22. Katerina
CHAPTER 22
Katerina
“You have a big appetite, kitty cat.” The very corner of Roman’s mouth twitches like he’s tempted to grin. He reaches out and twirls a finger in one of my lavender curls, watching in fascination as I scoop up a forkful of the medovik? * I’ve been served in bed.
Otherwise known as Russian honey cake.
After Roman and I were done working up a sweat and traumatizing the entire penthouse with the noises we made, he ordered his staff to serve us dessert in bed.
But he’s barely touched a bite.
Instead, dessert in bed has consisted of me sitting cross-legged in nothing more than my undies and his t-shirt, stuffing my face with cake.
He seems to be enjoying the view.
I swallow my latest mouthful and say, “It’s ironic I’m fed better in captivity than when I was free.”
“Captivity, devochka? Is that how you see your time here?”
“Considering I can’t set foot in the world outside? Yes.”
“For your protection. I’ve told you what would happen if you go free.”
“Right. Head on a pike. How can I forget?”
“It will not be like this forever,” he says. “When it is safe to do so, you will have more freedoms. But for now… this is what’s safest.”
“You know,” I say slowly, sneaking a glance up at him. “You’re the first person to ever want to do that for me.”
“Do what, devochka?”
“Protect me. No one has ever…” I clear my throat like I have a piece of cake lodged in my windpipe when really it’s the emotion welling up. I try again, adding a small smile to offset any sadness that cracks through. “Comes with being an orphan. Nobody cares about kids with no family. But why should they? We belong to no one… so we decide to look out for each other.”
“Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like otherwise? If your family had not died?”
It’s a question no one’s ever asked me before but that I’ve wondered a million times in my head. Giving a shrug, I set down my fork on the plate of cake. “I’d like to think I wouldn’t be some street criminal. I would’ve made something of myself. Maybe be a teacher… or something.”
“You have made something of yourself.”
“Hmmm?”
He fingers another curl, then cups my cheek. “You have made something of yourself, devochka. You’ve managed to survive on your own from the time you were a young girl. Most people would not be able to. You’re a survivor and you should be proud of that.”
His words fill me up with warmth the same way his touch does. My eyes close at the feel of his hand stroking my cheek and I let myself bask in the moment for what it is.
Another human being who seems to understand me better than anyone I’ve ever met.
The same man who just got down making my body thrum with orgasmic pleasure; the same man who’s let me stay in his penthouse so that he can protect me from a mess I got myself into.
One question emerges.
What have I done to deserve this?
And how do I handle this when I’m used to being a stray on my own?
A shaky breath rattles out of me. “Roman, I don’t know how… you… you’re a lot.”
His thick brows lift. “A lot… what? Explain.”
“You’re intense. In more ways than one. It can be overwhelming,” I mumble. I place the plate of cake on the nightstand and then flop backward onto the pillows, staring up at him with an earnest expression on my face. “I’m sure it’s become pretty obvious by now that… I’m not really experienced.”
“As in?”
“When you spend most of your life in survival mode, you don’t have a lot of time for luxuries. I’d consider dating and relationships to be in that category. Most of the guys I’ve been with have been nothing. Just casual hookups.”
…and you also made me come. Something no other guy has ever managed.
“Who were these men you were doing these hook ups with?”
I snicker. “It’s cute when your Russianness comes through. ‘Do these hook ups’ isn’t really an American term, Zver. We just call them hookups.”
“I don’t like that word,” he says, scowling. “It sounds like a fish on a hook. Who were these men?”
“Just guys I met around. Maybe at a party or in the underground circles I was in. JC and a couple others.”
His scowl deepens. “You slept with JC? The same one who left you in the apartment?”
“You broke his jaw and he had to go to the ER, but yeah… that JC. I never said I had good taste. Just that you overwhelm me.”
“No wonder you are so shy. Is that it, kitty cat?”
“What about you? Any ex-girlfriends I should know about?” I ask instead. “Any who happen to be named Polina?”
He grunts out a laugh and then thumbs my cheek. “You seem convinced there is something between me and Polina.”
“A woman doesn’t just barge into a man’s bedroom like that?—”
“I’ve told you, she’s an employee and nothing more. She’s not my type.”
I quirk a brow. “But I am?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Potomu chto ty drugoy, i ya nakhozhu tebya krasivoy? * .”
“Have I mentioned I asked one of the staff to pick me up a Russian for Dummies language book? I’m going to learn before you know it.”
He drops a kiss on my lips. “I look forward to the day. But you should know I also speak Slovak and Bulgarian, among other languages.”
I let out a soft laugh as we spend the rest of the night like this. Together in bed after an unexpected moment of passion.
What I said was true—Roman is intense and overwhelming. But I’m finding him impossible to resist for that very reason.
Over the next few days, I’m finally allowed to speak with Rosita for the first time since I was taken captive. Roman sits on the sofa reading through reports he’s been delivered by a member of his crew while he gives me his phone to call Rosita.
“KAT!” she screams the second she recognizes my voice. “Where the hell have you been!? Do you know I’ve been going crazy!? I went to all your old spots looking for you! Even Wong’s Wok on 94 th ! But Ms. Wong said you hadn’t been by in weeks? What the fuck, girl!?”
“Shhhh,” I hush. “Will you calm down?”
“CALM DOWN!??! You’ve been gone for weeks! How was I supposed to know you weren’t dead, dumped in some ditch somewhere?”
“Well, now you know I’m still alive so maybe calm down?”
“I won’t be able to calm down ’til you tell me what the hell’s been going on? I spoke to JC and he was saying something about you being abducted by the Russian mob?”
“Shhhhhh!” I silence immediately, throwing a paranoid glance over my shoulder.
Roman senses my gaze and looks up at the same time. His sapphire eyes meet mine, the gleam in them equal parts warning and amusement. It’s as if he knows what’s being discussed. I turn my back completely and clutch the phone tighter against my ear.
“ Iway an’tcay aysay ightray ownay .”
“What? What the fuck does that mean? Were you abducted by the Russian mob or not?”
I stomp my foot. “ Otnay ightray ownay .”
“What’s the matter with you? You hit your head?”
“Devochka,” Roman calls from the sofa. “Those other languages I told you I speak? Pig Latin is one of them.”
My cheeks warm at being caught red-handed. “I was, um, just telling my friend I can’t speak about that right now.”
“Who’s that?” Rosita asks nosily from her end of the phone.
“Nobody,” I answer. “Anyway, I just wanted to call you to let you know I’m okay. No need to worry.”
“No need to worry? I’m more worried now! Kat, where are you? I’ll come get you.”
“You can’t come where I am.”
“You’re not in jail, are you?”
“No!”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“Look, just be careful, okay? Stay safe. I’m still going to help you get Lucero back. I promise. It just might take a while longer.”
“Kat, you’re scaring me. You haven’t heard about what happened to Fozzil, have you?” Rosita asks without waiting on an answer. “He was run over by some unknown black truck. Multiple times. He’s paralyzed, in critical condition in the hospital. He’s probably not going to make it.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine. “I… I hadn’t heard.”
“Whatever you and your little crew got yourselves involved in this time… it seems serious. So I’ll stay safe if you stay safe, alright?”
We hang up on that note, making mutual promises we’ll stay out of trouble and keep in touch. I return Roman’s phone, unsure what even to say about my conversation.
“Is your friend doing well?” he asks.
“Yes, very well.”
“From what I could hear, it sounded like she was screaming.”
That’s because she was.
“Oh, that. She’s, um, a very dramatic person.”
He hardly looks like he believes a word I’ve said. He links his fingers with mine and tugs me into his lap. “Your friend was asking you about the Russian mob, was she not?”
“She was loud. But she wasn’t that loud. Were you somehow listening from the sofa? Some secret mic planted? Beastly superhuman hearing powers?”
“My kitty cat loves to make jokes. I wonder if she would make jokes if she were being punished.”
“The nipple clamps were enough punishment for a lifetime.”
“More like temporary ’til the next time you misbehave.” He tilts my head ’til our mouths are lined up and we share in a soft kiss. Even one so quick and fleeting sends a ripple of warmth through me. Keeping me planted in his lap, he grips my hips and holds my gaze captive. “Your friend has nothing to worry about. You may be in the custody of the bratva, but you are with me. I will protect you against anyone who comes for you.”
“Even your uncle?”
“You already know that answer, devochka.”
“And your father? The sovietnik?”
“Yes,” he says, his face darkening, “even the sovietnik.”
“Why were you so worked up the other night when you came home? I’ve never seen you so… feral.”
“I had a meeting with my father. He found out the pakhan visited me.”
My lips part in shock. “You mean he didn’t know?”
“Apparently, the pakhan did not divulge that to him. You understand how that drums up suspicion. Allegiances are fragile.”
“The schism you mentioned…”
“It seems he is siding with my uncle.”
“And you with the pakhan?”
Roman doesn’t directly answer. He merely strokes a hand into my curls and breaks our eye contact as if to study my curl pattern.
“But…” I go on, curiosity taking over. “That’s a good thing, right? You being on the pakhan’s side? He’s the head honcho, right? The HBIC.”
“HBIC?”
“Head Bitch in Charge. It’s, um, a pop culture reference. An American thing. Forget I said that. It’s good you’re with him… isn’t it?”
For a second time, Roman doesn’t answer me. By the furrow of his brow and sharpness of his features, I can tell he’s deep in thought. Probably sorting out various potential scenarios. But I’m a curious person.
The phrase curiosity killed the cat almost perfectly describes me at any given time.
Since Roman won’t answer about the sovietnik and pakhan, I try my luck with a slightly different topic.
“Fozzil’s in the hospital. He was run over in the middle of the street by an unknown black vehicle.”
“You say this as if I know who the fuck that is.”
“You know,” I say. “You know because it was your men, wasn’t it? You ordered the hit on him?”
A second of silence goes by where Roman shows no sign of guilt. Not a single ounce of remorse. He merely tightens his arms around my hips and looks me straight in the face.
“Yes. It was my men. And the others in your group will be next.”
“But—”
“I’ve told you,” he interrupts unapologetically. “They have to die if you are to survive.”
It’s the end of our conversation on the matter, though it’s not the end of my thoughts on it. The rest of the night passes by with Roman and I watching a movie in the home theater and then preparing for bed.
The entire time I’m conflicted over what I’ve learned.
I’m no longer a part of the crew with JC, Finch, and Fozzil. But that doesn’t mean I want them dead either…
I’ve never worked out so much as I have since coming to stay in Roman’s penthouse. Every afternoon he’s gone, I’m spending the time in his personal gym, doing my best to work off all the food I’ve been eating.
Keeping active helps me in other ways. The activity clears my head and gives me space to think between the gasps for air and sweat soaking my tank tops.
I’ve landed on minding my business. While I might care about the guys—I’m only human—I can’t possibly save them. How can I when I can’t even save myself?
Everything Roman’s doing is to protect me. He’s made it clear I’m dangerously close to being on the chopping block. If his father discovers my involvement, I’ll be a goner.
It seems Roman is attempting to sacrifice JC, Finch, and Fozzil instead.
Fucked up when morals come into play, but I’m just going to have to look the other way.
I’m in too deep with Roman to pull back now. Real feelings have started to form. The man basically has me dickmatized after his performance the other night. He’d hit all the right spots and made me come ’til I was almost in tears.
So far, I’ve enjoyed exploring sexually with him. Not only enjoyed it, but I want more of it. More of his manhandling treatment, tossing me onto beds and having his way. More kinky punishments when I happen to ‘misbehave’ as he calls it. More of everything he’s given me.
That includes the tender moments between us.
The moments where we lay in bed and he plays with my hair, always so fascinated by the curl texture. The moments where we share details about our lives before we met and I learn more about life in the bratva.
Things between us have started to feel like an actual… relationship .
I’m huffing air as I step off the treadmill with wobbly legs and reach for a towel to mop the sweat off my face.
Roman won’t be home for another hour or two. Plenty of time to shower and make myself look enticing for him at dinner.
The first time in my life I’ve really even cared about making myself look sexy for a man.
I reach the door and draw it open to step into the hall only to stop in my tracks.
A distinct voice echoes from down the hall. Polina’s in the middle of some kind of phone conversation, speaking fast in Russian.
“Zver nikogda ne uznayet. Eto budet sekret.? * ”
I frown trying to make sense of the words. Two of them jump out at me right away. Zver being Roman’s Russian moniker. The other being sekret. Russian for secret.
I’ve only learned a handful of Russian words since I started practicing, but sekret is one I remember. Mostly because it sounds so similar to the English variation.
“What secret?” I whisper to myself. “A secret being kept from Roman?”
“Da,” Polina goes on. “Eto budet sdelano? * .”
She promptly hangs up with whoever it is she’s on the phone with and then goes about her day as if nothing’s happened.
But I’m not able to move on so easily.
How can I when it seems I’ve accidentally overheard something I shouldn’t? What secret would Polina need to keep from Roman and does this have anything to do with the tensions between the pakhan and the sovietnik?
“Shit,” I sigh. “Now what do I do?”
* ? medovik - honey cake
* ? Potomu chto ty drugoy, i ya nakhozhu tebya krasivoy - because you are different and I find you beautiful
* ? Zver nikogda ne uznayet. Eto budet sekret - the beast will never know. It will be a secret.
* ? Da, eto budet sdelano - yes, it will be done