33. Katerina
CHAPTER 33
Katerina
I’m not sure what I’m expecting when I tell Roman about my suspicions.
He’s made it clear that what happened to me while in captivity won’t change how he feels about me, but that doesn’t negate how difficult it is to tell the man you have feelings for that another man had his fingers inside you.
That he pleasured you and made you come.
Let alone that man being his boss .
Even if I wish it wouldn’t, it’ll be a mental imagery implanted in his head.
It’s an experience that’s been replaying in mine ever since.
Truthfully, I don’t even want to be touched by anyone right now… not even Roman.
After being on display the past couple of days, being sold like a product, it’s fucked with my head. I don’t feel like an autonomous being, and I’m not sure how to begin processing any of it.
But that’s been pushed aside for the moment as I await Roman’s reaction.
He could be angry. Livid.
He could be remorseful on my behalf. Maybe blame himself for what’s happened.
The long silence that stretches between us doesn’t help. It might only be a few seconds, but they feel like forever waiting out his reaction.
I’m watching closely as comprehension dawns on his handsome, chiseled face and his sapphire-blue eyes blaze with an emotion I can’t place.
It’s suddenly like I’m trapped in a room with the same beast I’d met that day in Crowne Tower. He had been instantly and unspeakably formidable, blocking out the entire doorway with his broad frame. Jaw clenched and gaze burning, I’d never felt so shaken by someone’s mere presence.
This is exactly like that.
The silence warps to fit Roman’s mood—his budding temper as it truly sinks in what’s happened and who was involved.
I hadn’t known at first.
I was terrified and blindfolded. But the voice was smooth and thick and distinctly Russian. I knew I had heard it before, which helped narrow down the window to the past few weeks. It obviously wasn’t Roman’s voice. Neither was it his Uncle Leonid or any of the men in his crew.
It wasn’t wheezy like his elderly father.
Then I thought back to the moment when I’d eavesdropped. I’d arrived at Roman’s penthouse and he’d told me to stay put in the bedroom while the pakhan visited. It had been by accident that I discovered I could hear their conversation through the air vents…
My gaze scales up the wall until it reaches the air vent positioned directly above the mirror and dresser. I can hear Roman and another man who must be the pakhan.
I go still and strain my ears, their voices becoming even clearer.
“Ya ne zhdal tvoyego vizita. No dlya menya bol’shaya chest’, chto vy prishli ? * .”
“Ya byl v etom rayone, I tvoy otets ochen’ khorosho otzyvayetsya o tebe ? * ,” comes the pakhan’s smooth baritone. He sounds younger than the sovietnik, despite being his—and everyone’s—boss.
I can’t understand a word they’re saying, but I listen on anyway.
“Yest’ vazhnyy vopros dlya obsuzhdeniya. Vy znayete o napryazhenii v pyati sem’ yakh ? * .”
“Da, my dolzhny byt’ umnymi, ? * ” answers Roman.
The voice had spoken to me again that night as I lay naked in bed with a blindfold on and my fingers on my sex, my heart rabbiting in my chest.
He slams down his drink and the armchair creaks from his movement. He’s getting up. His footsteps thump on the wooden flooring as he makes closer to the bed.
The mask intensifies the moment. All I have are the audible clues he gives me.
I freeze up, holding my breath. Hand still between my thighs, I’m not sure what to expect. My skin crawls at the possibility he’ll touch me instead.
“You are pretending,” he says, standing over the bed. He grabs my wrist and lifts my hand from between my thighs. “There will be no pretending.”
I snap out of my momentary flashback at the abrupt heave Roman gives. He blows out a ragged breath, his cavernous chest rising and falling like he’s run miles.
It’s as if he can’t possibly hold in whatever is forcing its way out.
Roman releases a roar that’s mightier than a lion. The thunderous sound feels like it rattles the entire room. I clap both hands over my ears and watch in shock as the veins protrude in his thick neck and his large hands form even larger fists.
He spins around and swings on the wall.
One punch. Two punches. Three punches.
Four. Five. Six.
He keeps going ’til he’s cratered the wall completely. Blood pours down his clenched fists yet he keeps going, hammering them into the plaster like he wishes it were somebody’s face.
“Roman, stop it!” I yell finally, rushing forward.
It makes no difference as I grab hold of his arm that’s basically the size of my thigh. I could swing off his arm if he throws another blow.
He moves to do so before he realizes I’ve latched onto him. I’m holding on for dear life, trying to get him to calm down and stop seeing red. Breaths still heavy and ragged, he goes motionless. The blood dripping from his clenched fingers splatters on the floor. We stand together almost entwined, as if suddenly frozen into a block of ice.
Slowly, his head turns to the side for a glance down at me clutching his arm tightly. He sees the tears shining in my eyes and the deep knit of my brow. His intense anger fades… at least for the moment.
He returns to me. Mentally and emotionally.
“Kitty cat,” he husks out. His arms encircle me, drawing me into a close embrace. My head tucks into the space between his chest and his chin, and he strokes my hair like he had earlier. Each careful glide of his wide palm feels better than any healing balm. I close my eyes and breathe him in.
His warm musk reminds me of leather and smoke in the best way possible.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” I murmur into his chest.
“I’ll hurt everyone,” he answers, his breathing still heavy. “I’ll hurt everyone for hurting my kitty cat. But him most of all. I’ll slaughter him for what he’s done. For the fucking games he’s played.”
I draw back slightly for a look up at him. “But why, Zver? Why would he…?”
“You remember what I told you about there being a schism? I believed it was between the pakhan and my father, the sovietnik. Maybe that assumption was wrong all along,” he says solemnly. “Maybe all along the schism was between me and the others.”
“But you’re loyal! You’re a fierce fighter for the bratva. How could they ever turn on you?”
The corner of his lip curls. “All the more reason to turn on me, devochka. My father may be second-in-command. He may be powerful in his own right. But he’s a feeble old man on his deathbed. He won’t last much longer.”
I gasp and take a shocked step back, eyes widening. “You think the pakhan sees you as the threat to take over?”
“I’m not sure where the truth lies. If my father was working with him or if the pakhan is working on his own. It likely has been him all along. Right down to the kidnapping attempt.”
“You mean when me, JC and Fozzil?—”
“He must be who you were working for without even knowing it,” Roman confirms.
“That… that wouldn’t surprise me at all. He would want a third party so it wouldn’t be traced back to him,” I mutter, overcome with shock.
“Yes, that is exactly it, devochka. But it doesn’t matter anymore.” Roman’s blazing blue eyes drop to his side where his battered fist still drips blood onto the floor. “I’ll destroy them both anyway.”
Roman leaves only briefly to attend the important intel meeting he had skipped earlier to spend time with me. I use the moment to sit alone in our bedroom and gather my thoughts. It’s late at night yet I’m wide awake.
My mind’s racing. My heart won’t stop beating fast.
I cross my legs and rest my elbows on my thighs, covering my face with my hands.
So much has happened over the last seventy-two hours, but also over the last several weeks. Just a couple months ago I was a petty thief living a life of crime, coming and going as I pleased. When I wasn’t sleeping on Rosita’s couch, I was wandering the streets and making money doing bad things. I was trusting bad men like JC and the rest of our crew.
Never in a million years did I imagine I’d fall into the kind of situation I have now.
I’d be taken captive by a Russian mafia boss and then develop feelings for that man. That he would develop feelings for me that sometimes feel so intense, I’m overwhelmed.
I had no idea what it would be like to be sold as a human being. For another powerful Russian mobster to violate me the way he had.
When my foster father did so many years ago, I buried it away. Once I got the hell out of there, I refused to let myself think about it. I couldn’t spend time feeling sorry for myself when I was a homeless orphan with nowhere to go and nobody who gave a single fuck about me.
I had other things to worry about. Shelter, food, and safety all took priority.
But it manifested itself in other ways.
There’s a reason I never had much of an interest in sex. There’s a reason why I had friends who had voracious appetites for men while I was more wary and cautious.
Roman was the first man I’d ever been with who actually made me come.
…and the pakhan is the second.
An icy shudder vibrates through my spine.
It was a physical response I had no control over, yet it still disturbs me. It makes me feel disgusting and like my body betrayed me.
I’ve never wanted to be a victim. I never wanted anyone’s pity.
That was true when I was a stray kid on the streets sleeping in bus terminals and pickpocketing strangers, and it’s damn sure true now as a grown woman.
Even after what’s happened recently.
I’m no one’s victim.
I’ve survived everything life has thrown at me. I’ll survive this too.
The bedroom door opens. Roman comes striding through and then stops once his gaze lands on me. I blink looking over at him, realizing tears wet my cheeks.
I’ve been crying.
“Kat,” he breathes. He shuts the door and then he’s on the bed with me in a couple quick strides. I’m wrapped up in his arms again, the instant warmth of his body heat engulfing me. “Kat,” he says my name like it’s the most beautiful word he’s ever heard. “Kitty cat, why are you crying? Tell me what else is wrong and I will fix it. I will… I’ll fucking kill them. Do you hear me? I’m going to fucking kill them.”
“Just stay,” I murmur. “Please stay with me. I need you.”
He holds my tear-streaked face in his hands and nods, peering down at me in a way that stirs something deep inside me.
No one else has ever made me feel this way. No one has ever made me feel like I matter.
But he does.
I matter so much to Roman that I’m not sure I grasp to what extent.
He plants a kiss on my wet lips that’s not the passionate kind. It’s the deep, heartfelt kind that communicates our feelings.
It’s solidifying what we mean to each other.
“Ya tebya lyublyu? * , Kat,” he mutters against my lips. He kisses me again even more softly.
“I don’t know what that?—”
“I love you,” he repeats in English, his thumbs stroking my cheek. “I have fallen in love with you.”
Surprise flits across my features. It explodes inside me, yet I’m immediately aware of the only way I want to respond.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, Zver? * ,” I say in broken Russian to his gruff laugh.
“Fuck,” he groans, kissing the tip of my nose. Then both my cheeks and the corner of my mouth. He presses kisses all over ’til I’m laughing with him. “You are so fucking adorable, kitty cat. I mean it.”
We settle in bed entangled in each other’s arms, a peaceful air settling over us for the first time since I’ve been rescued.
The darkness we’ve been through—and the dark times that definitely lie ahead—are off our minds for the moment.
“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” I ask him playfully. “And I’m your girlfriend?”
“You’re much more than my girlfriend. You’re moya lyubov’? * . My love.”
I smile. “I like the sound of that.”
“You should. No one else ever has been. Something tells me… no one else ever will be.”
“Not the relationship type?”
“What do you think, kitty cat?” He rubs his palm along the curve of my hip. “I dedicated myself to the bratva. I have lived and breathed it. It is a dirty, dangerous, deadly lifestyle. It’s not a lifestyle suitable for a wife and children. For a family man.”
“But I can handle it,” I insist, and when he shakes his head, I double down. “I can! I’m strong. I’m… I’m a survivor. I’m not a victim. I’m not?—”
“Shhh, devochka,” he hushes gently. He kisses my brow. “You are impossibly strong. For all you have been through, you are fucking unstoppable. You’re a warrior. My fucking tough warrior by my side. But you’re also precious. And I will do everything in my power to protect you like you’re made of glass even if you may not be…”
It might not make sense to anyone else but the two of us, but I understand what he’s saying. I scoot my body even closer to his and trace my fingers along the edges of his jaw.
“It makes me feel… it makes me feel so… so safe to know that. I’ve never felt valuable to anyone.” I push back the knot of emotion tightening inside me at the horrible trauma that’s been my life on the streets. “But please, Zver. Let me help.”
“Katerina…”
“It means so much to me that you’re going to avenge me. But I need to avenge myself too. I’ve… I’ve never gotten the chance to before. So many people have wronged me in my life,” I explain. “And I’ve always just had to get used to it. Please let me have the chance to take some power back. I have skills. I can be of use.”
I can tell it goes against every natural urge inside him to agree. His jaw clenches against the tips of my fingers as he peers into my eyes and then reluctantly nods.
“Alright,” he says. “If it’s what you need. Ya vsegda dam tebe to, chto tebe nuzhno? * .”
* ? Ya ne zhdal tvoyego vizita. No dlya menya bol’shaya chest’, chto vy prishli - I wasn’t expecting your visit. But it’s a great honor that you came.
* ? Ya byl v etom rayone, I tvoy otets ochen’ khorosho otzyvayetsya o tebe - I’ve been in the area, and your father speaks very highly of you.
* ? Yest’ vazhnyy vopros dlya obsuzhdeniya. Vy znayete o napryazhenii v pyati sem’ yakh - There is an important issue to discuss. Do you know about the tension between the Five Families?
* ? Da, my dolzhny byt’ umnymi - yes, we must be smart
* ? Ya tebya lyublyu - I love you
* ? Ya tebya lyublyu, Zver - I love you, beast
* ? moya lyubov’ - my love
* ? Ya vsegda dam tebe to, chto tebe nuzhno - I will always give you what you need