You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2)

by Georgia Le Carre

  ‘OK, remember that you have promised. No hysterics.’

  ‘Go on,’ she urges impatiently.

  I take a deep breath and plunge in. ‘Zane is the one who kidnapped Daisy.’

  ‘What?’ she explodes so loudly a lot of heads turn.

  I look around us and notice that even Noah has turned to watch us. ‘Remember you promised,’ I hiss at her.

  She picks up her glass of champagne, drains it dry and carefully puts the empty glass back down. ‘Whoa, Dahlia. You’re not surely going to hold me to my promise. This is so mind-blowing. How can you sit there and tell me something like this so calmly? What is wrong with you? I’m fucking freaking out here.’

  ‘I reacted the same way when I first found out, but I’ve had time to assimilate.’

  ‘Time to assimilate? Fuck! When did you find out?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘Jesus, Dahlia am I going crazy, or are you still with him?’

  I pick up the bottle of champagne and fill Stella’s glass. ‘You’re not going crazy and I’m still with him.’

  ‘Oh my God. Oh my God! I don’t believe this. While I was not watching you’ve gone and morphed into one of these weird women who thinks it’s OK to write romantic letters to serial killers on death row, haven’t you?’

  ‘Stop being so dramatic.’

  ‘Dramatic? If I can’t be dramatic now, when the hell am I ever going to be dramatic?’ she demands intensely.

  I sigh. ‘Olga explained it all to me.’

  Stella’s eyes become dinner plates. ‘Olga? She’s the fucking cook! How on earth did she explain it all away?’

  ‘I don’t know. She made sense.’

  ‘He kidnapped your sister, Dahlia!’

  ‘Do you want to calm down and listen, or do you just want to rant for the next hour?’

  ‘I’m torn. I want to rant, but I’d really like to hear how his cook explained away a kidnapping too,’ she says sarcastically

  ‘Basically, she believes that Zane has suffered some horrendous trauma and that is why he is the way he is. He’s like a tortured soul,’ I pause, ‘and she thinks I’m the person to save him.’

  She folds her arms. ‘It’ll be interesting to hear how you plan to do that?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know yet, but I’m working on it.’

  She shakes her head in disbelief. ‘So you’ve forgiven him and all is hunky dory in your world.’

  I look at Stella’s understandably horrified face and I realize don’t know how to explain what Zane and I have. How can I tell her that I am so connected to Zane it feels as if I don’t derive my real nourishment from food and drink but him? Sometimes it is impossible for someone outside a relationship between a man and woman to appreciate or even comprehend the nature of the bonds that hold the couple. The bonds that hold me to Zane are like tempered steel. I want him. I need him and I cannot even imagine my life without him in it anymore. He holds my wellbeing in the palm of his hand.

  ‘It’s not that I’ve forgiven him,’ I explain, ‘it’s just that I’m trying hard to understand him. I come from a loving, close knit family so I have no right to judge someone who might not have had the things I take for granted.’

  I shrug.

  ‘I don’t know anything about Zane’s past. He won’t talk about it, but I can tell that he is the product of something unhappy. He exists in a violent world with brutal rules and has to abide by them just to survive, but underneath the cold exterior that he projects to everyone, I’ve seen glimpses of a beautiful but wounded and suffering man.’

  For a few seconds she simply stares at me blankly then she grabs the neck of the champagne bottle and pours herself another glass. I know she is trying her best to grasp what I am telling her, but it is hard for her. She takes a big gulp.

  ‘Did he know?’ she asks, jerking her head in Noah’s direction.

  ‘Apparently they had all guessed.’

  ‘Bloody cheek. Pretending to be all nice and helpful to me. I’ve a good mind to go there now and tell him off.’

  I reach out and grab her hand. ‘Don’t you dare do any such thing, Stel. It’s not his fault. This is between Zane and me. They didn’t know for sure. They just guessed.’

  ‘I’m surprised that you are not more angry.’

  I look down at my hands. ‘I guess it’s because I understand what it feel like to want someone so bad you’re willing to do almost anything to get that person.’

  She looks at me curiously. ‘Do you feel that way about him?’

  I bite my lower lip and nod slowly.

  ‘Oh no,’ she gasps in horror. ‘What a mistake it was to let you go in my place that night.’

  I shake my head. ‘Don’t say that. I wasn’t even truly alive until I met him, Stel. Even if it all falls apart tomorrow I’ll never regret what I’ve had with him.’

  ‘Oh Dahlia. I hope and pray things work out for you,’ she cries softly, but her voice is full of doubt and worry.

  I smile. ‘Look no matter what happens I’ll survive, but here’s the thing, we didn’t come out tonight to be depressed. Remember we’re getting irretrievably wasted. Let’s just do that. Come what may.’

  She smiles back. ‘OK, bottoms up.’

  We empty our glasses and Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive comes on the music system. We both look at each other with widened, disbelieving eyes.

  ‘Is that the universe talking to us?’ Stella asks.

  ‘If it is what’re we waiting for?’ I ask, jumping up.

  Together we race to the tiny little dance floor at the back of the wine bar. No one else is dancing, so we have the whole floor to ourselves. We’ve danced to this track is so many times.

  ‘Go. Walk out the door,’ Stella and I scream as we strut our stuff.

  It is just like old times, Stella and I kicking it on the dance floor. Well, all right, making a total fool of ourselves on the dance floor.

  In the background Noah stands watching us. We call him over to join us, but he shakes his head and gives us a thumbs-up signal. Laughing we dance and down our drinks and dance some more and drink some more.

  Eight

  Dahlia Fury

  ‘I am positively drunk,’ Stella slurs.

  ‘Me too,’ I agree, my voice no less wobbly.

  ‘Kebab?’ she asks.

  I shake my head.

  She grimaces. ‘It’s all right for you. You’ll be settling down to a super size sausage with lashings of sperm?’

  I pull a face. ‘Stop being so rude you.’

  ‘Come on. I’m hungry,’ she cries plaintively.

  ‘All right. Let’s get your ass to Taki’s. I suppose, I could eat a bag of fries.’

  ‘Panties are kinckers, and fries are chips in England,’ Stella corrects fuzzily.

  ‘Right. Bag of chips,’ I say.

  We stand up, stumble into each other, and start giggling uncontrollably.

  Noah comes to us. ‘Ready to go?’

  ‘We’re off to get some food from Taki,’ Stella says, still laughing.

  Noah scowls. ‘Taki?’

  ‘The kebab joint down the road,’ I explain.

  ‘Fine. Get in the car and we’ll drive down.’ Noah glances at his watch then back to me. ‘We don’t have that much time. You have to be back before 12.00.

  That perks Stella up. She turns to me and wags her finger. ‘What? You have curfew,’ she exclaims and nearly falls backwards on her Jimmy Choos.

  I grab her waist and hold her upright. ‘No, I don’t. I just told Zane I’d be back before twelve.’

  ‘For tonight’s helping of sausage and gravy?’ she slurs.

  I glance at Noah, and his eyebrows are as high as I have ever seen them. It’s obvious he has no idea how to deal with two falling-down-drunk women.

  ‘We’ll have to take Stella home first,’ I tell him.

  ‘No need. The driver will take her back and make sure she is safely through her front door, and I’ll take you back in my car.’<
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  ‘God, you’re very efficient,’ I say, swaying slightly because Stella is swaying like mad.

  ‘Here let me take her,’ he offers and swings her easily into the crook of his elbow.

  With his great arm around Stella’s tottering body, and with her heckling and calling out friendship overtures to all kinds of strangers on the road, we make our way to Taki’s. There is a queue of people waiting to be served, but Taki throws half a chicken on the grill, calls something out in Greek to the other man manning the shop, goes to the vacant end of counter, and beckons us over.

  He slings a tea towel over his shoulder and leaning with his forearms on the glass counter cries out expansively, ‘Aiiiii, it’s my favorite Kouklas.’ The word, he explained to us a year ago, means beautiful dolls in Greek. Not in pervy way Taki is old enough to be our grandfather. It is usually used to describe pretty young girls or babies.

  ‘Hey Taki,’ both Stella and I say in unison.

  ‘Long time you no eat Taki’s food? Where you been?’

  ‘It’s her,’ Stella complains. ‘She’s gone and found herself a man and now she won’t come out with me.’

  Taki raises both his veined, wrinkled hands and shakes them in front of his mustached face and says. ‘You find a man. So what? You still have to eat.’

  I grin and he looks over at Noah standing by the door. ‘Is that him over there?’

  ‘No, he just a friend,’ I say.

  ‘He’s big,’ he says puffing out his shoulders and widening his old eyes.

  ‘Do you think he is big where it counts?’ Stella whispers.

  ‘Stella?’ I whisper.

  ‘Go have a feel,’ Taki urges with an evil grin.

  Stella turns to do just that, but I catch her by the waist. ‘Stella,’ I say warningly.

  ‘What? He’ll never know. I’ll be discreet’ she says innocently.

  ‘Don’t do it. You’ll regret it in the morning,’ I whisper under my breath.

  ‘Just one quick feel,’ she wheedles.

  ‘Remember the last time you were this drunk and you didn’t listen to me.’

  ‘When I set fire to that bouncer, you mean,’ she says with a little giggle.

  ‘And what happened to us after that?’ I prompt.

  ‘We got banned from ever going there again,’ she says sulkily.

  I turn to Taki. ‘She’s been drinking on an empty stomach so please don’t encourage her.’

  He raises his hands in surrender.

  ‘What’s there to eat then?’ Stella asks Taki, and emits a huge hiccup. She covers her mouth. ‘Ooops. Sorry.’

  Taki waves towards all the raw meat inside the glass case.

  While Stella leans against the glass counter and looks at the food on display, I order a bag of chips, and turn to Noah to ask if he wants something to eat. He shakes his head quickly and turns his attention back to a group of young guys outside who’ve had a lot of drink and are obviously spoiling for a fight.

  ‘What’s the lowest calorie thing you have here?’ Stella asks.

  Taki picks out a lemon slice decorating the edges of a plate full of skewered meat and, grinning widely, holds it up to Stella.

  ‘Ha, ha. Very funny,’ Stella says and leans her cheek into her palm. ‘You know what. Fuck it. I’ll break my diet for tonight. Give me a large lamb kebab with salad and lots and lots of garlic sauce since I won’t be kissing anyone tonight.’

  ‘Oki-doki,’ Taki says and goes off to shave some meat from the rotisserie.

  We stand by glass window and wolf down our food between sips from cans of coke. Afterwards, we walk back towards the place where the driver’s car is parked. Noah stuffs Stella into the backseat of the car and shuts the door.

  ‘Wait here,’ he says to me. ‘I’ll bring my car around.’

  The back window winds down and Stella pops her head out.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ she whines.

  ‘To get his car.’

  She grabs my hands. ‘I know I’m drunk and raving, but you do know that I love you with all my heart, don’t ya?’

  I feel such a great love for Stella at that moment I want to hold and protect her from every man that could ever try to hurt her. ‘You know I really love you too, right,’ I choke.

  For a second Stella looks like she is about to burst into tears and I bend down and kiss her cheek.

  She grabs me tightly. ‘I can’t wait for you to come back. You don’t have to clean the bathroom anymore. I’ll do it,’ she says in my hair, her voice wobbly and I feel my heart clench with sadness. I truly am going to miss this girl. I know I will have to tell her soon that I don’t know when I will be coming back, but I have no heart to say it then. Another day. I’ll say it another day.

  At that moment Noah’s car roars into the street and both Stella and I turn to stare at the massive black machine with surprise. It is like something from a superhero comic book.

  ‘Wow. Is that a bat mobile?’ Stella asks.

  ‘I don’t think so, but it sure has one heck of an angry engine.’

  Stella hiccups. ‘My brother calls them go-home-in-a-neck-brace cars.’

  ‘Your brother better not be right. I have to get into it.’

  Stella laughs uproariously.

  Noah stops next to a car behind us and signals the driver to go. The car starts to move and Stella emerges out of the window waist high and waves her arms at us.

  ‘Nite, nite, my babes,’ she shouts, her voice sloppy and happier than I have heard in a long time.

  ‘Get back in,’ I shout.

  She quickly gets back into the car and a couple of seconds later I hear her scream in a high-pitched voice ‘weeeeee,’ and see a pair of long legs waving slowly out of the window in a slow scissoring motion. Just like a Folies Bergère dancer. Laughing, I pull my phone out and take a video of her legs. I’ll post it on Facebook in the morning. I bet she won’t remember.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Noah calls.

  As I am about to turn away one of her shoes comes off her foot and falls to the side of the road. Before I can do anything the traffic lights change, Stella retracts her legs, and the car speeds off. Stella is so plastered she doesn’t even realize she has lost a shoe.

  ‘Come on, Dahlia’ Noah urges again.

  ‘Just hang on one sec,’ I say, and run the few yards to pick up her precious shoe, but as I get to it a man who was coming from a different direction bends down and takes it in his hand. He straightens and my mouth drops open.

  ‘Mark,’ I whisper.

  ‘Hello Dahlia,’ he says softly, and holds the shoe out to me.

  I take it from him. ‘What are you doing here?’ A gust of wind blows hair into my face. I push it back and stare at him.

  ‘I was in the neighborhood,’ he says.

  Even in my intoxicated state the statement doesn’t make sense. ‘Look Mark, I-’ I begin when I feel Noah step next to me. I turn my head and look up at him and his face is like granite. His eyes are cold and hostile and his mouth is an intimidatingly straight line.

  ‘All right, Dahlia?’ he asks, his eyes never leaving Mark.

  ‘It’s all right, Noah. This is my friend, Mark,’ I explain hurriedly.

  Mark immediately holds out his hand, but Noah rudely ignores it. ‘We should go,’ he says still staring at Mark.

  Mark lets his hand drop to his side.

  ‘Nice to see you again, Mark,’ I say awkwardly.

  For an instant it looks as if Mark is going to say something, then he flashes a lop-sided smile and says, ‘Yeah, it was great to see you again. You look beautiful.’

  Next to me Noah stiffens even more.

  To diffuse the situation I trust Stella’s shoe into Mark’s hand. ‘Give this to Stella for me, will you?’ I say.

  He grasps the shoe and nods.

  I smile and follow Noah to his car. When we get to it I turn around and Mark is still standing there clutching the shoe. I wave and he waves back. I feel something strange inside me,
like a warning, or an instinct that something bad is going to happen, but I am too tipsy to make any sense of it.

  I slide into the passenger seat, Noah closes the door, and the feeling evaporates. I turn around in my seat to look at Mark, but he is gone. I crane my neck looking for him, but he has completely disappeared. Maybe he went down one of the side streets.

  Noah gets in and starts the car. I quickly text Stella and tell her that Mark has her shoe before turning to Noah.

  ‘What kind of car is this?’ I ask. The interior smells of leather, glue, resin, and polished metal. A truly masculine smell.

  ‘It’s a TVR Sagaris.’

  ‘Hmm … it’s a gorgeous car.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘How fast can it go?’

  ‘Zero to 60mph in 3.9 seconds.’

  ‘Wow, and the top speed?’

  ‘185mph,’ he says instantly and there is quiet pride in his voice.

  ‘I bet you get a lot of speeding tickets.’

  He grins. ‘I don’t get speeding tickets.’

  I turn to look at his profile. ‘How come?’

  He winks. ‘Trade secret.’

  I lift my hands up as if in surrender. ‘OK.’

  There is a pause.

  ‘Have you worked for Zane for long?’ I ask and I don’t imagine the wariness that enters his body.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Have you lived in London all your life?’

  ‘No,’ he says shortly.

  ‘What about Zane?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask him that yourself.’

  Just to see his reaction I ask, ‘What’s Zane favorite color?’

  He scowls. ‘I have no idea.’

  Jesus, getting information from him is like getting blood from stone. I throw my hands up. ‘Is there anything at all you can tell about Zane?’

  He glances at me. ‘Not really.’

  I reach forward and switch on the stereo and a Russian pop song comes on.

  ‘Who’s singing?’ I ask.

  ‘Pussy Riot.’

  I stare at him. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘Nope. I’m a big fan.’

  I shake my head. ‘Of a band called Pussy Riot?’

  He gives me a cocky look. ‘With a name like that what’s not to like?’