PROTECTING SASHA
NATASHA L. BLACK
Copyright © 2019 by Natasha L. Black
All rights reserved.
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CONTENTS
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Epilogue
Saving Sky (Sample)
A Note from the Author
Also By Natasha L. Black
About the Author and Mailing List
Introduction
The Russian mob is after my best friend's sis and it's up to me to protect her.
Marrying Sasha is the quickest way to bring her to the US.
She’ll be my fake wife and I'll do her brother a solid.
Except, the night I meet Sasha is the night that changes everything.
She's unlike any woman I know...
Her exotic beauty and delicious curves make me want to share not only my last name but also my bed with her.
I need to taste her, touch her and make her mine.
When the mob comes after us, I have a real reason to teach them a lesson.
They have no idea who the h*ll they’re messing with.
Our marriage may be fake, but my commitment to keep Sasha safe couldn't be more real.
1
Sasha
You got this.
Even in my head, my voice sounded hollow and unconvincing. It didn't matter. I didn't have a choice anymore. I had to do it.
Just breathe in, and breathe out.
There. That was better.
I forced my spinning thoughts to the Red Square, the one I’d passed through thousands of times before. There was a time when I thought it was all like a fairytale, the Kremlin’s red towers, St Basil’s Cathedral’s multi-colored, multi-patterned domes.
It's not going to work, a sure voice said in my head. This was Aleksi. Aleksi, who owned things and kept things. How many times had he said it? "You're mine. Never forget that."
I squared my shoulders and checked the time on my phone. Only five minutes now.
Five minutes and I'd be at Bosco Café, which was once our favorite. A lot of things had once been.
As I approached the café’s grand exterior, I could see him immediately. He was at our window spot, out in the front, his close-cropped head at an erect, alert angle, as if he knew already. He’d been hyper-alert for years, though. Since he joined them, it was in his walk, and the very brass tones vibrating in his voice, the way his colorless eyes twitched around me when I spoke.
And now, I was about to tell him the unthinkable.
My hand closed on the café’s cool brass door handle. Now was the time. How many times had I promised myself that I would do it? How many times had I chickened out, not following through? How many times had I forgiven him?
My jaw set tight. Too many times. But not this time.
I walked in.
Immediately the light jazz wafted an unconvincing aura of calm around me. The place was as opulent as ever — the chandelier, a colorful glass creation that probably cost more than my parents’ apartment. Every chair was a glistening work of art.
"Sasha." Aleksi stood, and I went over for our greeting kiss. I had to go through the motions before I dropped the bomb. Aleksi was a stickler for tradition, not that it would make that much of a difference when it came down to it.
Our lips pressed together, and I felt nothing. I was only putting off the inevitable.
"You look beautiful," he said, his eyes roving over my body. Even though I had purposely chosen the plainest clothes I had for the occasion. He had to see that we didn't fit anymore; that parting was for the best.
As we sat down, my teeth ground together.
"I ordered your favorite," he said with a small smile.
The chai latte was sitting at the ready, emitting a delicious aroma.
I didn't touch it. I wasn’t there to exchange pleasantries.
"There's something we have to talk about,” I said.
His brow clouded over. "Not this again,” he said with a mirthless chuckled, intertwining his fingers.
We’d fought again the night before. I nodded. "I can't do this anymore."
He frowned, although it didn't reach his eyes. They remained merry as if they knew better.
"Sasha, my little mysh." He put a hand on mine as if him calling me his mouse was still cute. "Be reasonable."
I withdrew my hand. "I am, Aleksi. For the first time, I am."
As quickly as if it had been a mask, Aleksi scowled. He withdrew his hand and leaned back in his seat, his eyes appraising me. Avoiding his gaze, I noticed that the cafe wasn't as empty as I had thought. Dozens of well-dressed people made pleasant conversation at the tables around us. I could even recognize one or two of my clients from the market. One woman was wearing one of my gauzy shirts.
"You want to do this here, now?" Aleksi carefully raised his voice, and I could feel gazes snapping our way. "You really want to make a scene?"
My heart thumped. I couldn't afford a scene. My business was the only thing keeping me afloat, keeping my parents in their house. Adrian helped as much as he could, but there was only so much he could do.
"No," I said quietly.
The smile slid back into place on Aleksi's face. "Good. We agree then. A pleasant meal. Then you can say whatever it is you have to say."
His tone indicated that he thought it highly likely that the matter would have passed by the time the meal was finished. I wasn't going to be so easily swayed though.
As we sat there and I made stilted, poor conversation with the man who was soon to be my ex-boyfriend, I waited. I knew what I was going to say. The words that I should've said two years ago when I found out the truth about Aleksi’s ‘new job.’ The words that had been whittling away at me from the inside, hollowing me out. Regardless of the consequences, I couldn’t hold them in anymore.
So, I laughed feebly at Aleksi's jokes, sipped my chai tea, ate the duck and carrot dish that was placed in front of me. Then, when the plates were cleared, and the waiters had retreated, and it
was just Aleksi and me, and a handful of people still left, I said, "Now, about why I asked to meet you here."
Aleksi's expression was one of pure befuddlement. "Not merely to enjoy my company?"
"Aleksi-"
"No dessert?" He said in a warning tone.
I glared at him but stayed silent. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill me. So, I waited as he called over the waiter, ordered the dessert. The chocolate salami, his favorite, was set down minutes later.
He lifted the fork to my mouth, and I snapped. "It's over. I want out."
The fork hovered there as if to challenge what I'd said. Aleksi's eyes drilled into me, daring me to say it again, to say more. I shoved the fork down. "I've had enough. I can't do this anymore. The lies, the secrecy."
He sat there for a minute; then he began to eat the dessert, casually, as if he didn't have a care in the world. But when he was finished, and his razor-sharp eyes lifted to mine, I knew that wasn't near the end of it.
"We’ve discussed this," he said in a tone that indicated the matter was closed.
"No," I said. "You discussed this. You told me how it was going to be. I do not agree with that anymore. I do not agree with this whole farce. I don't even love you anymore, Aleksi, does that not mean anything to you?"
He flinched briefly and then reassembled his features into one of certainty. "We're going through a rough spot. There's no need to be over dramatic."
"This is no rough spot," I said, my frustration building. "This has been going on for two years now, ever since you started working with them."
A muscle in his jaw quivered. "I told you-"
"I know, never to speak of them. But I am now. For the last time. Because they're the ones who changed you from the man I loved to someone I don't even recognize anymore. You’ve become someone I don't want to know."
He scoffed silently. "The man you loved was weak; a fool. Poor and powerless."
"I don’t care, he was the one I loved."
Still, he chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're talking about."
I rose to my seat. "It doesn't matter. The point is, I’m leaving. And if you ever cared for me at all, if this was ever real, then you’ll let me go. You know I won't tell anyone what I know. Please, just let me and my family go safely."
Aleksi was looking straight through me. "They won't care about your promise of silence."
His eyes narrowed. "And if you can leave me, who knows what else you are capable of?"
Panic sliced through my gut. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. My hands gripped the back of the chair painfully as I stood.
"I'm warning you," Aleksi said, "Sit back down."
An image jolted into my head — one of myself five, ten years in the future. Hunched over my seat the same way, the same bitter words curdling in my gut. No, despite the dangers, I had to do it now.
"But my parents?" I said brokenly, "Aleksi, please."
He dismissed my concerns with a wave of his hand. "They once stood by me despite everything. I can guarantee their protection. Not yours. There is no love for traitors among my brothers and me."
"I'm not betraying you," I said. "I'm just done with this life. I can't live this way, Aleksi."
His cold laughter was jarring. "Yes," he said sardonically. "It must be so hard for you. All the nice restaurants, all the special events. All the dresses and necklaces and-"
"You know I never wanted any of that. I just wanted my old Aleksi back."
"But you can't have him. He no longer exists."
Tears came to my eyes, but I blinked them back. "I know that. That's why I have to do this. Goodbye Aleksi."
Then I turned my back on the man who'd once been my great love and left.
"I'm warning you," he said, his words filling the room, not caring who heard.
I kept on walking.
Even as knives of tension ran along my spine, the first breath of fresh air I took outside of Bosco Café tasted an awful lot like freedom.
2
Pierce
I leaned on the balcony rail and took in the cityscape of New York City. The air up there was cool, almost cold. It seemed cleaner somehow, though. Maybe it was all the artfully arranged plants they had in the corners of each balcony. Who knew?
I’d have to go back soon; I knew that. The others had already tried calling me over once. But they were drunk, and time passed differently when you were drunk. I should have been drunk too.
Maybe then, I wouldn’t have the weird melancholy looking at the city, usually one of my favorite things to do.
I rested an elbow on the ledge, then my head on my hand. When had it changed? When had getting into lux bars I'd once never been able to afford, partying with whatever high-class girls I wanted, eating the best food, buying the best suits lost its potency?
It was odd, looking at all the city lights and wondering if there were millions of happy citizens. Or if they were all like this; staring out into the sky and wondering how you could be missing something when you had everything.
I had the job, the friends, definitely the money. I had the girls, the success, the career I loved. And yet I still felt empty.
"Pierce, buddy!" Adrian called. "Don't go jumping on us now!"
I laughed, then turning my back on the cityscape and all its questions, went back to join my friend.
"I was just thinking," I called back.
"That's the problem!" he exclaimed, lifting both glasses at once. "You're supposed to be drinking - not thinking."
The girls at our table giggled dutifully. I was pretty sure one was Samantha, and that her tall leggy brunette friend, might've been Heather.
"Lucky for you, I saved you a spot," Adrian said, gesturing to the plush leather seat across from him. "It almost got stolen like seven times."
The brunette frowned. "I told you, Cara is cool."
"And I told you," Adrian said swiftly with a winning smile. "Bros before hos. And there's only so much alcohol I have for bros and hos."
The brunette pouted, but Adrian patted her. "Don't worry. I can call you a cab if you'd like."
I shot him a look, but he was all smiles. Most of what Adrian said wasn't serious, which was how we both liked it. Life was serious enough without grumbling about it too. However, I could have done without him referring to women as ‘hos.’
I picked up my craft beer and took a long, good swig. The tension ebbed out of my shoulders. My job was go-go-go enough, and the night was meant to be a way to kick back. I really did have it good.
The night rolled on, fueled by drinks and laughter and smiles. The girls were able to drop in that they were Instagram models, while we were able to drop in that we ran a rock-climbing gym. The brunette and I hit it off, while the blonde was on Adrian's lap within minutes, but then a phone call interrupted.
The blonde protested as Adrian lifted it to his ear.
"Can we talk another time?" he asked in a beautiful rendition of a sober voice.
His face went white. "Oh, shit. Yeah."
He stood up, ignoring the squeals of protest from the blonde. He cupped his hand over his phone.
"Be right back," he told me. Then mouthed - keep them here.
Both of the girl’s glares flicked to me. I threw up my hands. "Don't look at me."
Adrian leaving had suddenly put a damper on the party. I noticed that the brunette had a donkey laugh, while the blonde's gaze was already roving. The beer goggles were starting to slide off.
I yawned. How many times had Adrian and I been to that very bar, and hung out with different renditions of those very same girls?
Maybe having a chill night at home wouldn’t have been the worst thing.
"Are you like, doing anything after?" The brunette asked, already glancing to the bar.
"Nope," I said with a wide smile. "We'll probably finish off with a glass of warm milk, then go home in to watch some Desperate Housewives." I looked at her pointedly, to make sure she got the point. "You k
now Brownsville?" I said casually.
Her eyes widened.
Brownsville was one of the worst neighborhoods in New York City. When you heard about shootings, stabbings, or just your regular old murder, it probably happened there. Clearly the girls had thought they were landing some Central Park guys.
"We’ll be right back," the blonde said, and, as she rose, I knew I would probably never see them again. The thought didn't bother me in the slightest.
I chuckled a bit darkly to myself. Of course, I didn't live in Brownsville. But I hadn’t lied in so long, it actually felt a bit good. Without Adrian by my side, it all felt dull and stale.
"Sorry about-" Adrian paused and looked at the empty seat on either side of me. "They're gone?"
"I may have told them I had an apartment in Brownsville," I admitted.
Adrian's expressive brow rose and fell several times before he could come to speak. "You what?"
If there was one thing people noticed about Adrian, it was that he had expressive eyes. And right then, his were saying you can't be serious.
"I did," I said. "Wasn’t this feeling a bit overdone?"
"Uh, no?" Adrian said, his brow still frozen on his forehead. He shook his head.
"Who was that anyway?" I asked.
"My parents," he said. "They told me my sister just-"
His phone rang again, and he answered it immediately. "Hello? Yeah, I can still talk. She can too? Yeah, put her on video."
Seconds later, a soft yet attitude-laced voice came on the line. "I'm not dead, Adrian."
"Yeah, I know. Come on, a big brother can’t ask to see his sister when it's been months?"
"I'm not exactly looking the best," his sister continued, "But sure."
I glanced over at the screen; I couldn't help it. As the image flashed into view, my breath left me. Jesus. That was her not looking her best?
I'd seen pictures of Adrian's blonde, gorgeous sister enough times. Yet somehow, seeing her in movement, with those big, wide-set brown eyes on that delicate face, with her collection of sandy blonde waves, made my mouth run instantly dry.
"Someone’s there with you?" Sasha said.
"Relax," Adrian said, reaching over to pat my arm. "It's just Pierce. He doesn't bite."
I grinned. Holy shit was she hot. "Not much," I said without thinking.
Protecting Sasha Page 1
