I'm still kicking myself over missing the scene with Petr and Harris. I'm not used to people disobeying me, and I'm definitely not happy about not getting to kick Harris' ass. What kind of Marine isn't there to defend his buddy in a brawl? Not that Petr needed the help, according to what Riley told me.
I could've used the outlet, though. It's probably the twenty hours of good sleep I got, but I'm wired today.
Petr disappeared this morning to Katya's event. The house is quiet, with people occupied in the media rooms, gym, bowling alley, stables, and wherever else the Khavalovs have set up to amuse people over the three day party. I've never seen anything like this place or imagined that a house would have a full-sized movie theatre, among other luxuries far beyond the normal reach of the average person.
There's no way Katya could ever leave this behind, and I'm doubting my visit.
Which I hate.
Riley stops Petr's Range Rover in front of the valet at the country club. Already, the scene appears festive, with decorations spilling out of the club and crowds of people lining up for the sleigh rides or Christmas maze.
We get out. The air smells like peppermint and cinnamon.
Uncertain what I'm doing here, or how Katya might react when I see her, I am determined to live up to my name of Iceman and stay calm. I'm enjoying my vacation so far. Tons of food, sleep and great company … even if there's nothing between us, I'm capable of appreciating the break.
"I haven't been home for the holidays for three years," Riley says. His eyes are glowing as he takes in the scene. "I didn't realize how much I missed all this shit."
"None of my holidays were anything like this," Carson says. His arm is wrapped around a tall brunette model I vaguely recall from a magazine. They've been inseparable all day.
"I don't think the Khavs live the way we do," Riley comments wryly. "Hey, Sawyer, did Petr show you the ammo depot?"
"No," I respond, perking up. "Is it huge?"
"Have him take you." He laughs. I'm not sure why. I can easily believe that Petr and his father both are into weapons.
We head inside, which can only be described as cheerful chaos. People mill, decorations cover every surface, and the scents of food are thick in the air.
It's got Katya written all over it. Exuberant, bright, overwhelming. I'm better fitted to the austere, less-is-more approach of the military than the colorful fantasyland around me.
Not that I don't like it. It has the effect I'm sure she wanted. I relax despite the crowd and sensory overload. There's glitter and brightness everywhere I turn. It's uplifting, happy.