Chapter 22
Anya
This time he doesn’t restrain me on his private plane. I’m allowed to move about the cabin if I want, freely. I can go to the bathroom by myself, explore the back bedroom as I wish but ultimately, I wind up in one of the large, comfortable chairs across from Nikolai. He made all the arrangements, and I still haven’t summoned the courage to ask him for something to read, some in-flight entertainment, something. I don’t know where we are going, and I certainly don’t ask. It doesn’t really matter anyway. I tell myself that it is simply exciting to be invited along with him.
This is my new life. I always wanted to have a life where I was allowed to travel all around the world anyway. All of the moving around that I did as a child didn”t count. I was too young at the time to appreciate the things and places that I saw, and I have always wanted to revisit all the places as an adult so that they can get the enjoyment that they deserve. I didn’t think that I would have to be kidnapped by a rival mafia boss in order to achieve it, but it’s way too easy to convince myself that this is fine.
I stare out of the window for most of the flight, watching the clumps of fluffy white clouds zip by. I’m behaving myself, and it’s driving Nikolai crazy. I can see it every time that he glances in my direction. He’s waiting for me to act out, to throw a fit or try to do something insane like jump out of the side like some suicidal moron. He didn’t even have them confiscate my knife or fork whenever lunch was served to me. He kept eyeing the knife every time that I would pick it up. I got a wicked little thrill that he was waiting for me to stab him.
There is no denying that there has been a large shift—unspoken between us. When I woke up this morning, he was there, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Small reading glasses had been perched on the end of his nose that I knew better than to comment on. He looked so normal, despite all of the scars and tattoos—more human somehow. He had poured me coffee, and let me wash him in the shower.
We had made love quickly—my wet, soapy hair curled around his wrist as he pinned me against the glass walls of his spa shower. He had done so again with my torso half stuffed inside of my open suitcase on the bed. He hadn’t allowed for me to pack things for myself but he had been content to fuck me over the contents, like he could not get enough of me. I have never felt so desired by somebody in my life. He had given me a dress to wear, both for easy access and with a modest neckline so I knew that we were going somewhere warmer than Russian. The dress was even long enough that I could bend over as far as I wanted without danger of being fully exposed to everybody around me. The outfit is a metaphorical olive branch, and I am grateful for it.
Nikolai spends the rest of the afternoon on the phone with Ivan, speaking quietly. Somebody under the contact “Daniel the Dork” keeps calling Nikolai, and every time that he answers,Nikolai leaves the room. So, our new position in regards to one another is still precarious. It tells me he”s trying to trust me, but not completely.
I am still the daughter of his enemy. Our game of questions is over, but conversation seems easier between us now anyway. I curl up in the chair, and decide to sleep for the rest of the flight to keep myself from attempting to intrude into his affairs any more than I already have.
When we land in Rome—it takes my breath away. We’re at a small, private air strip that seems to be placed on a large, sprawling vineyard of some sort. The runway is nestled deep in between fruit vines and wooden lattice work trellises with fruit growing up and over them. There is an arched pathway leading from the airstrip off into the distance so long that I can’t see the other end of it. It appears just large enough to hold a golf cart. A flatter trolley is being loaded up with our luggage and square tan crates of something I’m not stupid enough to ask questions about. Everything smells like grapes. I think I”ll have to start drinking wine now. A settling like this calls for wine. Does Nikolai own a vineyard? Nothing would surprise me anymore… My father doesn”t even own a vineyard. At least, none that I am aware of. I can now cross another item off my bucket list.
I smile to myself. I wonder what would happen if I presented Nikolai with a physical bucket list of things that I want to accomplish. Would he allow it? Would he give me the freedom to accomplish those things? I have the strong feeling that he is the type of man who will not want me to attempt to interfere with his business dealings. Will I be okay with that long term? Mentally, I push all of those concerns out of my head. At some point, I know that I will not be able to do that anymore—but for now, it is the simplest solution.
Nikolai grabs my hips, and I yelp in surprise. He lifts me up off of the ground and throws me over his shoulder with a grunt, “You can admire it later.”
I want to stay, I want to wander around the vines, sampling grapes. I’m sure that’s frowned upon. “Where are we?”
“A friend owed me a favor.”
“A friend with a massive vineyard?” I ask, wonder creeping into my voice. I push upward and try to use Nikolai’s impressive height to see how far the rows go, but I can’t seem to see over the tops of them.
“Da,” is the only answer that he gives me.
“Are we here for more business?” I ask as Nikolai lowers himself onto the cart, it sags on one side with our combined bulk and he pulls me into his lap. His hand holds my thighs close to him possessively, the heat spreading up my skin. Even as happy as I am to be off the plane, I’m more delighted to have his attention focused squarely back on me. I’m facing out toward the vineyard, and the cart grumbles to life underneath us and the vines start to become a black and green blur past us as we head up the beautiful winding path toward a large Italian renaissance style home.
Green vines twist up the sides of the tan brick, a beautiful fountain in the center. It is the sort of thing that I would paint—if I knew how, that is. I wonder if this is the sort of place that Nikolai’s mother would have attempted to paint. There wasn’t much to see from his Russian home, in the middle of nowhere outside Moscow, everything blanketed in snow like it was. The cart comes to a stop directly in front of the beautifully carved double doors and I slide from Nikolai’s lap and look up at the two-story home.
Around us, his men are bustling about, unloading the cart and carrying the crates of forbidden substance inside and out of view. Attendants from the house come out and grab luggage, carrying it up the stairs with their white gloved hands to whatever room we will be staying in.
“We are not here for business,” Nikolai finally answers me. I spin to face him, tilting my head up to see him properly.
“Pleasure?” I ask tentatively.
Nikolai’s face is unreadable. “Would you like that?” He asks me seriously, and my smile nearly splits my face in half.
Yes, that would be phenomenal. A moment to get away from it all? Nothing would make me happier than to have a few days to sort everything out in my head and gain some clarity. Just a few days where he is not the big Bratva boss and I am not his enemy”s daughter. I want time to just be Nikolai and Anya, to figure out how that feels and perhaps go from there with whatever knowledge that provides. If it were possible, anyway.
“You chose to come here… for me?” I try to keep the hope at bay, but it is already alive and well inside of my chest.
Nikolai nods. “You said that you liked art, and there is the Capitoline in the city where they have wonderful sculptures. I thought that you might enjoy them. I have arranged for a private tour for us tomorrow.”
My eyes start to water. I wish I could blame them on the sun, or wind, or anything other than my damned heart being overwhelmed that Nikolai has gone through so much trouble on my behalf. I don’t think anybody has done this much for me in a very, very long time.
“But that isn’t until tomorrow… right?” I ask, my voice turning sultry as he looks down to me. I’m walking backward toward the massive home one slow step at a time. The way that he looks me over, it’s like he’s touching me with his eyes. He slides his hands into his pockets, watching my every movement with his stunning eyes.
He nods, the motion so slight it is almost imperceptible.
“So, we have the rest of the evening here to be by ourselves?” Again, the only answer I am given is another small nod.
With my next step backward, I slide my feet out of my sandals—the cobblestone driveway feels warm. I raise myself onto the balls of my feet, raise one eyebrow in challenge to Nikolai, and then take off for the vineyard. I don”t take the path we came from, but rather a random one that I see.
I dare a glance over my shoulder and see that Nikolai is fading from my view. He is probably angry. Then, I see him peel off his shirt, muscles rippling even from this distance and kick off his shoes like I did. I can see the amusement on his features and a peal of laughter leaves me—I wish I could run faster.
The setting sun filtering down around me through the vines and grapes is magical. I feel almost like we are recreating the afternoon in his playroom but on equal footing.
I can hear him gaining on me. His heavy footsteps thunder into the space behind me as he races after me, predator and prey. My heart is threatening to pound up and out of my throat as we go. I try not to pant too loudly, and I try not to laugh as I quickly turn and start to run the other direction—it’s like he can track me, sense me, coming after me quickly no matter which way I turn—and then he’s there. His armbands around my middle so suddenly that he knocks the air out of my lungs.
I”m standing one moment and soaring the next. My feet come out from under me, and he tosses me to the soft ground. Dirt clings to my hair and skin as I laugh to get out from under him.
“I already told you, sweetheart, you cannot run.”
“It’s not a fair fight! Your legs are twice as long as mine!” I pant, but he’s already pushing my skirt up my legs despite my wriggling.
“I gave you a head start—it is perfectly fair,” he counters.
I flip over beneath him, trying and failing to get my knees up underneath me. I groan as his teeth close over the joint between my neck and shoulder. I can”t argue or pretend it doesn”t feel good because it does. Nikolai pulls my skirt up over my ass, and the warm air nips at my skin. His hand slides between my legs, spreading my wetness and circling my hole with two fingers.
“Is this my prize for winning?” he asks, his voice deep, I can feel it rumbling in his chest against my back. He’s teasing me, circling his fingers around where I want them most.
“Win? Perhaps I let you win.” I hardly recognize myself.
He answers with his fingers, sliding them inside of me, and curling toward my center. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. My knees start to part, my back arches my hips up toward him. I want him, now. I want him to take me right here in the dirt, I want all of him. It doesn”t matter that it hasn”t even been that long since the last time; he”s transforming me into a creature of lust. I cannot get enough of him.
“Ah… so you wanted this, my, my how the tables have turned,” he laughs, the sound rich and dark as his fingers fuck me.
“What else did you want? Perhaps you were angling for a punishment for running away? Or was this for my benefit? Because you let me?” he leans down over me, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he speaks. “As if I wouldn’t just take what I wanted anyway.”
My smile is threatening to consume me. He undoes the button of his black slacks with his other hand, I can hear the rustle of fabric, the heat of his now bare thighs against the backs of mine as his clothes slide down to bunch up near his knees.
“So, take your prize then,” I provoke him and am rewarded by his fingers spreading, forcing me open for him, forcing me so wide that he can slide his thick cock inside of me beside his fingers for only a moment—my scream echoes throughout the vineyard. His soaked fingers retreat, but they do not leave me. He spreads my wetness across his fingers, then presses his thumb against my ass. My eyes widen and I twist to look over my shoulder.
I can feel him pushing against me, increasing the pressure as a silent warning of what is to come. Something I”ve never done before, something I”ve never even considered before now.
“Is that all you got?” I breathe.
Nikolai smirks and slides his thumb into my asshole. His fingers splay over as much of my ass as he can reach, holding his thumb in place, using that grip as leverage to hold me rooted in place as he starts to move. My core tenses, the blend of sensations is nearly overwhelming, the build is faster, the sound of our bodies together, the setting—it is all-encompassing.
“Such a pretty prize for me,” Nikolai gloats, and I don’t even care how wanton I appear to him now, rutting on the ground like a whore for him. All for him. He groans, and I know that his release is close, I can feel it in the erratic way that his hips pound into mine, the force of it sliding us forward on the ground.
My orgasm is blinding, colors exploding across the backs of my eyelids as my fingers sink into the soft ground. As Nikolai’s climax chases mine, I almost swear I hear him mutter “A prize I will keep.”