44. Aleksandr
CHAPTER 44
Aleksandr
I watch her, amazed. It was only last night I was filling that beautiful mouth with my cock, and now I watch her in awe as she captivates the crowd. A crowd that is far larger than the previous theater where she performed could hold.
With or without me, she was always meant for this stage. I dip my gaze toward Anya, who’s sitting in the box with me. Her arms are crossed, unimpressed by musicals in general, but her eyes light up when Lena comes on stage.
To think at any point I thought Cinita’s dancing was captivating. I was so fucking wrong. That has nothing on Lena’s singing.
Lena’s voice dramatically cuts off. The air fills with suspense, and right on cue, everyone stands, applauding. I can see the rise and fall of her chest, and I stand with them and clap.
Beautiful.
A masterpiece.
Everything.
We leave as everyone else does. This time, Lena told us we can’t come backstage because she wants to celebrate her first show with her new colleagues. It works out well since Anya and I have a few things to clean up. It doesn’t make me any less miserable that I have to share Lena, though.
“Stop pouting,” Anya says with arms crossed over her chest as she sits in my passenger seat. I’d become so used to Lena sitting there that I’m sadly disappointed by my sister’s company. Not that I’d ever tell her that.
I didn’t understand these feelings when she’d found River.
Neither of us had been raised on love, and we were still doing a shitty job at it. But I understand why my sister got married. She’s the same woman who tears men’s balls off for sport, but there’s an added something to her now.
“You’re still doing it,” she reprimands.
“I’m not doing anything,” I grit out, my leather- covered hands gripping tightly around the wheel. “I want to make tonight quick, though.”
She smirks and angles herself toward me. “Do you have a curfew now?”
“No. I just want to be there to pick her up.”
“No hours of torture, then?”
I lick my lips, wanting to ask her but not at the same time. What if she despises what I say. Then again, my sister and I have only ever had each other. For the most part, we’re honest with each other.
“Do you still enjoy killing as much?” I ask.
Her gaze lands on me. It almost feels like a taboo question to ask. It’s all we’ve known. But knowing that Lena doesn’t approve, I’ve found I don’t take as much satisfaction in it anymore. I still do it unflinchingly for our money and empire. But it’s not the same as before I met her.
“Do you mean since I met River?”
“Yes.”
She’s studying me now, awkward in her own honesty. Because this type of talk is dangerous. But not with my sister.
“No. I do it because it’s necessary. I take pleasure if they’ve personally offended me, but I’d much rather have River massage my feet when I get home.”
“He massages your feet?” I ask in surprise.
“You repeat it, and either River or I will kill you,” she says ruthlessly, and I chuckle.
“We cannot change the role we play, Alek. We own this city,” she reminds me, not that I need it.
“But it doesn’t mean we can’t grow ever slightly. Even for stunted orphans like us that’s possible.”
I eye her, taking in her words. Because for Lena, I want to grow. Shield her from this side of my work as she comes to terms with it. River and Anya are as crazy as each other. But Lena… If she saw the gore I often deal in, she’d hide from me, terrified.
“You really care for her, don’t you? It’ll be harder for you to keep a low profile as she rises further in her fame. Are you okay with that?”
“I’ll do whatever is required of me to stay by her side.”
A mischievous light flashes in Anya’s eyes as she says, “You’ve become soft.”
“And you haven’t?”
She’s smiling as I say it, and silently we know this is the only time we’ll probably have this discussion. We’re checking on one another to see if, in some small way, we’ve found happiness.
Something we were never entitled to but seems we both secretly wanted .
“Shall we use knives or guns this evening?” she asks, putting an end to the personal talk.
I look at the time. “Guns would be more efficient. But I think we always have time to use knives. Wouldn’t want your blade going rusty, would we?”
She smiles at that, satisfied.
I mean, we aren’t turning into fucking saints.