She wasn’t wrong either.
“We’re just talking,” I replied darkly, wishing to do all manner of things to her, talking not being any of them. This woman was intoxicating, and it took all of my willpower not to press my lips to hers.
Ivan was a lucky man. I’d never been jealous of anyone in my life. Why would I be? I had everything a man could ever want; money, cars, respect, power, and the pick of any woman I desired. So why did it feel like I was on the losing side for once? The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable to me.
“He’ll punish me for even that,” she scoffed and then panic flashed across her face again, realizing she’d said too much.
The thought of Ivan punishing her irritated me and I scowled at the very idea. The idea of Ivan laying his hands on her and blemishing her perfect flesh had my own hands curling into fists. I’d known he was a chauvinist, but I’d never thought of him treating women like that, but now it seemed all too obvious.
“Well then, Marisha,” I said, removing my arms and giving her some space to breathe before I lost control, “this will just have to be our little secret then, won’t it?”
“I really need to get back inside,” she replied, making no move to go. If anything, judging by the longing in her eyes, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
“To the party? Nonsense. No one wants to be at this party. Even the people throwing it don’t want to be here.” I slipped my hands into my pockets and stared out at the city below us, not wanting to push her to stay with me. I’d never chased a woman, and I wasn’t about to start now. “This party, like all the others, is just for show. It’s for rich, old men to make deals and for pretty women to catch up on gossip.”
I realized as soon as I said it that it was a completely sexist thing to say and I glanced towards her, giving a small shrug of apology before turning back to the city before us.
From my peripheral I watched her hesitate, her gaze flicking to the rooftop exit, but then she turned to look at the view with me. The city was alight with color tonight. The sun finally set behind Brooklyn bridge and the lights of the city illuminated the sky as it came to life. I loved this city. I loved how busy it was. I loved the people. I loved the culture. I loved it all. But standing here with Marisha inexplicably gave everything a whole new meaning.
“Have you ever been out dancing?” I asked, surprising us both. I would have liked to see a woman with her figure dancing. The soft material clinging to every curve. She’d move beautifully, body almost floating over the floor. I could almost picture it.
“Dancing?” she asked, sounding confused by the sudden change in topic.
“Yes,” I glanced over at her, “you know, that thing you do with your feet and your body.”
A timid smile played on her mouth and my nostrils flared in pride at the sight. I’d wiped away her sadness momentarily and had made this fragile, delicate creature smile. I wanted to reach out and take it for my own. To feel her lips curl up into a smile beneath my fingertips. I wanted to steal that smile for my own, so I did.
Turning back to her, I reached out, pressing the pad of my thumb against her mouth, and feeling the soft, pink flesh of her lips compress against my touch. Her breath was hot against my hand and a rumble came unwound from my chest. I lowered my hand from her face.
“Yes,” she said, trying to back away from my touch, “I know what dancing is. But no, I haven’t.”
I gazed into her face, wondering what the hell was coming over me. “You should get that husband of yours to take you sometime.”
“That’s never going to happen.” She shook her head, looking flustered. She ran her hand through her hair, pulling it to one side.
I watched every movement she made. Every blink, every breath she took, every purse of her lips. Jesus, was she a witch? I couldn’t look away.
In that moment, the whole world was Marisha.
The sky. The stars. The earth. The air.
“Maybe I could convince him to let me take you?” I offered.
What was I even saying? Ivan would never let that happen. I was surprised he’d let this beguiling woman out of his sight for more than five minutes. I knew if she were mine, she would be by my side every second of every day.
“Oh, please don’t,” she begged, the panic returning to her face, “I really should be getting back. He’ll be looking for me.”
I shook my head. “He’s having an informal business meeting like every other man in there, like I should be. He’ll be busy for a while yet.” I leaned closer, until my lips were next to her ear. “Which means I get you all to myself for a little longer.”
I wasn’t sure if I imagined it, but I was certain she seemed pleased by that.
Chapter Six
Marisha
I stared at the man holding me hostage. I knew what Ivan would do if he caught us here, alone in this shadowed corner of the rooftop, with only the sparkling trellis lights as our witness.
He’d throw us to the wolves. To Eduard and his ilk, to finish what they started with my parents.
The man in front of me wanted me though—no matter how much he tried to hide it and act nonchalant—and god it felt good to be wanted in a way that wasn’t ownership, even if it was based purely on momentary lust and not lasting love.
And, heaven help me, he was gorgeous. The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. The first time I’d seen him in the lounge, I’d nearly gotten wet just from the sight of him. And now here he was, close enough to touch, and my stomach was warm with desire that flooded down between my legs. He was as dangerous as Ivan in his own way, though. His mere existence threatened my life, and yet I couldn't walk away.
“You say my husband is like family, then you know how dangerous he is. Please stop this.” I backed away until my body pressed into the wall of ivy. Sparks of fear danced with flames of desire; it was intoxicating. “If he thinks anything happened between us, he’ll punish us both. He’ll hurt us both. Likely, he’ll kill us both. He really will. Please believe me.”
The man smirked, his thick, sumptuous mouth begging to be kissed, though I banished the desire immediately. To look was a sin, but to act upon it was a death sentence.
“Ivan wouldn’t dare touch me,” he said with confidence that would give even my husband pause.
“Ivan’s not scared of anyone.” I shook my head, pulse pounding as the man took a step towards me. “Not even Eduard. So why would he be scared of you?”
Maybe I should have connected the dots.
Maybe I should have smelled the years of blood and sweat upon this man’s body.
The strong hands built for the Bratva life, and the dark gleam in his eye that said he’d done many a bad deed.
Yet, in this moment, all I saw were his dark eyes full of promise. And his body, chiseled from the hardest stone and waiting to be touched by my soft fingers, called to me. He was a succubus, intoxicating and tempting, and he’d get me killed.
The Bratva King’s son. The prince. The heir apparent.
Maybe he would be an easier death than jumping off the building.
The man’s expression shifted, his lip curling in a near-snarl and his eyes narrowing. “Ivan would do well to be fearful of my father. A powerful businessman like Ivan does not hold a candle to the Bratva King.”
“You’re…” I stumbled on my words, realization flashing through my brain like rapid gunfire. I should have known. It was so obvious now. His bravado. The cut of his figure. The set of his eyes on either side of his nose. The resemblance was uncanny, though the son was twice the size of the father, they were equally dangerous. I had jumped from the viper’s den straight into a pit of them. “Eduard is your father? You’re Alexander Vasiliev?” My heart fell into my stomach. This was bad. So very bad. I licked my lips nervously, my throat suddenly dry and scratchy.
Ivan’s anger was nothing next to the man who wanted me dead and buried alongside my mother and father. And his son…how did his son feel about me? About the daughter
of traitors. Traitors who would have turned his family over to the FBI. This whole thing had been a ploy. An entrapment of sorts, I realized with horror.
“Get away from me,” I moved from the wall and tried to walk past him, but his arm lifted suddenly and I flinched. But instead of striking me, his palm came to rest on the trellis wall beside me, stopping me from leaving. We stood frozen, our bodies creating the shape of a ‘t’ in the hidden place away from prying arms. I tried to back up, but his other arm moved quickly to cage me. I was trapped in the middle, his muscles popping and veins blinking as he held me prisoner. “Please, just let me go. I’m sorry. I never meant to cause harm or offense. I don’t want to risk your father's anger. Who he is… who you are…”
Alexander leaned in close, his mouth stopping near my ear. As his lips moved, they brushed against my skin. It tickled, tantalized, and despite my fear it made me bite my lower lip and wish that his mouth would move to other places.
“Who I am is royalty, Marisha. Everyone wants me and what I have.” His right hand moved against the trellis, his arm angling down and coming closer to my body so that his forearm pressed gently against my breasts as he continued to keep me at bay. My nipples hardened under the touch and I begged them to stop, begged them not to betray my own forbidden desires.
“I’m not everyone,” I breathed out, trying to sound fierce, but instead sounding like a weak, wounded animal.
“No,” Alexander’s other hand left the wall and snaked against my back. His fingers trailed gently down my spine. “You’re certainly not.”
I couldn’t help myself, I shivered, my eyelids fluttering and my breath catching in my throat. His face was still so close to my own. If I turned my head, kissing would be an inevitability. Our lips would be too close to resist.
Without warning, the prince to the Vasiliev empire grabbed my shoulders with both hands and quickly turned me to face him. He walked forward, forcing me to press against the ivy and trellis once again. The wood pressed into my back, the scent of flowers overwhelming my senses. Though it was the scent of him that made me weak at the knees.
“You’re hurting me,” I whispered, his touch reminding me of Ivan gripping my shoulders at home, warning me against defying him. “I don’t want to be touched this way.” I stared up into his eyes, and his expression was unreadable. “Please,” I added, knowing I was begging in a childish, pathetic way, but it was all I knew to do in that moment.
I could not fight.
Though even if I could, I would be little more than a bait dog against the Bratva warrior prince.
Something about my ‘please’ changed the light in Alexander Vasiliev’s eyes though. If anything, the gorgeous orbs set into his tanned sharp face grew brighter, fiercer. His nostrils flared and he sucked in his lower lip, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
I pressed my palms against his chest and pushed gently. “Let me go.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
“I don’t want to release you, Marisha.” His grip lightened, but he did not let me go. He leaned in, face lowering towards mine, and there was nowhere to escape to. “I’m not sure I ever want to release you,” he rumbled.
This was insanity.
A moment’s loss of good sense that would send me to the gallows.
But what did I care?
Not long ago, I’d been prepared to jump to my death.
And, god, this death was so much easier to bear than splattering against the pavement below.
My breath caught in my throat as he stared down into my face, his pupils dilated. He seemed to be thinking, though of what I’m not sure, yet before I could ask him to release me once more, he leaned down and pressed his mouth against mine. His lips were smooth as silk and tasted like bourbon. His tongue pushed between my teeth, purposeful, thick, wet, demanding. I sagged against him even as I fought him, the allure of being wanted and not just owned seducing me.
This was the son of the man who’d killed my parents.
Who would likely have me sentenced to death.
I was a traitor to my parents’ memory, to my husband and to myself.
And I’d never wanted a man more, never wanted to be wooed and fucked more, than I did in those seconds of kissing.
I pressed harder against his body, balling my hands into fists as I groaned, my tongue moving with his.
Ivan would kill me.
Ivan would kill us both, despite who Alexander was, but I would be the first to die and become a bloody lesson for all. Panic doused me like water from a bucket, bringing me to my senses, and I pushed through the haze of desire.
“Stop it. Stop it!”
His lips were unyielding, commanding. They were used to having their way. Alexander would have what he wanted, and in those moments he wanted me. He wanted me to submit. But I’d been submitting for so long. I wouldn’t let another man strip me of my dignity, no matter how undeniably sexy he was. No matter how much my body ached to continue.
“I said stop it, dammit!” I pulled back my fists and slammed them into his chest as hard as I possibly could. I wished I was stronger, wished Alexander was slighter of build and not so much a wall of muscle. But nonetheless, he pulled away from me, eyes wide with surprise. He was unused to facing resistance from a woman. And he’d certainly never been hit by one before. Given the look in his eyes, I wished I could rewind time and erase the action immediately.
But there was something about the way my hands ached from hitting him, and my heart raced, that made me feel alive for the first time in forever.
I’d stood up for myself.
I’d shown I was more than a weak-willed, broken bird.
“You’ll regret hitting me,” he growled, brown eyes darkening by the second with the promise of punishment.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the word a pleading whimper on my lips. But we both knew that I wasn’t sorry. I had enjoyed the feel of his face under my palm.
He reached up and dragged his hand down his cheek, a devious smile playing at the corner of his mouth like he thought this was a game and not life or death.
I had to get away from him.
If he kissed me a second time, I wouldn’t have the strength to stop it.
“Don’t touch me again. Don’t ever touch me again. Don’t even look at me,” I warned, fear lacing my words. I took the opportunity to escape. He was standing back from me now, his arms no longer blocking the way, a confused look on his face.
As I walked swiftly away, I touched my fingers to my lips. They tingled, the memory of his mouth against mine refusing to fade. My heart was still pounding. And that flush of excitement, unlike any I’d ever felt before, was continued to bounce around inside my body. Each time it hit a barrier, to rocket in the other direction, the impact seemed to say the words—Need. Desire… Want.
I nearly fell through the doorway into the lounge, tripping over my heels as I crossed over the steel separator between the two floorings. I managed to right myself, and my gaze roved the room wildly, hoping Ivan had not seen me falter. I could not find him within the room. A small blessing.
Vesna was standing near the open bar talking with two of the other Bratva wives. If I were with her when Ivan appeared looking for me, then he would not ask me questions. There would be no reason for him to wonder what else I might have been doing in his absence, and then all I could do was pray that Alexander would not speak of our kiss to anyone. I walked quickly, running fingers through my curls, guessing that they must be a mess from being pressed up against the trellis.
I passed a mirrored wall and caught sight of myself. The hair was fine… it was my lipstick that was the problem.
The plum hue was smeared around my mouth, a splash of it like a scar across my cheek. I quickly swiped a napkin off a table as I passed it, and then snatched an ice water in a wine glass from a waiter, mumbling a ‘thank you’ in passing. My pulse was racing again, but for different reasons. One look, and anyone could tell I’d been kissed. Against my will or not, Ivan w
ouldn’t care.
I moved towards the bathrooms, to a giant plant that was tucked next to another mirror. Dipping the napkin into the glass, I wiped away the lipstick gone wrong quickly. I didn’t have the shade with me, but it was the sort that stained the mouth so even after swiping and swiping repeatedly, my lips still carried a hint of the color. Enough so that I’d fool Ivan. I hoped. If I leaned close enough, I saw faint purple still on my cheek. God, I didn’t even have any powder to hide the evidence upon my face.
Though I knew nothing would erase the memory. No amount of makeup remover or showers or years with a man I did not love.
“Marisha,” Ivan’s voice sounded behind me and I crumpled the napkin into a ball, dropping it into the planter as I turned to face my husband. His eyes narrowed on me and I held onto the ice water like it was a security blanket. “Why are you here alone?”
“Ivan, I told you earlier that I didn’t feel well. All the people and the warmth… I’m afraid I’ve been rather sick.” I lifted the ice water into view. “Sipping on cold water has helped. I did try to approach Vesna and the others, but I also did not wish to embarrass you by becoming ill in front of so many prominent business associates, or their wives.” I dipped my head a little, patting my cheek gently as if to check how hot it was. I was still flushed from my time on the rooftop with Alexander, and it made my lie all the more convincing. “I hope I did the right thing, husband.”
He liked to be called husband, liked the show of respect and the reminder to anyone listening that I was his.
Ivan stared at me a moment before nodding. “Keeping your distance is better than bringing embarrassment to us. Come, we’ll go home and see to your needs.”
We would see to my needs. I almost laughed, knowing that my needs would translate to his needs. His desire. His cravings.
Nauseated or not, unless I was sick in the bathroom and incapacitated, Ivan would take what he felt was his due as my husband. I might be spared him shoving his cock into my mouth so deeply that I choked, but I would not be saved from anything else.
Deviant Prince: A Forbidden bad boy Mafia Romance. (Born to Darkness Duet Book 1) Page 4
