by Bella Rose
“What is wrong with you?” Daisy demanded. “One of my students said you’re acting like you have PTSD.”
I shrugged. I didn’t really want to talk about it. I wasn’t even sure where I would start if I did. I couldn’t even be totally certain what my problem was. Was I jumpy because I was frightened that Orlov would send men to my work and I would wind up trapped with a bunch of kids to try and protect while assassins attempted to murder me?
That seemed way too dramatic. I needed to go with something a little less Hollywood. “My father is having some—issues.”
“Oh my God.” Daisy came the rest of the way into my classroom and shut the door behind her. “Don’t tell me. Your idiot father has somehow put your life in danger with his criminal activities.”
“Sort of, yes.”
“Sort of?” She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is no ‘sort of’ when it comes to mafia violence. Is your father doing anything to protect you?”
“I didn’t want him locking me up in my old bedroom for the rest of my life,” I mumbled. I picked up a red pen and scribbled a comment on one of the papers I was grading. “You know that’s what he would do. He tried it.”
“And you left and told him you’d just handle it on your own. Am I right?” She snatched my red pen and pointed it at me. “That’s idiotic! He should provide you with some kind of security. He has thugs, right?”
“I guess, but I don’t want my life affected like that!” I protested. Then I thought of Vasily. “Besides, that guy I met has been sort of taking care of things for me. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” Daisy tossed my pen back to my paper and rested her hip against the corner of the desktop. “How does one sort of handle security issues?”
“I’m just saying that he’s been hanging around at night, so I’m pretty sure that’s a deterrent to anyone trying to bother me.”
I kept waiting for Daisy to comment, but nothing came out of her mouth. I hesitantly glanced up. She was staring down at me as though I’d grown a second head. Of course, that’s kind of how I felt so I suppose her reaction should not have been a huge surprise.
Her tone and expression were dead serious. Gone was the fetching smile and warm welcoming expression. “What is wrong with you? I’m not kidding here, Anya. I’m concerned. You don’t do this kind of thing. You don’t date guys you don’t know. You never bring them home with you. And this whole thing about a total stranger protecting you from a mafia threat? Really? That’s not even fair to him! Much less the rampant stupidity of trusting your personal safety to some biker guy you met on the street outside your house.”
“It’s not like that exactly,” I muttered. “His name is Vasily. He’s—” Then it occurred to me that I still couldn’t answer that question.
Fear trickled down my spine. My mouth snapped shut, and I couldn’t bring myself to say more. Every word I came up with would just bring on more and more condemnation of my behavior. And why wouldn’t it? We talked to kids all the time about engaging in risky behavior. Was there anything about what I was doing that was not risky?
I put my face in my hands, feeling horror wash over me. Then there was the shame. What was I doing?
“Anya,” Daisy whispered. She lightly touched my shoulder. “You need to stay away from this guy. Okay? Why don’t you come over to my house tonight? You can spend the night, and we’ll have a regular girlfest. We’ll make junk food and watch chick flicks on TV. It’ll be fun.”
“Okay?” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. This whole thing felt so surreal.
A bead of sweat rolled down my spine. What was wrong with me? Daisy’s offer was exactly what a normal friend should say. I should accept with no reservations. So why was my brain immediately balking at the notion? Why was I worrying about what Vasily would think if I wasn’t at home tonight? Would he be angry that I stayed away from my home all night long? Would he think I was with another man? Would that make him angry? And what would happen if he did get angry?
“What?” Daisy pressed. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I’ll come over after work. You’re right. It’s exactly what I need. Thank you so much for the offer.”
“It’s what friends do,” she told me quickly. Then she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
I tried to believe her. But the vise that seemed to be squeezing my insides said differently. I felt as though I could not breathe. Would Vasily be gone to me forever if I chose to go to Daisy’s? What would happen? And why was I so scared of the unknown consequences of making that man mad?
Chapter Eleven
Vasily
I parked my bike in Anya’s driveway and waited. The sense of anticipation I felt was completely disproportionate to this job. Although if I were going to be honest with myself, I would have to admit that this wasn’t just a job anymore. Anya wasn’t just a job. She was not just a protection detail, and I was far too invested in her safety and happiness than was probably wise.
The night breeze ruffled my hair. I pulled up my collar and shifted impatiently on my seat. Impatient. I was never impatient, but I could recognize the sensation just like anyone else. I wanted Anya to hurry up. I wanted to see her smile and hear her voice right before I ordered her to strip off her clothes so that I could scratch this itch that had been plaguing me all day long.
What was it about her that got so far under my skin that I could not even make rational decisions? All I had to do was close my eyes and imagine all that soft skin under my fingertips and my cock was hard and ready. The way she submitted so sweetly to me was the ultimate aphrodisiac.
I had to shift on my seat once again, this time because my erection was pressing painfully against the fly of my jeans. My boots scuffed against the concrete, and I wondered why she was so late. The scent of smoke was on the breeze. No doubt someone was enjoying a cozy fire in their nearby home. I thought of building a fire inside Anya’s little grate and enjoying the sight of her beautiful body by firelight.
I heard other cars coming home. Their garage doors made whirring sounds as they parked and retreated inside their homes to warm dinners and conversations with loved ones. I could see why Anya had chosen this neighborhood. It was quaint and the houses were close together, but there was a certain sense of a time long past here between these houses. As if a person could pretend that they were as blessedly normal as a fifties sitcom. In other words, it was as far from a mafiya stronghold or mansion as Anya could possibly get.
I could not help but wonder what she might think of my taking over her father’s position. Would she like moving back into the big house and running it as her own? Would she like being the lady of a rich and powerful man? What woman would not? Except I had not told her that I was in any way connected to her family. That could be problematic in its own way. Women tended to be overly dramatic when it came to the idea that someone had lied to them. Especially when that someone was male.
Where was she? Impatience turned to anger and quickly sped along the path to rage. Why would she not come directly home after work? What other reason could she possibly have not to be here? The library? I could actually see the library from my place in her driveway. More important was the irrefutable truth that Anya was a creature of habit. When she went to the library after work, she always parked her car at home and then walked. There was nothing else she could possibly be doing within her normal habits.
That meant she was doing something not normal. Fury poured through my veins, and I clenched my handlebars so tightly that my leather glove popped a seam. Had she gone out to meet another man? Why would she do such a thing? Yet women went out and met men in bars all the time. It was an American pastime. She and I had no understanding. We had no formal parameters on our relationship. She could technically do as she wished. Except that I was not the sort of man to stand idly by and let another take my place.
No. I was more likely to commit
murder.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. Thumbing open the GPS tracker I had long ago installed on my device, I used her phone to locate her in town. It was odd, but the address didn’t appear to be a bar.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and started my bike with a roar of the engine. I took deep breaths but could not calm down. It felt as though the blood in my veins would explode from my ears in a gushing torrent of red anger. If Anya was with another man at his house, I would kill the bastard. I would not even pause to ask questions.
The notion that some other man could now be touching my woman made me so furious that I spun hard rubber out of Anya’s driveway. The long black streak on the pavement was exactly how I felt. The betrayal ran deep and harsh. I would not tolerate this behavior from her, and she would soon know what happened when she disobeyed.
Fantasies of tying her to the bed and using my hand to redden her pale white bottom suffused my brain. I could think of nothing else. I would spank her until she cried out with both pain and pleasure. And then I would fuck her over and over again until she was too tired to move. I would slam my cock into that sweet pussy and show her beyond doubt that there would never be another man in my place. That pussy was mine. It would remain so, and she would know my displeasure should she ever think otherwise.
Anya
I curled up in a corner of Daisy’s couch with a big bowl of popcorn to watch a Hollywood starlet crush on the cute guy next door. The movie was totally predictable and maybe even a little trite, but I didn’t care. It was exactly what I needed.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if all relationships were like this one?” Daisy sighed as she shoved a handful of jelly beans into her mouth. “I mean, what if you went outside one morning and a superhot guy was getting the mail across the street?”
I couldn’t help it. My brain immediately tried to picture Vasily standing at the mailbox across the street from my house. It was an epic fail. Did he even do that sort of mundane task? “All of my neighbors are either already married with little chubby bellies to prove it, or they’re a million years old,” I told Daisy mournfully.
“So what about this guy you’ve been not seeing but seeing?” she said slowly. Turning to face me, she threw a jelly bean my way. “Come on. You owe me an explanation.”
I didn’t owe her a damn thing, but I wasn’t unaware of the code of girlfriends that did sort of require me to at least give her the G-rated version. “He’s unbelievably good-looking,” I began. “He’s got this supershort hair and these dark eyes. And his jaw is all sculpted and strong-looking like he could play one of those fallen-angel types on TV.”
“Nice,” Daisy mused. “So good body too, I assume?”
“The sexiest I’ve ever seen, although I haven’t seen a lot.”
“Yeah.” Daisy popped another jelly bean into her mouth and took a drink of soda from her glass. “Your dad made dating almost impossible, right? I used to think my parents were overprotective until I met yours.”
“I think it’s just because he knew how bad guys could really be.” I wondered why I was defending my father. “I think my father loves me. I really do. I just think he sucks at fatherhood. He’d make a better jailer.”
“But do you miss that life?” Daisy had always been one to think in terms of cash value, and it didn’t surprise me when she went there next. “Living that life with your dad meant you had tons of money. You could buy whatever you wanted. Your cars were always brand-spanking-new. You can’t tell me that wasn’t awesome.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But I would never go back to it. I didn’t like all the drama and all the worry. Every freaking second he was sure that someone was trying to kill us, and half the time he was right. I don’t want to die just because someone thinks my father is a jerk.”
“But all those yummy Russian guys hanging around all the time?” Daisy teased.
I threw popcorn at her. “You know if I had touched one of them my father would have had him castrated. It was horrible.”
Daisy got up and headed into the kitchen. “You want anything? We could make mimosas or something? I know I’ve got champagne, and I think there’s orange juice in the freezer.”
“No, thanks,” I said, laughing. “That’s a breakfast thing, right? Maybe we should have those in the morning.”
“Oh, for sure!” Her voice drifted out of the kitchen. “Because that’s exactly the sort of teacher the school board is going to offer a new contract to. The one who shows up three sheets to the wind on a Friday morning.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I reminded her.
I was a little surprised that she didn’t respond to my jab. We used to toss that phrase back and forth all the time in jest. Usually one of us would be whining and moaning about our days being too long, and the other would suggest getting drunk. It was always more joke than reality. Neither Daisy nor I drank that often. Her parents had been alcoholics, and my father was the same. He hadn’t been as abusive toward me as Daisy’s folks had been toward her, but the constant drinking still took a toll. Sometimes I could not remember my father without a bottle of vodka by his side. I used to think it was the mark of a Pekhan.
“Daisy?” I called out. “Did you drown in candy or something? I can help you carry something if you need me to.”
No answer. I felt a chill slide down my spine. There had been too much fear in my life of late for me not to be suspicious of the sudden change in my friend. If Daisy could answer, she would have. That meant she couldn’t, which probably also meant that something had happened.
Oh God. Had I brought trouble to Daisy’s door? I jumped up from the couch and looked about wildly for some kind of weapon. My gaze settled immediately on the tools in the stand by the fireplace. I grabbed a poker and held tight. My hand was sweaty on the handle. I struggled to get a good grip. What if I had to actually hit someone with it? The idea was horrifying. I wasn’t a killer. I didn’t have that instinct in me.
I crept toward the kitchen. I was wearing striped flannel pajama bottoms and a baggy sweatshirt. I had to shove the arms of the shirt up my wrists to keep the fabric out of the way of my hands. Adrenaline made my heart rate soar, and I could hear almost nothing but the pounding of my own heart in my ears. What was I thinking? I couldn’t attack some mafiya thug in Daisy’s kitchen! But if those bastards had hurt my friend, I was going to try and do something.
I swallowed. My mouth was dry as cotton. I was so scared. Tears prickled my eyes, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from whimpering. My hand slipped on the poker again and I readjusted it. This was the moment. I was going to step into that kitchen, and I was going to kick ass.
I shoved my way through the swinging door as fast as I could. “Let her go!”
“Hello, Anya.”
My arm lowered reflexively as shock completely robbed me of my ability to think or speak. I was looking at something that could not be possible and yet was. Vasily was standing in the corner of Daisy’s kitchen. He had Daisy’s body pressed up against his chest. His arm was around her neck, his hand covered her mouth, and he had the most pissed-off expression on his face.
I was in so much trouble.
Chapter Twelve
Anya
I lowered the fireplace poker. That was going to do me no good. I couldn’t attack Vasily. Not even when I thought it might actually be a reasonable thing to do. The idea of raising my hand to hurt him or anything of the sort was abhorrent to me. How could I?
And yet, what was he doing at Daisy’s? Not just at her house, but inside it! I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I was confused and scared, and I felt as though everything I had believed about this man was a lie.
“Put the weapon down,” Vasily ordered me.
Okay. That put some starch in my spine. “I am. Or didn’t you notice that I haven’t clocked you over the head with it yet?”
“Why are you here?” The naked anger in his voice was confusing, and maybe a little fri
ghtening too.
“Why am I here?” My voice went up an octave as my temper—slow to start—began to boil. “What are you doing here? This is my friend Daisy. I came over here because I’ve been stressed out and I needed some girl time. And you just show up here? Can I tell you how creepy that is? Because apparently you have a real issue with boundaries!”
He abruptly let Daisy go. She stumbled toward me, her eyes wide with fear. “You know this lunatic?” she gasped. “Who is he? And where is my phone? I’m totally calling the cops.”
“Don’t.” Vasily and I both spoke at the same time. I glared at him, willing him to be silent. “This is the guy I was telling you about, Daisy.”
“This is this guy?” She turned around and gaped at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am,” I murmured. “Or rather I was.”
“Was?” Vasily raised an eyebrow. “And what does that mean?”
Daisy huffed. “It means you cannot behave like a total crazed stalker and expect there to be no consequences. Get out of my house before I tell the both of you that you’re nuts and call the cops!” Daisy was clutching my arm, so I assumed that she was telling Vasily to go.
I waved him off. “Just go. I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t know what your problem is, or why you would show up completely uninvited in a place that proves you’re totally stalking me, but I don’t even want to hear your excuse. Got it? Get out!”
Oh, the way he looked at me! My whole body trembled, and I had to fight the urge to kneel on the floor and beg his forgiveness. What was that about? Why did he seem to have such a hold on me? He wasn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t know anything about him! He could have been an axe murderer for all I knew. Maybe he was out scalping bodies like some serial killer and I was the next one on his list. I didn’t know.
Daisy was holding tight to my arms. I think she thought I was going to bolt and go with him. Finally he turned to leave. He didn’t say anything. But then he didn’t have to. I got his message very clearly.
