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“Aleksandr.” I froze, but didn’t turn around. “Bud' ostorozhen, syn moy,” Be careful, my son. He said in Russian, a deep sincerity lacing his voice I’d never heard before. The kidnapping of my sister must have affected him more than he was letting on. He never usually said stuff like that.
I didn’t think for a second this woman was as sweet and innocent as she was trying to make herself appear to be. No. There was something deadly in the way she moved. The way she glided across the floor. That laser-type focus she had on my gun. The cunning look in her eyes. It showed her for what she was. A predator.
He had the height (6’7, easy) the weight (enough muscles to rip through his fucking shirt like The Hulk) and a face carved from stone. His eyes were the most remarkable shade of blue I’d ever seen in my life, light and sparkling, like the sunshine reflecting off the ocean’s surface. He was the entire goddamn package, and then he had to go and ruin it all by kidnapping me.
“You can either come willingly, like a good little girl, or I can throw you over my shoulder and drag you, kicking and screaming. The choice is yours.”
The idea of being hunted by him, chased and thrown over his shoulder and dragged to his bed, turned me on more than it should have.
It also revealed she was high up in the ranks of the cartel, since he obeyed her command, not saying another word.
“If you’re gonna kill me, kill me. I’m not afraid to die. So if you’re gonna do it, hurry up. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my face.” For the briefest moment, all I could do was stare at her in shock. I could tell by the look in her eyes she was entirely serious. She wasn’t scared to die. There wasn’t an ounce of fear on her face. Just total calmness, complete ease, like this was just another day at the office. I’d never met a woman like her. She was fearless. Even in the face of death.
And yet, none of the Bratva women I’d met had ever shown such a complete and total lack of fear. Except maybe my sister. But she was batshit crazy.
Oh, she hated me. It was obvious by the look in her eyes. But she wanted to fuck me too. And that was okay. Hate sex was fucking amazing.
I wanted to strangle the life out of him with my bare hands. And fuck him until I couldn’t move. Goddamn it.
He was exactly my type. The sheer, ginormous size of him. Those ruggedly handsome features, and that dominant, commanding personality was everything I craved in a lover.
You think games are a good idea though? Remember the last time we played monopoly?” Amusement rippled through me. She had a point. The last time we played, she stabbed Lukyan in the hand with a fork when she caught him cheating, dipping into the bank and stealing money when no one was looking. From that point on, monopoly had been banned from the house.
My morning routine was not to be trifled with. Especially my workout. If I didn’t hit the gym at least once a day, very bad things would happen. It was my release. My happy place. Where I went to rid myself of my inner demons. In a way, it was like therapy for me. The ache I got in my muscles after an intense workout was euphoria.
It didn’t make me nervous having her at my back. If anything, it made me excited. I wanted her to try something. To attack me. To give me a reason to throw her to the ground and pin her down with my body. But she didn’t. How disappointing.
Drea turned, giving me her back as she strolled towards the shower with complete casualness. I almost fell to my knees in worship.
He gripped my chin roughly, his large hand swallowing almost the entirety of my face. His eyes bored into mine, filled with so much passion and heat I thought they might devour me whole.
“Fuck, are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I frowned as she ran her hands over me, looking for injuries. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re not hurt.” I didn’t know you cared so much, malyshka. “Because I want to be the one to hurt you,” she hissed, slapping me across the face. Oh.
In a lot of ways, Drea was perfect for me. She lived and breathed this life, just like me. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. To hurt. To kill. She was just as cutthroat and brutal as I was. The truth of the matter was, I didn’t want to give her up. Not now, not ever.
Women were just as, if not more, dangerous than men.
If I could, I’d wipe all her memories of the men who’d come before me, leaving only me behind. Did that make me a bad man? Probably. Did I care? No.
Ugh. Sometimes I hated my inner voice. She was always a bitch, pointing out rational shit I’d rather forget or ignore.
I’d fallen hard for the man who kidnapped me, who kept me locked in a room day after day, refusing to let me go. A man who was strong. Fierce. A huge grump but who also did the sweetest things for me, like bring me grilled cheese sandwiches every day because I’d told him one time they were my favourite. Or when he brought me my own very first bike and taught me how to ride it.
Being around you soothes my mind, it quiets the storm raging inside of me. It brings peace to my soul. I could be having the worst, most frustrating day and seeing your smile—yes, that smile right there—would make all my troubles just fade away.”
I wasn’t in the mood to play games. I was tired, still in pain from the stab wound in my fucking shoulder, and pissed off I wasn’t balls deep in the woman I loved right now. Whoa, loved? I thought about it for a moment and then internally shrugged. Sounded about right.
