I glare at a schoolmate as he approaches me with a sheet and pen, and then backpaddles.
I slam my locker door with ferocity. I hate this school. I hate the noise right now. I hate the buzz. And I fucking hate that one person in the distance laughing so fucking loud like life is indeed a bed of roses.
Zoe Gray.
Just a few days after she asked me to be her model, and I’m still wondering why the fuck I ever agreed to that. For the money, no doubt, but her vanilla personality makes me wanna puke.
I sneer at her with narrowed eyes, standing at the entrance of a corridor, surrounded by a bunch of equally annoying-looking girls hankering for morning gossip—her group of friends.
The school bustling with life and students hurrying through the hallways, their laughter and chatter filling the air, do nothing to make my gaze falter.
If I’m going to be working with her, I need to make sure she understands some things. I start towards her, tsking at the walls adorned with colorful posters announcing the upcoming talent show.
The closer I get, the louder her stringy laughter rings out like blaring music. She’s the center of attention, her radiant smile and infectious joy drawing everyone in. She’s dressed in a vibrant outfit of blue jeans and a bright yellow sweater that matches her lively personality, every bit the life of the party.
My irritation skyrockets as I watch her laugh, her ocean-blue eyes glinting with a bubbly emotion that feels mocking.
Life is tough.
But how would she know this when she has fucking two-hundred-and-fifty dollars lying around to throw into something as stupid as a fashion competition?
“Zoe,” my tone is sharp, and her head snaps toward me. She keeps her smile unwavering even as she notices my grim expression. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I sneer at her friends, and they exchange curious glances. I don’t talk to any of them. I don’t talk to anyone. Perhaps this might be the reason they’re so curious.
“Sure, Virgilio.” Zoe shrugs and trails after me as I lead her to the side, a little away from the gnawing buzz.
I crowd her, but she doesn’t seem intimidated by my height or unhinged by the sourness of my expression.
“Do you ever stop smiling?” I snick. “Do you ever have a single serious thought in your head?”
She snorts, then does the annoying thing of laughing louder. “Why do you care?”.
I search her eyes and, very quickly, something somber flickers in her eyes.
“Because it’s infuriating,” I feel affronted. I’m struggling to get away from my father so I’m selling some of his drugs to make money, but she, like most of these kids, has been handed life on gold plates. I hate that she is rubbing it in. “You walk around here acting like everything is perfect. Like you don’t have a single problem in the world. It’s superficial and immature. You have no idea how tough life really is.”
Her eyes meet mine, her gaze unwavering. She holds still for a quick second, the air swirling around us, fuming with unspoken confrontations.
She chuckles, and her face melts back into her usual soft expression. “Thank you.” She smiles even brighter than before.
I blink at her words. “What?” Her response and reaction take me aback.
She shrugs, “What did you expect to hear?” She scoffs. “It was nice chatting with you. I should go now.” She sighs, then spins and heads back to her cluster of friends.
I tsk, folding my fists.
Perhaps I do not hate her.
Perhaps I’m jealous.
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I lay luxuriously on the beach bed, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the Pacific Ocean as the sun set. Marco had surprised me with an impromptu picnic – he called it that – giving me just enough time to grab my bikini before we headed out.
There was nobody else about, just us, some seagulls and a few trees, leaning curiously towards us in the breeze to see what leftovers we had. It had been a rather romantic day. We didn’t have a lot of those with a clan to run on his end, and cons to plan on mine. I was quite relieved when I realized that neither Marco nor his family was going to oblige me to join the family business. They were quite content for me to do as I pleased.
“If you want a role in the family, well, that’s a process. We trust you but that doesn’t mean everyone does,” his mother told me.
“Not after what I did.” I said sadly.
“No, they’re just a distrustful bunch. But considering everything you’ve done for our security and the new business you’ve brought in, let me tell you, they’re inclined to accept you,” she whispered confidentially.
“As long as I prove myself loyal.”
“Yes.”
I took a breath and nodded determinedly. “Okay, challenge accepted.”
As a result of that promise, I’d been doing my best to discover ways they could up their game businesswise including setting up an automatic payment system so that no one had to go around collecting protection money anymore. Of course, no one wanted to be made redundant so I suggested reassigning those guys to a boxing gym in the poorer neighborhoods, where they could recruit distributors loyal only to the Cassio family and find out what the word on the street was before it became a problem.
“You’d have seen me coming a lot sooner than you did if you had had an underground network of informants.” I said with a shrug. “Just saying.”
Marco’s face was inscrutable. “What makes you think I don’t?”
“I think you rely a lot on technology for surveillance with George and his assistants, but for some things you need boots on the ground. Now, if your goons are not busy terrorizing businessmen-”
“They don’t do that, but continue.”
“They could be building a trade, helping in the community, and advancing themselves. Your goal should be everyone has a chance to be better than what they started as, right?”
He stared at me in stupefaction. “Is that your goal? To be better than where you started.”
I blinked a few times, totally caught out. “Okay if I’m keeping it 100, I love the job I do. It takes smarts and I’m not ashamed of it. But what’s my end game?”
He shrugged at me, “Do tell.”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ve been that kid on the street, and I know that giving them purpose outside of knocking people’s heads together will breed loyalty like you’ve never seen.”
“I agree. And the boxing gym is a very good idea. But I think instead of joining one, we could start a few in the poorer neighborhoods. Teach the kids how to defend themselves, while doing a low-key recruitment exercise. So thank you for that idea.” He pulled me to him and kissed my chin. Then he smiled. “We make a good team.”
I smiled back. “Yes, we do.”
I smiled with my eyes closed as I thought back to that conversation.
“Why are you smiling?” Marco asked from his own beach bed.
I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him. “Nothing really. I’m just glad to be here. This was a good idea.”
He grinned at me. “I did promise to give you a soft life.”
“You did.” I reached out my hand and he took it. “And you’ve done an excellent job congratulations.”
He gave us a praised laugh and sat up. “Well, um I have one more thing up my sleeve, if you’re up to it.”
I raised both my eyebrows and sat up as well. “I’m always up for a little adventure. What you got?”
He got to his feet and bent to take something from the basket. I sat up watching him as curiously as a squirrel. His hand emerged from the basket, clutching something that fit in his palm. I waited on tenterhooks to see what it was. Another plan to steal a rare jewel maybe? I couldn’t really see that happening on this beach.
Then he went down on one knee and my mind shut down. Literally, there was a blue screen flashing error 404, no thoughts – just shock.
I watched him open the box in his hand from another plane of existence. He removed a ring and my eyes widened. It was a plain white gold band, embedded with an emerald and opal and a diamond. My mouth dropped open, but my throat was closed, and I didn’t remember what words were.
“From the moment we met,” he began, “my life has been a whirlwind of chaos, danger, and excitement. But through it all, you grew to be my constant, my partner, my love.” He was staring into my eyes, and it was like staring into the sun. “I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to. Audry, will you marry me?”
I don’t know if I was crying, but my vision was blurry. I felt as if I was standing on the edge of a cliff and about to jump off it. Even more remarkable, I wanted to jump off it. I cleared my throat trying to remember how to make sounds. “Yes Marco,” I couldn’t quite stop the trembling in my voice. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
He took my hand in his – it looked so small compared – and gently slipped the ring on. It fit perfectly, I could hardly believe it.
“God this is so trippy.” I said with wonder, my eyes on my ring. My engagement ring. “Somebody pinch me.”
He laughed. “I won’t pinch you, but can I kiss you?”
“Definitely,” I put my hands around his neck and pulled him to me. Our lips met in what was supposed to be a perfunctory little kiss, an acknowledgement of our new status, new commitment. But it escalated it into a mauling of each other’s mouths – just uncivilized licking and sucking and biting, me trying to stick my tongue right down his throat. Eventually we let go of each other, maybe even exchanged some sheepish looks and grins.
We both resumed sunbathing, on our respective sunbeds – or rather watching the sun go down over the water. It was a beautiful sight, so apt. Marco turned to me with a grin. “So tell me, missus Cassio-to-be, how do you see this going?”
“Well now that you mention it, I’ve been thinking about going to Las Vegas.”
He gave me a quizzical glance, “You wanna elope?”
“No! Don’t be silly. Your mother would put a hit out on us.”
He chuckled. “True.”
“What I want is to go and find my brother. He needs to know what happened with me and James, and I need to see him.”
“Huh.” Marco said looking thoughtful, “You know, now that you say that, there just might be the perfect job for us down in Las Vegas. Title fight. We could clean up.”
“I like how you think,” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “Let’s do this.”
The grand dining room at the Martin estate never failed to make me feel very small. It was so opulently appointed. Everything was antique or expensive, or antique and expensive. The artwork on the walls – mostly stolen pieces – were priceless. I lived in fear of knocking over a vase, and have it turn out to have belonged to the Romanovs.
I tended to avoid the dining room when I could, but tonight we had been summoned – both my brother Benjamin and I – to dine with my stepfather, James, who sat at the head of the table. I sat to my father’s right while Benjamin sat to his left.
We ate in relative silence not really being a chatty type of family, and it wasn’t until the digestive was said before us that my father spoke. “Audrey? Benjamin?”
“Yes, dad,” Benjamin said with emphasis. He always had to rub it in that James was his real dad and I was just some stray they picked up. He gave me a smug look just to rub it in some more, and I squeezed my fork hard while visualizing boiling his head in hot water. That vision helped me to show him my teeth in the parody of a smile.
James cleared his throat, in a menacing reminder that he had the floor. We both turned to him at once.
“As you both know, our family’s legacy is built on skill, cunning, and the ability to outsmart anyone. It’s time to see who among you is truly worthy of carrying on that legacy.”
I tensed hearing those words. The possibility of being thrown out of this family always hung over my head like the sword of Damocles. I couldn’t help thinking, this is it. This is when they tell me to go. After all, I wasn’t a child anymore, they didn’t have to feed me or house me. I just hope that James recognized the many ways that I put myself out to be useful to him.
He turned to me, with what passed for a soft smile on his face. “Audrey, Benji, I am challenging you to steal one billion dollars within the next year. Whoever succeeds will have access to their share of my inheritance and will prove themselves worthy of the Martin name, becoming my only legitimate heir.”
My heart sank with fear, but I ruthlessly stamped it out, replacing that emotion with determination. He was giving me a chance to prove myself and come hell or high water, I would do so.
Benjamin was right on time with the negativity. “You think you can actually do it, Audrey?” He sneered. “You’ve always been second best. You’ll never make it.”
My lips twisted as anger surged through me. “I haven’t seen you make it either.” I shot back, very proud that my voice did not tremble at all.
Benjamin cackled. “I’ll meet you at the finish line, if you ever manage to reach it,” he said dismissively.
In spite of the facade I put on, his words hurt. He was the only sibling I knew, and yet he kept putting me down. I’d watched enough Supernatural to know that that wasn’t the sibling relationship I wanted.
James finished his digestif without uttering another word. He stood up and left the table, which was the cue for me and Benjamin to do the same. I raced to my room, my mind buzzing with ideas. First thing I did was to get on a video call with my assistant Kylie. She was highly skilled in many arts and if anyone could help me win it was her.
And I was determined to win. I was grateful that James gave me the chance to prove myself – he didn’t have to. I was essentially nobody to him. But he was ready to officially bestow me with his name and his legacy, as long as I proved myself worthy.
There is no way I’m gonna fail this.
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It will never cease to feel strange to me how quickly I’ve adapted to a routine. A real one. Not the fast-paced night life or the constant espionage and games. It’s all so suburban. Breakfast. Taking Liz to school. Picking her up from school. Even more strange to me is just how comfortable it all feels. Liz doesn’t seem scared of me anymore, even if all of her friends do.
Henry tends to avoid me when I pick Liz up from school. I can’t say that I blame him for it either. He’s starting to look more like me as he grows older. Taller, but not the athletic type. Maybe someday, if Liz stays as interested in him as she is now, I will get the chance to get to know him a little better. I know through Daniel that he’s super into reading and music, things I don’t know anything about. We have nothing in common. It’s really for the best that he wound up where he is, with people who understand him in the right way.
I still don’t know if I’ve got the right stuff in me to be a father of my own, but I’m trying the best that I can.
I hold the door open for Liz to get into my car. A truck. I’m really embracing the whole Texas thing. I figured if I was going to fully turn the page over that I need to be as removed from my old self as I could get. No more temptations.
Apart from the hitman, assassin thing.
It’s still strange to me that I have chosen to live so close to my enemies-turned-employers-turned-somewhat-cordial-not-quite-acquaintances. It’s all around strange. Helena and Daniel have been so absorbed in the bliss of their newborn child that work has been slow.
Kate and I finished the renovation of our own house just a week ago. Extra bedrooms and an office added onto a house that is modest. For me. I’m used to mansions, after all. I offered to build something similar to what I had built in the past, but Kate insisted that she didn’t want to have to call me from across the house anytime she wanted to talk to me. She chose a six bedroom, two story house with a finished attic. Office for her, office for me, guest bedroom and then Liz’s room. Full master suite with properly soundproofed walls. She swears that she’s going to come up with something to do with the extra bedroom.
Now that the kitchen renovations and landscaping are the way that she wanted them she’s thrown herself into wedding planning. How she’s doing that while running her new firm, I have no idea. All I know is that she unofficially asked both Anya and Helena to be her bridesmaids. She suggested that I should ask Alek and Daniel to stand by me as groomsmen, but it doesn’t feel right. Horus perhaps, but that isn’t a relationship that’s repaired itself yet either. There’s no more bad blood, but it will take time.
I think the best thing about learning to proxy parent with Liz is that she makes everything so easy. She does all of the talking now that she’s decided I’m not scary. She tells me about everything that happens at school and her interests. She speaks at great length about the cartoons that she likes and the cat that she’s planning to ask her mother to get her. She tells me in great detail how I’m supposed to be on her side about it.
As if I could care less about having a cat in the house.
Though, I am turning into a person who lives in a house with a kid, a fiancée and I apparently will soon own a cat. I never would have imagined such a thing.
Letting my anger go is a constant work in progress, but Kate is always only too ready and willing to be the outlet for any physical aggression that might strike me.
“Can we get ice cream on the way home?! I got an ‘A’ on my English test,” Liz calls from the back seat as we pass her favorite ice cream shop. She starts to rummage around in her backpack for the test to prove her score to me. Like I would have said no to her getting ice cream on the way home.
“Of course we can, zayka.” I answer.
“I’m not a bunny!” Liz giggles from the back seat. Her face flushes pink as she laughs. She always protests when I call her by the nickname that I selected for her, but I’m just pleased that she seems to be remembering more and more Russian words every day.
“No? Then tell me you are not, in Russian, or else I cannot understand you, zayka,” I grin right back to her.
She pretends to pout, but I get her the ice cream anyway.
I’m a man who gets his soon to be stepdaughter ice cream after school.
Kate made all of this possible. I have no idea where I would even be without her and Liz. No matter what, I’m going to make this marriage work. Kate is the love of my life.
Her car is in the driveway of our house when Liz and I pull in.
She should be at the firm for another three hours. Said that she was going to pick up Chinese takeout on the way home tonight so that we could watch some movie she wanted to see. Granted, Liz has to finish homework first. She’s been doing so well lately that most of her work has been completed before she ever even gets home with it. I think Henry’s studious influence has a lot to do with that. She had even tried getting bad grades to have him tutor her but it backfired when he found out her plan.
“Mom’s home!” Liz bounces in her seat with excitement. Her hand flies to the car door handle and I have to stop her from hurling herself out of it to get to her favorite person.
“Not until the car’s stopped, zayka!” If I had known that she was going to be home, I would have gotten her some ice cream as well. I check my phone just to make sure that I didn’t miss a text from her saying that she was coming home early before getting out of the car. But there’s nothing there.
The moment the car stops, Liz is running inside to find her mother. I think the fact that both of them have managed to resume normal lives without constantly looking over their shoulders in fear is my greatest accomplishment. I’m glad we will get to spend more time together tonight.
I hang my keys on the post by the front door and kick it shut behind me.
Kate’s standing in the foyer with Liz wrapped around her, telling her about her day. It only takes one look to know that something is wrong. My defenses automatically come up.
“Zayka, isn’t your show coming on right now? The special episode?” I ask Liz.
“Oh yeah!” Liz squeals and runs off without another thought.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when Liz is out of hearing range. Kate seems to pale at the very question. I pull her hand into mine and kiss it softly. “What happened?”
Mentally, I start to check off all of the places that I have guns stashed in this house and how quickly I can get to them. It just depends on the next words that are going to come out of her mouth.
I pull her closer when she doesn’t answer, keeping my eyes locked on hers. I need her to say something soon so that I stop thinking about every possible worst case scenario option.
Over the months that we’ve been together now, I’ve told her a good number of the things that I’ve been accused of. But there are still some rather questionable things about my past that I’m more than a little ashamed of. Things that I would rather her not know. Doors to my past that just need to be kept shut for both of our sanity. If she found out something about them and is starting to look at me differently because of it, I don’t think that I will be able to handle that either.
I can’t stand the idea of Kate, of all people, being afraid of me. If she leaves me I will have nothing. My whole world is now focused on her and that’s the way that I want it. We’re getting married. A real, big ceremony, because that’s what Kate wants. To think that we are so close to all that makes me feel absolutely sick when I think that I could still lose her.
My guilt runs the risk of my sabotaging the best thing that I’ve ever had on a daily basis. I can’t let it.
Kate looks up at me, tears welling in her eyes as she tries to speak and can’t seem to find the words. Her hands slip from mine and she turns, heading into the kitchen and further away from Liz. I’m scared to ask her for a second time what’s wrong. It is bad. It is something terrible.
“If you don’t tell me what’s happened, baby girl, I think that I’m going to go insane.” I say to her, retreating. She doesn’t acknowledge my words at all as she walks behind the kitchen island and reaches into the messy drawer that contains all the spare odds and ends from the various decoration projects that she’s been doing. She places down a bundle of white plastic sticks on the counter. There’s got to be at least a dozen of them. Various shapes and manufacturers.
But all of them have two very distinct pink lines on the result windows.
Time freezes. I feel dizzy and lightheaded as everything snaps into place. For a moment, my mind goes completely and utterly still. I can’t look away from them. Kate’s pregnant. She’s pregnant with a baby, a human baby.
My baby.
My black eyes flick up to hers. She’s nervously chewing on her lip, waiting for my response. She didn’t know how I was going to react, and that’s why she was scared. It’s not like it’s something that we’ve outright spoken or made real plans about. But then again, filling her like I do every chance that I get was only going to end one way.
“Say something.” Kate says finally.
A smile spreads slowly across my face. The glimmer of hope that I never allowed myself to dare to have.
I move to the side of the island that she’s standing on and sink to my knees in front of her. My hands bracket her hips, thumbs sweeping under the bottom of her shirt to graze against her perfect, impossibly soft skin.
“I must have done something right.” I say with reverence. Karma must have started to forgive me if it’s actually going to give me the chance to be the father that I never had.
“You’re not upset?” Kate asks nervously as her hands close over the tops of mine.
“Upset?” I look up at her with furrowed brows. “I’m thrilled.” I lift her shirt just enough to kiss her belly. “Our child is in here.”
Kate giggles, a tear rolling down her face before she sinks to her knees in front of me. Her arms wrap around my shoulders as she pulls herself closer to me and holds me tightly. I kiss her passionately. Every bit of hope that the new promising future holds is poured into that kiss. “No matter what it takes, I’m going to be the loving father that I never had. I swear it on my life.”
The words keep rattling around in my head. I think those two words are the only things keeping me from actually going insane.
The heating in our efficiency flat got turned off over a week ago. There hadn’t been any food in the fridge in at least two weeks now so it didn’t really matter. I had managed to get enough blankets from the thrift shop two streets over to make it into the next month. I had tried to pay the rent for mom but before I had even gotten the chance, she had taken the money from me. The winnings from my fights should have been enough to feed us and keep the roof over our heads for at least one more month. It wasn’t quite enough to put the power back on, but we would have made it. We had lived through worse.
Tonight’s fight had been bad enough that I was almost tempted to go to the clinic for stitches. The gash over my right eye was going to leave a wicked scar, but now it’s the least of my problems. I’ve only been home an hour. Cans of soup from the food pantry are now left discarded by the door because she’s not going to be able to eat them. She’s not going to be able to do anything ever again.
Mother’s lips are blue.
Her skin pale and waxy. Her eyes open and fogged over, unseeing as she lies half on the busted leather couch and half hanging off of it. Rubber tubing around her arm and track marks littering too much skin. A habit that she swore a million times that she would kick. She had been clean for a month. I don’t know what happened today. I guess I’ll never have an answer to that question now. It’s done. She’s gone. My mother. The only person I had in the world to call family and she’s just… gone.
There’s nothing to keep me here.
I could call the cops. I could stay and answer uncomfortable questions and get profiled for my heavy Russian accent. Assuming that they would be willing to come to this side of town anyway.
I have seen dead bodies before. Doing what I do and living the way we do, it’s just something that happens. Usually don’t give them a second glance, but Mother? I can’t seem to tear my eyes off her, no matter what I do. My eyes are burning. I don’t think that I’ve blinked since I got home.
She’s going to rot into that couch. How long before she gets all stiff? Should I cover her up with the blanket? Where will I sleep if I do?
I can’t stay here.
I can’t sleep next to her corpse.
But I don’t have anywhere else to go.
Only, I do. It’s just not somewhere I want to go.
I’m frozen for who knows how long. I sit in silent vigil, kneeling by the couch where she lay, thinking about all of the things that she would never get to do, all of the promises that I made to her over the years. That I was going to get us out of this mess and make sure that we lived in better circumstances. Now I’m never going to get to fulfill a single one. Even if I go and make something of myself, she won’t be there to see it.
Hours pass and my legs have long since gone numb. I pull the ratty blanket up and over her before leaving the apartment exactly the way that I found it. I don’t have any personal belongings in here anyway. Nothing of value. I pull the hood of my jacket up and bury my hands deep into my pockets as I head out onto the street, which is quiet and cold tonight. I turn my father’s business card inside of my pocket as I walk.
What choice do I have?
He might be a bastard, but I owe it to my mother to do something, to make something of myself like I promised that I would, in her memory. I can’t wallow forever. I either follow her, or I have to make the best that I can out of the situation.
I’m a fighter, through and through. It has to mean something that today is the very last day of Roman’s offer to join him. I avoided the gangs up until now, but I knew that I could never run forever.
Moscow might be nice. Mother always said I should go. Whatever training I can get there has to be worth it. Whatever he wants me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll rise through the ranks from the bottom, if that’s what it takes.
Someday, I’ll take control of the damned Bratva and show the world who I really am. This could be the first real break that I’m getting and I’m not going to waste it.
Pain, anger, regret all swirl inside of me as I head to the address that Roman put on the card he left for me. I can’t even imagine what he’s going to say. Thinking about it is better than focusing on the numbness that’s creeping its way through my body.
Mother’s life of pain and her sacrifices aren’t going to be for nothing.
At least her suffering is over now.
I end up at a derelict looking warehouse missing a good half of its windows. The metal double doors are parted slightly for me, and I let myself inside. The dim lighting is sparse, but I have been to enough places like this to know how to find my way around. Head down, keep quiet and act like you belong there. Usually works like a charm.
I take the metal stairs down into the basement where I can hear people talking. Men loading things onto vehicles and packing other things into larger wooden crates. People milling about, but everybody appears to have a purpose. Not a single idle hand to be seen. I can appreciate when an organization operates like a well-oiled machine.
Is this what I have to look forward to?
I find my father by a loading dock, holding a clipboard with a cigar hanging out of the side of his mouth. I don’t say a word as I go to stand beside him. He only glances at me for the shortest of seconds.
“Was wondering when your sorry ass would show up.” Roman says more to himself than to me. He chuckles softly as he checks something on the clipboard. A second later he snaps his fingers and somebody shows up to take it from him seemingly out of nowhere.
“The offer still stands?” I ask without elaborating.
Roman turns then, taking a really good look at me, sizing me up. “Walk with me.”
It’s not a request, it’s a command.
I do as told, quietly walking alongside my father as we wind deeper into layers of this building that shouldn’t even be possible.
“I won’t pretend to know what caused your change of heart, Nikolai, nor do I care. What I care about is what you can offer me. I plan to invest quite a bit into making you my heir if, and when, you earn that title. It will not be an easy path for you to walk. You understand this?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have any room for people who question my orders. In this Bratva, I am king. What I say goes and is done without any hesitation. Those who cannot follow that one simple rule… well, I have no tolerance for useless men.” Roman warns. The threat lingering between us is more than clear. He doesn’t want a son. Not really. What Roman truly wants is a soldier. A weapon. I’ve already proved that I can be the former.
“My generosity doesn’t come free either, Nikolai.”
We stop in front of a familiar looking ring. I’ve never been here before, of course, but I can tell a fighting ring when I see one. It’s clean now, but the metallic scent of blood never truly leaves a place. This one’s lined in sand, uneven, surrounded by arching metal bars. One entrance in, and one way out. Unlike the fighting rings that I’ve been in before, I have no doubt that this sort of fight doesn’t stop when somebody taps out or is knocked unconscious.
It’s a test.
The first of many, I would be willing to bet.
“Only way into my Bratva is through blood, Nikolai. I will not make an exception just because you are my son. You must win your fight and prove yourself. Do this, or you will be useless to me as well.” Roman says plainly. There’s a glimmer of something on his weathered face that I can’t quite place. If I’m not mistaken, it almost looked hopeful. “Make me proud.”
Like there’s any other option?
I let my leather coat and hoodie slide off my arms and I drape them over the closest railing before hopping down those four steps into the pit, just like I’m supposed to do. At least this is something that I’m good at. This is something that I can do.
Hell, it’s what I need if I’m being perfectly honest. An outlet to channel all the rage and grief that’s going to turn into toxic sludge inside of me if I don’t get it out quickly.
The man that drops into the pit in front of me is at least twice my size and ten years older, covered in tattoos and scars. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. But, if the son of the leader can’t take him, just as Roman said, I would be useless. No time for complaining. The brute comes thundering toward me, each footstep sending vibrations through the ground and up my legs. I’m big for my age in every sense of the word. I’m trained and lethal and still light on my feet. It’s a point of pride.
Most of the time.
I don’t even see the man’s ham hock of a fist coming until it collides with the side of my head. I hadn’t dropped my guard. There’s no way he broke through it – and yet I feel like he knocked my brain loose inside of my skull. My ears start to ring and my fucking teeth rattle in place. I stagger back a few steps.
I glance at Roman and he’s completely unimpressed.
If this brute hits that hard every time, I’m not going to make it out of this fight alive, if things get dragged out. I have to end this quickly. There’s no other way around it. A strange need to make Roman proud seems to come out of nowhere. Strong and undiluted as I turn my mind off and slip into that calm, quiet place that always helps me win my fights. A mental place where nothing but the opponent directly in front of me seems to exist any longer.
It’s not a fair match.
That doesn’t stop me.
Everything seems to go blurry as the assault on my body only seems to get worse. Punch after punch, no matter how much I try to get away, and no tactic that I’ve used before seems to make even the slightest bit of difference. Just when I think that I’m about to lose and surrender to the pain something inside of me snaps. The black dots at the edge of my vision seem to spread and the wheezing in my lungs gets worse. Then there’s nothing. No sights, no sounds, no more pain, just the burning in my muscles as they take over for me. Every hateful emotion that I’ve felt for the last few years of my horrible life seems to bubble to the surface in a way that I can’t stop or control. I surrender to it. I let my body become a tool of rage upon my opponent.
I’ve never killed anyone before.
Broken ribs. Sprained everything. Concussed would be putting it lightly. Blood seems to be pouring out of me when the ringing in my ears stops and the striking silence of the men outside of the fighting ring suddenly registers.
Through the eye that’s still open I turn to look at Roman, resting on his elbows against the railing with a shit eating grin plastered onto his face and his cigar clamped in his teeth.
Did I do good? I can’t ask, but I swear he understands me anyway.
Roman nods subtly, and motions for somebody to come and scoop me up.
Approval. Praise. Acceptance.
It’s enough.
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“Have you seen Eva?” Salvatore alters my train of thought, his face disgruntled in that way that tells me he is a little irritated by something or someone, in this case, would be Eva.
“No,” I continue by folding the sleeves of my black dress shirt.
“It’s her birthday. My father said something about her not liking her cake, so we got her three extra cakes. Can you tell her to get the hell back inside if you find her?”
“Have you checked the…” I flick my hand in the direction of her soon-to-be studio. She recently picked up this thing with photography and requested a studio for her eighteenth birthday.
“I will burn that place to the ground pretty soon,” he clicks his teeth. If you find her, tell her to come inside,” he shoots a stare in the direction of the soon-to-be studio.
“She is allowed to do whatever she wants, Salvatore, and if she wants to own a studio, so fucking be it,” I stand from the passenger seat of my car and adjust myself, waiting for him to take a cue and leave.
I left the door open because I needed fresh air. I needed to think of the best way to end the Bratva problem. Boris, some Russian idiot who had killed Emanuele’s wife four years ago, is at it again, and I hate that Emanuele is choosing to tread with caution.
“Yeah, whatever,” Salvatore starts to go back inside.
“What did you say?” I knit my brows together, and he stops.
“I was referring to Eva and her wanting a studio,” he grumbles. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he corrects. “Fabio,” he swallows.
I know he is a rebellious child, but his father seems more interested in preening him into leader material. I will beat the rudeness out of him, and his father will thank me for it.
“I will get Eva,” I flip him off, and he nods and then goes inside the house. He is such a clumsy fellow. And this new thing about his pants not staying on his waist is getting on my nerves.
He doesn’t look over his shoulder because he knows I am watching him. Instead, he pulls his jeans up, jeans that are a little too small, and even his fucking white T-shirt looks like he got it for someone way younger than him.
I wait until I am sure he has disappeared inside, then let my eyes wander to the soon-to-be studio. I saw her go in there earlier.
I didn’t want to go after her.
She seemed a little sad, and I get it. She is still not used to spending her birthdays without her mother. This is the fourth birthday in a row that she will be spending without her mother or celebrating without friends because her father is still trying to be cautious after losing his wife.
Emanuele is still mourning, and no one knows for how long.
I head for the studio, wishing I could do something to improve her day. I already ordered a camera for her but that might not mean much because her father is more than capable of providing her with whatever brand of camera she needs. He will double it as compensation for his shortcomings.
She wants the warmth and love that used to exist in this home, but we cannot provide that.
I stop in front of the studio and knock on the door.
She doesn’t answer, but I know she is inside because I see the light coming from the crack on the sides of the door. I invite myself in, moving the still-under-construction door aside, and then once inside, I move it back into place.
“Eva,” my voice echoes, and I shove both hands in my pockets, staring at wide blue, teary eyes staring up at me from where she sits on the floor.
“I want to be alone,” she sniffles, and I take long strides to cover the space, then crouch in front of her.
“Hey,” I tuck her hair behind her ears, and she leans her head into my touch. “It’s your eighteenth birthday.”
“And I hate my cake,” she sniffs.
“Is it the cake?” My eyes drop to the tip of a bottle behind her and then back to her eyes. “You look good.”
She likes being a good child and has no difficulty being Miss Sunshine. But today, she has a mini dress on, a body-hugging burgundy dress that I am assuming she wore to feel like her new age. Eva has always been the glasses, jeans, and T-shirt kind of girl.
“I miss her,” she lets out finally.
“We all do,” I drop my hand when I notice I am stroking her ear.
“Will it ever be the same again?” She stares into my soul, and I wish I had the answers she seeks. But I only have the truth, so I shake my head, offering her what I have.
Her mother is not coming back. Her father is never going to be the same man, except if, by some fucking miracle, his heart finds a way to heal. She will never have the luxury of doing whatever she wants and having as many friends as she wants.
“I don’t want to celebrate my birthday,” she sits straighter, folding her legs in front of her. “I want to be by myself.”
I nod. “Three extra cakes came in for you.”
She grunts, “It’s not about the cake. I told my father that I miss my mother, and he assumed it was about the cake she used to bake me. I just need him to stop hurting too,” she sniffs.
“Give it time.” I am tired of talking, so I flex my mouth and think of a way to end this conversation. A way to make her happy would be to bring the conversation to a better end: “Do you have a birthday wish?”
She shakes her head. “I am good.”
“Nothing I can do to make today better for you?” I bunch, trying to bring my face to her level.
“If I tell you what I truly want, you won’t give it to me,” she shrugs. “So, no.”
What could she possibly want that I can’t give her? This is Eva, for goodness’ sake. What can Eva possibly want?
“Try me,” I hold her gaze, and she shakes her head, looking away. “Eva,” I reach for her chin and tilt her face back to face me, locking our eyes. “Try me.”
“Kiss me,” she chews her lower lip. “Please,” she swallows air.
“Are you drunk, Eva?” I let go of her chin and reach behind her to pull out an almost empty bottle of vodka.
She leans forward, and I am the one drawing backward like she is a venomous snake about to bite me. “Would that make my request viable?”
“Eva, I am not kissing you,” I say. I stand, and she stands with me a little too quickly, almost losing her balance. I sweep in to steady her, her body pressing awareness into mine.
I have seen her. I notice her. She is the daughter of my fucking boss and best friend. Her feelings are all over the place. So many fucking reasons to let her be and pretend tonight never happened. That she never said those words, tearing the veil we have both been hiding behind.
“But you want to. I know you do,” she tips. “I want you to.”
“I can’t,” I shake my head, but I am still holding her around the waist, telling myself I am doing it to help her stand without falling, but I know I can feel my cock straining.
“You wanted to know what would make me happy, that’s all I want,” she shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about…”
“If I kiss you, there is no going back,” my mouth says one thing, and my hands are unto another, dragging up her arms to cradle her face.
I didn’t want her confessing about her fantasies. They should remain a secret for both our sakes.
“I don’t think I will ever want to go back,” she stands taller.
I can’t say why I lose it, but I do. I slam my lips against hers and steal her first kiss. She tastes like vodka, but also warm and naive. She has no idea what to do with her tongue or how to place her lips, so I teach her.
She breathes, shoving her soft body into me, and one of my hands goes to her back to press her body harder against mine, and I’m afraid she can feel my cock straining for her through the fabric.
I slip my tongue in, and this time, she catches on fast. She follows my lead, kissing me back, her hands searching around and all over me for where and what to hold on to.
No. No. Fucking no.
I pull away. “Fuck,” I stagger back, refusing to meet her eyes. “Fuck,” I turn away, hiding my face from her.
“Fabio…”
“Get back inside, Eva,” I growl, and I feel her flinch back. I don’t waste any more time inside the studio; I take long strides out, knocking over the door.
I need a quick fuck.
I haven’t fucked in a while, thanks to the problem Boris keeps dishing at us.
If I had fucked, I wouldn’t have lost control like that.
Fuck.
I let the veil down. And while I will make myself forget this after tonight, I can at least whisper the truth to myself now.
I kissed her because I wanted to.
I have wanted to for some time now.
Shame on me.
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I can stand those. But a slap across my face? That one took me by surprise. I am still in utter shock.
I admit I deserve it and perhaps a little more, but I was am still in shock. Only Eva could dare that. Only she can make my cock rock hard from hitting me across the face.
“Stay away from me, Fabio,” she flips and wanders into the parlor of the main building, passively throwing her salutations with a careless wave of her hand at the men guarding the area.
“Are you good, Eva?” One of the men asks, and she nods, never even looking in his direction.
I go after her, needing to fix what I have broken even though I am short on ideas on how to do it.
I hold back as I see her look toward Salvatore’s quarter. She has been through a lot, and I keep making it fucking difficult for her. But I want better for her. I want her to go for the best and not settle because she was asked to.
She hops up the stairs two at a time, and I match her pace behind her, trying to keep up with her. I don’t know if she knows I’m coming after her, but she shows no sign of it.
She opens the door of her quarter, disappearing into her bedroom, but I quickly put my foot in to stop her from slamming the door in my face. I step in, and the colors of her bedroom smack me hard, making me almost squint as they hit me all at once and scream at the same fucking time.
“Get out of my room, or I will scream.” I am done listening to her, so I close the door, daring her to scream.
I skim the walls of her bedroom to see the pictures on display and my eyes catch sight of me on the wall. I remember that day. I had accompanied them on a family vacation. I never felt like I was part of what was happening. For the first time, I was lost, thinking about my life and pondering on the possibility of having a family of my own.
How time flies.
“You hit me,” I stride to the picture of me on the wall, halting in front of it, observing and appreciating the fact that she did this for me.
“You deserved it,” she grits.
“I did,” I nod and tilt to look at her. At the same time, she tosses her camera on the mattress. “I owe you a new one, too,” I imply with my chin at her camera, and she shrugs it off carelessly. “Eva…”
“I have had enough for one day.” She throws both hands in the air and then lowers them to her hips. “You know what? Whatever. I will find someone else, and I will free you and maybe one day, when it is too late, you may decide if you can be redeemed.,” she halts in front of me. “I have heard all you had to say; now leave my room,” she points at her door.
I want to fix this. I fucking want to, but I am too lost. I know the parts, but I don’t know where they fit, and I fear if I attempt any further, I will cause irreparable damage.
I accept her condition and am about to leave her bedroom.
“Yeah, do that. Leave,” she hollers and scuttles to me. Even though I need to leave, I halt and dare to face her in an attempt to fix this. “Leave,” she stutters.
Bullshit.
She doesn’t mean a word she is saying.
I am expecting a punch as she balls her fists and lifts her hands, aiming them at me, but they go weak, and she clutches my shirt, grabbing whatever fabric from it she can. “Leave,” she hiccups. “Go away.” She is saying one thing but doing an entirely different thing. She steps closer and presses her body against mine.
My cock twitches as I feel the softness of her breasts against my body and the warmth crawling out of her to prick my skin. I groan, hating that I have somehow complicated things by staying.
I should leave at this point.
She shakes me, but her strength is not enough to move me. She gives up on trying to and plasters her hand on my chest, taking the answers she seeks from this situation. If she wants to know if I feel anything for her, my heart is a loud talker right now.
And since she has had her fill of what my treacherous heart has to say, she stands on her toes and melts my restraints with the soft plastering of her forehead on the side of my mouth. I try to catch my breath, but it feels nearly impossible.
I cover her hand on my chest with mine, and since I cannot say the words out loud, I can support my heart to spill them endlessly. I press her hand firmer against my chest, wishing I could tear it open and offer her my heart as a consolation for her hurt.
“I will do it, I will carve it out for you, Eva.”
She cranes her head until her lips find my lips, and it is exactly the kind of push I need to make the proper excuse for deep diving into her. The proper excuse to taste, take, touch, and plunder.
I seize the kiss, swallowing her mouth and her breathy moans. I slink my tongue in, letting her suck it as I do with hers. I give myself to the kiss. I give myself to the urge to own her at this moment, however fleeting.
Her hands come to dig into my hair, and she clamps on the strands like anchors. I kiss, chew, suck, and with each routine, the shackles holding me back break their hold. It is my need to fill her up, to fuck her, to have her, that moves me to clear her off the floor and ease her on the bed.
“Eva,” I beg into her mouth, needing her to ask me to stop because she is the only one who can end this before it gets too far. “I am losing it here,” I confess, but instead of asking me to stop, I feel her pussy twitch under me, and her breathing goes sloppy.
I press my hard cock against her stomach, and the fucking arousal will kill me. I grit my teeth and pull away from her, forcing myself somehow.
I hate that I am this weak around her.
I hate that I want her so much it hurts.
I hate that I cannot get my shit together when it comes to her.
I wield my frustration on the mattress instead. I punch. I keep punching, needing the tightness in my balls to relieve me somehow. I keep punching, needing the swelling of my cock to deflate.
My line of sight catches something, and the wires in my brain fry into chaff as I zone my focus completely on her.
Eva.
Naked.
Fuck me.
I have tried not to go there with her. I have tried never to picture her naked in order to give her the respect she deserves but also because I know that when I cross that border, there will be no going back.
Like right now.
Seeing her curves, her plumpness, her innocence, her fucking everything that looks like it was handpicked by God and put together to make me fall, I can’t go back to not wanting to see, own and fuck.
“Christ,” I spill, gritting. “Oh, fuck it, Eva,” I spring up, sitting as my cock grows and my balls strain like they will burst.
She comes to me, and I let my legs fall open to accept her between them. I am salivating at the sight of her and she might be able to feel it as I pepper her skin with wet kisses on her tummy, licking her like honey.
I grab her ass and trace up to her breasts, then back down to between her legs, finding her wet and ready for me.
“You little devil. I can’t fight…”
Shame on me.
With just a nudge with the tip of her finger, I am dropping on the bed. But very swiftly, I take over, rolling her until she is under me. I kiss her, taking my shoes off in the process with my feet kicking against each other.
I straddle her wetness, plastering my cock against it. I could come from it. I could come from doing this. I am straddling her pussy while my mouth slides down to find her breast and pounce on it like a hungry hound. I suck and flicker.
I trace my hand to her pussy, not surprised to find her wet as I go under her underwear. I groan into her breast in my mouth, slipping my finger in. She is tight, fucking tight. I wasn’t expecting her to be this tight. I slip another finger inside of her, stretching her. Not satisfied because I know I am big, I add another, making it three fingers.
I start to fuck her with my fingers. My mouth finds hers, and I kiss her moan away.
“I want you,” she reaches for my pants, but I do her one good, and help with freeing my cock.
“I am clean, but I will…”
“I am on the pill,” she cuts me, and I am back on her, my foreskin circling her entrance. I aim for the big kill and push it a little in.
Fucking heavens.
This is fucking Eden.
“Too many things to say,” I close my eyes and shake my head because the sweetness of her pussy is in the fleshiness of it. “Too many things to feel,” I push in a little more, and she clenches her teeth. “Too many dreams coming true at this moment,” I grunt, and with a quick thrust, I dive in. “You feel fucking amazing,” I grind my teeth. “Too fucking amazing,” I make the first move of my hips.
I pick up, my entire body trembling with hers as I plunder her. She seems laid back, but very quickly, she comes up to it, circling my waist with her legs and pushing her back up to give me easy access to her—a slightly maddening position. I am going to take her from behind someday.
I groan, and her moan climbs over mine.
I cannot believe I am thinking of fucking her again and in all the fucking positions I like to fuck. She is different. This is different. And no matter her decision, I am deciding here and now that she is the last for me. I am not fucking any other woman ever again.
I meet her eyes, not saying the words but swearing them silently to her. And as if she hears my thoughts, a tear slips. I catch it quickly with my tongue and pounce on her mouth to kiss her.
I plunder her. I dive deeper. I drive deeper into her.
The pleasure swells in my stomach, and from her moans, I know it’s mutual. I want to come with her. I want to teach her body to listen to my command. I want to ruin her for others. I don’t want her to have others.
I cinch our gaze, burrowing into her deep blue eyes, and I plunge, picking up my rhythm but not too fast. I am close. Too fucking close. She is close. I keep up. I find the spot that has her chewing on her lower lip and hammer on it.
Her pussy fists around my cock, and I shame myself at how quickly and uncontrolled I come. I jerk, my muscles contracting and my legs going limp. Thank fuck she comes with me, shuddering and splintering under my jerky thrusts.
I am still in the zone, trying to wrap my mind around having had her. I have tasted her, and I cannot fucking ever not want to have her this way again.
I have complicated things for myself. For us.
“If I could choose, Fabio De Luca, I would still choose you to be my husband,” she mutters, her voice breaking, and the blood in my body dries up.
No, fucking no.
What have I done?
I slip out of her carefully. I can’t undo it. I have to think. I want her. I know I do. But I have to think. Should I ask her to marry me here? Should I confess my love for her right now? Should I let her know I no longer want to keep fighting this? Should I let her know that her body is where I want to call home?
I glide down her body, more than ready to pick up from where we left off. There is nothing to do. I have had her, and I must keep her.
My eyes slide down to between her legs, and I get whiplash at the sight of blood.
“Eva?” This better not be what I am fucking thinking.
She springs up and goes lifeless as she drops her eyes on the stain of blood on the sheets around her pussy. Around my cock.
“For fuck’s sake, Eva,” the realization guts me and I scramble off the bed.
Fuck!
I am her first.
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“You are not doing bad,” Eva chuckles against my chest. Some prints of her red lipstick are already smeared on the fabric of my baby blue suit, which is now being discarded as I toss it at the crowd behind me.
She laughs, and she has no right to.
She dared me to show her what a badass dancer I am, and she is in for a show. I can still bring it on. The pop song she has chosen can try to tamper with my moves, but nothing can stop me from trying to impress her.
She steps away from me and swings her hips, the fringe of her glacial dress for the after-party of our wedding giving her the dancehall dancer tone. She is still wearing her crystal-beaded heels, and I am a little worried for her because she has been dancing in them.
I love everything about her.
I love everything about today.
I can admit that I love this song, but if anyone had played it around me before today, I might have decked the person. Now I love it. My wife loves it, and that makes it the best fucking song in the world.
I will dance to it every day for the rest of our lives if she needs me to. I would dance for her every day for the rest of her life if she asked me. If it will bring this wide, teary smile that is now lining her face as she steps back to appreciate my moves.
I’m all in, shoulders, legs, and waist.
I’m not sure anyone other than Emanuele has ever seen me like this. The first and last time I was like this was when he married Eva’s mom.
A lot has happened, and somehow, my heart is telling me that this is the place it has led us all to.
I go down and swing, steadying myself not to crack something.
The crowd starts to come around. I see some familiar people and some heartwarming faces. My son, Jake, is in a similar outfit as mine since he was the ringbearer on Eva’s demand. I see Vittoria clapping and smiling brighter than I have ever seen her smile. I see Mindy with her date, some Jewish guy with curly hair and pale skin.
Then there is Emanuele, now making his way into the circle to join me on the dance floor. His suit the same color as mine has gone, leaving him with his black dress shirt and baby blue pants.
I didn’t know I still remembered the dance moves we had practiced for his wedding after so many years, but as he began to dance, I found my body moving on its own in sync with him.
When we spin to high-five each other, my mind traps it all: the shimmers of the crystal lights, the guests and the touches of laughter on their faces, the intimacy of the moment, the music, the waft of the spices from the food, the prickling of spilled champagne, the music blaring through the speakers. Tears swell in my chest, but I tamp them down.
This is everything I have ever wanted but couldn’t dare to wish for.
This is all the life I had wanted.
I wish my mother were alive and here to see that I didn’t turn out that bad. I wish my father could see that I am nothing like him, that I am a different man, a better father, and that I will work until my last breath to be nothing short of the best husband and partner.
Vittoria sweeps in to take my hands and dance with me while Emanuele goes to Eva.
“You better treat her right,” she smiles, swinging from side to side. “I will kill you if you mess up,” she delivers her threat casually, and I chuckle.
I know she would. But she will never have to.
Instead, I nod and then tip my head as she draws away to get Emanuele, and Eva comes back to me.
“I love my wedding,” she throws her arms over my shoulders. “I love my husband. I love life.” She laughs so loud that hard tears spill from the corners of her eyes.
And then the music dies and the lights go off.
But outside the hall, the sky lamps are being set off, and strategic white studio lights pour on…
Eva quickly lifts her hand to cover my eyes. “I have a surprise for you, Husband. Close your eyes,” she giggles, and I oblige.
I hear footsteps telling me the guests are filing out, but I do as Eva asks and keep my eyes shut, allowing her to lead me out of the hall.
I try not to stumble over my feet and use all my senses to gather information about my surroundings. The instant we step outside, the air is chill, and the wind bristles over my face, whistling in my ears.
Eva wanted a beach wedding, and she got it.
Whatever Eva wants, I will scour the ends of the world to give it to her. It’s gratifying to see her smile when she gets it. That’s reward enough.
I hear gasps and soft claps, and my body pinches to open my eyes and see what they are about.
“Open them,” Eva whispers in my ear, and I take my time, peeling my eyes apart to come face to face with the best gift anyone could ever give me.
Framed photos of me, dating from years back, and all unawares.
I spin because they are everywhere on canvases. And they are not monochrome. They have their colors. In one, I’m in motion; in another, I am loading my gun; and in another, I am sitting on the stairs in the main parlor of the estate. There are so many.
Eva steps forward, still holding my hand, while Gloria hushes the crowd with the clinking of a miniature bell.
“It’s…” Eva chuckles, clears her throat, and breathes. “It has always been you, Fabio. You were the reason I wanted to capture emotions. Because every time you slipped and showed any, it felt like finding presents under the Christmas tree,” she lifts my hand and plants a kiss on the back of it, the gesture like fluid through syringe shooting into my veins to find a connection to my heart. “You are my muse, and there is no world where I would have settled for anyone but you.”
I drop my eyes, breaking eye contact as I try to gather my thoughts and self. I am one word away from crying, and I can’t do that. I can’t remember the last time I ever cried. I don’t want to make a fool of myself, but she makes it hard not to.
I try not to look around because I already feel myself getting closer to embarrassing myself. But I feel them all around me. I feel the teary eyes, the deep breaths, the admiration, and the awws.
“Fabio De Luca,” she closes the distance, standing with her body brushing against mine. “You are everything and a little too much,” she feeds me back my words. “You are enough and yet more than I could have asked for,” she lifts my hand to her face and presses it flat on her tender cheek. “I cannot predict what the future holds, but,” she drags my hand down her face until it’s pressing flat on her chest. “But as long as life allows me to, I will love you stupid,” she sniffs.
I clamp my eyes, shaking my head as I feel the wetness of the tears tickle my eyelids. I am losing it. I keep them shut, as if the action can rein the tears back.
“I love you, amore, and I will always love you because there was never anyone else for me, and in every alternate universe, there is only you,” she sniffs again. As I open my eyes to hold her face and pull her in for a kiss, my tears run free.
That’s how to break a man.
She hits me where it gets to me the most—my heart.
She hits me with what is the most effective—her love.
Before now, I would have said I don’t deserve her. But to hell with that madness. It is not that I would say I deserve her now. Instead, I will say that I will work every day to show her why I deserve her.
She will never have to doubt that I am the only one for her.
She will never have to doubt that she is the only one for me.
The chill that grips the air does nothing to quell the fire within me as I gaze at Sara. Her trembling, the fear mingling with an unmistakable spark of desire in her eyes, stirs something primal in me. Does she understand the gravity of my words? The lengths to which I would go for her? The very thought sends a surge of both power and trepidation through my veins. It’s a madness, this depth of feeling, but it’s mine to embrace.
My world has been one of control, power, and cold calculations. Yet, her vulnerability in the face of last night’s terror with Lorenzo has cracked something open in me. The instinct to protect, to possess, has always been there, but with Sara, it’s different. It’s a need that courses through me, fierce and unyielding.
I reach out, my hand gently guiding her face towards mine, I’m acutely aware of every nuance of her reaction. The slight hitch in her breath, the softening of her body—she’s an open book to me, and it’s intoxicating. The moment my lips meet hers, the world narrows down to the heat of her mouth, the sweet surrender in her kiss. It’s a confirmation of everything I’ve dared to hope for.
Pulling back, I search her face, looking for any sign of resistance, any trace of reluctance. But there’s none. When she wraps her arms around my neck, returning my kiss with a hunger that matches my own, a growl of satisfaction rises from deep within me. “That’s my girl,” I rasp, the words heavy with promise and possession. “You’re mine now, Sara.”
Her submission is a heady drug, and as I claim her lips again, the world falls away. I’m dimly aware of the risks I’m taking. Yet, in this moment, nothing matters but the heat between us, the fierce promise in my heart to protect her, to make her mine in every way that counts.
I can’t believe this is happening. Sara’s in my arms, her body pressed against mine, and I’m losing myself in the taste of her lips. I’ve wanted her for so long, and now she’s here, giving herself to me willingly.
My hands roam her body, feeling the soft curves and the warmth of her skin. I tear off my shirt, desperate to feel her bare flesh against mine. Her pants slide down her thighs, and I tug them off, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.
I can’t get enough of her. My mouth moves to her neck, kissing and biting gently, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. Her hands are everywhere, pulling at my hair, running down my back, and gripping my shoulders.
I love her. The thought hits me like a ton of bricks, and I realize it’s true. I’ve loved her for years, even when I tried to deny it. I need her, and I’m not going to let her go.
My hands move to her hips, pulling her closer, and I can feel her heat against me. I want to be inside her, to claim her as mine, but I know I need to take it slow. She’s a virgin, and I don’t want to hurt her.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, and she moans into my mouth. My hands move to her breasts, cupping them gently, and she arches her back, pressing herself into my touch. I can feel her nipples harden beneath my fingers, and I know she wants me as much as I want her.
I slide my hand down her stomach, feeling her muscles tense beneath my touch. I reach the edge of her underwear, and I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should go further. But then she moans again, and I know she wants this as much as I do.
I slide my hand inside her underwear, feeling the wetness between her legs. She’s so ready for me, and I can’t wait any longer.
I hover above her, my hand planted firmly beside her head. The muscles in my arm stand out sharply, a testament to the power I possess. My bare torso is on full display, and I can feel her eyes roaming over every inch of me. I’m used to women looking at me with desire, but the way she gazes at me is different. It’s as if she’s trying to memorize every line and curve of my body.
I watch as her hands explore me, feeling no shame in her desperation to touch me. I can sense her awe at my strength, and it only fuels my desire for her. I’m gentle with her, but I can feel the potential energy practically begging to explode from the muscles just beneath my smooth skin.
Somewhere between kisses and heavy petting and grinding, we both manage to get completely naked and end up on her bed. It’s the first time she’s ever been naked in front of a man, and I can see the vulnerability in her eyes. But there’s also a fierce determination, a certainty that this is right. That I’m the man she’s supposed to give herself to.
I can feel the heat and wetness between her legs, and I know she wants me inside her. But I’m not ready to give her what she wants just yet. I want to taste her first.
“You want my cock?” I ask, parting from our kiss just long enough to rasp the words into her neck.
“Yes,” she gasps.
“You’ll get it. You’ll get all you can handle, sweetheart. But not before I taste you.”
I revel in her response, her body writhing beneath me as I continue my assault on her sensitive flesh. Her taste is intoxicating, and I can’t get enough. I want to devour her, to consume her until she’s nothing but a trembling mess in my arms.
As her orgasm subsides, I don’t let up. I keep my pace steady, my tongue relentless as I coax another wave of pleasure from her. She gasps and moans, her fingers tangling in my hair as she tries to pull me closer. I chuckle darkly, loving the way she responds to me.
I slide a finger inside her, feeling her clench around me as I curl it upward, hitting that sweet spot that makes her cry out. I add another finger, stretching her as I pump them in and out in time with my tongue. She’s so wet, so ready for me. I can feel her building toward another release, and I’m determined to make it even more intense than the last.
“Dimitri, please,” she begs, her voice ragged and desperate. “I can’t take anymore.”
But I’m not ready to stop. I want to push her to the edge, to make her scream my name as she comes apart in my arms. I increase my pace, my fingers and tongue working in tandem to drive her higher and higher.
“Please- I just… I need more…”
I don’t need to be asked twice, and my tongue continues to work on me, circling, plunging, exploring, and dragging across her folds and throbbing bud. She tenses beneath me, her body coiled like a spring as she teeters on the brink of release. I can feel her muscles clenching around my fingers, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, with a final cry, she shatters, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave.
I slow my movements, gently lapping at her as she comes down from her high. She’s boneless, her body limp and sated as she lies beneath me.
I can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the fact that I’m the one who brought her to this point.
But I’m not done with her yet. I want to make her cum again, to show her just how good it can be between us. I slide up her body, pressing kisses to her stomach, her breasts, her neck. She moans, her hands coming up to tangle in my hair as she pulls me closer.
“Again?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Again,” I confirm, my voice low and husky.
I slide back down her body, my tongue tracing a path along her inner thigh. She shivers, her legs parting instinctively as she gives me access to her most sensitive spot. I lick her again, savoring the way she tastes, the way she responds to my touch.
She’s already so close, I can feel it. I slide a finger inside her, curling it upward as I flick my tongue against her clit. She cries out, her hips bucking as she grinds against me. I can feel her muscles clenching around my finger, her body tensing as she hurtles towards release.
And then she’s there, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. She cries out my name, her body shaking as she comes apart in my arms. I keep licking her, prolonging her pleasure as she rides out the aftershocks of her orgasm.
When she finally stills, I slide up her body, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. She’s breathing heavily, her eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath. I can feel her heart racing beneath my fingertips, and I know that I’ve done my job well.
I’m panting, my heart pounding in my chest as I plant my hands on either side of Sara’s head. I can feel the heat radiating off her body, and it’s driving me wild. I look down, seeing my cock poised at her entrance, and I swear to God, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
“I need you to relax for me, printsessa,” I say, my voice low and rough. I can see the apprehension in her eyes, but she nods, trusting me.
She raises her eyebrows, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “I am very relaxed right now Dimitri.”
I chuckle, feeling some of the tension ease out of me. “Good. Because this is going to be a fucking tight fit.”
I grip myself at the base, rubbing the head of my cock against her folds. She’s so wet, so ready for me. I can feel her heat, her slickness, and it’s like a match to gasoline. I groan, feeling the pleasure shoot through me as I press myself into her opening.
At first, there’s just a stretching sensation. I can see the surprise in her eyes, the question of how something so big can fit into something so small. I push in and out, easing myself in bit by bit. I can feel her body resisting, then yielding, then welcoming me. The slight sting of her core stretching to fit me gives way to an incredible sense of connection, of knowing that right now, we’re completely absorbed into each other.
She sucks in a sharp breath and I know it’s her hymen. I groan, feeling a primal satisfaction knowing that I’m the one taking her virginity. She grips my back, her fingers digging into my muscle as I continue to push myself deeper and deeper inside her.
“You are mine Sara. You are fucking mine,” I growl, feeling the possessiveness surge through me. It seems to take forever before I’m fully inside her, but God, it feels more amazing than I ever imagined. I keep stroking her clit, and moving myself further into her, so that the initial pain will give way to pleasure.
I find a rhythm, one that has her gasping and moaning beneath me. “Dimitri- Oh my God,” she gasps, her eyes wide and filled with wonder.
“Fuck,” I groan, feeling my control slipping. “I love how sensitive you are, printsessa.”
She blushes, biting her lip to keep in her moans. I can see the worry in her eyes, the fear that someone might hear. I close my eyes, pumping myself harder into her. My grip on her hips tightens, and I increase my pace, my cock a blur of motion inside her.
She’s on the edge when I squeeze her hips almost painfully tight and groan, leaning my head back. I feel my cock pulse inside her, feel the warmth spreading between us. I’ve just come inside her, and the intimacy of it pushes her over the edge. Her core clenches around my length, squeezing me tighter, as if her body wants to milk every last drop of my cum.
I sag against her, grinning with satisfaction. I plant a quick kiss on her lips, feeling a sense of completeness that I’ve never felt before. “Holy shit,” I whisper, my voice filled with awe.
“How was that, Sara?” I ask, my voice low and husky. I can see the shock in her eyes, the way she’s struggling to find words. I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing I’m the one who left her speechless.
She doesn’t answer. She can’t. She’s still trying to process what just happened. I’ve never seen her like this before. It’s… intoxicating.
“If you can’t even speak,” I say, a hint of amusement in my voice, “I must have done something right.”
She’s still silent, her eyes wide. I can see the wheels turning in her head, the gears grinding as she tries to make sense of it all.
“You know, I didn’t use a condom, I wanted to feel you. All of you.” I say, very casually. I watch as the color drains from her face, her eyes widening even more.
I can see the shock turning into anger, her eyes narrowing. “You could have gotten me pregnant!” she says, her voice rising.
I chuckle. “That’s the idea,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. I can see the fear in her eyes, but there’s something else there too. Defiance. It’s… exciting.
She’s furious. She hits me on the shoulder, hard. “You can’t just do that without asking me!” She hits me again, her eyes blazing.
“You didn’t seem to mind. You’re mine now, Sara,” I say, smirking. I twist a strand of her hair around my finger, feeling her tremble beneath my touch. “Your father will finally give you to me once you get pregnant. A child will forfeit your engagement.”
She hits me again, her eyes filled with rage. “Shut up, you beast.”
“You are mine now, printsessa,” I say, leaning in close. “I ruined you for anyone else.”
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The name itself feels like a song, a sweet melody that’s stuck on repeat in my head. I’ve been in this class for twenty minutes now, sitting at the back, nursing a cold cup of coffee. My eyes keep flicking to the entrance, waiting for that flash of long brown hair and those grey eyes that hold galaxies within them.
The lecture drags on, the professor’s words bouncing off me like bullets off a tank. My mind’s elsewhere, caught up in thoughts of Sara. It’s been years since I first saw her. She was just a girl then, but she left an imprint on my soul, one that not even time could wash away.
The moment I heard of her choice of university, I knew it was fate playing its hand. Same university, same course – Business and Management. It couldn’t be a coincidence; we’re two pieces of the same puzzle destined to fit together.
The door creaks open and there she is. A breath catches in my throat as she steps inside, unaware of the predatory eyes following her every move. She’s more beautiful than I remember; all grown up and full of fire.
Her gaze scans the room and for a moment our eyes lock. My heart pounds against my ribcage like a wild beast trying to break free. The look in her eyes… It’s not recognition, but something else – curiosity maybe?
My fingers tighten around the cup as she finds a seat at the front, right under the professor’s nose. A smart move for a studious girl like her. She flips open her notebook and I can almost see the gears turning in her head.
The thought crosses my mind right then.
I’ll break every rule for this girl.
No matter what it takes, Sara will be mine. The Bratva protocols can go to hell for all I care. The ruthless man that I am, I won’t stop until she’s by my side, where she belongs.
The hum of voices and the clatter of chairs fill the room as the lecture concludes. My gaze never strays from her. From Sara. She’s deep in thought, her brow furrowed as she jots down notes. A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Always the diligent student.
Just then, a girl slides into the seat next to Sara, her blonde hair bobbing as she excitedly taps on Sara’s shoulder. My fists clench instinctively. Who is she? And why is she invading Sara’s space?
“Hey, I’m Martha,” the girl announces, her voice a high-pitched squeak that grates on my nerves.
Sara looks up, surprised, but quickly composes herself. “Hi, Martha,” she responds, and I feel a shiver snake its way down my spine at the sound of her voice. It’s as sweet as honey, yet holds an edge that could cut glass.
“I noticed we’re taking the same classes,” Martha continues, oblivious to my intense scrutiny from across the room. “Maybe we could study together sometime?”
Sara nods, a hint of relief in her eyes. “I’d like that,” she replies, her words echoing in my ears. They exchange phone numbers and, as soon as class is over, Martha leaves.
I’ve heard her voice now – that soft melody that matches the rhythm of my heartbeat – and it feels like I’ve been starved for it all these years without knowing it. I crave more. I want to hear her laugh, hear her cry, hear her scream out my name…
Everyone starts packing up, eager to escape the confines of the lecture hall but my gaze remains fixated on Sara as she gathers her things, her brow furrowed in concentration. I savor the sight of her, knowing that every moment I get to watch her is a gift.
A guy from our class, a jock with more brawn than brains, struts towards Sara. His cocky grin screams trouble. He stops at her desk, leaning against it in what he probably thinks is a casual pose. I grit my teeth. Who does he think he is?
Sara looks up, her eyes meeting his for a moment before they flicker away in annoyance. I can’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at her reaction.
“Hey beautiful, can I get your number?” he asks with a sleazy grin.
Sara didn’t even look up. “No thanks,” she mutters as she continues gathering her stuff.
The guy leans in closer. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We could have some fun together.”
I feel my blood boil at his words. How dare he speak to her that way? My hands curl into fists under the desk.
Sara’s eyes flash with anger. She whirls around to face him. “I said no. Now fuck off before I make you regret opening your mouth,” she spits
The guy recoils in surprise and mumbles something incoherent before slinking away with his tail between his legs.
I can’t help but chuckle. Feisty. Just my type.
Sara swings her bag over her shoulder and strides out of the classroom, head held high. I quickly gather my things and follow her out.
I keep my distance as she strides down the hallway. Her bag bounces against her hip with each determined step. I can’t take my eyes off her.
She turns the corner and I quicken my pace. I see her push through the exit doors leading outside. This is my chance. I follow her out into the crisp autumn air. She’s walking briskly across the quad, her hair blowing behind her.
My heart pounds as I close the distance between us. Just before she reaches the next building, I make my move. My hand darts out and grabs her wrist. She whips around, eyes blazing.
“What the f-”
I cut her off by dragging her into the alley between the science building and the admin offices. I press her against the brick wall, caging her in with my arms.
“Let go of me!” she shouts, squirming against my grip.
“Shhh,” I whisper, leaning in close. Her eyes blaze with anger and she tries to wrench free but I press my body against hers, trapping her in place.
“I saw the way that meathead was looking at you,” I murmur, my lips grazing her ear. She flinches away in disgust but I don’t let go. “How did it make you feel, knowing you had his attention? Did it get your heart racing, even just a little?”
I slide my hand from her mouth, trailing it down her neck. Her lips peel back in a snarl.
“Let me show you how good I can make you feel,” I purr, nuzzling into her hair.
Before I can react, her knee slams up into my crotch. White hot agony explodes through my groin and I double over with a choked groan, stumbling back.
Sara wastes no time. She shoves me hard and I collapse to the ground, writhing in pain.
“Fuck off and leave me alone, you creep!” she spits, her voice dripping with contempt. She flips me off for good measure before spinning on her heel and stalking away.
A fire ignites within me, burning away the pain. No one has ever dared defy me like that. But I like it. I like her spark. It only makes me want her more.
