by Bella King
I scratch the stubble forming on the side of my face. “I don’t know what to tell you, Alexia.”
She rolls her eyes. “You could start with the truth.”
I stop at a red light, turning in my chair to face her. “I promise you, the truth is far too fantastic for you to imagine.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alexia
I’ve never known anyone to get themselves into trouble so frequently as Zeno. It seems like at every corner he turns, there are thugs out to get him. First, he was firing wildly at them in the factory last night while we made our getaway, and now, just this morning, he’s being chased out of the bagel shop by two of them. That doesn’t happen to ordinary people.
But Zeno is anything but ordinary. He’s always armed, claims not to have much money, and yet he drives a nice car and has no problem taking a woman he just met out on a shopping trip. It’s more than odd. It’s bizarre.
At this point, the question isn’t whether Zeno is telling me the truth. It’s whether he’s ever going to tell me the truth. Every sentence that leaves his mouth becomes more unbelievable than the last, and he doesn’t seem willing to level with me. I wonder if I should just hop out of the car and be on my way, forgetting any of this ever happened.
I stare into Zeno’s eyes, searching for a shred of honesty. With how nice he has been to me, I want to stay around him. It’s not just the food and place to sleep. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who has shown me the slightest hint of respect.
“I don’t need to know your life story, Zeno, but I want to know why trouble seems to follow you everywhere.”
“Maybe it follows you,” he replies.
I hold up a finger. “No riddles. Just tell me the truth, please.”
He sighs, looking me over for a moment before speaking. “Would you accept that I’m a crook just trying to turn my life around?”
“I figured you were a crook. You know those Russians, too, don’t you?”
“Some of them,” he admits.
I think for a moment, trying to piece things together before he has the chance to cover the story in lies again. I fold my hands in my lap, watching my thumbs move around in circles, chasing each other as the traffic light turns green, and we’re on our way.
I look up at him finally, biting the inside of my mouth and concentrating on his blank expression. “I still don’t understand how you stumbled onto me at the factory. Why were you out there?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Taking a walk.”
“Why would you be taking a walk that late at night?”
“Because I don’t sleep. I already told you that.”
“You’re an insomniac or something?” I ask.
He shrugs.
“Jesus, Zeno, don’t be so fucking passive. I’m trying to figure this shit out, and you’re sitting there like nothing is wrong. Talk to me,” I say, my voice growing louder with every word.
“There’s nothing to tell you, Alexia. I hate to say it, but I think you’re a little paranoid from your life on the streets. You don’t have to trust me, but don’t attack me over nothing.”
I groan. “Zeno, this isn’t nothing.”
“Some punks tried to jump me in the bagel shop. There are plenty of Russians in Portland, and I happened to know some of them from my days on the streets. All of that’s over now. I’m trying to start over, and nobody wants to let me, not even you,” he says, shaking his head. “I thought you’d understand. I thought we were kind of on the same team, you know?”
If he’s trying to guilt-trip me, it’s working. I shrink down in my seat, falling silent. I suppose I can’t hang his past over his head like that. I wouldn’t want someone to do that to were I ever to escape from the cycle of helplessness that I’ve found myself in. I’d want to move forward too.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
“It’s fine,” he replies, but his throat is still constricted in annoyance.
“Don’t be mad at me,” I blurt, a wave of desperation washing over me as I realize I’ve offended my only friend. “I’m sorry I bothered you about it. I was just freaked out.”
He places his hand on my thigh, squeezing my leg and letting a small smile creep back onto his face. “It’s alright, Alexia. It’s not a big deal.”
His acceptance of my apology calms my nerves, but it’s his hand on my thigh that makes me feel like I could melt into my seat. The warmth of his firm grip soaks through me like water through a paper towel, producing that same odd feeling in my stomach.
I lean back into the seat, staying silent in hopes that he’ll keep his hand there. Normally, I hate people touching me, but with Zeno, it’s different. His hand is comforting. It’s steady, reliable, and non-threatening. He’s not like the evil men who have touched me in the past.
I look down at his hand, allowing my eyes to wander curiously over the veins that lead up to his fingers and the faint spots and scars from his years in this world. I want to know all about the stories behind them, the experiences he’s had, and the events that simmer in his past. I’ve never been so curious about a person before.
His hand moves, but it doesn’t return to the steering wheel. Instead, it creeps up my thigh, just a fraction on an inch, but enough to send a tingling warmth through my pelvis. That warmth spreads between my legs.
I realize now what these feelings are. I’ve felt them before, just a few times, when I was reading a magazine that I picked out of the trash. There were pictures of nude people in it, and some of the pages were glued together with what I knew to be semen. The funny thing way, it excited me more than bothered me that someone had gotten off to those pictures.
The stimulation I feel now doesn’t come from any cheap magazine or the thought of a man masturbating over it. The incredible warmth and urgency between my legs are from the touch of Zeno’s hand. That alone is enough to make me horny.
Zeno’s deep voice interrupts me from my unclean thoughts. “So, are you going to let me have some of that food, or what?”
“Oh,” I say, jerking my head up and grabbing the brown paper bag I shoved between the seat and the door. “Here. I already ate my fill.”
“Which was probably all of it,” he jokes as he lifts his hand off my thigh to take the bag.
“No, there’s still a few things in there,” I say, almost letting out a sigh as his hand moves away from me.
God, I shouldn’t be this caught up in a man I’ve just met, especially not when he’s been lying to me. Can I help that he’s incredibly handsome and tough in all the right ways? Nobody’s perfect, but as far as looks go, I find him to be damn near close.
“Damn, I was joking about you eating everything. I didn’t think you actually had,” Zeno says, digging his hand into the bag on his lap as he keeps the other on the steering wheel.
“There’s a whole sandwich in there,” I say, frowning. “I didn’t eat everything.”
“I don’t feel one,” he says, swirling his hand around.
“Let me see,” I say, leaning over and pushing my hand into the bag with him. I push past a pile of unused napkins and a packet of ketchup to find a distinct lump against the bottom of the bag. I grab it, and Zeno nearly flies out of his seat.
“Jesus Christ,” he exclaims.
I yank my hand out of the bag, blushing wildly as I realize what I’ve just done. My cheeks feel as though I’ve been sitting in the sauna for an hour straight, and my heart is fluttering in my chest. I didn’t mean to grab his junk like that!
“You’re going have to warn me before you go grabbing my cock,” Zeno says, half-grinning and half-frowning as he shakes his head.
“I didn’t mean to. I was looking for the sandwich.”
He smirks. “To eat?”
I laugh. “That’s for you to eat.”
“I don’t do auto-fellatio,” he replies.
I slap his arm. “You’re a fucking perv, you know that?”
He shrugs. “I’m only human.”
Human?
He seems like a god to me, towering so high above every other man I’ve known. I’m not sure that I trust him, but can gods be trusted either? I seem to recall something about Zeus being quite the deviant.
“I still want that sandwich,” Zeno says, shoving his hand back into the bag and fishing around for a moment before finally pulling it out. “There it is.”
“See, I didn’t eat everything,” I say.
“True, just most of it.”
“I ate half,” I claim, but that’s a lie. I ate more than that.
Zeno chuckles as he unwraps his breakfast sandwich and takes a bite. I observe his jaw at work as he chews. The power in his mouth is like machinery, working tirelessly as he consumes his food. It makes me wonder what else his mouth is capable of.
I tuck my hands between my legs and fall silent again, applying slight pressure to my groin to satisfy my urge to touch myself while watching him. I’m used to not having privacy to enjoy myself, but around Zeno, I’m not sure that I want privacy. I want him to be involved in my private pleasure.
I pull my hands away from my thighs, placing them awkwardly to my sides to keep from making a fool of myself.
Zeno is a nice man, just helping me out while trying to figure out his own life. I don’t need to make this weird for him. Besides, he’s way older than me, and that dynamic would be frowned upon by most people.
Taboo? Maybe, but I can’t deny the feelings that are moving through me. Perhaps I do need a little privacy to take care of this so that I don’t embarrass myself further. I can’t fantasize about the bulge between his legs while I’m riding in the car with him. I know that he’d notice something was up with me.
I look out the front window, tearing my eyes and thoughts from Zeno so that I can return to normal. This is so unlike me, and I don’t like it. I need to get a fucking grip on myself.
Chapter Fifteen
Zeno
The thoughts running through my head are nothing short of nasty. Any normal man, any man with a fucking moral compass, would be disgusted by such thoughts and turn away from them immediately.
But I’m not the hero in this story. I’m not the good guy, and I don’t require myself to think like one.
I’m corrupt from my years in the mafia, and Alexia is the purest woman I’ve ever met. Her skin is like cream with a dash of cinnamon over it in the form of freckles. Her laughter is like honey poured into it, making her existence extraordinarily sweet.
And I have a sweet tooth.
I glance at her, noticing how hard her legs are clamped together. “I think we should go down to Sacramento on Monday, then maybe make our way down to San Diego is you’re interested in some hotter weather,” I suggest.
“I want the hottest weather,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “I want to sweat.”
I clench my teeth, stopping myself from making another sexual innuendo. “You’ll be sweating in San Diego,” I say.
“I want to be drenched,” she continues.
I bite my lip. “You’ll be drenched. It’s warm most of the year down there, and it’s super hot in the summer.”
“God, I can’t wait,” she says.
I wish she’d live long enough to enjoy summer. I could imagine going out to the beach with her, watching her dance along the shoreline in an emerald green bikini, the same color as my sweater she’s wearing. Her pale skin would look incredible so exposed like that. She’d glow in the summer sun.
“So, you want to stick around with me for a while, huh?” I ask as I take an exit off the highway to the mall.
“If you’ll allow it,” she replies. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
“You’re never a nuisance.”
“Even when I’m asking you questions about your past?”
“Well, maybe a little bit then, but generally, you’re pretty nice to be around.”
“And I like you too,” she says, her voice like pure sunshine.
Alexia is going to make it so hard to pull the trigger on her. She’s so sweet, so innocent, and so damn alluring. Even wearing my oversized clothing, I wouldn’t hesitate to pull her onto my lap and take her in this car in the middle of traffic if I thought it wouldn’t ruin my plans.
I must be patient, but I can enjoy her eventually.
We can share pleasure before I convince her to marry me. I dream of those nights with her. I’d have her on top every time, watching her bounce with such energy and joy on her face. I’d watch her eyes light up as she climaxed, milking my cock with her tight pussy.
I clench the steering wheel so hard that I swear I hear it starting to crack under pressure. I ease off of it, turning in the mall parking lot. I’ll let Alexia take some cash and go shopping on her own. I have a call to make to Boris about those two mafia guys at the bagel shop. I bet he knows who they are.
I park the car and hand Alexia a generous pile of cash. “Take this and buy yourself whatever you want,” I say. “Just don’t be too long, or I’ll get worried about you.”
“Wait, you’re not going in with me?” she asks.
I pull a cigar from my jacket, my second one of the day. “I think I’m going to make a few work calls. I have vacation days that I might as well use now.”
She frowns. “I’ve never gone shopping before.”
“I’m not going to baby you,” I reply. “I think you can handle this.”
She nods, her face serious like she’s on a critical mission. “I won’t be long,” she says, stepping out of the car into the cold.
“Have fun,” I say as she turns away and walks with her head held high toward the mall entrance.
As soon as she disappears inside, I pull out my phone and mash in the number to Boris. Puffing furiously on my cigar, I press the phone to my ear.
“Is something wrong?” Boris asks, already panicking before I can speak.
“Sort of,” I reply, “But not with Alexia. She’s with me.”
“Oh, thank god. I swear to god, if you lose that girl, I’m going to freak the fuck out.”
“I’m not going to lose her. Everything is going as planned.”
“So, why are you calling me?” he asks, his voice changing from panic to slight annoyance.
“I ran into some guys this morning, part of the Russian Mafia,” I say.
“Which one?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to ask you. One of them pulled a knife on me, talking some nonsense about the Kyiv Mafia.”
“They attacked you?!”
“They tried to, which was fucking stupid because I could’ve blown their brains out easily,” I reply.
“Was one of the guys bald?” Boris asks slowly.
I narrow my eyes, clutching the phone harder. “Do you know those two idiots?”
“It could’ve been Igor and Max,” he says. “Igor is bald.”
I groan. “Why the fuck is our mafia attacking me? They almost blew my fucking cover!”
“Relax, Zeno. I’ll take care of it. Are you sure it was Igor and Max?”
“I have no fucking clue who it was, but they chased me out of the building with a knife. I didn’t think we hired people that stupid.”
Boris chuckles. “You’d be surprised.”
“I don’t want to be surprised,” I grumble. “This could fuck up my plans with Alexia if it hits the news.”
“Oh, relax. It’s Igor that’s going to have his face in the news,” Boris replies. “He and Max will have to lay low, and I suggest you stay at the house.”
“That’s the plan,” I lie. “But I still have to make sure Alexia doesn’t feel like a prisoner. I might take her out for dinner or something later.”
“Just lock her in the house,” Boris urges.
“It doesn’t work like that,” I snap. “This is a sensitive mission, and I’m treating as such. She won’t marry me if she knows that she’s in danger.”
There’s a moment of silence before Boris responds. “Zeno,” he says dryly.
“What?” I ask, wondering what
his problem is.
“Don’t fall in love with the girl.”
“Huh?” I ask, recoiling, and pulling the phone away from my ear. “Are you crazy?”
Boris sighs. “She’s cute. I get that. I know you want to keep her all to yourself, and that’s fine. I have plenty of hookers at home. I just don’t want you to get attached. You have to kill her, remember?”
“I’m well aware,” I reply. “I’m not fucking her anyway.”
“But you will.”
“If it makes sense.”
“Jesus, Zeno, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I insist, growing annoyed with his accusations.
“Have you ever heard of the game called Fuck, Marry, Kill?” Boris asks.
“Yeah…”
“Well, buddy, you’re doing all three. Fuck the bitch, marry her, and then kill her so that you don’t have to hear from me again. It’s game over for the mafia business for both of us. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
I shrug. “That’s the plan.”
“Good. I’ll take care of Igor and his retarded cousin, and you take care of Alexia.”
“Cool,” I reply sharply, eager to get off this phone call.
I resent Boris’s accusations that I’m going to fall in love with Alexia. I want to fuck her brains out and take her money, not buy a cottage and grow vegetables together.
The phone line goes dead as Boris hangs up, and I throw the phone into the center console, slamming it shut as though doing so will take away the words that Boris said.
I have no feelings for Alexia. She’s from a totally different world from me. It would never work out even if I wanted it to. She’s my target, my key to retirement, and the only way I’m ever going to be rich.
I won’t fall in love.
Chapter Sixteen
Alexia
I’ve never worn lingerie before, but Zeno did tell me I could get anything I wanted.
I thumb through the stack of money in my hands as I stand in front of a pink storefront, counting out over a thousand dollars. Whatever lies he told me about being broke are out the window. Zeno is loaded, and I don’t feel any remorse for going through the money he gave me.
