I hear the door close and know he is gone. Naked, I make my way to the wet room. Stepping beyond the glass, I turn on the water. The burst of cold water hits my body and causes the sob to rip through me. No tears come but that sound of pain is enough for me.
Vitaly
I can’t believe I did that. When I walked into the room and she asked me first in Italian and then in Russian if I wanted a drink, I respected her more than I had before. She’s truly an amazing woman. She set the trap to capture me.
I walk down the stairs into the garage and take in the car, motorcycle, and all the equipment. I walk over to the door and lock it, throwing the bolt before I make my way back up to her loft. I look over at the bar thinking she’s there. But it’s empty. I didn’t hear her move. I see the mess we left from me clearing the bar where I took her.
Where I changed everything in one instant.
One moment we were fighting, but it was never with the intent of hurting her. When I took her lips, I knew. I knew to the depths of my soul that she would be different. She would taste different. Sex with her would be different.
I step back in the large space and turn to see a bedroom. Nothing to tell me more about the woman that I’ve watched for too long. The door to the closet is open and through it another door. I move toward the sound of water running, but the tortured sound of a soul breaking has me speeding up. I enter the bathroom and find her under the spray of the water. I push my jeans off my body along with my boots, and I slip in behind her. She’s breathing hard and not from exertion; she’s in pain. This is what she’s hiding. A torment I don’t understand. I pull her body back into mine and she stiffens and spins around. I hold her hips so she doesn’t slip and fall.
“What are you doing here?” she asks in English. “I thought you left. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want me. I’m a suka,” she spits the insult, and her head falls along with her eyes. An insult that is beneath her to say.
“Krasivyy, kotenok, you are the furthest thing from a suka.” I shake her until she looks up at me and opens those magnificent ice blue eyes. My beautiful kitten isn’t a bitch.
She tries to close her eyes again so I can’t see the pain in them, but I see it. My kitten has been tortured. Her eyes drop to my chest, taking in my Byzantine cross. It was given to me as a small boy by the nuns who named me and took me in until I ran away from the orphanage. I look down her and notice she has a similar cross around her neck. Hers jeweled while mine is plain. A sign that she’s from money while I’m not. She notices me looking down at hers and grips it in her hand, protecting it from my inspection.
Time to get to know this woman so I can figure out what I’m going to do next.
“The nuns at the orphanage gave me mine. How about yours?” I ask her in English. She’s fluent in Russian and that confuses me because her file says she’s Italian.
She looks down for a moment longer. Her eyes are sheltered when they come back up to mine. She’s not letting me see her again like I did on that bar. I want that woman back. The one who gave me the control she doesn’t give to others.
“My mama.” She doesn’t say anything else and pulls from my arms to wash her body. Her long dark hair falls down her back. I reach up and rub her scalp, feeling the tension leave her body. My cock is hard and demanding I take her again. She leans back into me after I rinse her hair. She grabs the soap and turns, and the smell of jasmine floats through the air.
“I don’t have manly soap,” she says before she rubs the bar across my body. Her hands are small compared to mine, but strong.
She eases around my body, rubbing my back. Her fingers trace over the large angry bear. The oskal piece takes up most of my back. Normally oskals are wolves, tigers, or leopards, but I felt the bear was more representative of me. I struggle with my temper, aggression, and authority. Grigori laughed when I told him I wasn’t getting a typical oskal marking. Enough of my other tattoos represent my life of crime. My occupation. Anatonia traces them all.
When she steps in front of me, her eyes are knowing but she doesn’t ask, and I don’t tell. Not wanting to break the spell we are both under. I lift her up and her legs wrap around me. I carry her to the bedroom, ignoring the wetness on both our bodies and the trail of water I’m leaving behind. I take her on the bed, hard, fast, and full of the anger we are both feeling.
Needing to forget we are enemies.
But she doesn’t know the monster I truly am. I hide it from her.
As the sun rises, I look over at her naked body. I used it so much during the night, but she never asked me to stop. She never questioned me more. I slide my hand down her spin and she stiffens. She’s awake.
“Kitten, I wish things were different.” I tell her the only words I can offer.
“They can’t be and we both know it. Goodbye.” She doesn’t turn and offer me those lips that at one point during the night were wrapped around my cock, giving me the best blow job I’ve had in a very long time, if ever. She called me bear many times after she saw my tattoo. But every time she came, she screamed my name.
I slip from the bed and grab my jeans and boots. I don’t worry about my ruined shirt. I walk away from her wondering how I’ll ever be able to go on with what I must do.
Chapter 3
Anatonia
I make it back to the mansion and I know things are different. Posy and Natale don’t leave their room all weekend, and Capo tells me that Natale ended Posy’s fear. I wanted to do it for her, and for him, but he chose to do it while I was away. I’ve spent the last two days trying to forget about Vitaly. He’s an enemy. I don’t know which Bratva he’s with, but I do know he’s a hired killer. A hitman. He didn’t tell me that, his tattoos did. Everything on his body tells his story. He’s been in prison a couple times. He went to jail before he was eighteen. He commands respect from his tattoos.
My judgement was completely off. But I can’t regret it. It was the best experience of my life that I’ll never forget. Every time he took me after the first time, he commanded my body. He gave me pleasure before he took his own. He played my body like a piano. We never talked about ourselves beyond our crosses. He never questioned me about my breakdown in the shower.
The doorbell ringing causes me to stop that train of thought, and I make my way to the door. Domino and another officer are standing on the other side.
“Hello, Anatonia,” Domino says. I nod at him. “Can we come in?” he asks with the respect due to this household.
“We need to come in,” the other officer says, and I turn stone eyes toward him.
“What is your business?”
“We need to speak to Natale,” Domino says.
I step back and allow them in. Taking in the fact that this other officer is using Domino. He knew we wouldn’t let him past the front door otherwise. I lead them to the kitchen where Capo and Maria are.
Maria excuses herself to go get Natale, and the other officer is staring Capo down. My body is tight and ready to knock his knees from under him. Make him respect this man. But I can’t do that. We have to hide in plain sight.