by Alexa Riley
My mother died during childbirth, and no one knew who my father was, so I was given to an orphanage. I ran away when I was ten and found work where I could. The place I ran from wasn’t looking to chase down another mouth to feed, so I became a child of the street and did what I could to survive.
I started off taking packages after I finished the rail work for the day, but eventually I was trusted with more deliveries. The money was far more than I could make doing an honest day’s work, and back then I needed to eat. It was all about surviving. I was loyal to those who treated me with even half an ounce of decency, but as time went on, I began to harden my heart. Lines started to cross and I started to lose myself.
Years went on, and I became a part of the Russian underground mafia. The organization was dirty, and as much as I wanted to be loyal, I couldn’t do some of the things they asked me to. I didn’t have another life beyond this makeshift family, and I did what I could to survive.
But as with all men, power and greed began to take over, and the underground changed hands. Dissent simmered in the ranks, and everyone was trying to get off the sinking ship before they got pulled back in. I knew I didn’t want to go down, like I said, everything was about surviving, and members were being killed off one by one. There was nothing in that life worth dying for. I knew I had to get out and did what I had to.
The one thing I did have was information, and it was useful. I got a coded message sent to me at the perfect time, and I was ready for it. The contact wanted information on a deal that was taking place between a corporate giant in America and a country in southern Asia. They were concerned it could have potential ties to the Russian mafia and they wanted the Asian company vetted.
I agreed to turn over what I had in exchange for safe passage out of Russia. I wanted to disappear, and this was the perfect opportunity. I could leave my homeland and have a simple life somewhere far away. I never had dreams of fortune or fame. I was only ever just a boy trying to survive the winter. My choices led me down a dark path, one that at first I had no choice but to take, and I was ready to start over.
I found out my name was on a shortlist of those being terminated from the original underground, so I made my move. My death was staged in an explosion of a warehouse that I was living in at the time. The scene was made to look like I’d been taken out by someone looking to make a name for himself in the ranks. I found out later that the person who claimed responsibility was someone I trusted. He was killed two days later.
I arrived in Italy a week after with nothing but the clothes on my back and a USB drive in my pocket. My contact at Osbourne Corporation had been true to their word and gotten me across the borders.
Jordan Chen was waiting for me at a café by the sea in Genoa. I gave him all the information I had and then some. He gave me a new name and passport, but then he gave me something else.
“What’s this?”
“An opportunity,” Jordan says, packing up his stuff.
“So I go from one master to another?” I ask angrily.
“No. You don’t owe us anything. After I walk away we’re done here.” There is honesty in his eyes, which is a contrast to the scar on his face. “If you’re interested, we could use someone like you on this side of the world. It doesn’t have to be you, but you’re our first choice. Plus, the pay is enough for you to retire in a year or two.”
I hadn’t given much thought to what I was going to do next. My biggest hurdle was getting out of the country undetected.
“Think it over. When you’ve made your decision, call the number.”
I look down at the card that’s on top of the stack of papers. The name Paige Justice is embossed in gold, and her number is below. I’m not prepared to become someone else’s watchdog, but I don’t know if I can say no.
So that’s what I’ve done the past five years. I’ve worked for Osbourne Corp International, vetting companies they’re either interested in taking over or want to do business with. I’ve spent my time following businessmen and digging into their lives. It’s easy work and a lot more legal than I ever was with the mafia. But just like before, it’s a lonely world, and I’m tired of the isolation. Something was missing and I wasn’t sure I knew what it was. How can someone feel lonely or understand what it really is if it’s all they really ever had? But I felt it. I craved something else. Deep down to my bones I knew I was looking for something or someone.
Last month I sent Paige a message telling her I wanted out. She said her husband Ryan had a replacement whenever I was ready to go. I was both relieved and disappointed she didn’t ask me to stay on. Although I knew I wanted a life of my own, I liked being needed. Even if it was a business on the other side of the world.
To my surprise, I got a message the next day from Paige saying that I owed her one last favor and asking me to come to the States.
I’d met both Ryan and Paige several times over the years. They’d come to Europe on vacation and we’d end up talking business for hours. I respected the two of them and thought that they worked well together as a team. There were also times I’d become jealous, seeing the love they shared, and had to excuse myself. It was difficult to be around two people who adored one another so much, knowing that I’d never find that kind of love myself. A woman who wanted me, who was soft and sweet. All I ever seemed to draw in were women who wanted darkness. Who thought I would be rough. It would make my stomach roll at the thought of something like that. I wanted the sweetness I saw between them. The love and devotion. Not the pain and darkness.
I decided that I’d repay the debt and go to America. And when I arrived, they told me that they’d like me to protect one of their daughters. Something that sounded simple enough.
I finish getting dressed and make my way through the garden that separates the guest quarters from the main house. I agreed to stay here for a trial period until we figure out something more permanent. Penelope is still deciding on colleges, they said, and they don’t want to make any decision yet.
When I get to the back of the house, I catch a glimpse of her at the table from my position at the glass doors outside the kitchen.
As if I’ve spoken her name aloud, she turns to face me, and our eyes lock. Her green eyes are like nothing I’ve seen before. A sweet, pure innocence pours off her in waves, touching me deep in my soul in a place I didn’t even know was there.
My chest fills with warmth as a chill runs from the back of my neck down my spine. It’s exactly like last night all over again.
I’ve never felt more powerless with one look.
Chapter Three
Penelope
“Penny!” The loud whisper from my sister has me opening one eye to look at her.
“What?” I moan, pulling the pillow over my head.
I debate whether to use the same trick my parents did with us when they went from a king-size bed to a full so we couldn’t sleep with them anymore. Though I would have to get a twin to get Pandora out of mine.
“I’m hungry.” Her words come out in a pout. I don’t even have to see her face to know the expression she’s making right now.
“And the sky is blue.” I roll over and pull the pillow off my head, looking at my alarm clock. The damn thing hasn’t even gone off yet. She’s always hungry. “What the flip, Pan? It’s not even time to get up.” I throw the pillow at her. She catches it easily and tosses it back on the bed.
“I gotta go in early. Forgot to finish up my paper for art history, and I need those stupid books in the library.”
This isn’t shocking. Pandora hates homework. If she could skate by on tests she would be golden. This year we didn’t get any of the same classes, so she doesn’t have me reminding her about what’s due anymore.
“What do you want?” I ask, pulling myself from the bed.
“Bacon and pancakes,” I hear her say from b
ehind me. “Oh, and scrambled eggs with—”
“I know how you like your eggs,” I tell her, cutting her off. I’ve been making this family breakfast almost every morning since I was old enough to be in the kitchen alone.
“You rock!” she yells, running from my room to get ready.
I make my way to the kitchen and start breakfast, and I work on packing everyone’s lunch at the same time. Today I make tomato turkey sandwiches with a sweet glaze on slices of fresh bread.
“Sweetheart,” my dad greets me, coming into the kitchen and placing a kiss on top of my head.
“Hey, Dad. Bacon and pancakes today,” I tell him, handing him a plate.
He gives me another kiss on the head before sitting down at the breakfast bar and digging in. My mom walks in the kitchen a few minutes later, and my dad is on his feet, pulling her chair out for her then giving her a deep kiss. I roll my eyes but smile as I go back to packing everyone lunches.
My parents can be a little too PDA for me at times, but I wouldn’t want them any other way. My dad and mom were made for each other, and I hope one day I find that, too. An image of Ivan from the night before flutters through my mind, as do some of the dreams I’d had about him. My cheeks start to heat as I remember them, particularly the one of him kissing me over and over again. And the one where I trace his tattoos, though the images of that one are fuzzy, which means I might need to get a better look at them.
I’m thankful I’m not facing my parents so they can’t see the blush lighting up my face.
“Lock it up.”
I jump, not realizing Pandora walked into the room. She’s eating a piece of bacon while her eyes narrow on me.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I glare back at her, handing her a to-go plate she can eat in the car on her way to school.
“I’m watching you,” she mouths, and I have to bite back my retort: so what’s new? She takes the plate from me before going over to my parents and telling them goodbye. She throws her hand up in a wave on the way out.
“Did she forget to finish something?” my mom asks me, and I nod.
Dad chuckles. They can’t really get mad at her. She might not like school, but she’s always pulled straight A’s. We both do, even at one of the toughest private schools in the country.
Since we’re both great in school and don’t give them too much grief, our parents are pretty good about giving us free rein as long as we keep a guard with us. Rules loosened up a lot since we turned eighteen. And then when Pandora punched Ethan, a boy at prom who tried to kiss me, that gained us some more freedom. I cringe at the memory.
I bet Ivan could take a punch and not even care. He doesn’t seem like he would run scared after like Ethan did. He was a nice enough boy, but I wasn’t ready for how handsy he was getting, and Pandora knew right away. Then I start to wonder what it would be like if it were Ivan making the same moves...
“We’ll be a little late tonight, honey,” Mom says, shaking me out of my fantasy. She comes around and puts her dish in the sink. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Will you be home in time for dinner?”
“Don’t you have finals to study for?” she asks as my dad comes to stand behind her. He wraps an arm around her, and she melts into him.
“Yeah, but cooking always helps me relax,” I remind her. I know they always feel a little guilty that I cook for everyone, but I love it. It’s one of my favorite things to do. That’s why Pandora knew I would get out of bed this morning to make her something to eat.
“You know I can’t turn down your cooking.” Mom leans in and gives me another kiss. “Do me a favor, Penelope, and don’t be hard on the new guy.” She levels me with a stare.
“Who, me?” I bat my lashes, which makes my dad laugh.
“I wonder where she got this thing for ditching her guards,” Dad says right before Mom elbows him. My dad fakes like he’s hurt. “You’re going to kiss that later.”
“Okay, you two need to go to work,” I say, handing them their lunches. I don’t want to hear their flirting. Dad gives me a hug and another kiss on the head before leaving the kitchen. I smile as they depart, and then I turn around to make my own plate.
I grab my phone and start up some music on it. After I find a song I like, I start dancing a little as I take a few bites of my food. I look around the kitchen to make sure I have stuff to make tacos for dinner tonight, wondering when Ivan will get here. As soon as the thought pops into my head, I turn around and freeze when I see him standing in the backyard, staring at me.
My breath catches as our eyes meet. Today he’s in black slacks and a buttoned-up white collared shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, and I can see a bit more of his tattoos today. There’s still so much of him that’s hidden, but I think that’s part of the attraction.
I can’t pull my eyes from him as he starts to move towards me. I’m rooted in place as his long, thick legs eat up the distance between us. He stops at the glass doors that line the far wall of our kitchen, then he slides the door open and lets himself right in.
I lick my lips as he closes it and leans up against it. His eyes never leave mine, and he doesn’t utter a word. I don’t know how long we stand there until I’m finally able to pull enough air into my lungs to say something.
“Hungry?” I nod to the food that’s sitting on the kitchen counter. It’s not normal for us to have leftovers, but everyone seemed to be in a hurry this morning, so there’s plenty for him.
“You’d feed me?” Ivan asks, his dark eyebrows pulling together as if he’s confused. It’s then I hear an accent that I think is Russian. His voice is seriously deep. Deeper than any voice I’ve ever heard before.
“It’s kinda my thing. I feed people around here,” I tease, finding a little more of my voice again. Jesus, what is wrong with me? I’m never tongue-tied when I’m around guys, but Ivan is different. He’s head to toe man, and this instant attraction is something I’ve never experienced before.
He steps farther into the room, so I grab a plate and serve him some of the food. When I turn around he’s standing right behind me. I have to look up at him. His inscrutable dark eyes are locked on me.
“Sorry, there’s only one piece of bacon left. I’m shocked there’s even that,” I say, a little more breathily than I mean to.
I feel a tug on the plate, and I let go, knowing he grabbed it. I don’t look down to see because our eyes remain locked.
“I would eat anything you served me,” he says simply, and I feel myself blush.
The thought of other things he could eat enters my mind, and I have to turn around. I don’t want to get caught thinking of such a dirty image, because I feel like he can read it all over my face. Oh. My. God. Something is wrong with me.
I start cleaning up the kitchen, trying to distract myself with something, anything. As I grab a plate in the sink, he reaches out, taking it from my hand.
“You cooked for me, I will clean for you.”
I should probably tell him that we have someone who comes in and does this for us. I was only doing it because I was trying to stay busy in an effort to not make a fool of myself.
“Perhaps you should get dressed.”
His eyes travel down my body, and embarrassment floods me. It’s then I realize I’m in sleep shorts that are more like underwear and a Harry Potter shirt that says I’m up to no good. It’s so faded it’s almost see-through. At one time it belonged to my mom, but I love it so much because I remember her reading the books to Pandora and me when we were little. She wore it all the time until I stole it about five years ago.
“Okay,” I whisper, and then I actually do something my guard told me to do. I turn to leave, but he grabs my wrist. I stop short and stand there, with him holding on to me. I look into his dark eyes, and I’m unable to move. There’s so much there that I c
an’t read, but I recognize one thing for sure.
“Are you up to no good, krasotu?” The low words rumble from his chest, and they vibrate through me.
I lick my lips, wondering what that word means. I’m surprised by his question. There’s an edge of danger in it, and it doesn’t feel like he’s only asking as a concerned guard looking out for me.
“I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself,” I whisper before pulling my arm from him and leaving the room.
I feel his eyes on my back the whole time, and I remember what I saw there. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, and I want it again. No man has ever looked at me like that before.
With pure desire.
Chapter Four
Ivan
This was a mistake.
I can feel the burn of my palm where I touched her soft skin. The way I reached out and grabbed her was unlike me. I try not to touch people if possible, and there I was, holding on to her delicate wrist and trying to make her stay. She’s having an effect on me like nothing I’ve experienced, and I don’t know if I can handle it but I want it like nothing I’ve ever wanted before.
She sits beside me silently as I drive her to school. It’s only the two of us, and the space feels somehow intimate. I want to hear her talk again. Her voice does something to me. It’s like a balm on my soul. I don’t care if she just reads the dictionary. I want to hear her voice.
“How do you know my parents? I’ve never seen you before.”
The question breaks the peace slinging though me, and though I have a need to not lie to her, I don’t know how much of the truth I’m willing to tell her. I pause for a moment to think of a way to phrase my answer, but she takes this to mean that I won’t answer.
“Fine. Forget I asked.” She looks out the window, and I can see hurt in her reflection on the glass.
“Net. No.” I hurriedly switch from Russian to English. “I’m trying to think of a way to tell you without revealing what is confidential,” I admit, only wanting to give her the truth. Lying to such a pure soul seems wrong.
