by Bella Jewel
He doesn’t trust me.
I get that, but it makes it difficult for me to find a way to end this. Just the thought of that has my stomach coiling. You can’t sleep next to someone each night, and begin to feel what they’re about, then just kill them with no emotion. Dimitri has pulled an emotion from me, and that emotion is confusing and all consuming. And I have to kill him. I have to. There is no choice. If I don’t, I’m risking my family.
I don’t know how I’m going to do it, though.
But I have to. Somehow.
“You’re going back to the room,” Luke says, tugging my arm and bringing me back to right now—I’ve been living in my own head a lot lately. “I have work to do and babysitting isn’t part of my job description.”
“I know that,” I mutter, as he pulls me along. “You didn’t do a very good job last time you were left to babysit me.”
He grunts, but continues dragging me to the door. Dimitri left me with Luke after supper tonight, and disappeared with Livvie. We all know what he’s doing with her, and I’m not sure that sits well with me. Worse, I don’t even know why it doesn’t sit well with me. Luke has been grumbling for the past two hours, and he’s finally decided he’s sick of looking after me. I don’t blame him really, I’m tired of being led around like a damned dog because Dimitri won’t let me drop these stupid cuffs.
“He’s busy,” I point out just as we step below deck. I was enjoying the fresh, salty air.
“Not my problem.”
He takes me to Dimitri’s door, and the moment we get to it, he grips the door handle and flings it open. No knocking. No letting himself be known. Nope, he just swings that sucker open as though he owns the place. I’m scared to look in, because I know who and what Dimitri has been occupying his time with. I gasp when I finally get the courage to look. I see Dimitri on the bed with Livvie. He hasn’t heard the door open, probably because she’s moaning so loudly. He’s pounding his cock into her deep, her legs are over his shoulders and the look on his face is completely expressionless. I press my free hand to my chest and struggle to breathe.
I can’t move, though.
Clearly Luke can’t either because he hasn’t taken my arm and pulled me away.
We watch as Livvie reaches up, going to rest her hands on Dimitri’s chest. He jerks his body, his face scrunching in utter disgust, and then suddenly his hands are curling around hers, shoving them above her head forcefully. “You know the rules—no touching me with your hands. You don’t get to feel.”
I turn my eyes to Luke, who is smirking. He’s finding this . . . funny? He’s watching his boss fuck Malibu Barbie and that’s somehow amusing? I feel my cheeks burning and my heart pounding as I turn back to Dimitri and Malibu. She’s trying to press her lips to his chest now, as if she didn’t hear him tell her no. He lets go of one of her hands and grips her jaw so tightly she yelps.
“What. Did. I. Say. About. Touching?” he growls.
“Jesus, Dimi!” she snaps, jerking her face away. “You never let me touch you during sex.”
He shoves off her suddenly, sending her body sailing off the bed. I catch a glimpse of his cock and holy shit—holy fucking shit—it’s huge. With flaming cheeks, I turn and try to rush off. Only to realize Luke still has my cuffs. I stumble and trip over my own feet, crying out loudly. Luke jerks me back up by my chains and when I look back into the room, Dimitri is staring at us.
“Enjoying the show, Luke?” he grunts, but I can see the anger in his face.
I’m not looking at him, I’m looking anywhere but at him.
Luke snorts and shoves me forward. “Think your girl here was enjoying it more; I could nearly hear her pussy clenching.”
“You jerk!” I snarl as he shoves me into the room.
“Take her,” he says, his tone bored. “I’m done babysitting. Get Wiley to do it.”
Wiley is the other guard-slash-asshole Dimitri has following me around when he doesn’t want to. Though Wiley is a little kinder and more talkative than Luke. Without waiting for Dimitri’s answer, Luke turns and walks out. I can feel my cheeks flaming. He just left me in a room with a naked couple whose sex was just disrupted. That’s not awkward, no, not at all.
“Get out, Livvie,” Dimitri orders, his voice still thick.
“Goddammit, you’re never going to finish satisfying me. That girl is always around,” she grumbles, tugging on her panties as though I’m not standing in the room.
I dare to look at Dimitri, no doubt expecting him to be staring at Malibu’s boobs, but he’s not—no, he’s looking at me. His eyes are trained on my face. Every now and then they slide down to my lips. God, if he keeps looking at me like that, I might offer to take Malibu’s place beneath him. I swallow, inwardly cursing, and turn my gaze back to my feet.
I need new sneakers.
Really, really need new sneakers.
“Move it,” Dimitri barks.
“I’m moving,” Malibu snaps. “Jesus.”
She storms past me, half dressed. I don’t miss the moment when she rams her shoulder into mine. I grind my jaw and try to hold back the string of curse words I’d like to spit at her. When the door slams, I stare up at Dimitri again. He’s still looking at me. Why is he still looking at me? God, have I got something on my face? No, that look isn’t one of humor, it’s a little bit . . . lusty.
“I, uh, sorry, I, uh, walked in and . . .”
Get it together, Jess.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”
He’s silent for a long moment, so I look at him again. He’s still staring. Honestly. Maybe he’s having a brain aneurism and I just don’t know about it.
“No problem,” he says, and damned if his voice isn’t thick with need. “She doesn’t do as she’s told anyway.”
I snort. “Well, it’s not surprising, since last time I checked she isn’t a dog.”
His eyes harden and he glares at me. “I have one rule, it’s not hard to follow.”
I sigh, walking in the room and rattling my cuffs in his face. “I need to shower. Take them off.”
“You’re not curious about that rule?” he says, digging into his jeans and pulling out a key.
“Not really. Should I be?”
He shrugs and when his hands touch mine, I can’t help the shudder that runs through me. He lifts his eyes, even though his hands are still working. They meet mine and I can see full awareness in them. He knows I just shuddered, and worse, he knows why.
“Are you going to fuck me?”
“W-w-w-what?” I gasp, shaking my head quickly.
“It’s a simple question.”
My mouth drops open. “I’m your captive, I’m sure there’s a condition created for the love between a captive and a captor.”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Stockholm syndrome, and you don’t have it.”
“How would you know?” I say, crossing my arms.
He gives me an expressionless, almost bored look. “Your arousal is very real.”
I gape, giving him a fully disgusted expression. “What?”
“You heard me—I can almost smell it on you. All it would take for me is one swipe of my tongue through that sweet pussy and you’d be on your knees. Now, answer my question.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so, buster. And what makes you think I have a sweet pussy—I could be a man.”
He snorts. “You’re not.”
“I could be,” I whisper as he steps closer, getting far too close to my comfort bubble.
“You’re not.”
“It’s a very real possibility.”
“Not.”
“Okay, so even if I’m not . . .” I begin, struggling for breath as he stares at my lips. “You still don’t know I have a sweet pussy.”
“You have a sweet pussy.”
“You can’t possibly know that!”
His mouth jerks up at the corner, and I nearly fall to my knees.
“You. Have. A. Sweet. Pu
ssy.”
“You’re such an asshole, I hope you’re aware of that.”
He tilts his head and gazes at my neck like he wants to lunge at it and suck it.
“I’m aware,” he murmurs.
“Take a step back,” I order, my voice shaky.
“Answer my question.”
“W-w-what question?”
He steps forward again, leaning in so close I can actually smell Malibu’s perfume on him. Ugh.
“Are. You. Going. To. Fuck. Me?”
“Dream on,” I whisper, unable to force my voice to make an appearance.
He smirks. Goddamn him. I’ve not seen anything but a hard expression on his face, so seeing him smirk is kind of like seeing sunshine. I stare at his lips—oh, they’re so full and manly. And when he’s smirking, I can see a dimple. Just one, though. Strange man.
“Then my one rule won’t matter to you, will it?”
I shift nervously. “I suppose not.”
“We’ll see.”
“Can I shower now?”
He steps back, waving his arm toward the door. “By all means.”
I rush off, getting to the door and taking hold of the handle. Just as I reach it, I turn and open my mouth before I think about it.
“Do you have some kind of . . . condition?”
He raises his brows.
“I mean, you’re one thing one minute, and another the next. I thought maybe . . .”
“Maybe I just like a challenge.”
I study his face. He’s serious. He thinks I’m a challenge. A challenge for what? To get into bed? Is he trying to get into my panties because I’m fragile? I turn my expression to stone, and he notices. Boy does he notice. His whole body stiffens and he narrows his eyes.
“Don’t bother,” I growl. “You’ll never have sex with me, I can assure you of that.”
“Care to tell me why?”
I look him dead in the eye. “I imagine for the same reason you won’t let anyone touch you.”
I close the door, but not before I catch his expression.
It’s one of complete shock.
Yeah, buddy. I told you I wasn’t what you thought.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dimitri
The same reason as me.
The same reason as me.
No, it’s not possible. She’s read me all wrong. She would have no idea why I don’t like being touched, she’s just assumed. She couldn’t know. Nobody knows. Nobody understands what it’s like being me. All that’s happened here is that she’s attempted to piece together a story as to why I am the way I am.
I’m used to it.
Many people in my life have tried to figure me out. Countless psychologists have spoken to me, trying to get to the roots of who I am. No one ever gets deep enough—I won’t allow it. The shell of me is what I am, and that’s how I intend it to remain. Some pirate’s whore won’t allow me to change my mind.
I should have never given her a minute of myself, not a damned minute.
Now she thinks she knows. And now she’ll try to play on that. No, that can’t happen. I won’t let it happen. I’ve lived too long being the only thing I have. I have women, they respect my boundaries—mostly. I have my men and my missions. There is only one goal in my life, one thing that I keep breathing for—revenge. Nothing will come in the way of that.
And yet it did. For just a second I forgot what it was I wanted so badly.
Never again.
Jess
Another week later.
You’ve got to be kidding me. No way. No freaking way. Why would she choose this exact moment to show up? I mean seriously. I sit on the bed, staring at the door and then back at my hands. I can’t tell Dimitri. He doesn’t even look at me right now, let alone help me when I need him. Since the night I caught him with Malibu, he’s barely acknowledged me.
He even lets me roam the ship now.
My stomach cramps and I bring myself back to now. She’s here—Aunt Flo, otherwise known as the Red Sea, Doomsday, the rag, Aunt Cherrie, surfin’ the crimson wave, the Red Dragon, Shark Week, or to those of us who are of a more simple mind—period.
Yes, my period is here.
I cup my face in my hands and groan. The two girls that actually came on this ship with us are snotty, rude, and are here for nothing more than to serve Dimitri. They’re not going to help me. The best I’d get from them is hurled over the side of the ship to make good of the name “Shark Week.” The only chance I have is to go to either Luke or Dimitri. I don’t have any kind of protection, being that I was captured and taken against my will. So I have to ask someone.
Luke would laugh at me, he’s that kind of evil.
That leaves Dimitri. I don’t know any of the other twenty men on this ship, and they’ve been given strict instructions not to know me. Though one of them gives me a smile that really, really makes me want to go and talk to him. It helps that he’s handsome and has the sweetest face I’ve ever seen.
Back to now, though.
I have to approach Dimitri. Not only that, but I have to ask him for tampons and pads. I groan loudly and rub my cheeks, feeling utterly horrified that my life has resorted to this. Maybe I should throw myself off the ship—it would make for a far more interesting ending than having to ask a man who despises me for womanly protection.
It has to be done, though.
I get to my feet and squirm uncomfortably as my stomach gives me another dull ache. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I walk out of the room and toward the massive dining area. Dimitri spends a lot of his time there, plotting against Hendrix. He’s not asked me a lot, which surprises me considering he took me to lure him in. I suppose in the scheme of things, he doesn’t need anything from me to do that. Just having me here is enough to get Hendrix out of hiding.
It takes me a solid five minutes to convince myself to enter the dining room. By the time I do, everyone is staring at me. Yes, I’m standing in an open doorway. I look over the men until I see Dimitri, sitting at the end of a long table. He’s got Malibu on his lap, and the fact that I can’t see his hand and she’s making strange faces tells me he’s not just talking to her. Great. Just great.
I put my head down and walk over, hating that I am being forced to do this. I clear my throat when I reach him and he slowly raises his eyes until he’s staring up at me. “What?” he mutters.
“I . . . I need to speak with you, it’s important.”
“I’m busy,” he says, running his hand up Malibu’s thigh.
She’s smirking at me, and it’s taking all my strength not to let my PMS free and bitchslap her upside the head.
“It’s important,” I grind out.
“So is what I’m doing right now,” he says, bored.
Asshole.
“I don’t care what you’re doing right now,” I snap. “I need to talk to you.”
“Later.”
“Now would be good.”
He stares at me, his expression still bored. “I said . . . later.”
“It’s important,” I force out through gritted teeth.
He leans forward, causing Malibu to squeak. “I said fuckin’ later.”
I throw my hands on my hips and get up in his face. “What is wrong with you? Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby? No, scratch that—she would have had to do it numerous times for it to have created something like you.”
I can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.
“You’re walking a very fine line.”
“What are you going to do?” I scoff. “Sit there in your chair like a tough wiseass? You’re pathetic, Dimitri.”
“You know nothing about me,” he growls, throwing Malibu off his lap and standing.
“I know everything about you. You feel sorry for yourself because of a life you had that was bad. Instead of changing it, you dwell on it until you become this.” I shove my finger at his chest.
“You know nothing about the man I am, or why I do
the things I do. If you want to hate someone for this situation, hate Hendrix.”
“Hendrix is three times the man you are!”
I hear a few gasps, and Dimitri lashes out, taking my shoulders and hurling me forward.
“Hendrix is a lowlife scumbag who puts his crew before his family. He will bleed and I will make it slow and painful. If you’re lucky, I might let you watch.”
“You’re a monster. Hendrix won’t let you beat him. You want to know why? Because he is a good, strong man who fights for what he believes in.”
“Well, he doesn’t have very good taste then, does he?”
Ouch.
I shove at his chest so hard he has to take a step back.
“You know what? I hope he makes you pay.”
I turn and rush from the room, feeling my hands shaking with rage. Tears finally escape my eyes and tumble down my cheeks. I stumble four times before I reach the stairs to the deck. I rush up them, trembling so hard my teeth are rattling together. I get up on deck, and there’s a cool, crisp breeze flowing in. I drop to my knees on the floor, wrapping my arms around myself and gasping for air.
He’s a horrible, awful, rotten human being. I don’t know why I ever thought he was anything different.
I blink my tears back, trying to clear my vision. They burn their way out before drying on my cheeks. I glance quickly around the deck, making sure I’m not with company up here, but I see it’s quiet. The ship rocks from side to side. Usually this wouldn’t bother me but my stomach is coiling so tightly it suddenly makes me feel ill. I drop my eyes to the floor and realize I’m actually leaning against a box. It’s like a crate. I’m about to look away when I see that there are weapons in that crate. Quickly, without thinking, I lift the lid.
Guns. A shitload of them.
My heart pounds as I reach in and take a .22 out of the box with trembling hands. I run my thumb over the shiny, hard metal and swallow. I stare down at the rest of the guns—there are at least twenty. Someone left this here—this is an accident without a doubt. A man like Dimitri wouldn’t leave something like this out for someone like me to find. Someone made a mistake, a mistake that may just save my life.
