32. Sasha
SASHA
“I f it isn’t Kirill’s weak bodyguard.”
I straighten and turn around at the familiar deep voice and nod.
Damien studies me in that calculative way that always looks like he’s up to no good. He’s been constant about his intentions to fight Kirill, going as far as crashing dinners at the main house, announcing a fight to the death in front of the Pakhan, and everything in between.
He still hasn’t gotten the okay from Kirill, and while that would’ve made anyone else give up, that’s not the case for Damien.
If anything, he’s become even more insistent about getting what he considers is his ‘rightful fight.’
This morning, we’re at the Pakhan’s house for the weekly meeting, an occurrence that I heard Damien never gave a fuck about but has been attending religiously ever since his imaginary rivalry with Kirill started.
He came out of the meeting before everyone else, though, since he gets bored of these things, which is why he’s talking to me.
He retrieves a cigarette and stuffs it in his mouth, then lights it as he sizes me up. “Though you’re not as weak as when we first met. You training those muscles, Sasha?”
My lips part. How does he know that when I wear clothes that are a size too big?
After that two-hour nap in his car six months ago, Kirill abruptly stopped the one-on-one training sessions. But I’ve continued training every day, sometimes with Maksim and Yuri, sometimes alone.
“You’re still weak, though,” Damien continues in his one-sided monologue. “Weak getting strong, so there’s an improvement. Here’s a piece of advice.”
He gets closer, and I’m assaulted by the smell of cigarettes. “You’re a good sniper, eh? Train those arms and stick to that.”
That’s the same thing Kirill told me a long time ago. Do they really think I can’t get physically stronger? In that case, I would be happy to prove them wrong, even if it’s the last thing I do.
“Now pay me for that advice,” he says with a grin that would look charming under different circumstances.
Damien is a very attractive man with a shock of dark hair, dark brows, and piercing green-gray eyes, but the charm stops there. His personality doesn’t make up for it, and I’m apparently broken, because I keep comparing every man’s looks to Kirill's.
No one even comes close to that monster’s intense attractiveness.
“Pay you?” I echo his words.
“Yeah, I gave advice, and I expect payment.”
“I never asked for advice and, therefore, refuse to provide any type of payment.”
“Now, now.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t be so stiff, Sasha. That’s your problem, you know. You take everything way too seriously. Be like your boss and start being a little laid-back.”
Kirill is anything but laid-back. He’s ruthless. He’s calculative. And most importantly, he’s merciless.
I’ve seen him kill people without a second thought and order his men to do it for him because he can’t be bothered .
But because he’s methodical and gives off a playful, somewhat chill public persona, everyone, including those in the organization, think he’s easy to approach and deal with.
Which I’m sure is a tactic he’s using to bring their guard down and hit them when they least expect it.
Damien and Mikhail are the only ones who fall for it readily.
The others might not show it, but they’re wary of Kirill.
Especially Rai, which is concerning since she’s holding a ‘secret’ over his head.
Damien brings my attention back to him when he tightens his hold on my shoulder. “I won’t ask for a lot for payment. Just forward me Kirill’s schedule for the week.”
“With all due respect, I decline.”
“Oh, come on, that won’t cost you anything.”
“I’m forbidden to reveal anything about Boss’s schedule. Besides”—I give him the side-eye—“don’t you think this is a little excessive and stalker-ish?”
It is very stalker-ish, but I refrain from saying that out of respect for his position.
“Blame your fucking boss. If he agreed like a normal human being, I wouldn’t have to do this.”
The door of the conference room opens, and Kirill comes out first, talking with Adrian. He casts a mere glance toward us, but it’s enough to make me breathe heavily.
I thought that with the passage of time, I’d become immune to the hold Kirill has on me. I’d learn to be less self-conscious around him, and he’d stop affecting me with a mere look, but I was miserably wrong. Not only is the effect there, but it’s also grown.
We’ve been in a sexual relationship for months, using each other , as I so stupidly said that day he fucked me in his car. I didn’t mean to, but I was hurt by how he chose to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed that first time.
Before that, I genuinely thought he stayed up all night working, but he slept just fine, just not beside me.
So I assumed we were using each other for sex, and apparently, I assumed correctly. He fucks me like a madman every day, sometimes a few times a day—in his office, in the car, or while waiting for a drug shipment. Wherever he deems fit.
But he still has never slept beside me on the bed. Not even once. I’ve tried telling him I’ll help him sleep, but he vehemently refuses. My pride is a little wounded since I seriously thought I’d accomplished something by helping him fall asleep that time before the drug shipment.
For some reason, however, he’s felt a bit more distant since then.
When I asked him why he moved my clothes to his closet, he said it was more ‘convenient’ that way. I really hate the apathetic tone he speaks with sometimes.
So, as a form of revenge, I’ve developed the habit of staying up late with the guys and crashing at their place whenever I feel like being a brat.
That usually only increases his already insatiable sexual appetite, though.
And just like that, we’ve fallen into this life of sexual gratification, physical attraction, and mad lust. It’ll eventually come to an end—I know that. But I still don’t want it to stop just yet.
Maybe it’s useless selfishness, but Kirill, or more like this mythical attraction to him, is the only thing I’ve done for myself in a very long time. If I were to let it go, I’d feel like I was being forced back behind the bars of my previous prison.
Not that the prison is entirely gone, but it feels less restrictive now. I don’t only exist to exact revenge for my family. I’m also doing something for myself.
I feel like a woman in his arms. I feel beautiful and wanted and…right. It’s weird, but it’s right.
Adrian and Kirill separate at the entrance. My monster, who looks more gorgeous than a god, backtracks and tilts his head in Damien’s direction.
“Are you nagging my people again?”
“Come on. Sasha and I are friends.” Damien squeezes my shoulder tighter as if driving the point home.
“Are you now?” Kirill’s calm voice makes me nervous for some reason. I’ve always hated how expressionless he is. How he can conceal himself beneath layers no one can catch a glimpse of, no matter what they do.
“Do you want to take him, then?” he asks Damien. “Since you’re friends, you’ll be able to employ him, no?”
My heart falls, and I stare at him. Is he…really pushing me toward Damien? Just like that?
Has the time come when he’s gotten sick of me and wants to dispose of me in the most practical way possible?
“How can I know your schedule if I employ him?” Damien releases me with a click of his tongue. “How about you give me that fucking fight so we can get this over with?”
“How about you stop being annoying, and all of this will be over,” he snaps in his face, “just like that.”
“I refuse.” Damien pushes Kirill’s shoulder on his way out. “I swear to fucking fuck, I’ll get you one of these days.”
“Sounds like a clingy wife,” Kirill calls after him with a slight smirk.
“Fuck you.” Damien flips him off without turning around.
Kirill’s smirk abruptly disappears as he stares at me. No, he glares before he heads to the car without a word.
I’m left there, partially breathless, partially not knowing what to do. What the hell was that all about?
It takes me a few moments to collect myself before I follow after. I find Yuri waiting by the car, brow furrowed.
“Did something happen inside?” Yuri whispers.
“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”
“Boss seemed displeased, but Viktor shrugged when I asked him if something went awry in the meeting.”
I swallow as I go to the passenger door, only to find fucking Viktor already seated there.
Shit.
Now, I have to be beside a clearly pissed-off Kirill. Well, not clearly, since he’s scrolling through some files on his iPad. But then again, his calmness is never good news. Besides, his jaw is tense, which is usually a bad sign.
I keep to my side of the seat, quietly counting the seconds until we get to our next stop.
After a few moments, I’m reminded of why I’m also on edge, and I start getting mad at the way he treated me.
“What’s on the schedule this afternoon?” he asks without looking up from his tablet.
“Not sure. I erased it, thinking I was being transferred to Damien.”
He adjusts his glasses as his intense eyes fall on me. “Was that sarcasm?”
“Were you really going to let Damien have me if he wanted to?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. Since you’re friends, I thought it might be a good idea to give you a change of scenery.”
“I wouldn’t want that, and I would appreciate it if you’d check with me before making these decisions.”
His eyes narrow, but he reverts his attention back to his tablet and says nothing.
Since he seems to be in a better mood, I straighten. Originally, I’d planned to ask this later tonight, maybe after sex since he seems the most amiable then, but I don’t trust myself not to fall asleep.
Besides, it’s better if we have an audience so he doesn’t question me for long.
“Boss…” I start.
“Hmm?”
“Can I have three days' vacation?”
At that, he looks up from his iPad and even tilts it to the side. “Why?”
“It’s…private.”
Silence falls between us for one second.
Two.
Three.
Then, without a change of expression, he says, “Fine.”