Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  I grunt and flee out of the kitchen, happy to occupy my hands with anything so I don’t strangle him. I work quickly and as soon as I’ve finished, I sink into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, nurturing what’s left of my wine. I’ve taken a couple of sips when I hear him behind me.

  “I’m gonna have to take that away from you.”

  I follow his moves as he settles in the other chair. He’s holding two cups with steaming contents in his hands.

  “What’s that?” I ask apprehensively.

  “Always so suspicious of my intentions.”

  I stare at him for a moment and then I realize he’s right. It’s as if I always suspect he’s trying something. And he never is. He’s been completely honest and straightforward with me since… well, maybe always. Almost. “Oh, God, Christian I’m sorry. I really am! Can I try again?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ehm… what’s that?” I blush at how false I sound and he laughs.

  “Fuck, Ker, that was awful. Just be yourself. This is Glühwein. It’s kinda like with the cabbage, you take one thing and turn it into something else with the help of some cinnamon, ginger and a few secret spices.”

  I sniff the contents. “It smells nice. Like gingerbread.”

  He nods. “Many of the spices are the same. It’s sweetened.”

  I take a sip and realize everything he gives me is good. “Will I die?” I ask.

  He nods, looking dead serious. “Yes, you will. But not from drinking this.”

  I can’t help but smile and when he smiles too, I burst out in a laugh. I drink another sip and enjoy the warmth seeping through my chest. My head is buzzing, and I lean back against the chair. This is nice. It was right to come here. Last time was nice too. It’s always nice. He is nice. A version of ‘Hallelujah’ is playing on the radio and the beautifully sad lyrics go straight to my heart.

  “This is a very good song.”

  “Jeff Buckley,” he says. “It’s one of the best songs he ever produced. He died much too young.”

  “I didn’t know he was dead.”

  “Drowned, some twenty years ago. He was one of few who had gotten out.”

  I lift my head and give him a glance. “What do you mean?”

  “Raised himself up out of his shitty childhood. It’s a fuckin’ shame.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure how to respond so I keep quiet. We sit and listen to the words. “They could be about us,” I say after a while.

  “That sad?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jeff sings about hurting the ones who show weakness, the ones who show they care. I wince at the harsh words. It’s just a song.

  “Do you love me, Christian?” I ask with a pounding heart, shocked at the words that flew out of my mouth on their own accord, as if my brain had no say in the matter.

  “Yes. I do.”

  My heart stutters. “How long—”

  “A very long time.”

  Chapter 31

  Christian

  A little voice behind us makes us both flinch. “Mommy, I peeded.”

  “Oh, no. Where, baby?” Kerry stands and takes Cecilia’s little hand.

  I dart up. “I’ll get some towels.”

  On the radio they play “Santa Baby”. The little incident along with the music changes the mood in the room, lightening the heady atmosphere.

  When we have finished wiping the couch and the carpet, we pull out some blankets and sit with Cece between us, snacking from a tray on her lap that’s filled with plates of chocolate, figs, raisins, tangerines, roasted chestnuts, slices of pineapple and more. Disney is still celebrating Christmas and I wonder in how many ways it can be done, how many versions there are. This is most certainly one. Ours. Outside it has gone completely dark and I see lights in the distance, a ship in dark water. Like me. I wonder if I’m the light or the ship. Or the darkness.

  “It’s getting late for her,” says Kerry. “You think we should eat some more before I put her to… ehm, or if you want to put her to bed that’s fine, I mean… I didn’t mean.”

  She stutters and blushes. Things are changing between us, almost by the minute, and I need to find my place, where I stand, and she clearly feels the same.

  “I don’t know. You hungry Ce?” I ask.

  “Choc’late.” She grins.

  “I guess not,” I say and shrug as I turn to Kerry.

  We remain sitting a little while longer, quietly watching the flickering TV screen and the cartoons’ adventures. Finally, Kerry kisses our daughter goodnight and hugs her until she starts squirming. I feel her eyes on my back when we leave the room.

  Tucking in Cecilia, I tell her that she needs to sleep really fast if Santa’s gonna make it. Her eyes go wide, then she nods and squeezes her eyes shut.

  When I come back down, Kerry seems to have lost herself in an old black and white movie.

  “Classics?”

  “Sister Benedict struggles to save her church in “The Bells of St. Mary’s”, she puts a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

  I take a detour past the kitchen and pour us some wine. Handing her a glass I then sit next to her. When the end credits start rolling, she turns to me. “That one was amazing. I hadn’t seen it before. How did it go?”

  I frown.

  “With Cecilia,” she adds.

  “Oh, that was easy. I told her she had to go to sleep quickly because Santa only comes when children are sleeping.”

  She smiles. “That true?”

  I shrug. “Fire’s still burning. You wanna watch TV some more or—”

  She stands. “Fire sounds nice.” We cross the large, mostly empty, living room and head for the two comfortable chairs. In hers I’ve placed a small box wrapped in silvery paper. Kerry gasps. “I didn’t bring you anything!”

  I nod at the gift. “Open it. Please.”

  She carefully peels off the paper and lifts the lid. A beam of brilliant beauty hits my eyes. I take in its beauty, still amazed at my catch. The necklace is made of platinum, Art Deco style, with small diamonds, emeralds and one hanging pearl in an intricate pattern creating a small heart shape.

  “I can’t accept this,” she gasps. “It must’ve cost a fortune.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s— it’s so beautiful. But I can’t—” She clutches it, looking as if she’ll never let it go, her eyes wide as she takes it in. “I can’t let you give me this.”

  “Why not? It’s not like I have anyone else to buy gifts for except the two of you.”

  “You could save the money and give it to charity,” she whispers. I look at her, deadpanned. She sighs. “I love it. Can I try it on?”

  “It’s what it’s meant for,” I say, my voice suddenly thicker, the joy over her surprise overwhelming me. I motion for her to turn around, then I push her hair to the side, the tips of my fingers stroking the soft skin on her nape. Goosebumps rise under my touch, and it’s not the only thing that rises. I hang the necklace around her neck, snapping it into place. Her hand flies up to touch it as she turns, her fingers tracing the outline of the heart.

  “Let me see,” I say and push her hair back over her shoulder. It hangs perfectly, heavy around her slender pale neck, as if it had been created with her in mind. “Beautiful.”

  “Can I see?” she asks. I smile wider and she almost jumps out of the chair and heads for the nearest mirror, the large one in the hallway.

  When she comes back, she has a goofy grin on her face.

  “It belongs around your neck,” I say, almost breathless from her beauty.

  “I didn’t bring you anything, Christian.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  “You’re here. You and Cecilia. You have no idea what that means to me.”

  She frowns and throws her arms around her chest, looking aghast.

  I put a hand on her shoulder, and to my surprise she doesn’t freeze up. “What’s wrong?”

&n
bsp; “Nothing. Everything! I can’t believe how you’ve changed. It’s like you’re two different people.”

  “I know.”

  “You really are trying, aren’t you? I’ve just refused to accept it. I’ve just kept judging you for… how you were, a long, long time ago.”

  “I’ve—”

  “No, let me talk. I’ve never given you a second chance. Not for real.”

  “You haven’t had any reason to… I haven’t—”

  “I know you haven’t asked for it, and I’ve been wondering about that for a long time. Why you haven’t… Who—”

  “Yes?”

  “Who are you, really? I mean, the Christian I met first was so sweet, listened to my sniveling, whining… and then you turned into the most awful man. And now you’ve been…” Kerry throws out her hands.

  “Been?”

  “Which one of them are you?”

  Who am I? I’ve been many men. I’ve been who I needed to be, what circumstances forced on me. I was a boy who turned into a man way too early, too abruptly. I was wounded, traumatized and still I had to be a rock for my younger siblings, including a newborn. I was raised by an emotionless woman who bathed me in steel, poured acid and hate into my veins until I became the merciless killing machine she needed. I met Kerry and found a human inside the beast, became a father and tamed the demon. He’ll always be there, the other Christian, the ruthless creature, and I can never promise that he is gone, but for her I want to be more. I will be more.

  How do I explain all this?

  I am all of them.

  “You were really nothing but a hit, a job, until you turned around that night, in that bar, and looked at me with the most expressive eyes I had ever seen.”

  Kerry looks like she’s about to object and I raise a hand to silence her.

  “I didn’t follow you home to be cruel. I couldn’t pull myself away. I needed more of you, I wanted to know what it was about you that suddenly made me hesitate.”

  “You tried to kill me. You didn’t hesitate.”

  “I wasn’t given a choice.”

  “Salvatore?”

  “He threatened my sister.”

  “God, I wish I had punched him harder!”

  I laugh and stroke her cheek. “I was born into this. I was taught not to question an order, was taught to obey.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  I hesitate. I’m not used to talking this much about myself, and it makes me uneasy. She tightens her lips and I realize I have to open up, or she’ll never trust me.

  “Chicago. I was born and raised in Chicago.”

  She stares at me. “I moved there, trying to get away from you. I’m such a loser.”

  “No, you’re not. You couldn’t have known it was my turf.”

  “What was your family like?”

  “Us kids had to look after each other. Dad died young. He left Mom with five kids between the ages of fifteen to newborn.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  I grin. “It is, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t look too upset.”

  I shrug. “It got Mom off our backs. She took over the business. On paper one of her cousins ran the business, but in reality, it was her. She’s a ruthless bitch. Everyone’s afraid of her.”

  “She doesn’t like me,” she mumbles.

  “She’ll come around.”

  “They all blame me for you almost dying. Twice.”

  “We look after our own. You’re with me, no matter what. They’ll have to suck it up and deal with it.” She shudders and looks away, wiping furiously at her eyes. I lay a hand on her shoulder. “Kerry?”

  She doesn’t shy away, and when she leans in, ever so slightly, I pull her to me. She rises from her chair and falls into my lap. My heart stops for a moment, then I lay my arms around her and hold her tightly to my chest. We sit in silence. I listen to her breathing as we watch the fire eat its way through the last log until there’s nothing but a large pile of intensely glowing charcoal.

  “I always felt something for you,” she whispers.

  “Ditto.” I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself not to hope for anything as I wish for everything.

  “In all this time, Christian Russo, you’ve never asked me to forgive you. You’ve said you’re sorry a thousand times but you’ve never asked me for forgiveness.”

  I fight to draw the next breath. “I’ve never dared to assume you were ready.”

  “I want you to ask me.”

  My head spins and a shudder runs through me as I hold her gaze, drowning in her beautiful dark green eyes. “Kerry, will you please forgive me for—” I swallow so hard it hurts. “—taking without asking, for cheating you into believing I was someone I was not, for drugging you, hurting you, scaring you, stalking you and assuming I could make you mine without even making an effort, for taking you for granted, and for believing you were weak and moldable.” He’s silent for a moment. “Kerry. I am so, so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

  “Yes,” she whispers and my world tilts. “Christian.”

  “Yes?”.

  “Please put your hands on me.”

  Chapter 32

  Kerry

  I feel like I’ll faint when he cups his hand around the back of my head and pulls me to him. His breath is hot on my lips as he hovers near without closing the distance. I groan and lean in, pressing my lips against his, opening my mouth fully to his exploring tongue.

  “Oh God, Kerry,” he moans, the sound rumbling through his chest. “What do you want?”

  I sit with my body twisted awkwardly and, breaking the kiss, I shuffle around until I straddle his lap. He looks up at me, searchingly, questioningly and when I sink down, pushing the apex of my thighs against his rock-hard bulge, his eyes roll back. I smile. I can give him pleasure. I want to give him pleasure.

  “I want you to sit absolutely still.” Giving this man any kind of order is terrifying, but I have to try this.

  Christian’s eyes flash dark and dangerous, making my stomach lurch. What am I doing? I’m already hot and needy. He has to feel how electrified my pussy is, tingling desperately for him to touch me, to fill me. I rock my hips, making him gasp. Glancing over his shoulder, toward the dark entrance to the corridor to the bedrooms, I make sure we’re alone, then I lean back and undo the first button on his dark gray shirt.

  “You’re walking a dangerous path,” he whispers.

  “Oh yeah?” I lean in and kiss the little patch of warm skin that I’ve freed, right below his Adam’s apple. It moves as he swallows. I savor the warm scent of sandalwood with a hint of leather as I flick open the next button, and the next, pushing the shirt aside, widening the gap. His chest hair rasps delicately against my chin as I move my lips down the sliver of bared, caramel colored skin.

  “Oh yes,” groans Christian. “You’re a breath away from me ripping your panties apart and taking you right here and now.”

  “Restrain yourself. You’re such a caveman.”

  He grips my chin and tilts my head up, catching my eyes. “Caveman? Really?”

  I grind my very damp pussy against his cock, making him exhale on a shudder. “Yeah. Pull your woman to the bed by her hair-caveman.”

  He scoffs. “I’ll indulge you. A little while.”

  A thrill runs through me at the hint of a threat. The right kind of threat. I want him. I want him when he takes, and when he gives. I want him so fucking much to push me down and ravage me, but I want to know, just once, that he’ll really see me, and hear me. That he’ll respect my wishes.

  I undo the rest of the buttons, freeing his chest and his amazing six-pack of a stomach. I poke him, then I trail the ridges with the tip of my index finger, down to the waistband of his pants. “You’ve done some serious working out.”

  Christian rocks up his hips, pushing against me. “I’ve been frustrated,” he mutters.

  Opening the clasp to the belt, I then pull it off him, loop after loop, slowly gathering more and
more around my fist. When it’s free I wiggle it in front of him as I raise an eyebrow.

  “You want it?” he asks.

  “I was thinking I’d try it on you.”

  He barks out a loud laugh. “I’d flip you over in a second, love. I’d like to see you try.”

  I purse my lips, then I drop it on the floor. “Guess not,” I mutter.

  “Good girl.”

  I stick my tongue out at him and in a flash, he grabs my head and pulls me to him, claiming my mouth. Moaning, I push at his chest. “I’m not done,” I mumble into his mouth.

  Letting me go, he then puts his hands behind his neck. “All right. Give me what you’ve got.”

  Sliding out of his lap, I hold his gaze as I unzip his pants, and stroke the hot hard length through the fabric of his briefs.

  He moans, a low almost-growl that shoots straight between my legs. Then I stop abruptly. “Cecilia. I… don’t want her sneaking up on us.”

  Christian groans, then he stands. “Hold that exact thought.” Darting up the few stairs to the corridor at the far end of the room, he soon comes back with a little device he fiddles with and then places out of sight behind the back of the chair. “Baby monitor. No sneaking now.” He plops down in the chair again. “Now, where were we?”

  “Oh you clever boy.”

  Grinning, he nods toward his crotch and I’m more than happy to oblige. I kiss along the trail of hair that disappears under his briefs, then I begin to pull them down, a little at a time, as I hold his gaze.

  “You fucking tease,” he moans.

  I pull the rest of the way, freeing his magnificent cock. My pussy clenches at the sight, but I’m caught up in the seduction, in the illusion of control, and I want to play a little longer. I know it won’t last. Sooner or later Christian will take over, and I know what happens next. I both fear it and long for it. There’s pain, and there’s heat, there’s intense closeness, and emotions I never knew existed before I met him.

  Licking a path from the base of his cock up to the tip, I then take it in my hand and wrap my lips around it and begin to move. Before, I never knew what a turn-on it is to kneel before a man and pleasure him, seeing and hearing him lose himself in what I give. The submissive stance is mine to give, not his to take. I don’t even know why I know this, but instinctively I do, I feel it with my whole being. I am his, because I give it, because I’ll let him take me.