Sasha’s drawn out “Mmms” and sexy, gravelly “Ahs” added fuel to his desire. He was ready to burst. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”
“No. Harder! Make me come, please.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah.” He pounded into her harder as she practically demanded of him, her moans growing louder, as did his, the peak in front of him swiftly approaching. And then he let go with several loud continuous grunts as soon as she tightened around him like a vise grip and screamed out her release.
He collapsed on top of her until his limbs were able to recover enough to change positions, and then he rolled them both over so Sasha could lay on top of him instead, both of them unspeaking at first. Rome simply reveled in the sensation of her head on his chest, her hand resting on his shoulder, the light puffs of her breath against his skin, and the feel of her silken hair as he ran his fingers through the strands.
A soft, contented sigh escaped her lips, breaking the silence. “What are you thinking about?”
“How much I’m looking forward to waking up with you in my arms again,” he answered, his voice husky. “And how many ways from Sunday I’ll have you before the sun comes up.”
“Twelve,” she deadpanned. “Erm … make that eleven more ways from Sunday.”
The force of both their laughter shook the bed. “That will most definitely be a world record for me,” Rome said, “but I am game to try, Ms. Palmer.”
Sasha stilled in his arms as she lifted her chin and locked gazes with him, sadness evident in her eyes.
Rome immediately understood. “Your name makes no difference to me.”
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” she quoted.
Rome just hoped that his and Sasha’s story would not end as tragically as the one the famous bard had told.
Chapter Nine
They didn’t quite make it to number twelve, but still, Sasha thought half that was an impressive number, and even though the light of morning was slowly streaming into the bedroom, they had time to reach their goal, or go at least another round, before she would have to face her new reality.
There was no way she could leave Brooklyn now, not unless Rome was coming with her. She still wanted no part of the violence, but there was nothing she wanted more than Rome, and she knew for a fact that neither time nor distance would ever erase him from her heart.
Put simply, they were just meant to be.
Sasha stretched languidly against the side of Rome and ran the tips of her fingers down the center of his chest. When he rolled over on top of her, she figured he had woken up with the same idea in mind as she had. What shocked her, however, was that he continued to roll right off the bed. Rome grunted as he took the brunt of the fall, landing on his back with Sasha on top, but he then quickly flipped their positions.
“What the—”
“Shh, someone’s in the house,” he whispered.
“Oh God,” she whispered back. Her heart began to pound thunderously in her ears, and she could feel the escalated rhythm of Rome’s heartbeat against her chest. She should have known better than to actually think she’d be granted some semblance of peace.
“Hiding like a coward, Valentin?” the intruder taunted, his voice resounding from just outside the bedroom, the door to which was left wide open yesterday in their frenzied foray onto Rome’s bed.
Rome reached behind her and quietly slid the bottom drawer to his nightstand open and then he pulled out a gun. She felt him bunch his muscles, tension radiating off of him, and knew that any second now, an all-out shooting war was about to ensue.
“I see by the clothes scattered in your living room, you’ve got a lady friend with you,” the stranger continued, the sound of his voice and footsteps getting closer to the bed. “Unlike your family, mine is not one to take innocent lives. She’s free to go. You and me though … we got business.”
“Let me up,” Sasha said, pushing against Rome. She recognized that voice, and now she was beyond pissed. “Trust me. He won’t shoot me.” She nudged a confused-looking Rome when he didn’t move, and finally, when he gave her enough room to free herself from underneath him, she draped an arm across her breasts to cover them before she stood. “You stay down,” she ordered Rome, pushing down on his chest with her foot, catching him off guard enough to make him lose his balance and flop down on his back. “And you,” she said turning to look at her intruding cousin, her nostrils flared, “you better put that gun away right fucking now, Misha Poriskova, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
With her free hand, Sasha pulled the comforter to her and covered herself. “So help me, Misha, if you keep pointing that thing at me…”
“Aleksandra?” he asked stupidly.
“No, I’m her evil twin.”
“I’ll kill you, you fucking bastard,” her cousin spat at the unseen Rome. He didn’t lower the gun. Instead he moved it over an inch, aiming it at thin air to the left of Sasha.
Sasha meanwhile, kept her foot on Rome’s chest and spared him a quick glaring glance, warning him to stay down. He was smart enough to listen. “Do I look like I’m not here of my own free will?” she snapped at her cousin, and then with a voice like steel, she repeated for him to lower his gun.
He did, though he kept it at his side, his finger on the trigger. “I went through the security tapes from yesterday and found him,” he jerked his chin toward the space next to Sasha, “in your father’s building.”
“He was there to see me,” she lied smoothly. It wasn’t a complete lie, at least. Rome may have started out breaking into her apartment to kill her father, but things had taken an interesting turn, and he must have been just as frazzled as she was after their encounter for him to have made his exit unmasked and through the front of the lobby. “You think the great Valentin assassin would have been caught on camera if he was there to murder my father?”
“What are you doing, Aleksandra?” her cousin asked taken aback. “You can’t seriously be with him. You just said it yourself—he’s the great Valentin assassin—one of our family’s greatest enemies, not to mention the fact that his father just put a hit out on your father.”
“One I have no intention of carrying out,” Rome said. Despite Sasha’s protestations for him to stay down, he easily dislodged her leg and stood, but Sasha wasn’t taking any chances. She immediately stood in front of Rome in case her cousin decided to get trigger happy, and then she and Rome stubbornly, and almost comically tried to position themselves in front of the other until Sasha shoved the comforter away from her body, exposing herself.
“Whoa! I did not need to see that,” Misha said, abruptly turning around, doing exactly what Sasha had hoped he would do. “I can’t ever un-see that shit now, Cuz.”
“Well it’s your own damn fault for breaking in here.”
Misha stood with his back to them as Sasha snatched Rome’s gun and put it on the nightstand before covering herself up again. A small smile tugged at her lips when she noticed the leather-bound book of Romeo and Juliet she had bought for Rome in Verona. He had kept it close to him, just as she had kept his ring.
“Misha, Rome has been protecting both me and Papa from his psycho cousin, okay? How many more people we love have to die before we finally end this feud between our families?” She heard her own voice break on the last few words, and Rome hugged her to his chest.
Misha shook his head. “You’d go against your own family?”
Sasha did not know if that question was aimed at her or Rome, but it was Rome who answered “Yes,” without any hesitation.
“Why?”
Rome rested his chin atop Sasha’s head, eliciting another smile from Sasha. “Because she means everything to me.”
Misha let out a long, exasperated breath as he relaxed his shoulders, then he finally tucked his gun away. “I’ll wait in the living room while you two get dressed.”
When her cousin left the room, Rome went over to his dresser and took out a pair of sweatpants for himself and a sweatshirt along
with a pair of his boxers for Sasha, since her clothes were strewn all over his living room.
Rome slid quickly into his pants and left her alone, causing her to panic. “Misha, if you hurt him, so help me…” she yelled as she dressed in a frenzy. When she was decent, she bolted from the room and found them talking in hushed whispers. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing, sweetness,” Rome replied reassuringly and walked over to her. “Your cousin and I are cool.”
Misha nodded. “We are. Don’t worry, Cuz. I have to ask, though, how did you two end up together?”
“We met in Italy,” Rome answered.
Her cousin didn’t need to know the details, but one particular detail would definitely be a benefit. “He saved my life actually.” She smiled at Rome, and he returned it. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and a car nearly hit me. He pulled me out of the way.” Turning back to her cousin, she said, “It doesn’t matter to me whose son he is or what our families have done to each other. Like me, like you, he was born into a situation he didn’t ask for.”
Once again, her cousin nodded, in understanding this time. “Where does your dad think you are now?”
“At Rose’s. I texted him last night.” Despite being a grown woman, her father would have moved heaven and earth to find her if she hadn’t touched base with him on the drive over to Rome’s house. She’d texted Rose as well, and promised to fill her in later on the reason for her lie. Actually, she had planned on confiding everything to her favorite cousin, who had always been more like a sister to her. Rome had been the only secret she had kept from her.
“Who is Rose?” Rome asked.
“My sister,” Misha said. “I should get going. Apparently, I have a meeting to get to later.”
“I’ll see you out.” Rome gently squeezed Sasha’s hand in reassurance before he walked over to the foyer where her cousin already stood, and extended his hand out to him. To Sasha’s surprise, Misha shook hands with him, furthermore, without a hint of malice.
“What was that about?” she asked Rome as soon as her cousin left. “Not that I’m not ecstatic you didn’t try to kill each other, but you two were alone for like two seconds and now you’re—”
“I think he just wants peace as much as we do,” Rome interjected, “and you and I,” he gestured between them as he walked back over to where she stood, “can very well be the catalyst to that.”
She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You really think so?”
“I truly do,” he said, right before he devoured her mouth, which led to activities the morning should have started out with.
****
She couldn’t do it. Sasha simply couldn’t stay behind, despite promising Rome that she would. He had assured her Lenny’s presence, and even Misha’s, would ensure a peaceful meeting. Lenny had even offered up his house, a neutral territory, but she wanted … no, needed to be there.
Once dressed in the previous night’s clothes, she called a car service to take her over to Lenny’s house. The ten-minute drive felt like it could have actually been an hour, and when she finally got there, a sinking feeling reached the pit of her stomach at the sight of the front door slightly ajar. An eerie silence met her when she opened the door and stepped inside.
And then all hell broke loose.
Chapter Ten
The tension in the air was so thick, Rome felt as if he could slice it with a machete. He and his father, Boris, sat on the couch opposite the two chairs currently occupied by Sasha’s father and Lenny, the ostentatious glass and gold coffee table acting as a buffer between them. Lenny had not wanted his wife, Klara, anywhere near today’s meeting, but before she had departed for her sister’s house, she, insisting on being a proper hostess, had arranged several desserts—homemade pastries, two boxes of chocolates, and sliced fresh fruit—along with coffee and tea on the glass table in front of them, all of which currently sat untouched. Misha, who acted as second for Andrei, just as Rome did for Boris, stood over by the built-in fireplace to the left of Rome. Both the Valentin guards and the Poriskova guards had been respectfully ordered by Lenny to remain outside and the weapons were also left, safely tucked away in another room, save for the ones the guards refused to give up, but since they were stationed outside, Lenny allowed it.
Rome had been the last to arrive, due to being pleasantly held up this morning by Sasha, but when he finally had made his entrance, Boris, Andrei, and even Lenny were surprised when he immediately went over to Misha to shake hands. He gave a courteous nod to Lenny and Andrei, and then took his place on the couch beside his father.
“Now we can begin,” Lenny said at the same time Boris grumbled in Russian, “It’s about time you showed up.”
The memory of Sasha’s body entangled with his last night and this morning made him giddy, and even his dad’s snide comment could not spoil his mood, especially not with the prospect of finally having peace put forth before him. He had no doubt his father was still angry with him for not taking care of Andrei, but he felt it important to drive the point home now that he in fact would not be completing that task, so he spoke first, breaking the tension-filled silence.
“Papa,” he began,” forgive me for not speaking to you about this first, but time did not permit me. I mean no disrespect.” He turned to Sasha’s father. “I had no intention of taking your life yesterday. As a matter of fact—”
Andrei jumped up from his seat, shaking his finger at Rome, effectively cutting him off. “But you mean to disrespect me by lying?”
“Don’t call my son a liar,” Boris spat, also getting up from his seat.
Rome tried to interject that he was telling the truth, but too many voices were chiming in at once, including Andrei’s about the footage of Rome in the lobby yesterday. The shouting match went on for several minutes before Lenny banged his fist on the table and yelled, “Enough!”
Lenny cleared his throat and calmly, he said, “Take your seats, gentlemen … please.” He waited until both patriarchs sat back down. This man was calm and collected, but powerful enough in his day as an enforcer for the biggest crime family in Moscow, that he garnered reverence and fear from all who knew of him, despite no longer being in the business. He was one of the few ever allowed to retire—still breathing, that is. Even Misha walked over to Andrei and sat on the arm rest of his chair giving his undivided attention.
“It no longer matters what was or wasn’t done,” Lenny continued. “The way I see it, all that matters now is what we do going forward.”
“I agree,” Rome said.
“Did you know it was your son who came to me and asked for this meeting?” Lenny asked Boris.
Boris’s brows shot up in surprise, but before he could respond, Rome cut in. “I don’t want another generation of war.” He looked pleadingly at Andrei. “I don’t want more blood on my hands. No matter what happens here today, you have my vow that I will not have yours.”
“He’s telling the truth, Uncle Andrei,” Misha stated.
The puzzlement on the older man’s face was evident. Only then did Rome notice both of Andrei’s hands were fisted at his sides, and then he noticed the man visibly relax, uncurling his fingers. He seemed thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. “I know the death of my wife was not an order that came from you,” he said directly to Boris, who nodded in acknowledgement. “But the man responsible for her death was not punished. I cannot agree to peace until he is.”
“This is outrageous,” Boris said raising his voice. He, too, then banged his fist on the table. “You would have me hand over my own nephew?” He huffed out a heavy breath. Rome recognized this as his way of reining in his temper. “Sinok,” he turned to Rome, “I know you have been unhappy lately. I’ve seen it in your eyes, and yet you haven’t spoken to me about it. I was waiting for you to come to me.”
Rome shook his head. “And what would you have said, Papa? It’s okay, go do something else?” It would never be as easy as
a simple conversation. He was too valuable an asset to his father. He had to show him he meant it, and what better way to do that than to bring peace between their two families as well as procuring a merger that would make all other rivals quake in their perfectly polished loafers?
Shedding blood, even his enemies’, had slowly been eating away at his soul.
Rome wondered what his father had seen written on his face when Boris’s demeanor suddenly changed. He looked sympathetic. He laid his heavy hand on Rome’s shoulder and nodded, as if some decision had been warring inside him.
When he removed his hand, he turned to face Andrei again. “Take my word that I will see to Vitaly’s discipline and let us be done with this.”
“No! Your word does not cover the insubordinate actions of your nephew. What’s to stop him from hurting my Aleksandra next to get to me?”
Rome visibly flinched at the mention of her name together with the possibility of getting caught in Vitaly’s crossfire. He was sure though only Lenny and Misha had noticed. Now perhaps was not the most opportune time to share his connection with Sasha.
“My precious wife lies rotting in the ground,” Andrei angrily continued, “while that animal roams free.”
“He has not walked away without punishment, Andrei. He has no father or brother, both of whom you took from him. My brother and nephew both lie rotting in the ground as well.”
The men both continued to talk in opposition, each time raising their voices an octave louder than the other in rapid-fire Russian.
“There must be some kind of compromise here,” Lenny suggested.
There would be none, Rome knew. Vitaly had to die. It was the only way. He returned Misha’s slight imperceptible nod.
“Your nephew’s head is what I will accept as a peace offering,” Andrei spat.
Boris stood. “This meeting is over.”
Rome stood as well. The meeting may not have gone well, but it went better than expected. He at least made some headway with both his father and Andrei. Vitaly would die tonight, and both Andrei and Boris would know it was Rome who executed him—his last kill, just like he had promised Misha earlier today at his apartment.
In Fair Brighton Page 5
