Chapter 5 - Abram
I stir awake, my body still humming with the memory of her skin against mine. With eyes still closed, I smile to myself, thinking of how I kissed my way to her voluptuous breasts, the way her body danced when I thrust deep into her. Her moans still fill my ears, hoarse and wet, wordlessly commanding me to go deeper, harder. The way her breath hitched when I angled her just right, her skin flushing under my gaze. The soft mewls of pleasure she tried to stifle, her inhibitions slowly crumbling.
"Abram," she'd gasped, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "I've never… I mean, I don't usually…"
"Shh," I murmured against her neck. "Just feel. Let go for me."
And she did. God, how she did. Her body arched into mine, responding to every touch, every caress.
My eyes flutter open, consciousness creeping in slowly. The silk sheets feel cool against my skin, but something's missing. The warmth that should be pressed against me is gone.
"Zara?" I call out, my voice still rough with sleep. Silence answers me.
I rub my eyes, blinking away the last traces of slumber. "Zara, are you in the bathroom?"
Again, nothing.
An uneasy feeling settles in my chest. Sitting up, I scan the room, noticing the absence of her clothes strewn across the floor, her heels no longer kicked haphazardly by the door. She left. Without a word, without waking me. Her delicate perfume still lingers in the sheets, teasing me to say I just missed her.
I clench my fists, a storm of emotions brewing inside me. Anger, confusion, and something else—something dangerously close to desperation. This isn't how it was supposed to go. Zara was meant to be here when I woke up, her soft curves pressed against me, those innocent eyes looking up at me with wonder.
But she ran. Like a thief in the night, she stole away, taking a piece of me with her.
"Oh, Zara," I whisper to the empty room. "You have no idea what you've started."
I drag a hand over my jaw, a wry chuckle escaping my lips. Did she really think she could slip away so easily? That one night of her in my bed would be enough?
No, this is only the beginning. It wasn’t meaningless… not with her . I've had a taste, and I crave more.
I won't let her relegate me to a one-night stand, a mistake to be forgotten. No, I'll make her face what's between us, the undeniable pull that drew us together like two stars caught in each other's gravity. She can deny it all she wants, but her body sang a different tune last night. The way she melted under my touch, the needy whimpers that escaped her kiss-swollen lips…she craved me just as desperately as I craved her.
I replay the way she looked at me last night, hunger and need blazing in those doe eyes. The way she clung to me, whimpering for more. No, this wasn't just a one-night stand for her. She wanted me as desperately as I wanted her.
***
I force myself into my morning routine, but my mind refuses to cooperate. The scent of her lingers on my skin as I step into the shower, and I find myself leaning against the cool tiles, eyes closed, reliving every moment.
"Focus, damn it," I mutter, adjusting the water temperature to ice-cold. It does little to quell the fire in my veins.
As I dress, my phone buzzes incessantly. Work. Always work. But for the first time in forever, I'm reluctant to dive into the day's tasks. My fingers hover over Zara's number, temptation gnawing at me.
"Not yet," I remind myself. "Let her stew a bit."
***
I stride into the boardroom, my expression a mask of stoic composure, though my mind is on a one-track road to Zara. I take my seat at the head of the table and find all my brothers' gazes upon me.
“Late today, Brother? Zara and you must have worked hard to wrap up the interiors at your home last night,” Vladimir, ever the observant one, arches an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes.
I scowl. "Let's get on with it."
Mark clears his throat, ever the peacemaker. "Abram, about the casino deal—"
My mind drifts. I see Zara's laughing face as I recount a joke.
"Abram?" Mark's voice breaks through. "Did you hear what I said?"
I blink, focusing on his concerned face. "Of course. Continue."
Vladimir chuckles softly, and I shoot him a warning glare.
But even though I say the words, my mind drifts back to Zara. The way her silken blonde hair felt beneath my fingertips, the intoxicating scent of her shampoo, the breathy moans that escaped her lips as I brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure…
"For fuck’s sake, Abram! Where’s your head at?" Denis's sharp voice cuts through my reverie, his annoyance palpable. "Are you even listening? We're discussing the expansion project, and you're off in your own world."
"Watch your tone," I growl at my younger sibling, but there's no real heat behind it. He's right, after all.
Mark intervenes smoothly. "Perhaps we should take a short break?"
“There’s no need,” I say through gritted teeth."Of course I'm listening. The expansion project is proceeding as planned. We've secured the necessary permits and contracts."
Vladimir leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "And what of the potential complications with undercutting our current businesses? Have you taken steps to mitigate that risk?"
I nod, grateful for the momentary distraction from the thoughts of Zara. "I have a meeting scheduled with Boris next week. We'll come to an understanding, one way or another."
As the meeting progresses, I find myself increasingly distracted, my thoughts constantly circling back to Zara. The thought of never seeing her again… impossible.
I have to make her understand that would be a mistake. I have to find her.
Mark shoots me a concerned glance, his brow furrowed. "Abram, are you sure you're alright? You seem…preoccupied."
I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the polished floor. "I have a personal matter to attend to.”
Mark's eyebrows shoot up. "Abram, we haven't even—"
“Vladimir, you'll handle the rest of the meeting,” I look at my second-in-command.
Without waiting for a response, I stride out of the boardroom, my heart pounding in my chest. I can feel my siblings' eyes on my back, their unspoken questions hanging in the air. I can practically hear Vladimir’s thoughts: 'Something, or someone?'
But I don’t care.
In the elevator, I loosen my tie, my heart racing. The need to see Zara, to touch her again, is overwhelming. It's consuming me, like a fever I can't shake.
As I slide into my Aston Martin, I punch the address of her gallery into the GPS. The engine roars to life, reflective of the urgency I feel.
"Come on, come on," I mutter, weaving through traffic. Red lights be damned, I'm making my own rules today.
My phone buzzes. Denis. I ignore it.
Another red light. I slam my hand on the steering wheel. "Fuck!"
A flash of Zara's innocent smile crosses my mind, a stark contrast to the darkness I know lurks all around me. She knows nothing of the Bratva. She’s just twenty-four, for god’s sake.
What am I doing? I’m everything she doesn’t need; she’s everything I shouldn't want.
But I do. God help me, I do.
The art gallery where Zara works looms into view, a stark white building that stands out amidst the gritty urban landscape. I screech to a halt, parking haphazardly, ignoring the angry honks behind me. My heart's pounding as I step out of the car.
Through the window, I catch a glimpse of her speaking to a colleague with fluid hand motions as she gestures to a blank space on a wall. Zara. My breath catches at the sight of her in that tight, knee-length blue skirt, her blazer clinging to her curves.