Chapter 35
Sophie
Cartier.
“What’s this?” I look up at him from the bed with a smile on my face.
“I just thought you’d want to know the time.” He shrugs, his gaze dropping to the side. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s nervous.
“Can you help me with it?”
He steps toward me, close enough that I can feel his scent. My left wrist snakes out, and he buckles the watch around it, his fingers brushing over my skin.
“Thank you,” I whisper, marveling at it. I’m not one for jewelry, not that I ever received it, but this… this feels special.
“It’s nothing.” He pulls back, as if being close to me is unbearable. I would be hurt if I didn’t understand it.
This connection between us. It’s overwhelming. It makes zero sense. And if you try to rationalize it, you will come up short.
I did my best. I’ve tried to remind myself of every bad thing he did to me, just to convince my heart not to beat faster when he’s around.
But finding those things was difficult. All that came up were his small acts of service, small signs of a man that he is.
A man that I started to feel too much for.
I know. My brain knows it’s a stupid idea. But when did my brain ever come on top when overwhelmed by an emotion?
“Sorry if I disturbed you. You can go back to sleep,” he grumbles.
I nod and turn to my side, still looking at my new watch, even though I was hoping he’d lie next to me.
I try to get comfortable enough to fall asleep but my brain’s simply not having it.
Now that he’s here, sleep just doesn’t seem interesting enough.
A rustle sounds from the other side of the room, and, on a sigh, I give up on the idea of sleeping.
At least for now. I lower the covers to my waist, turning to my back.
He stares at his phone, his brows knitted, a bottle of liqueur placed on the small coffee table Ivan brought yesterday. Without lifting his gaze, he grabs the bottle, downing a long sip of the transparent liquid. The bottle freezes in the air as his eyes connect to mine.
My mouth turns up into an awkward smile, before I lick my lips, steeling myself to ask, “Can I join you?” I glance at the armchair next to him.
His gaze follows mine. “Be my guest.”
I jump up from the bed, making my way to the chair. “Oh, is that what I am? A guest?” I say playfully, but his jaw clenches. “It was a joke.”
“But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” His gaze turns dark. “We can joke all we want. But you’re not here willingly.”
“Do you think I forgot about it?”
“No,” he scoffs. “But it’s complicated. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be my guest anymore.”
“I know. You have your dad’s death to avenge. In a way, I admire that.” My gaze drops to the side. “Maybe focusing on revenge would have been more adaptive than whatever the hell I did after my mom died.” My throat constricts, my tear ducts filling with water.
He drops his head back, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s not that…”
I don’t want to cry anymore. I’m so fucking tired of it. So I grab the bottle he placed back on the table and stop him mid-sentence. “Can I have a sip?”
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
The heavy scent of ethanol floods my nose. “Whew, this might be strong enough to disinfect my inner wounds.”
A deep laugh rumbles out of him. My lungs expand with the knowledge I made him laugh. “Go ahead, mila. Try it.”
He stares at me intently, waiting for my reaction. I swallow my spit and lift the bottle to my lips. Closing my eyes, I lean back to pour some of the liquid into my mouth.
A fiery ball of alcohol travels through my mouth, my esophagus, and my stomach.
Fuck, I hope it burns less on its way out.
I smack my tongue a few times, but the taste lingers, if you can even call it that.
Because it tastes exactly how you expect rubbing alcohol to taste like.
Like something you shouldn’t be putting inside your body.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, as if that will help scrub it away, before opening my eyes.
Luka stares at me expectantly, with a smirk that makes me weak in the knees. “Good?”
“Yup.” A cough. “Perfect.”
He lets out a chuckle.
“What is this anyway?”
“Rakia. ?ljivovica, to be exact. It’s a Croatian fruit spirit.”
“Fruit? What kind of fruit would this be?”
Another chuckle escapes me before he responds, “Plums.”
My mouth parts in shock. “I wouldn’t guess it in years.”
He wraps his tattooed fingers around the throat of the bottle, leaning it toward me. “Want another?”
“No, thank you,” I respond, and he shakes his head, smiling.
He downs a large sip, as if he’s drinking water, and I watch his Adam’s apple move.
“You really like it, huh?” I ask.
“My favorite drink. I guess you get used to it.”
“It must have taken a while.”
He hits me with another smile and it’s no less deadly. “You want something else to drink?”
“You have a stash around here?” I pretend to look around, knowing full well there’s nothing here.
“I can get whatever you want from upstairs.”
“I’d like a tonic, then.”
“Coming right up.”
Unlocking the door, he heads upstairs. I look after him, thinking about the fact that he left the door wide open. Something about it knots my stomach. The sultry bass music reaches the dungeon. I’m still staring at the stairs when he gets back.
He offers the tonic, and I take it. “I’m not sure if you have too much or too little faith in me.” I gesture at the door.
He glances at it, and his smile drops. “Something like that.”
That was the furthest thing from an answer, but it’s apparently the most I’m going to get. I slip back into the chair, placing my legs underneath me.
The bitter liquid trickles down my throat, removing the last traces of rakia.
“Are there many people upstairs?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty crowded.” His shrug screams disappointment.
“Why the sad face? Isn’t that something that the owner should want for his bar?” A thought popping into my head, I quickly add, “Or is this a money laundering front?”
He cracks another smile. “No, it’s an actual business. But the crowd here is not the crowd I’d like.”
I nod, remembering when I just got here, and he was talking to Leon about wanting to attract a different crowd. “You just bought this place recently?”
This time, he’s the one to nod.
“Big fan of sex clubs?”
He huffs a laugh, taking another drink. “It seemed like a cool idea. My brother Leon, he has a whole franchise of casinos along the East Coast. I was always the less responsible younger brother. I did my job well, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t much of an entrepreneur.
A few months back, I decided to build an empire of my own.
” His eyes trail the room. “And this… this was something I wanted to make. Sex clubs can be both the best and the worst place in the world. I hoped to make this a good one.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
Another laugh escapes him. “Slower than anticipated. Besides, it’s hardly my project anymore.” He looks pensive, almost sad.
“Can’t you put a stop to it? Aren’t you the big bad mafia prince?”
He raises a brow at me, a corner of his mouth turning up.
“You know what I mean.” I wave him off.
“Yeah, you’d think so. I guess I just have too much to lose to risk shit.” He glances at me, his eyes full of sorrow, and my breath catches in my throat.
He needs to keep peace. Even though it kills him, he keeps peace with his uncle. If he didn’t, who knows what would happen to me.
I roll my lips nervously. “If you didn’t have shit to lose, what would you do?”
“I’d ban Toma from even entering the club, fully gut it, and start from scratch.” He shoots me a small smile.
“And probably found and murdered my dad faster than things are happening right now?”
His eyes widen, like the idea hasn’t even come up. “Yeah, something like that.”
My voice drops. “Hopefully, it would mean I would be free.” My fingers fidget in my lap. “Unless I know too much. In that case, I would be…” I motion my finger across my throat and let out an awkward chuckle.
Luka doesn’t laugh. No, he looks two hundred pounds heavier as his shoulder slump. “I’d set you free in the blink of an eye if I could. Fuck…” He runs a hand through his hair.
Warmth creeps up my body, but not in a nice, comfortable way.
It feels more like a fever, the tiny flames dancing on my skin while my sweat glands activate.
So I change the subject. “I don’t think I can fall asleep.
Do you think you could help me?” I brave a peek at him, licking my suddenly dry lips.
His jaw twitches imperceptibly as his eyes grow hooded. “You sure?”
All that warmth, all those flames gather low in my belly. My teeth find their way into my bottom lip, and I nod.
He gestures his head toward the bed. I jump up, my heart in my throat. He downs another sip of the rakia before getting up. My ass perched on the very end of the bed, I watch him as he stalks toward me, almost in slow motion.
Finally, he stops an inch from me. He’s enormous. His finger lifts my chin, bending my neck to look at him.
“I don’t want to hurt you today.” His voice is low, dripping like warm tea on a sick day.
I swallow. “Ok.”
The thought fills me with dread. I want the pain. I need it. But I need to feel him more.