Pakhan's Rose

by V. F. Mason

Squealing once more, I hugged him close as I shouted. “Alfonso!” He laughed back as a cocky grin appeared on his handsome face. “Rosalinda, good to see you, sweetheart.” His voice held a playful note, but I ignored it as I studied my childhood friend who I hadn't seen in forever. Alfonso was always the nicest kid on the playground, loved goofing around, and never took anything seriously. His olive skin went well with his dark hair. The body under his suit was toned but not overly muscled. The little wrinkles under his eyes spoke of his love for humor, but at the same time, they indicated he knew everything. Maybe he acquired this look as a bodyguard in the Cosa Nostra.

  “Good to see you too!”

  He grinned. “Who wouldn't be happy to see me, babe?” I opened my mouth to reply when the smell of alcohol and cheap cigarettes stuck in my nostrils. I looked at the man near the doorway, a thin guy who wore black jeans and shirt. His arm was wrapped around a fragile-looking woman with her blonde hair and porcelain skin shadowed with several bruises, which were visible even under the tons of foundation she had put on to cover it up.

  Her lip was split. Paralyzing fear ran through her eyes, and she winced a bit when he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Long lost princess of the Cosa Nostra. Welcome back.” However, his voice was anything but welcoming as his cold blue eyes ran over my body as though he imagined me naked, and it made me feel dirty inside.

  “Romeo,” I said calmly, because only he could grow into such an ass. He was the one who always hurt girls on the playground, tugging on their hair or throwing dirt at them, and he was always in some kind of trouble. Dad had saved his ass from the police more times than could be counted on two hands. Why he still bothered was beyond my understanding.

  “She remembers me.” He exhaled dramatically, pressing his hand over his heart and taking a step toward me, maybe to give me a hug, but he was stopped by Alfonso’s harsh warning and dangerously narrowed eyes.

  “Behave and stay the fuck away from her, brother.” Alfonso’s gaze for a second lingered on the blonde, but they were unreadable, and I couldn't name the expression.

  Romeo raised his hands in defeat, shrugged, and then gave the much-needed respect to my dad, who wasn't happy with the scene, if his gritted teeth and fake smile were anything to go by.

  “The dinner is ready,” Lucretia informed us. Nodding, our fathers followed her into the dining room as I smiled widely and decided to get to know the girl better, as the good hostess I was supposed to be.

  “Hi, my name is Rosalinda.”

  She smiled back at me, although it was a hardship for her. “Bianca.”

  She nervously glanced at Romeo, who accepted a whiskey and gulped it in one move, saying, “Another,” to the waiter.

  As we walked slowly to the room, the brothers behind us, I continued chatting with her, even if it seemed to only bring tension between the three of them. “So where are you from?” The name was Italian, but her features didn't really match the nation.

  She licked her dry lips, and answered quickly, “The States. My mom liked the Italian culture; ergo, the name,” she lied. It was evident on how she presented the information and kept glancing behind her as if making sure she didn't do anything wrong.

  What the hell had Romeo done to her? Alfonso didn't give me time to dwell on it, as he quickly joined me, took out the chair, seated me, and then occupied the one next to me. Romeo didn't even bother helping Bianca, just plunged on the seat, and clicked his fingers for the waiter for yet another drink. “He’ll be drunk real quick this way,” I muttered, and Alfonso chuckled, although there was nothing humorous about it.

  “Trust me, babe, you haven't seen anything yet. He’ll be sober enough to stand even after a bottle.”

  When Bianca accidentally pushed the fork away and it ended up on the floor, Romeo snapped, “Be careful.” She lowered her gaze, nodded, and picked it up.

  Perplexed that no one even blinked at this behavior, my eyes travelled to my father, who shook his head.

  In that moment, I hated being his daughter. It wasn't that my dad approved of violence or disrespect toward women, but he couldn't say anything until the woman herself asked for help. His expression was grim. He had a rather dismissive smile, which indicated his diastase for the situation. Had Romeo hit her in front of him, he’d beat the living shit out of him, but in this case, his hands were tied.

  Rules were rules, and no one could break them.

  Uncle Allegro didn't give a shit or had stopped paying attention at some point to what his son was doing, because he took a sip of his red wine and addressed me. “So, Rosalinda. What are your plans for the future?”

  I waited until Lucretia served a steaming risotto and pasta ravioli for the main course to everyone, and replied cheerfully, “To get my medical degree. I want to be a surgeon.”

  He laughed, almost choking on his drink. “Why would you want to waste your time on a degree you’ll never use?”

  Blinking a few times and wiping my mouth with the napkin on my lap, I asked, confused, “What do you mean ‘waste my time’?”

  Raising his brow in surprise, as though the answer to my question was freaking obvious, he stated, “You’ll be at home raising little ones. I doubt Lorenzo would appreciate this hobby of yours,” he finished.

  Ex-fucking-cuse me? “What does Lorenzo have to do with it?” I decided to ignore his comment about my degree, because it was pointless. He clearly still belonged to the group of men who thought a woman’s place was at home. Which was all good and dandy as long as it was her choice.

  Allegro frowned, all traces of amusement leaving him. “Well, he is your fiancé. Why else? By the way, as your godfather, I expect an invitation soon.” He made a gesture with his eyebrows, as though it was supposed to lift up the cloud of rage inside me.

  “What in the ever-loving world is this?” My shrill voice probably would have woken the dead.

  “Fuck,” Alfonso murmured, wincing as Romeo’s head tilted back and a giggle erupted. Why the fuck would a man giggle anyway? Bianca looked deeply uncomfortable and almost had her face shoved in her plate.

  But I didn't give a shit, because my whole attention was focused on my dad.

  “Dad,” I started calmly, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, after all, and to remember I wasn't a stupid teen anymore. “Tell me it’s some kind of joke.”

  His lips thinned as he chewed on his food and finally swallowed. “It’s just a possibility.” Lorenzo had been a nice guy since my return. He was the head of my security and a driver. He had a great sense of humor, and he and Dominic actually shared a mutual respect. Never once did he look at me inappropriately or mention this whole marriage charade. If he knew, I would kill him.

  “I don’t want this possibility!” I shouted, but before he could reply, Allegro pitched in his freaking two cents.

  “Watch your tone, young lady.”

  Dismissing him altogether, because honestly, no matter my good upbringing, I didn't freaking care for his thoughts. I grabbed the edge of the table, feeling the polished wood under my fingers. “I won’t marry him.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Rosa,” he warned, clearly hoping to leave this conversation for later, but I wouldn't budge.

  “Dad, promise me.” Yeah, maybe it was immature to ask this when he wanted to leave it for later. Maybe I behaved like a kid. But all this situation gave me was a flashback to that day in school when the principal was kind enough to inform me of how my future was decided for me.

  And based on how things looked and that he wasn’t denying anything right now, nothing had change during the years. But why? Why wouldn't he change his mind? Why didn't he learn from his mistakes?

  I wasn't a seventeen-year-old kid anymore, I was a grown-ass woman who, thanks to Damian, had the means to pursue whatever the hell I dreamed of.

  So fuck it.

  Turning toward Alfonso, I spoke softly. “Let’s catch up some other time, okay?”

  He put his hand over mine and nodded. “Sure, darli
ng. I’m sorry for this.”

  Shaking my head, because really, what did he have to be sorry about? I rose from my seat and threw the napkin on the table. “I’m not feeling well. Excuse me, I’m going to lie down.” Romeo saluted me with his drink while Bianca just bit her lips, clicking the fork loudly on the porcelain.

  “Rosa—”

  Not interested in my dad’s explanation, I left the table without a backward glance and quickly ended up in my room. Closing the door behind me and leaning on it, breathing heavily, I thought about what I should do next.

  Pack.

  Yeah, that seemed like a good plan.

  But then everything went haywire as a strong hand covered my mouth and a muscled body trapped me, pressing into mine and not allowing me any freedom to escape.

  I probably would have screamed had it not been for the moonlight slipping through the open drapes that allowed me to study the stranger’s face and his amber, fire-lit eyes.

  Dominic.

  My knight in shining armor came to the rescue.

  Dominic

  “Shhhh.”

  She rolled her eyes, slapped my hand from her mouth, and raised her brow at me. “What do you want, Dominic?”

  I was too stunned to reply. She glanced over my shoulder to the open window, where the curtains flew wildly as the chilly night air was whipped by the strong wind. “The door doesn’t work for you anymore?” She walked past me to the bedside lamp, which allowed me to study her in that disgusting black dress and shoes, and I groaned disapprovingly.

  “What is it?” she asked, as her hands took out a small backpack from under the bed and started to throw things like headphones, books, and some picture frames into it. Then she marched toward the closet, opened it up, and grabbed a few things from there. “Seriously, I have no time for your shit. Can you just tell me what you want?”

  Why was she acting so fucking breezy around me? Where were the heated stares and passionate kisses?

  “I came for you.” My words stopped her movement. She spun around and her jaw almost hit the floor from her shock.

  “Where to exactly?” she finally asked, and I frowned.

  “To the shooting range you wanted to try.” My voice was offhanded, and she confused me. Where the hell did she think I would go?

  Her head titled back, and her bitter laugh echoed in the room. Instantly, I wanted to gather her in my arms and soothe whatever brought her pain.

  Even if it was me.

  She finally stopped, resting her hands on her hips, and spoke. “You know, my dad and you need to be seen to be believed.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, pointing her finger at the middle of her chest. “I’m the only one who decides what happens to me or with my life. Not my dad who wants to marry me off to some Italian guy soon and have his babies, and sure as hell not you, who plans to whisk me away to some goddamn country I have no idea ab—”

  Nothing else registered in my mind after she spoke about her marrying someone else. A red haze masked my eyes and a violent, raging beast awakened inside me, someone I didn't even know existed. I didn't think. I darted after her, and I had a second to see her eyes widen right before I picked her up, threw her on the bed, and plunged on top of her. She struggled, trying to push me away, but I wouldn't budge until tears slid down her cheeks and paralyzing fear transformed her into a still creature.

  Only then did I understand what was happening, since I used the same escape when Richard and Benjamin, or whoever John allowed, raped us.

  Point of retreat in the mind, where everything else was blocked away.

  Fuck.

  Moving my hands up to her neck, I gently caressed her cheek, as my soothing voice murmured, “Hey, krasavica. Me, baby, it’s me.” Running my lips over her cheek, I listened to her rapidly beating heart against her ribcage as her chest slowly evened out and the panic glazing her eyes disappeared as the things around her penetrated her mind. Lifting both of us up, I sat on the edge of the bed and placed her on my lap. Her arms and legs wrapped around me as she shoved her face between my shoulder and neck. Wetness coated my skin from her tears.

  “I’m sorry, my Rosa.” Patting her gently, I asked, “What happened?” Gentleness was what she needed right now. Otherwise, I would have acted on instinct and rushed to demand who the fuck Don thought he was marrying her off to.

  “Dad is still considering the possibility of me and Lorenzo.” My hands on her back clenched into fists as I tugged on her hair so her hazel eyes collided with mine.

  “Why would this even be brought up?” The man spent hours daily with my woman. Was there some history between them I wasn't aware of? He had a great code of honor and never created trouble for me or my men. The idea of harming him didn’t sit well with me, but if all this bullshit continued, I’d have no choice.

  “When we were kids, our fathers joked about the possibility of us being together. But that was it. All this stuff wasn't even brought up until Allegro showed up today.” She didn't have to explain about the Delucci family. I ran a background check on them myself. Besides the sorry excuse for a son Romeo was, I couldn't hold anything against them. “So I want to move out to the apartment Damian bought for me,” she said, and everything inside me froze.

  “What?” She wiped her nose on her shoulder, and said, “I can’t stay here if Dad can’t respect my choices.” She blinked a few times, palmed my face, and whispered, “You understand, right?” Yes, I did understand indeed.

  She really was that naïve.

  In what fucking universe did she think I would allow her to live alone?

  Rosa belonged to me, and with a threat looming over her head with the whole marriage thing, no way in fuck she’d stay without the protection of my claim. My eyes looked down to her neck. Her bare neck.

  “Where is my cross?” I growled, as she blushed.

  “I hid it so Dad wouldn't see it. It seemed inappropriate to wear.”

  “I see.” She frowned, as a line appeared between her brows, and without stressing her further, I kissed her deeply, trapping her mouth with mine as our tongues collided with each other. There was nothing like the softness of her kiss, but before I could take it further, I rose with her in my arms and squeezed her tighter. “Goodnight, Rosa. Pack everything you want.”

  Her eyes lit up with delight. “Really? I’m so happy you get me!” She slid down my body, her curves making it hard for me to concentrate after our garden rendezvous yesterday. Even jerking off in the shower twice didn't help much. I took a step back.

  “Yes, I just came to kiss you.”

  “Oh,” she swooned, and part of me felt like shit for deceiving her, but my limit had been reached.

  With one last glance at her, I grabbed the rope I brought and jumped out the window on to the grass and walked slowly to my car. My black clothes were extra insurance against the cameras that Vitya made sure were off.

  Taking out my phone, I dialed Luke’s number, and once he picked up, I said, “Tonight.”

  Rosa was in for a surprise. All this bullshit with being a gentleman ended today.

  I would whisk my woman back to Russia, where she would discover a new side of me and learn to deal with it. Doing things her way clearly didn't work.

  Man with the dragon tattoo

  Barely containing a smirk, which threatened to spill out, I tried to keep my face neutral as I slowly sipped my drink.

  The evening went exactly as I planned.

  Don stepped right into the trap I set for him, and Rosa’s reaction was priceless. Stupid women, once they were given freedom, they thought they were entitled to it. They were good for nothing except for fucking.

  All of them.

  Bianca playing with the silverware and dishes grated on my nerves. I kicked her under the table, hard, making sure the tip of my leather shoe dug into her bare skin, and pleasure spread through me as she bit her lip to prevent crying out in pain. She stopped, straightened her spine, and pressed a napkin to her mouth with her trembling hands.
My cock stirred against my fly, and I adjusted it. Tonight, she’d satisfy it good, once I was done terrorizing her skin with knifes.

  A night like this required celebration, and nothing spoke of a party like drinking blood from a female’s body.

  Rosa. Rosa. One step closer to getting my hands on you, and two steps closer to inflicting my revenge on the men in your life.

  Sixteen years ago

  Dominic

  “Wash your body faster, piece of shit. We don’t have the whole day for this,” Alec spat, throwing the bar of soap at my back, and it hit me painfully. The sting came from the big gash Alfred’s belt left right between my shoulder blades. This was a routine with him. He’d leave cuts and bruises. They would fester, then half-ass heal, and he’d put them right there again. Not to mention the blood mingled with semen in my ass, where the flesh was torn due to them never using lube on me.

  Pretty twin, they said. Too pretty to wait. Too pretty to resist the temptation.

  Everything in me screamed to punch the wall ‘til my knuckles bled from the rage building up inside me anytime their voices spoke in my mind. But my skinny, barely-holding-on-to-life body couldn't take any beating from Alec, who was a muscled motherfucker.

  Grabbing it from the dirty, slippery floor, I soaped my body, welcoming the sweet smell that overpowered the entire rusty room, and for a second, I smelled something different from someone else’s cologne or semen. The bruises, the dry blood on my wrists from the metal cuffs, blisters around my ankles from chains, and marks on my neck from the belt he liked to choke me with stung like fucking hell, but hey, clean was better.

  Once the task was done, I turned on the faucet and cold water poured on me from the top, chilling every bone in my body, but I almost didn't feel it.

  Was there any hot water anymore in the world anyway? The only hot anything we got here was tea during Thanksgiving or Christmas sometimes. Maybe the world didn't have hot water anymore. My lips probably turned blue and my teeth chattered by the time I finished my shower, and Alec once again threw me a black towel, which smelled like shit and had several stains on it as though someone washed it in coffee from the table. With my luck, they probably did.