by Blake Haugen
CROSSROADS
The Full Circle Trilogy
Book Two
BLAKE HAUGEN
Copyright © 2014 by Blake Haugen. All rights reserved.
Although an intriguing romance, this story is erotic in nature and should only be read by individuals over the age of eighteen. Cease reading if you are under the age of eighteen, if you are under the age of majority where you reside, or if sexually explicit material is prohibited in the area in which you are reading this e-book.
Warning: This novella includes explicit sex, light bondage, dubious consent, Dominant/submissive sexual intercourse, graphic violence, course language, and adult situations. Readers who find this subject matter objectionable should read no further.
This book is a fictional work. Characters, character names, locations, and incidents contained in this work are fictional creations of the author’s imagination and are not presented to be real or reference reality in any manner. Any resemblance to persons, places, locations or organizations is completely coincidental.
Cover Image: Blake Haugen Covers
A note on Russian names for readers: Russians often call people they are close to (family and friends) by the diminutive of their first name. You might think of it as a nickname. For example, Jim and Jimmie are diminutives of the name James; Chuck and Charlie are diminutives of the name Charles. Several diminutives are found in this story; Marusya is the diminutive of Mariya, Vanya for Ivan, and Vasya for Vasily.
Sometimes, when Russians address or announce one another, they use the first name and the patronymic name – a derivative of your father’s name that kind of serves as your middle and last name before your family name. The character Vanya would be addressed as Ivan Kirillovich and the character Lina would be addressed as Akilina Kirillovna as they are both the children of Kirill.
Sometimes, if someone is a close family friend, they are oftentimes referred to by their patronymic name only. For instance, the character Vasily is often referred to as Viktorovich.
Γιαγιά is Greek for grandma. As stated in the story, the maternal side of the Benson family is Greek.
If you find it distracting or confusing, all featured Russian words and phrases can be plugged into a good online translator. However, translation of the Russian phrases in the story is not necessary, and in no way enhances or lessens the plot’s direction or interpretation.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter One
Vanya remained in his bedroom after his rushed call to his cousin Mikhail. He didn’t want to take a risk of losing the upper hand by sweeping through the apartment. He was surprised to hear a knock at the front door of his condo only a few minutes later.
Though the knocking persisted, he refused to leave his post. He had let his guard down only briefly to throw on a pair of jeans as he crouched behind his bedroom door. He now regretted not taking that time to throw some clothing to Persephone, who was still holed up in the en suite bathroom. The knock at the front door sounded again and he was unsure how to proceed without leaving Persephone vulnerable.
Just when he’d solidified things with his new girlfriend, something like this had to happen! Vanya cursed under his breath as the knocking continued. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid – the petty and dangerous power games his father and his colleagues played bleeding into his new relationship. It was yet another thing Persephone could use to distance herself from him.
Their ‘official’ relationship was so new. He hadn’t had a chance to gauge her feelings on any trials they might face. Dating a white man wasn’t something he thought Persephone had a problem with, but time revealed all sorts of things. Her friends hated or resented him. She might not want to deal with all the niceties involved with being on his arm. Constant charity dinners and galas, time apart on business trips, public scrutiny. Reporters and random business people sometimes badgered the ones closet to Vanya in order to get to him, his father, or his sister.
Then of course, there was the looming shadow of his father to contend with. Kirill had a big problem with Vanya’s older sister Lina marrying a wealthy, American, lily white socialite rather than the son of some Russian émigré or oligarch he’d approved first. There was no way he’d willingly accept Vanya dating a black woman.
All of that was against them, and now Vanya had shot an armed man who had broken in while they slept. He wouldn’t blame Persephone if she ran for the hills. Even so, he’d be damned if he let her go without a fight. That woman was instrumental to some of the most happy months of his life. Something special was building between them – Vanya could feel it. He’d do almost anything to hold on to it.
The knocking at the front door finally stopped and was followed by the ring of his cell phone ten seconds later. He picked it up with urgency, never releasing his gun. His heart rejoiced at seeing Max’s name on the screen of the phone. Mikhail must have called the family’s closest security man over to Vanya’s condo. Placing the phone to his ear to receive the call, Vanya spoke in Russian.
“Hey, I’m in my room. I haven’t swept the apartment just yet. Is that you at the door?”
“Yeah, and I caught another man downstairs. I’ve put him down and we’ll be able to get something out of him later. I’m going to come in and take a look around, okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Vanya hung up and heard Max enter shortly thereafter. He barely heard the large man combing through every space in the apartment before he arrived in the bedroom.
“There’s no one else. This one’s friend is out cold on the living room floor. We’re alone and Mikhail is on his way with some guys in an hour or so,” Max said matter-of-factly. He nudged the body with his foot before nonchalantly stepping over it to join Vanya in the bedroom. “We’ll wait for them to clean up. This bastard was one of the guys from your meeting with the Indians.”
“Gupta and Gujral were behind this?” Vanya first stared at the young Indian man’s thin, dead body with bemusement. His eyes then narrowed as he remembered Persephone. That fat fuck Gupta and his snot nosed colleague Marcus Gujral had tried to come back on him. Vanya seethed to think how the night could have turned out. Not too many cops would pay much attention to the death and disappearance of a young black woman with nearly no family. The thought of her hit by a stray bullet enraged him. This wasn’t about money and power anymore – now they were fucking with his happiness.
Max noticed Vanya’s growing intensity and tried to assuage him with the knowledge that retaliation was already in motion. “I sent some men over to Gupta and Gujral’s places as soon as I realized who they were.”
“They’ll be wondering where these two are in the next few minutes,” Vanya half spoke to himself. “You’re going to finish the one in the living room after you get what you need from him, right?”
Max merely nodded in affirmation.
“Then set fire to Marcus Gupta’s business on 102nd. The bastard will learn to keep his dogs in line even if it wasn’t ultimately his fault.”
Max, always one for action more than words, immediately began dialing on his phone and subsequently barked orders to whomever was on the receiving line. He then retreated to the living room to keep an eye on the unconscious accomplice. Vanya took the moment of privacy to dress properly, deciding not to check in on Persephone. Max was an astute man and Vanya didn’t want to chance things becoming more complicated with the discovery of a woman in his bathtub.
Mikhail and his clean up crew did not arrive for another forty-five minutes. Vanya knew they would make this disappear completely, but he was glad to have the knowledge for
future reference. Someone would be by tomorrow to repaint the entire apartment. He knew bullets would be removed from the body before it was properly disposed of. The process actually took less time than he expected. The apartment was clean and the help was gone in an hour. Only Mikhail lingered on.
“Well, this is goodnight then?” Vanya stood up from the living room couch and made for the doorway to lead his cousin out. Mikhail remained seated.
“Oh, yeah. But first, I wanted to ask what should be done about her,” he stated smugly, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa and crossing his legs.
“Her? Her who?” Vanya feigned ignorance.
“The owner of these. They’re still the slightest bit damp,” Mikhail mused, pulling a pair of delicate, navy lace panties from the side of the couch. “You really have to give it to Max. That man does not miss a thing. Is she on the fire escape? Or maybe your bathroom; no one’s gone in there tonight.”
Vanya had never felt hate toward Mikhail in his entire life, but he was sure that the loathing he felt in that moment would bring him to that wretched state. He breathed in slowly, just once to maintain his position and not launch punches at his cousin, who was beloved only moments ago. “Put those down.”
Mikhail read Vanya’s mood accurately and dropped the undergarments as well as his playful disposition. He paused, as if to consider his words before speaking. He had no idea if this girl was a liability and he had a responsibility to find out. Vanya knew his cousin would press him. “She’s still here. Why would you even bring a girl back here anyway?”
Vanya quickly turned on Mikhail and got ready to retort before realizing that the other man had baited him into responding that way. He closed his mouth, realizing his reaction had just confirmed the information that Mikhail was after. He slumped his shoulders and turned his gaze toward the ceiling in defeat. “Don’t worry about it, Mishka.”
“So, she’s got to be pretty amazing for you to continue to go on like this,” Mikhail spoke as if Vanya had not, “and it also means she doesn’t know any of us, which means she’s probably one of your school mates.”
Vanya knew his own face was barren, now showing no emotion. Mikhail didn’t need to read him to deduce the not-so-obvious. His cunning was one of things Vanya had always loved about his cousin up until now.
“You don’t have to say it out loud Vanya. I’ve already gone through her purse. Although, I must say, when I saw those,” he went on, pointing toward Persephone’s underwear, “I thought it would be the redhead.”
“I’m bored, Mishka, make your point and get out.”
“I don’t care who you fuck. It’s none of my business. But I can tell you’re not just fucking her though, and that’s when it becomes my business; when it becomes your father’s business. Kirill's not gonna tolerate this for long. He’s just come around to Lina's guy and he's white.”
A sudden pang of desperation clenched in Vanya's chest. “You’re going to tell him? You’d do that to me?”
Mikhail advanced on Vanya, his eyes narrowed, “Don’t you dare put me in that fucking position. Our job is to put family and business first. I couldn’t keep a secret like that for long if I wanted to. It’s obvious the way you’re acting that you’re going to continue seeing her.”
“Damn straight.”
“Fuck, Vanya, why? Do you love her? Hell, you couldn’t possibly love her. If you did, you’d dump her ass right now. Scare the shit out of her and make sure she says nothing to no one, ever. I could do it, that way – "
“Don’t you ever go near her. Don’t talk to her, don’t look at her or I will fucking kill – I will… I will fuck you up.”
“Calm down, dammit. It was just a suggestion, and a fucking smart one at that. Look at you, you’re huffing and spitting at me. You aren’t yourself, man.”
“Because you’re threatening what’s mine.”
“No, Vanya, people threaten what’s yours all the time. Your basketball titles when we were younger. People trying to renege on shit with your father. Mergers and acquisitions. You handled all those things rationally. Cool, calm, collected. Now look at the things you’re saying; and to me, of all people.”
Vanya gave him a resigned look before slumping onto the sofa beside him. Mikhail had a point. What was he going to do? The wheels in Vanya’s head began turning; he didn’t speak to Mikhail again until he had plotted out his next course of action.
Persephone wasn’t soft and she wasn’t stupid. She knew his family were working to be financial and political power brokers, and were trying to expand their influence into other sectors. They weren’t charitable billionaires by any account. Several people had a lot to say about how his father gained his fortune in the corrupt and criminal 1990s of Eastern Europe. Even so, Persephone had surrendered to him the previous evening, agreeing to be with him and admitting he was what she wanted. Vanya had to believe this was a simple incident, one they could overcome easily.
“If just you and Max know about the girl – that’s what she is, just a girl – then it’s really not a big deal. She didn’t see the intruder and as far as she knows, it was just some random burglar. It’s nothing to worry about. Hardly worth mentioning. Just hardly; something you might note casually and give details on only if asked. But there aren’t any details. She’s just a girl I fucked and forgot about, Mikhail.”
Mikhail stared hard at his cousin for a few moments. His usually congenial, sly demeanor was gone, replaced by a challenging, frustrated glare. Vanya knew Mikhail wanted him to back down and see reason, but he wasn’t budging. He didn’t care about burdening Mikhail or Max with a secret. Hell, they had plenty of secrets between them. What Vanya wanted was in sight, and his cousin’s noncompliance wasn’t going to keep him from getting it. Vanya let out a slow breath when Mikhail slumped back on the sofa in resignation.
“Alright, if that’s the way you want to play this out. It would just be my word against yours anyway.”
Mikhail rose and made for the front door. When he would have stepped through it, Vanya placed a hand on Mikhail’s shoulder, effectively stopping him.
“Thanks for this…and everything else; having my back. I won’t forget it.”
Mikhail let a small smile creep into his features and turned to assess Vanya. “Alright, alright, what the hell else am I going to do? Start hanging out with Yulian? I have to keep the few friends I’ve got.”
He left and Vanya took a seat at the head of his small dining room table. He sat there for a few silent and panicked minutes. His heart raced and he took large, long breaths, trying to regain some semblance of homeostasis. His palms sweated and he clenched his teeth at the thought of a pissed off Persephone in his bathroom.
Vanya had fought for his life before, just once, when he had traveled to Russia with his father after his junior year of college. He had been out alone, foolishly returning home early from the bar without Max, Mikhail, or Yulian. Enemies of his father had sent out two men posing as ruffians that made to mug and shoot him. Demonstrating superior calm, Vanya hadn’t given them time to come at him. He swiftly launched at the one closest to him first, pushing him through the glass of a storefront window. The companion managed to get off a shaky shot that grazed Vanya’s left arm. Vanya only remembered quickly taking him to the ground and hammering his head once, hard and effectively against the curb.
That episode was not his only brush with violence. He remembered during an earlier visit to Russia when he was sixteen that he had been shocked to hear his father order a man killed and a little frightened when he and Mikhail witnessed his uncle call out for the execution of a traitor a couple of years later. In all these incidents he had never felt panic such as was over him now.
Vanya had no idea what to do. His stomach lurched and he shot up from his seat, rushing toward his room, half-crazed with the fear that Persephone had escaped the windowless bathroom. He burst into the room and Persephone jumped up with a start. She opened her mouth, but was unable to speak before Vanya bent
down to the tub she’d camped out in and gathered her in his arms, duvet and all.
“Vanya!” Persephone exclaimed, trying to pull from his embrace.
Vanya ignored her protest. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to hold her. He’d do whatever she wanted, apologize, whatever, later. Right then, he just wanted to cleave to her. As soon as the word apologize flitted through his head he was overcome again and spoke.
“Persephone, I’m so sorry. God, I am so, so sorry. I swear I won’t ever let anything like that happen to you ever again. I promise. I promise.”
Vanya’s voice was gravelly, broken, and wrought with anguish. Persephone ceased pulling away and surrendered to his tight embrace as he rocked her in his arms, roving his hands up and down her back and shuddering occasionally. She hugged him back and after a short time resumed pushing against him. “Vanya, too tight, way too tight.”
This time he relented, straightening the duvet around her still nude body in order to keep his hands busy. “I’m sorry. I just want you to stay here with me tonight, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” she replied, casually running her fingers through his hair. “It’s fine. We’re fine now. Don’t make promises.”
“What?”
Persephone rose, straightened the heavy shroud of the duvet around her body, stepped out of the tub, and moved into the bedroom. “Don’t make promises. You can’t control everything. My mom always made a point of not making promises – ugh, it smells like cleaner.”
Vanya watched her move pillows, spread out the comforter, and arrange herself sitting up against the headboard, covering everything below her neck. He was irked that she would dispense an adage at a time like this. He climbed over to the far side of the bed, stripped his shirt and pants, and slid in next to her.
