Chapter 7
7
TOMASZ
T he music weaves through the hum of the conversations in the restaurant. It’s busy enough that it takes the waiter too fucking long to bring a fresh round of drinks.
“What’re you going to do with the girl, then?” Niko asks before he finishes his last drop of whiskey. “I told you she’s good to go.”
“Go? Who told you she’s going anywhere?” Tipping my head back, I grin up at the ceiling. “She’s wearing down. Slowly…”
“You need to do something soon because I can’t keep telling your father that she’s still weak. You’re my friend, but your dick isn’t worth my neck. So whatever it is you want her for, get it over and done with so we can get back to normal.” When I laugh at his statement, he adds, “Besides, there’s only so long I can keep my father away from her. If he realises that I’m covering for you, we’re both going to be in the shit.”
“The problem with all of you is that you have no patience. Some games are meant to be savoured and?—”
“Except this isn’t a game,” Niko snaps, smashing his glass down on the table, hard enough that it’s a wonder the crystal doesn’t shatter. “The longer she’s here, the more likely they are to come for her. We have enough on our plates with the Romanian pigs interfering with shipments.”
“You need to relax.”
Nikolai has always been uptight. He’s more like my father than I am. They’re afraid of what might happen. The what ifs or maybes weigh far too much on their decisions.
“Relax? Have you lost your mind? I had to tell nine women over the last week that they’re widows. If we carry on losing men at this rate, we’re going to become weak.”
The waiter finally returns with our fresh drinks, and I swirl my vodka around the cold glass.
“Fuck, Tomasz! It’s only a matter of time before they think they can get one on us.”
“Your fear is pathetic, Niko. Soldiers die—it’s the way of the world. How it’s always been. You need to get used to it or get better at fixing them.”
Indignation pinches at his brows as he clenches his jaw with anger flaring his nostrils. Licking over his teeth, he clucks his tongue before he spits, “She killed my cousin, and every day that I lie to your father…to mine…I’m betraying my family. For what? You’re not doing anything with her. Fuck, you haven’t even seen her in the last three weeks since she woke up.”
“And?” I take another swig of my drink, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as I wait for him to carry on with his bitch whining.
I see her every night in passing when she’s asleep. Other times, I watch her pace around her room from the window in my office. It’s how I know she’s wilting. All that strength that’s coming back to her is eating at her powerlessness.
“You’re wasting time playing pointless games with the girl, and it’s fucking with your head. It’s fucking with your reason, and it’s going to cost you. It’s going to cost all of us.” He huffs out a curse under his breath before levelling me with disgust blaring in his eyes. “The English bastard calls her a weapon for a reason, you know? She’s the brotherhood’s weapon, and they’ll come for her.”
Maybe he’s right and they will come for her, but it’s been almost two months and they haven’t yet. Their traitor has made sure of it. They won’t start a war for a dead girl, and while Lucy might still be breathing, she’s already marked for a grave.
“Let them,” I exhale on a long breath, reclining back into the bench seat before taking another drag of my smoke. Niko’s agitation at my impassiveness is palpable as I blow out perfectly formed Os.
“Tomasz!”
Meeting his stare, I shrug as I tell him, “Let them come.”
“What about your mother? You realise that she’s too sick to go anywhere? And Vanya? They’ll take her, or worse, they’ll send your enemies for her, and then what?”
“Finally!” I laugh, sitting up as the sound echoes over the music and chatter. “That’s what all this is about? Vanya? My fucking sister? You realise that even when you marry her, the likelihood of fucking her is slim to none, don’t you?”
He’s always had a soft spot for her. The day our fathers agreed she would marry Niko was probably the best day of his life. Stupid, really, because he does not know what he’s in for.
“What are you going to do when she becomes an actual nun? I’m doing you a favour. Your poor heart,” I tease, taking a sip of my drink as I smirk at him.
It’s obvious his anger is getting the best of him from the way he’s grinding his teeth and checking the time on his watch. A coping mechanism he’s fostered from when we were kids. Niko focuses on the ticking hands as though it will erase the facts while I continue staring him out.
“Oh, come on, don’t be a pansy.”
“Stop, Tomasz.” Standing, he knocks back the rest of his whiskey before pulling his suit jacket back on. “Stop threatening to take her to the clubs. Have some respect for her, and if you can’t, have respect for me. You fucking owe me that much.”
“You realise this is as touchy as it’s going to get for the two of you?”
A scowl twists his glare into a sneer as he drops a wad of cash onto the table. “I’m done covering for you. Get rid of the girl before things get even more fucked up.”
“Is that an order, Niko?”
“I wouldn’t be so stupid,” he scoffs back, obviously taking the piss because he doesn’t apologise or step down from his power trip. “Call it friendly advice…move on. Let the men have her, and find another cunt to wet your cock…”
The fucker is lucky that we’re more family than friends. If anyone else spoke to me this way, they’d be halfway to their grave already. Instead, I push down my irritation and finish my vodka. The buzz of the alcohol numbs me enough to stomach his remark.
Let the men have her.
Ignoring the crackle of anger that crawls up my spine, I take a deep breath and stand, picking up the cash he put down on the table before I follow him out. It’s rare that I use the front door whenever I come here. It’s safer and discreet to use the back door. Especially when we’re doing business. But the more his words repeat in my head, the more impossible it becomes to pull back in the opposite direction.
“What? Are you coming home with me?” Niko calls over his shoulder when we reach outside. The dry laughter in his voice fuels my already simmering rage. As he pulls out his smokes, he turns to grin at me with a shake of his head. “Who’s touchy now?”
Son of a bitch . The curse rampages through me. My hand draws my gun from the holster beneath my jacket as I step closer to him, pushing him into the shadow of the awned entrance with the barrel of my weapon.
“Really? You took a bullet for her, and now you’re going to kill me?” Not that he’s worried because he carries on lighting his cigarette without a single shudder or an inkling of fear. Taking a long, leisured puff, Niko narrows his eyes at me, savouring the hit of nicotine before he blows out the smoke. “Is she that deep under your skin?”
“You’ll continue doing as I bid you, Nikolai. Red stays where she is for as long as I say. If you don’t make sure it continues that way, our friendship is void.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s where I want her.”
“It’s you that’s meant to destroy her, not the other way around.” Taking another puff of his smoke, he presses forward.
“I won’t warn you again,” I tell him, grasping his jaw with one hand while I stow the gun with the other. “This is the first and last time, friend .”
A vapid scoff rumbles from his curled lips as I take a step back, taking his money from my pocket. I shove the cash into the breast pocket of his jacket before walking away. By the time I reach the edge of the sidewalk, my driver is pulling up.
The entire journey back to the palace, my head is spinning with his fucking words. By the time we come to a stop, I’m in half a mind to turn back and make good on my threat. Still, it’s not his steps I climb, nor his door that I walk through in the dark. It’s not Niko’s sleeping form that I watch in the dim moonlight.
Aside from the fact of it being a strange thing for me to do—it’s her.
Lucy Stanton. My Little Red. It’s her I want to set eyes on. The girl whose hope clings on day after day even when it’s obvious that her will is fading.
Motherfucking hope needs to take a hike so we can move on from this. I can be rid of her and ? —
My train of thought evaporates as I draw closer, and she turns onto her side, facing me. Pale skin glows in the silvered light that makes her lips seem darker. A bruised shade of pink that makes my pulse race with the need to trace the perfectly bowed lines. It’s a pity that something so beautiful should have such a tragic fate.
Is she that deep under your skin?
I wait for the anger that’s simmering in my veins to erupt. My hands are clenched, waiting for my control to dissipate. I’m ready and eager to tear her to pieces. Yet when her eyes blink open, my pulse trips over itself. Heat flares to the surface of my skin, as though I’ve been caught red-handed doing something I shouldn’t be.
“Are you going to kill me now?” Red asks, her usual husk a little more gravelly than normal.
For an instant, it’s impossible to say anything. My tongue feels numb while my throat is swollen, like I’m allergic to her gaze and presence. Still, I shake my head, taking a step closer as I tell her, “No.”
Her stare follows me as she remains curled on her side, her fisted hands coiled to her chest, ready to strike in defence.
“Why are you here, then?”
Why am I here…?
Because … I shrug silently, trying to find the answer to my question. An answer that won’t go against every ounce of my nature and our alliances. This girl is my enemy. She’s everything I hate. All that I despise and yearn to destroy. Yet, every second that we stare at each other, every cell of my being longs to be closer.
“Why are you here?” she repeats with a hitch to her breath when I step flush to the bed.
I can’t stay away.
Swallowing down the silent admission, I watch the way a balled hand flattens to her chest, her palm pressing into the supple flesh of her tits as her fingertips claw at the hollow of her throat. As though she’s trying to find something that’s missing. Perhaps something that will save her from me and all the things that I want to do to her. The ways I ache to mark her body and physically bend her to my will.
“What do you want?” Lucy whispers breathlessly.
“To play.”
“What?”
“We’re going to play a game.”
With an acerbic scoff, she rolls to face the other way, leaving her back exposed. My eyes climb down every rung of her spine, one by one until they disappear beneath the cotton of her nightdress. The burning itch to feel every dip and groove is as infuriating as it is overwhelming. The female body is something I’m more than familiar with, but with every uncharted inch of skin I see of her, I want more, as though it’s something wholly exotic.
“Get up!” Pulling back the cover in one swift motion, I grasp her arm and yank her to her feet.
“This is a fucking game!” Red stiffens, and I freeze at her statement.
Motherfucker. The little snake has been holding out on me. All this time, she’s spoken to me in nothing but English. She’s heard me talk to the men and staff as though she would be none the wiser to my orders. Here she is screaming at me in Russian as though it’s her mother tongue. It should anger me, but it makes me wonder what else she’s hiding, what other secrets she keeps from me, and it makes me want to unearth them all.
Tugging her with me, I guide her through the dark hallways, not stopping even when she stumbles on the old, uneven floors or the edges of the rugs.
“Why won’t you just kill me?” she snaps again. This time, she doesn’t freeze when I pause in front of the tall window overlooking the lake.
The moon casts a pale glow over one side of her face, making the freckles peppered across her cheeks and nose seem darker. Her eyes sparkle like the still surface of the ocean, even while her spirit is wild and dangerous beneath it. She’s a riptide. Imperceptibly dangerous until you get caught in her pull, and the only way to escape is to remain impervious to her guiles.
“You win and I will release you,” I tell her, nodding to the vast grounds.
“I’m not playing another fucking game.”
Grasping her jaw, I push my fingers into her mouth, curling them so that when she bites down, her teeth sink into my knuckles. Pulling her closer, I lean over her so that our noses are almost touching.
“I hate it when pretty girls have ugly tongues.” I don’t know why I say it because the curses sound so good when they roll off her tongue. Too good.
Just like her teeth sinking into my flesh and her hands clawing at my chest. Her fight makes me hard and hungry. I want to bite back, to marl all that lustrous skin with my teeth and hands.
“I win and you submit to me. You will kiss my feet on your hands and knees, and you will call me master.” Twisting my hand, I jack her mouth open to get a good look at her pink tongue.
When I remove it, she pulls back. The contempt in her eyes is so bright that it makes my pulse thrum harder and faster.
“You understand?”
“I’m not playing your game,” she spits at me.
“I didn’t give you a choice. I gave you an order.”
Tracing the loose neckline of the nightdress, I take in the shadowed curves beneath the white cotton. My focus zeroes in on her protruding nipples, the way her breath trembles with the rise of her chest, an obvious reaction to the friction of the fabric on her skin.
The urge to touch is too strong to resist. Before she can react, I grasp a full tit in my hand. Tugging her closer, I pinch and roll a turgid peak between my thumb and finger. The skitter of her breath permeates through my shirt as she tries to pry herself away from me. Fiery lust sparks through me, rushing down to my dick with the friction of our bodies.
“It gets me hard when you fight, Red.”
With a harder jostle and a pained growl, the girl yanks herself free. Her hair is in wild disarray as she heaves, glowering at me.
“Fuck you!”
“You win and you can do that too,” I chuckle, taking her hand in mine and squeezing tighter with every attempt she makes to pull free.
When we reach my quarters, I sit her on the couch opposite the fireplace, then lock the bedroom door before I change out of my suit into shorts and a T-shirt. By the time I return to the sitting area, she’s standing by the balcony doors, staring out at the tree she was hanging from not too long ago.
Walking past her, I head towards the window close to the fireplace, where the chess table sits beside the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
Once I’ve set up a fresh game, I pour us both a drink as I tell her, “Come now, pet, time to play.”
She doesn’t argue; on the contrary, she meanders over with her shoulders pulled back. Taking the drink I offer her, the girl drinks it all down in one before sitting in the chair opposite mine. There’s a glint in her eyes as she makes the first move and then makes a point of drinking down my vodka as well.
“You’ll want to take it easy.” Win or lose, this night is far from over. “You’re going to want a clear head.”