by V. F. Mason
"Yes, sweetie, they will." Jason was my girl's first crush. Seriously, Amanda's boy wore glasses and went nuts for Superman comics, claiming someday he'd be a superhero. No one had the heart to tell the boy that those superheroes didn't exist in real life, so he kept on dreaming.
One day, Kristina came to my study and asked me about Lois Lane. She wanted to be like her since she was Superman's love interest. Needless to say, it cemented my belief and my worry about her little crush. Although the glares she kept on giving him and Ruby, Mary's little girl, when they played together were hilarious.
Kristina smiled and winked at me, and then she started bouncing on the way, clearly eager to reach our destination faster. Finally, we made it. Everyone had arrived already, and the air was filled with laughter, delicious smells of freshly grilled meat, and kids screaming. Kristina ran immediately toward Jason, who frowned at her and turned back to explain something to Mika's son, Alan. Ruby and Regina kept bouncing on the trampoline and screamed at my girl.
"Kristina, come here!" She shook her head and kept listening to the boys. I seriously hoped she'd grow out of this crush because only hanging around Jason didn't seem healthy in my opinion. Especially when he didn't seem that eager to be in her company to begin with.
Amanda laughed as she came closer and hugged me briefly, giving me a kiss on the cheek. She was a petite woman with long brown hair, and green eyes filled with compassion for everyone. "I think your girl has a crush on my boy."
I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "You think? She's practically glued to him," I mused. "It worries me a little bit, to be honest."
Amanda waved her hand dismissively. "They're just kids, hun. Her obsession will move to something else."
However, I didn't feel her confidence. She had obsessive and possessive tendencies from her father, and the last thing I needed was for my daughter to take some young boy hostage.
No joke.
"Amanda, I need your help. Hey, Kate!" Cormack called from the barbecue, flipping steaks on the grill while pouring water on them, creating lots of steam and delicious smells. I waved at him as he winked. Cormack was slightly on the short side with a little belly, but had such a sense of humor that you always wanted to have him around.
"Coming!" Amanda yelled back, then apologetically said, "Sorry, the man can't do anything without me." We both laughed as she left to tend to her husband. Sometimes I wished I had someone who could share my burdens with me and create a normal family. No matter how much Damian and I loved each other, our relationship would always be a hectic one with danger lurking around every corner. It was no way to live. At least, not until he fixed the evils that destroyed both of our lives.
I was about to join the rest of the women on the porch discussing the latest neighborhood rumors when a hand on my arm stopped me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Peter giving me a huge smile, his eyes lighting in pleasure.
"Glad to see you here, gorgeous," he drawled in his rugged, sexy voice as his hand gently removed the lock of hair from my eyes, hesitating a bit before letting it go. Uneasiness swept over me, but I tried to control it because Peter was a great guy. He was handsome, six feet tall, with James Dean short blond hair, blue eyes, and a lean but muscled body. He had an easygoing smile that instantly made you like him and the kindest eyes I'd ever seen on a person. He worked as a construction manager in Cormack's company and owned a house nearby. According to the small town, he was quite the catch and all the single ladies dreamed of snatching him up.
All but me. Unfortunately since day one, he paid me more attention than everyone else and constantly asked me out on dates. "Hi, Peter. How are you?"
He chuckled. "Good, actually. What single man who has no clue how to cook feels bad at a barbecue, huh?" he joked, and it eased my mood. Maybe he wasn't here to ask me out again. Refusing him became an uncomfortable situation for me. He cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and asked, "Do you want to go out on Friday and check out the new restaurant on the coast? They have your favorite seafood."
I hoped the disgust on my face didn't show at his words because loving seafood was part of my WPP story. I couldn't stand anything that had to do with the sea, not since the time I was ten and got food poisoning at one of the most expensive restaurants in New York.
"I don't think so, Peter. Kristina is at home and—"
He didn't let me finish. "We can take her with us." Surprise got the better of me. Blinking a few times, I clarified, "To the restaurant?"
He nodded. "Sure, why not? She already knows me, and I don't mind." What man didn't mind inviting his date's daughter on their first night out? I had to give it to the guy, he was persistent and didn't give up easily, but if he wasn't an option before, then after Damian's appearance, he didn't have any chance at all.
As pathetic as it sounded, I belonged to only one man, even if I couldn't be with him.
"Peter, I—" My words were interrupted. God, would people let me finish my sentences?
"Man, calm your tits," an amused female voice said from behind Peter, and we both turned our gazes to check out who it was. My jaw almost hit the floor.
Damian was standing there holding a case of beer, wearing rugged jeans and a tight shirt emphasizing his buff physique. I wanted to run to him and lick every drop of sweat that slowly dripped down his neck from the heat outside. Instantly, my body went on alert, sensitive to every brush of air surrounding me as I focused on the man in front of me. When my eyes rested on his face, fear ran down my spine. The expression of anger and rage was clear for everyone to see.
Why would he be angry?
Only then, I realized that Peter, at some point, in a measure of protection, had put his hand on my waist in a territorial move. I quickly took a step back from him. He furrowed his brow, but I didn't pay much attention to Peter's displeasure when I noticed the woman, the one who spoke earlier, next to Damian.
Stunning… young… woman.
A wave of fury washed over me like cold water on a bright sunny day, and my fists clenched. I shook my head to remove the haze as my eyes narrowed on her hand on his bicep, and he did nothing to remove it. The pain in my chest at the idea of him in bed with someone so stunning, stunning in a way I could never measure up to, intensified when the different images of them naked popped in my head. However, the pain could be easily ignored due to the outrage that made me want to clock both of them.
The nerve the man had, asking me about my devotion to him when he was screwing someone else!
"Henry, you made it!" Annie's excited voice penetrated the angry red fog around me as she and Greg joined our little group.
Henry? Why would he need a fake name? S knew him only by the nickname Sociopath, and no one had ever seen his face and lived. Except me, which didn't make me feel very special in that moment considering the company.
"I'm so happy," she continued, taking the dish of pasta from the woman's hands.
Oh, she cooked too? He got himself a nice package!
"Thank you, Italian food is one of my favorites. You've met Kate and Peter, right?" Annie laughed nervously and acted all weird. Sure, she was always happy to greet her guests, but it seemed like she feared Damian. Annie turned her attention on Peter. "They are our new neighbors. Moved in a few days ago, their house is next to Kate here. Peter, this is Henry and Anita. Anita, Henry, this is Peter."
Peter still eyed Damian suspiciously but extended his hand in greeting. A second passed, and Damian returned the handshake, but it didn't escape my notice how Peter winced; most probably, the jerk wasn't gentle. "So are you guys a couple or married?" He asked the question that interested me too, but suddenly, I couldn't listen to what they were to each other.
Because the idea that he was involved with someone or worse, married when he spent the night with me? I couldn't stomach it, and I had to leave.
"Annie, keep an eye on Kristina please?" I glanced at my daughter who still happily listened to whatever Jason said. "I need to run to the bathroom."
Peter softly touched my arm. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I said cheerfully, too cheerfully. "It's so hot I need to refresh my face." Only years spent in all those high society classes that my mother dragged me to allowed me to leave with dignity, and to plaster a smile on my face when I addressed her. "It's very nice to meet you."
Without waiting for anyone else to comment on my departure, I quickly made my way toward the bathroom on the second floor. I practically ran up the stairs, wiping the tears that kept falling. I reached the bathroom door, pushed it open, and closed it after me. Breathing heavily, I tried to control the sobs. I turned on the water and rested my hands on the sink, begging myself to calm down.
I was so engrossed in my feelings that I hadn't registered someone else's presence until the click of the lock snapped in place, and a tight, firm, hot chest pressed me closer to the counter. My whole body rebelled at the touch.
Freaking prick!
"Let go of me."
"Look at me."
I shook my head, refusing to raise my eyes to the mirror and give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.
"Damian, leave the bathroom. Respect my privacy."
What more did he want from me? Maybe I had no right to react with such intensity to him having a woman. Maybe five years was a long time to ask a man to be faithful to me.
But last night? He came to me, made love with me, and then he wanted me back, all while he had another woman waiting for him at home? This couldn't be forgiven.
"Sapphire," he whispered into my hair.
After taking a shaky breath, I was washed in a wave of deep anger, and instead of being a crying mess, I transformed into one furious, scorned woman. Why should I take the high road and not show him my emotions? He was the one in the wrong here, not me.
Fuck this!
I spun around so fast Damian had to take a step back so I wouldn't stumble on his feet. I regretted not wearing high heels; maybe then he'd feel an ounce of the pain I felt, even if it was only physical.
"Did anyone touch you, my Sapphire?"
My voice lowered to imitate his pitch, and his eyes darkened. "You know what, Damian? How fucking dare you ask me this, when you have a woman living with you!" His jaw ticked and his scowl deepened, but I was too far gone to notice the alarming signs. "Now, I can understand that men have needs, so probably expecting fidelity from the man who claimed to love me is a stretch, but fuck you." I pushed hard on his chest in frustration, even though he didn't budge. "You had no right coming to me last night, demanding answers, and having sex with me. And you know what… fuck you for cheating on me, because needs or no needs, you knew I was alive! So even if there was a man"—his eyes became brown pools filled with an expression I couldn't name—"I'd have all the fucking right in the world to be with him because you were supposedly dead. You and that woman, though? It's like the ultimate betrayal," I finished, almost screaming, and then my cheeks flushed from the memory of where we were. Thankfully, the water was still running in the sink, and the bathroom was at the far end of the house; no one would hear a thing. I still planned to walk away from this cookout with my dignity intact.
Or what was left of it, anyway.
"Are you done?" His voice held barely-contained rage, but I stood my ground, raised my head high, and nodded curtly. "Good. Now it's my turn, so keep your mouth shut." My eyes widened at his words, or rather his unpleasant tone. I gasped when his hands squeezed my hips and then swiftly sat me down on the vanity. I hissed from the cold marble touching my skin, but he ignored it. He pushed himself between my legs, holding my thighs open as his fingers dug into the skin, for sure leaving bruises on my already marked skin. My betraying body heated up as my nipples puckered, and my breath hitched. His eyes held mine as he slowly started to speak, emphasizing every world.
"The first time I saw you was six years ago. You wore a golden dress that hugged this body perfectly." Of all the things he would say, this was the last I would have expected. "I wanted you for myself instantly. Nothing would have stopped me. Six years. Two thousand one hundred ninety-one days. Not once did the thought of another woman enter my mind. I'm yours." My eyes watered at his admission. With just words, he calmed the inferno inside me, but at the same time, the doubt lingered. He came with a woman!
"You showed up—" My argument seemed invalid to him as he captured my mouth with his in a deep, probing, toe-curling kiss. He was exceptionally gentle, his tongue slowly caressed mine, and my hands circled his neck, bringing him closer. But before I could take it any further, he let go of me, and I groaned in annoyance. Why did he take his lips away from mine? "I said keep your mouth shut. Rosa is something not to be discussed here, but you'll get an explanation about her soon enough." Then out of nowhere, he grabbed my neck and squeezed it gently, not so hard that I wasn't able to breathe, but enough to slow it down a little. He was asserting his dominance. "The fucking man touched what is mine. Who is he?" I had to blink a few times to remember about Peter, but it was a little too long for Damian because his hand closed tighter around me. "Answer me!" he whispered harshly in my ear, and then he bit lightly on the lobe, sucking it immediately, soothing any sting.
"He is just a guy, Cormack's brother." My voice shook from anticipation and desire.
Damian's hand slowly lifted the hem of my dress, as he left burning touches all over my thigh. "Why did he feel he had the right to touch you?" he growled, then licked the side of my neck, sucking on it harshly, for sure leaving a mark. I tried to jerk my head from his embrace, but he wouldn't let me move. "No, I mark what's mine, so no man will think he has the privilege to touch this body. My body." His hands hiked up my dress and pushed my panties to the side as his finger probed inside. I leaned back in pleasure. "Mine to touch." He raised his glistening fingers with my wetness to his mouth and sucked them dry. "Mine to taste." Then he pushed my thighs wider apart and unzipped his pants. After pulling out his erection, he entered me, and I gasped. He could have taken more time getting me ready; it stung, and I couldn't help but wince a little. "Yes, you'll feel it for a long time so you won't forget again." He pulled back completely and then pushed in hard. I moaned loudly, but his lips muffled any sounds I made.
Why was the lovemaking always at inappropriate times where I couldn't freely express my pleasure? I wasn't a quiet lover, and I loved to have the freedom he'd taught me.
The bathroom was filled with the sounds of running water, flesh slapping against flesh, and muffled moans. He held my hips tightly, tilted me up slightly for a better angle, and that resulted in him hitting the one secret spot that drove me crazy. My core pulsed and then clenched around his cock as I came. He kissed me again so my shouts of euphoria wouldn't be heard. With a groan against my mouth, he came inside me, connecting us once again in a powerful bond that I wasn't sure anything could break.
God, how could I say no to this?
Moscow Bridge, Moscow, Russia
"This is a dangerous game you're playing, my friend," Vitya whispered right before the Americans arrived at the meeting point on the bridge to seal the deal. He knew about the arrangement, and why I did what I did, but he still disagreed with me. Vitya preferred to kill them on the spot and then just find my brother.
No one understood that no matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn't do it. Richard would be mine, and he would die a painful death. I still played variations of it in my head, coming up with one hideous plan after another.
But S? Revenge belonged to my brother, and no one but me understood why he needed it. "The only kind I've played my whole life." My answer made him chuckle for a second, and then a scowl replaced the humorous expression.
The driver emerged from the front seat, quickly ran to the back door, and opened it. First, one brown leather shoe peeked from the door, and then Benjamin, known to Damian and me as S, got out of the car wearing a mahogany suit and holding a cigar in his hand. When the wind knocked the ember off his cigar, he cursed and threw it in the river.
Fucker
.
Richard joined him. He wore similar clothes and held a cane in his hand. For the first time, I paid attention to the limp in his right leg.
Well, well. This information had me imagining one more plan in which I could painfully break him like he used to break me repeatedly from the time I was six years old to fifteen.
No pleas, no cries, no begging, or whimpering would help him.
They never helped me.
"Control," Vitya said next to me. Only then, it hit me that my hands were fisted and ready to grab my knife from my back pocket, and my foot had stepped forward to stab the dirty fucker.
Not yet.
"Спасибо."
He shook his head at my gratitude, enough for me to see, but not enough for the guests to catch. "Не за что." Then all conversation ceased as the men reached us and Benjamin extended his hand toward me. I gave him a short nod of acknowledgment. His eyes narrowed in displeasure, but he hid it well.
The motherfucker was crazy if he thought his hands, or Richard's for that matter, would be touching me.
"Konstantinov," he greeted.
"Hill," I answered, but didn't say more. He'd be the one to bring up the contract.
He rested his hand on the rail of the bridge, admiring the view. "Always loved the architecture in Russia. Impressive considering the regime the country lived in, or still lives in for that matter." He chuckled, and the air around me cooled a little as my men tensed, and me along with them. Americans always had primitive thoughts about Russia and the Russian people, and it pissed all of us off. Those prejudices only kept growing with the years, and the insulting things just continued popping up in the news. It felt like being a Russian was almost a crime, which was one of the reasons I always had a Jeguli, a typical Russian car, ready for me in the States and drove it around to point out where I came from.
