Ruthless Reign: A Dark Mafia Forbidden Romance (Tarnished Reign Book 1)

Chapter 32

Roman Vasilievand his magic fingers.

My breath comes out in sharp, needy pants. I must be drunk to go along with something so risky. Even in the dark, with Roman’s guard at the door, anyone paying close attention could catch us. That realization alone should stop me, but it only intensifies the erotic charge building between my legs.

I’m way past the point of being able to stop. Not when Roman’s scent—pine and leather—surrounds me and his fingers fill me. The stretch is intense but perfect.

From a distant place, I’m aware of the music soaring to a crescendo and filling the auditorium with its powerful climax. The opera singers on stage pour their souls into the final notes, their voices intertwining in a dramatic finale.

That’s the moment his thumb coasts over my clit. With just a flick, I tip over the edge.

My orgasm hits hard and fast, the peak of my pleasure timed with the peak of the finale, and I’m too far gone to hold back. I cry out, my eyes squeezed shut, and throw my head back, clenching the armrests like I’m holding on for dear life.

Oh, fuck.

My thighs tighten around his hand, and he slows but leaves his fingers deep inside me, allowing me to ride out the final waves of pleasure on his palm. Wetness coats my thighs, and the satisfied growl that comes from Roman tells me he doesn’t mind that I’ve soaked his fingers.

When my eyes open, he’s looking right at me.

“Well done,” he rasps, removing his fingers from my core.

Even in the dim light I can see how wet and shiny they are. He pops two fingers into his mouth and, holding eye contact, makes a show out of licking them clean like he’s never tasted anything sweeter.

It’s so hot, but that doesn’t stop the horror from sinking in. Lights are flashing inside of my brain, reminding me of what a big mistake I’ve made.

Around us, the entire audience is on their feet, clapping boisterously, while Roman’s focus is entirely on me.

“You did so well, milaya. How about you ride my face now?”

I smooth my dress down and flee the balcony without another word. Few times in life have I done anything so genuinely stupid that I’m afraid I completely lost the plot.

I’ve always been the sensible one. The reasonable one holding my family together. The practical one talking my friends out of their crazy ideas. When Kira and I were in school, that was my role. She was the wild one willing to take risks, but me? I was the one who kept her from doing the really stupid thing.

Yet here I am, a grownass woman with more to lose than I even care to think about, and I’ve done something really stupid. Again.

My pulse roars in my ears as I navigate through the clusters of opera-goers taking advantage of the intermission to grab a drink and gossip with friends. I slow down my long strides, run a hand over my ponytail, and straighten my dress, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

What I just did was reckless, but I don’t feel a twinge of guilt. Because when Roman confessed his feelings and the reason for his involvement with Katerina, I had no fight left in me. I needed his hands on me. Needed to touch and taste him again.

It was just as good as I remembered—God, even better than I remember—but it was a moment of madness, a lapse in judgment.

Swallowing hard, I spot Anatoly near the bar and make my way through the crowd towards him, but he doesn’t see me. He’s focused on his sister, who’s leaning against him, looking a little worse for wear.

“Is everything okay,” I ask cautiously.

He huffs out an annoyed breath. “It was, until this one came outside and decided to act like an idiot.”

My eyes settle on Katerina. She’s practically slumped against the bar, looking dazed, the glass in her hand tipping precariously in her loose grip.

“Roman, there you are!” She suddenly brightens, her eyes on something—or rather, someone—behind me.

Great, there’s no escaping the man.

“Where’d you go, Kat? You told me to meet you at the bar at intermission,” Roman says, playing it cool.

Katerina flutters her lashes and leans forward. “So … are you gonna come home with me?”

Anatoly’s nostrils flare, and I’m pretty sure he’s about to blow a gasket. “The only person going home is you—right now, before you further embarrass our family.” Anatoly may not want Roman as a brother-in-law, but he cares what he thinks. With barely a glance my way, Anatoly announces, “I need to take my sister home. I’ll send a car for you.”

Roman is quick to interject. “No need. I didn’t plan on staying longer. I’ll give Liza a ride home.”

Anatoly’s features tighten, and I’m sure he’s about to shoot the idea down, but I step in before this becomes an issue.

“That won’t be necessary,” I assure Roman. “I’d like to stay for the rest of the performance, so?—”

“If you want to stay, we can stay,” Roman drawls. “I don’t have anywhere to be. And you really seemed to enjoy the grand finale of the last act. I saw you get swept up in the rapture of it all.”

My cheeks heat, and it takes serious restraint to not punch Roman in the throat. But I know better than to argue because Roman is relentless when he wants to be.

“If you stay, I want to stay.” Katerina”s pleading tone grates on my nerves.

“That won’t be happening. You’re a mess.” Anatoly’s hand wraps around his sister’s upper arm, and he starts dragging her towards the exit, then stops and turns around, glaring at Roman and me.

Something passes over his gaze, a look that I can’t name, but it sparks a shiver down my spine.

“Get her home safely, Vasiliev. After all, Liza is going to be my wife very soon.”

Roman doesn’t answer; he just stands, tight-jawed and serious, watching Anatoly haul his sister away.

We don’t speakin the car for a long time. In some ways, there’s so much to say, and in other ways, it’s best if we say nothing at all.

Surprisingly, Anatoly didn’t put up much of a fight when I left with Roman. Then again, it wouldn’t look right if he couldn’t trust his partner to give me a lift home.

Neither Roman nor I have acknowledged what happened on the balcony. Other than Roman dismissing his guard for the evening, he’s maintained a stoic silence. Something is on his mind, but I’m hesitant to ask what it is. We both have secrets we’re holding tight to our chest.

I’m dying to know why he made a deal with Katerina, of all people. Sure, she flits about the office of the family business, but I don’t think she does any actual work unless dressing up and looking hot count.

But who knows. It’s not like Anatoly tells me anything, especially since I’ve come home from London. He’s been busy with work, and I’ve been “busy” wedding planning—a convenient lie that has allowed me to avoid him as much as possible.

As long as he stays away from Sofiya, I can deal with him.

Roman’s phone rings, and he takes the call through bluetooth. “Privet.”

“Get your ass to the office. You’re going to want to see this,” a deep male voice—that I recognize as Pavel’s—says.

Roman hesitates. “I have a guest with me. I’ll be another hour.”

Pavel snorts. “Screw that. Pull over, put her in a cab, and get here stat. I looked over the files Katerina sent, and we have a problem.”

My head snaps towards Roman, but he’s too busy pulling a crazy ass U-turn to look my way.

“Roman, are you serious? Call a cab? I don’t even know where we are.”

“I’m not putting you in a cab,” he grits. “You’re coming with me. You can wait until I finish my business, and then I’ll bring you home.”

“Or you can bring me home and then go on your merry way. My preferred option, in case you care.”

“No can do.” He hits the accelerator. “We’re close to my office, and this matter we’re dealing with is pressing.”

“Fine.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Will you at least tell me what’s going on? Why Katerina?” I ask before I lose the nerve. “What business could she possibly help you with?”

He looks over at me before his eyes ping back to the road. “I like that you’re jealous.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips, making those damn dimples pop. “It shows you care.”

I shrug. After my outburst at the opera house, I can’t exactly deny how I feel.

“It’s about our business with the Petroviches,” he continues. “Probably best if you don’t know, seeing as you’re marrying Anatoly.” He says those final words like a challenge, waiting to see how I’ll respond.

Anxiety coils low in my gut. I’m strangely tempted to tell Roman the truth about, well, everything. How terrible Anatoly is. How indebted I am to his family. How he uses Sofiya to keep me in line. The urge to share my secrets and unburden myself of everything I”ve held so tightly has never been stronger, but I force the feeling down.

I can’t get sloppy. Not now. Not when Roman is in business with Anatoly. Not when my money is growing every day. I’m close to being free of Anatoly; I just have to see my plan through. Even if I will always wonder “what if” when it comes to Roman.

His gaze shifts to the rearview mirror. He frowns then checks his side mirror, and bites out a curse. Before I can ask what’s going on, the high-pitched squeal of tires cuts through the air.

“Hold on.” Roman’s voice is tight, his eyes darting to the mirror again. ”We”re being trailed.”

Fear nudges at my calm, my heart thumping against my ribs.

Even at high speed, Roman controls the wheel with practiced ease as he reaches under his seat. For a gun.

Oh, shit.

My grip tightens on the door handle. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Wish I knew.”

The sharp crack of gunfire shatters the night, bullets pinging off the car”s exterior.

Without a second”s hesitation, Roman”s arm shoots out, pushing my head between my legs. ”Stay down!” he commands in a voice that no one in their right mind would argue with.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I swallow down the fear and terror lodged in my throat. I focus on breathing and not having a damn panic attack on the floor of Roman’s car because that wouldn’t help anything.

He lowers his window. The screech of tires is louder and more ominous. And then he’s returning gunfire. Or at least, I think he is.

I peek up to watch him drive with his right hand and shoot out the window with his left.

“Let me take the wheel.” A surge of adrenaline gives me a momentary boost of courage.

“No. I won’t risk your life.”

This is crazy. We’re being shot at and chased by God knows who. Still, I don’t think he’d take kindly to me defying him at this moment.

The sounds of the chase, the gunshots, and the shattering glass are terrifying. My heart is in my throat, and I’m praying like mad that this isn’t how we die.

As horrible as this is, taking a quick glance at Roman single-handedly fighting off our attackers steals my breath. The man has skills, that’s for sure.

With a sharp turn, he whips the car into a wild swerve. There’s a final roar of the engine, a loud crash, and then … nothing. The car stops, and the world goes quiet.

Cautiously, I raise my head, my eyes adjusting to the dim light inside the vehicle. Roman sits still, both hands on the steering wheel even though the car is no longer moving, his breaths coming in sharp, heavy pants.

What in God’s name just happened?

Beyond him, outside the window, I see the vehicle that was chasing us. Its front is crumpled against a lamp post, steam billowing from the shattered engine. I can make out silhouettes of bodies slumped forward in their seats, blood sprayed all over the windows.

Roman grimaces, and his right hand—the one that so expertly drove the car just moments ago—now cradles his left shoulder. When he pulls his hand away, it’s coated in red.

“Oh my God, you’re hurt!” Horror rushes through me as the reality of the situation sinks in.

“Just a scratch,” Roman insists, though I’m not entirely sure that’s true. “It’s just a shard of glass that cut me.” His attention laser-focuses on me. “Tell me you”re okay,” he demands, his hands reaching out to pat me down for any signs of injury.

“I’m not hurt—you are!” Before I can stop myself, I’m unbuckling my seatbelt and crawling over the console to settle into his lap, seeking the reassurance of his warmth and touch.

“We almost died,” I whimper, throwing my arms around his body, careful to avoid his injured shoulder as I nuzzle into his neck.

He groans, and I don’t think it’s because of his injury; the blood in his body seems to have settled somewhere much, much lower. Wow. There’s no question how he responds to my touch. Objectively speaking, it’s a bad time to get it on, but tell that to my suddenly needy pussy.

“Roman,” I say thickly, hiking my dress up around my hips. “That was hot.”

He chokes out a laugh, which morphs into a strangled curse as I grind against his straining dick. But it’s true. It was terrifying in the moment, but now that we’re here, alive while they’re dead, and Roman kicked ass and kept me safe…

Do I have a danger kink?

No one is around—the streets appear deserted this time of night—and despite the orgasm I had an hour ago, a new kind of hunger rises in me. One that will only be sated with Roman deep inside of me.

My virginity was always his—regardless of the auction, there’s no one else I’d want to be my first.

Straddling him, I pull down the front of my dress to free my breasts because I need to feel more of him touching me. He gets the message, leaning in and sucking my right nipple into his warm mouth.

Holy fucking hell. I’ve already come once tonight, but the dual sensation of grinding my core against his hardness and his tongue roving over my sensitive flesh feels like heaven. I bite my lip and throw my head back, as he licks and sucks the peak before moving on to the other tit.

“You’re so fucking perfect. Have I told you that, milaya?”

I moan, arching into him, and bury my hand in his hair as he flicks my left nipple with his tongue, again and again until I can’t think straight.

“You need to fuck me now,” I demand. I’ve wondered how he’d feel inside of me ever since London, and I suddenly can’t wait another minute to find out.

I rock against him, frantic for more, but when I reach down to undo his belt buckle, he stops me with his hand over mine. With a final scrape of his teeth over my nipple, he leans back and closes his eyes for a moment to regain control.

“You have no idea how much I want to be inside you, but we have to get out of here. They might have backup on the way.”

My face falls in disappointment, which only makes him laugh.

He brings his hands up and palms my breasts, making me shiver. ”It”s just a temporary delay. I”m taking you back to my penthouse and fucking you silly.”

His words slowly bring me back to reality.

“Wait. I can’t go home with you.”

His gaze thins. “Why not?”

“My parents, and—” I bite my lip, a jumble of worried thoughts invading my brain. “Anatoly will be furious you didn’t take me home.” I hate that this is what I have to worry about at a time like this, but I can’t lose my head.

“We were just attacked. No one is going to question why I took you somewhere safe to lay low after what just happened.” He brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “We deserve this night together.”

I gnaw at my lip, battling the internal tug-of-war of my desires.

Roman’s eyes darken, but he says nothing for a minute, only captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, demanding my attention. “Leave him to me.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

I have no more fight left in me. Just for tonight, I’ll give myself to Roman. It might be stupid and risky, but if I don’t, it’s a regret I’ll carry forever. Tonight will be for me. A memory to savor for the rest of my life.

Because once I’m free of Anatoly, once I’m free of this world, I won’t be sucked back in by any man. For Sofiya’s sake, I’ll show her real independence and strength. What it really means to stand on your own two feet.

Roman’s expression relaxes as his lips find mine.

This kiss is slow and seductive. His hands cradle my face as he slides his tongue against mine. I press closer, craving more, but he gently pulls away.

“We really have to go,” he whispers against my lips. “But trust me, I plan on finishing what we started.” With a final sweep of his hands down my body, he pulls my dress back in place, lifts me back into my seat, straps my seatbelt on, and kisses my forehead.

This sweet, caring side of Roman makes my stomach swoop with need.

He makes me crave something real, something I’ve never experienced before.