As I watch him, I feel the thaw inside me. Ever since that horrible day I could not connect with anyone. I was frozen inside. I just felt utterly alone. Kim’s betrayal made the whole world frightening. I knew I could trust no one. Everyone wanted something from me. Even Lenny.
For the first time today I feel something deep and real.
I feel love. Great love for the man sitting next to me.
After we eat, I look at him. Somehow I have to explain away last night. I can’t just leave it like that.
‘About last night.’
He lifts his head and looks at me expressionlessly.
‘I know I was downright pathetic in the bathroom yesterday, but I guess I’m not a very strong person. I—’
‘Not a very strong person? What the hell are you talking about? Fucking hell, Snow. You’re one of the strongest women I know. You were strong even when your whole world was crumbling beneath your feet.’
He shakes his head.
‘You came to England on your own in search of a dream. That’s brave enough to start with. And then you endured an ordeal at nineteen that could have sent a grown woman mad. And the best part, you survived it all on your own, without any professional help, any proper medication or counseling to lessen the pain, and under the manipulative and insidious influence of a total psychopath.
‘That, in my book, makes you an incredibly strong person. Strength doesn’t always mean a woman never cries or has a breakdown, or a woman who never gives an inch to man because that could be interpreted as her being weak. But it definitely means a woman who quietly rebuilds her life after it is shattered through no fault of her own. You’re a fucking warrior, Snow.’
Twenty-eight
SNOW
That day, Shane takes me shopping for some clothes. He seems very familiar with the art of taking a woman shopping. I quickly buy some cosmetics, a bottle of perfume, a pair of jeans, a couple of T-shirts, underwear, and tights.
‘Right, you need something jazzy for tonight,’ he says, and takes me to a boutique where the two assistants seem to know him very well.
He makes me try on three different dresses and buys them all.
‘Have you got something for her to put her lipstick into?’ he asks the girls.
They come back with three different evening bags and he nods approvingly. Afterwards, we have lunch in a cozy little café nearby, then drop by a shoe shop to get shoes for all three dresses.
‘Tired?’ he asks.
‘A little.’
‘Come on, I’ll take you home and you can have a little nap. I’ve got errands to run.’
He drops me back to the apartment then goes out. I plan to clean the place, but someone has come in while we were out and cleaned the place thoroughly. I try to read a book, but I am too wound up. Despite everything Shane says about Lenny, I know I still owe him an explanation. No matter what anybody says, Lenny took care of me.
I sit down and write a letter to him. I tell him that I have fallen in love with someone else. I tell him that I will always care for him and be grateful for what he did for me. I tell him that one day we’ll be friends. And then I tear the letter to shreds and throw it away. I know what is bothering me.
There is no happy ending to this story. Lenny is going to be furious with me. And he’s going to want to know who has taken his possession away from him.
I sit on the couch and feel shivery, and frightened for Shane. What if Lenny hurts Shane? I know Shane can use his fists, I saw that in the car park, but this is different. Shane is too sweet to take on a ruthless gangster like Lenny. I see it in the eyes of all the people we meet, how wary they are of him. They wouldn’t be afraid if there was nothing to fear.
By the time Shane comes back I am in a real state. I have convinced myself that Lenny is going to kill him. That I should never have started seeing Shane in the first place. Tears are pouring down my face. When he walks through the door he immediately comes to my side
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.
‘He’ll kill you, Shane. I know Lenny. He’ll kill you,’ I babble hysterically.
He sits back on his heels and looks at me. He reaches out a hand and strokes my wet cheeks. ‘Do you really have so little faith in me?’
‘You don’t understand. I know him. I know what he is capable of.’
‘Then rest easy that you don’t know what I am capable of.’ And something lurks in his eyes.
‘Are you going to hurt him?’
‘That’s up to him.’
I cover my face with my hands. I can’t help feeling so guilty. That all of this is my fault.
‘I should have walked away from Lenny first. And then come to you. How stupid I’ve been,’ I sob.
He pulls my hands away from my face. ‘I couldn’t have waited that long. This is not your fault. I chased you. You were minding your own business. I knew what I was getting into.’
‘Nobody’s going to get hurt?’
‘Unless someone fucking asks for it,’ he says.
‘Promise?’
He smiles a little sadly. ‘Promise. Now go put on one of your new dresses. I’m taking you out on the town.’
I slip on a knee-length black dress with diamante straps, a tight bodice and a flaring skirt and go out to meet him in the living room.
He smiles softly. ‘Beautiful. Just beautiful,’ he says with great satisfaction in his voice.
We go out to dinner at Layla’s husband’s restaurant. Again we are treated as if we are VIPs. Nothing is too much trouble. The food is excellent and Shane is courteous and attentive, but he seems distant and preoccupied. And I realize that since my meltdown last night we haven’t had sex.
I start to wonder if Lenny was right. Knowing I have been gang raped would put even the most persistent man off. I start looking for little signs of change in his behavior. Is he looking at that woman? Why is he not reaching for my hand? Did he just avoid my eyes?
Then why is he helping me? Is it because he is just a nice guy and he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings? The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes that ever since last night he is definitely more distant. He has hardly touched me all day and all throughout our meal.
A woman comes up to him.
‘Shane,’ she coos.
‘Bella,’ he replies coldly.
‘You were going to call me,’ she says, one beautifully plucked eyebrow raised.
I feel a burning in my gut. What a cheek? I am sitting here and she is hitting on my man. That brings me up short. Maybe he is not my man. And the thought brings tearing pain. For a year I felt no pain at all no matter what someone did or said, and now the ability to feel something more than just baffled sorrow at what happened to me that day in the hotel room is back. My body is responding to external stimulai again.
Shane shrugs his wide shoulders in a gesture of casual disdain. ‘I figured that if I didn’t call back you’d get the message.’
She turns to me. ‘Don’t gloat too much honey. He’ll do the same to you one day.’ Her voice is acid.
I feel the blood drain from my face.
‘Sharpen your claws elsewhere, Bella,’ he says menacingly, rising to his feet. A gesture meant to dominate by his sheer height and presence.
‘Fuck you both,’ she spits, and flounces away.
Shane resumes his seat. ‘Sorry about that,’ he says, his eyes seeking mine.
‘It’s OK,’ I say lightly, but Bella’s words are burned into my mind.
After dinner, Shane takes me to a club called Gibran.
‘I’ve got to see someone quickly,’ he tells me.
There is a long queue outside, but he leads me to the front and the bouncers come forward quickly.
‘Good evening, Mr. Eden,’ they greet politely, unhooking the red ropes, and standing back respectfully.
Inside we are whisked past the entrance ticket queue by a small middle-eastern man. ‘This way, Mr. Eden,’ he says, and leads us through the doors.
He looks up to Shane. ‘How are your brothers doing?’
‘Good, thank you. How’s the family?’ Shane replies.
‘Very well, thank you.’
Hard rock music pulsates around us. Shane keeps a firm hand on the small of my back as we make our way through a sea of heaving, sweating bodies until we come to a VIP area. A group of people are sitting in a booth with low couches. There are brass lamps on the table.
My eyes are immediately drawn to a powerfully built man. He has shoulder length hair and eyes that are so light blue they look like chips of ice. He has a nasty scar that starts just under his eye and it zigzags down one side of his face. He is wearing a black vest that shows off an enormous tattoo of a fierce cobra with its hood and mouth open. It begins at the top of his muscular shoulder, its long body twisting around the length of his arm and hand, and its tail ending at the base of his wrist.
He looks menacing, very menacing.
He is leaning back on the low couches, but looking as relaxed as an animal about to strike. When he sees Shane, his mouth twists slightly. He makes a movement with his fingers and two half-naked girls entwined around him on either side stand and move away. His disregard for them as human beings is so blatantly callous it takes my breath away.
Shane pulls me forward and the man’s eyes flick over to me quickly.
His eyes are both stunning and scary. I find myself instinctively moving close to Shane. Shane looks down on me, and smiles reassuringly. The man sits forward, the movement so quick, that again I am reminded of a striking cobra. When he stands he is as tall as Shane, but he vibrates with a kind of dangerous energy. They bump fists, only it looks nothing like any fist bump I have seen. This one bristles with their combined energies. If Shane is white magic, this man is black magic. The difference is that stark.
‘Will you have a drink?’ he drawls. His voice is deep and his accent reminds me of Nikki, the nasty blonde I met in the ladies’ toilet at Eden.
‘Thanks, Zane, but I can’t stay,’ Shane says. ‘Just checking to see that everything is going forward as planned.’
‘Everything’s good to go.’
‘Good. Thanks, man. I owe you one.’
Zane smiles and nods slowly, and that slow nod makes me shiver. I can tell that the day will come when he will arrive to collect for whatever favor it is he is doing for Shane.
We walk away, my heart fluttering with tension.
As soon as we are out of earshot I tug Shane’s sleeve. ‘I don’t like that man.’
Shane stops abruptly, leans down and takes my face in his hands. ‘Listen to me, Snow. I trust Zane with my life, and so must you if anything happens to me. I brought you here so you could see him and he could see you. You will be financially well off and he will protect you from Lenny.’
My heart crashes with horror and I cannot stop the fear in my voice. ‘Are you expecting something to happen to you?’
‘No, this is a contingency plan.’
I frown. ‘What about Jake? Why am I not going to him?’
‘I don’t want Dom or Jake to get involved. But especially Jake. He has been taking care of us for his whole life and that’s enough. He has a family of his own now and it is time he put them first. No, Zane will sort it out. He is being well compensated for anything he does.’
‘You’re scaring me, Shane.’
‘Don’t be scared. I’m just writing my will. Not because I expect to die tomorrow, but because if I should, I want to go to my grave knowing that those I … care about are protected.’
‘Why did you choose Zane?’
‘Because he is more, far more dangerous than Lenny.’
‘And he’s a friend of yours?’
‘As friendly as you can get with the Russian mafia,’ he says dryly.
‘Shit, Shane. I thought you said you were not a gangster.’
‘I’m not. But like I said, I know people.’
Thirty
SNOW
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3Fa4lOQfbA
When we get back to Shane’s apartment I am feeling tense and unsure of myself. Shane has showed no signs of wanting me sexually. As if all the passion has cooled since my meltdown.
‘Nightcap?’ he offers, walking into the sitting room.
‘OK,’ I say, following him in.
‘What do you want?’ he asks.
‘Whatever you’re having is fine.’
‘I’m having Cognac.’
‘Great.’ I perch at the edge of the sofa and watch him pour our cognac.
He comes over and holds out my glass and then sits next to me, but not too close. There is a good three inches between my thigh and his knee. He leans back into the seat. I lick my lips and turn back to look at him.
‘I don’t have to stay here, you know. I feel strong enough to make it on my own now. I could get a room …’
He frowns. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
I shrug. ‘Well, ever since last night you are different. You’re friendly and protective and kind, but it’s as if you don’t want me anymore, sexually, I mean.’
He stares at me incredulously. ‘What?’ he explodes. ‘You think I don’t want you?’
I bite my lip. ‘It’s not like what it was in France, is it?’
He sits forward and shakes his head in wonder. ‘What a crazy thing to think?’ It’s not like France because I didn’t want to rush you. Can’t you tell I’m fucking fighting with myself to keep my hands off you because I don’t know if you are ready after last night?’
‘I’m ready now,’ I whisper.
He smiles slowly, his eyes glinting. The old Shane is back. ‘Prove it by doing a strip dance.’
‘You own a strip club. I’d have thought you’d be bored with that by now,’ I say with a smile. In truth I want to shout with joy. He still wants me.
‘I want to see you dance.’
‘Now?’ I ask with my eyebrows daringly lifted.
‘Can’t think of a better time.’
‘OK.’
He stands and walks to his music system and chooses something.
‘What song have you chosen?’
‘Je T’aime … Moi Non Plus by Serge Gainsbourgh and Jane Birkin.’
‘God, isn’t that like a really old number? My mother used to listen to it,’ I say, surprised.
He grins at me. ‘My grandfather had a thing for Bridgette Bardot and Jane Birkin. I’ve got all kinds of boyhood fantasies around this song.’
I laugh. ‘Do you know what the title actually means?’
‘It translates as, ‘I love you … Me neither.’
‘Interesting,’ I say.
‘That’s what couples in the throes of lovemaking say to each other,’ he says with a wink.
‘Right. I’ll be back in a minute,’ I say crisply, and taking my glass of cognac with me and swaying my hips with attitude, walk to the bedroom. I close the door and go to his wardrobe. I pull out a white shirt. Quickly, I undress. I leave my panties on, but take off my bra. I put on his shirt and leave it unbuttoned to the waist. I don’t do the last two end buttons either. Then I roll up the sleeves until my wrists show. Keeping my high heels on, I choose a blue striped tie and knot it loosely around the collar of Shane’s shirt. I put on my new super shiny lip gloss. Then I look around the drawers and find a cap. I arrange it at an angle on my head and look in the mirror.
The look is just what I wanted. A little bit ‘je ne sais quoi.’
I finish my glass of cognac, Dutch courage and all that, and walk out to the living room door and pop my head around the doorframe. He presses the remote on his hand and the music comes on. The old fashioned guitar cords of rhythm and bass guitars and snare drums fills the spaces between us.
‘Je t’aime, Je, t’aime,’ whispers in her breathy and ethereal voice, so high it is almost the unbroken voice of a little choirboy. But extremely erotic all the same.
I drape myself around the doorframe and, raising my leg slowly, caress the door w
ith my foot. I step into the room and teasingly lift one edge of his shirt exposing the top of one thigh and a glimpse of my black lace panties. He doesn’t know my sex is already wet. I catch his eyes and he is staring at me, mesmerized, and that gives me the confidence to go on.
I tug at the tie and it comes off. Holding it in my hand, I twirl it before flinging it at him. He catches it mid-air.
I face away from him and, swaying my hips, let the shirt drop off one shoulder, exposing bare flesh. I drop the other end and the shirt falls to my mid back. I turn my head back and look at him and smile.
The look on his face, the lust in his eyes, is priceless.
Very slowly and still gyrating, I let the shirt fall farther still, until it is skimming the top of my bottom. I play with the material seductively before dropping it lower still. Right on the fleshiest part, I rub the material in a sawing motion. Then slowly I drop it further until my entire ass is exposed. I quickly unbutton the shirt and slip it completely off. Holding it at arm’s-length away, I allow it to dangle on one finger before letting it drop to the floor.
I gyrate the top half of my body in a large circle, like the belly dancers in France, so that all my hair falls forward and covers my breasts. Then I turn around and shimmy my hips as I walk towards him.
I put one leg on the sofa arm and immediately his eyes move to my pussy. He can see that the crotch of my panties is soaking wet. I put my hands around my neck and lift my hair so that my breasts are on display. The tips are hard and ready. Then I let my hair fall back into place again.
The heavy breathing noises of simulated sex start on the track.
I lick my glossed lips and he crooks a finger at me.
Instead of going to him, I make a pointing hand and slowly shake my finger at him while smiling regretfully.
He laughs, a deep sexy sound.
You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) Page 31
