Chapter 10 – Artur
Vibrant lights sliced through the space, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and perfume. The music was loud, the bass causing the ground beneath my feet to tremble.
Half-naked pole dancers were entertaining us at the mini stage that dominated the center of my private booth. They moved their bodies to the music’s rhythm, performing jaw-dropping stunts on the pole.
These dancers were slender, gorgeous, and very sexy. There were five of them entertaining my cousin and me tonight, and they were all from different continents.
Europe. Africa. America. Asia.
One from each. Two from Asia.
I lounged on my couch, legs crossed, with my arms spread over the headrest. The ladies were pretty good at their jobs, and usually, I’d have already been lost in their performance.
However, tonight, I barely paid attention to them because while I was present in the flesh, my mind was lost. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss: how it made me feel, what it sparked within me, and the way she stared at me afterward.
Until now, the taste of her cherry lips still lingered on mine as a constant reminder of what I was missing. The idea was to mess with her, tease her, and make her crave me even more. However, it was starting to feel like that plan might backfire if I didn’t tread with caution.
I wanted her to want me, to be frustrated by her own desires. But right now, the reverse was the case because she was living rent-free in my head. What used to intrigue me was reduced to nothing, even though I tried to force myself to enjoy it.
My mind flashed back to the night I walked into her room while she slept. The way her waist was subtly writhing against the bed started a fire that almost consumed me. Luckily, I’d mastered self-control.
She must’ve been dreaming of something sensual, considering the quiet sounds coming from her lips. A part of me wanted to believe it had something to do with the kiss—the unfinished one. Yet I couldn’t torture myself with something that might just be false hope.
I remembered the look of embarrassment in her eyes when she woke up and found me watching her. She tried to hide it behind a straight face, but I could see right through her. She was ashamed, probably hoping that I didn’t hear anything.
When our skin brushed against each other while I cared for her bruises and pain, tension hung heavily in the air. The scent of her feminine perfume, mixed with shampoo and conditioner, drew me in like steel to a magnet.
I wanted nothing more than to finish what I’d started at the library. The fact that she didn’t feel repulsed by my touch was all the invitation that I needed. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to make a move, even though the success rate was 90%.
What’s the worst that could’ve happened? She could’ve pushed me away. She could’ve rejected me. Deep down, I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of embarrassment, especially because I was a huge fan of consent.
At this point, the line between prisoner and captor was beginning to blur. What was the nature of our relationship? Who was she to me? What was her purpose in my life?
Although neither of us started a conversation that night, we both could sense the change in the atmosphere. She tried her best to stay calm and collected. But her breathing and the subtle rise and fall of her chest gave her away.
I could sense her unease and the nervousness she tried to mask. Honestly, I was affected too, but unlike her, I was a master at hiding my emotions. I kept my breaths even and my heartbeat steady. The last thing I wanted was for her to see right through me.
This was a game, and I was in charge.
But how true was that?
“Earth to Tarasov,” Nial’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I shifted my gaze to him.
He sat on the couch across from me, holding two women in his arms. His black jacket was draped over the armrest, and the top four buttons of his crisp white undershirt were undone.
Nial’s dark hair was tousled as usual, his storm-grey eyes catching glistening in the lights. Stray stands framed his face, making him look a bit unkempt. Yet classy. And dangerous.
The son of a gun was my cousin, a madman—chaos disguised as charm. He was clever, unpredictable, and far too smooth for his own good. People often thought that he was nice. But that was the biggest misconception of the century.
The reason I called him a madman was because he was a madman.
Nial would laugh with his victims and make them feel comfortable right before pulling the trigger. Because of his sense of humor and wit, people often thought that he was the better man.
They were wrong.
He was as bad as the rest of us. Maybe even worse. At least with me, my victims knew what to expect when they messed up. With Nial, it was impossible. The mad man used humor to disarm and sin to distract.
Those who knew him feared him, more so whenever he looked like he was in a good mood. Nial could literally be making a joke and laughing while he chopped his victims to pieces.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, adjusting in his seat as the women’s manicured hands caressed his chest. “You look distracted.”
I glanced down at the untouched glass of vodka on the low table in front of me. “I have a lot on my mind.” I leaned in and lifted it to my lips.
“Yeah, right.” He let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with your little prisoner.” The sarcasm in his tone couldn’t be more glaring.
Silence.
He raised his brows, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “You sneaky bastard.” Nial laughed, as though he’d just read my mind. “She’s in your head, isn’t she?”
I sipped my drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you do,” he pressed on, his eyes pinned on me. “You know what I think…I think you’ve developed some kind of liking for her.” The slight pause came when he leaned in to take a closer look at me. “I mean, why else would she still be living in your house after what she did?”
I didn’t respond, although deep down, his analysis was starting to get on my nerves.
“Wait a minute.” He cast a suspicious gaze at me, his head tilting slightly to the side. “Did you already eat of the fruit of pleasure and ecstasy?” A mischievous smirk slowly spread across his face.
“Mind your fuckin’ business,” I said bluntly.
He laughed, leaning back into the couch. “You fuckin’ cunt.” He crossed his legs. “So that’s why you’re so distracted, huh.”
“Can’t a man just zone off in peace?” I sipped from my glass.
“Not while surrounded by such beautiful women.” He threw flirtatious glances at them, one at a time.
I hesitated for a moment. “I haven’t eaten from any tree.”
He paused, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “That’s a shame.”
I scoffed and drained the remaining drink down my throat.
“Why, though?” he asked.
“Because she’s different,” I answered almost immediately. “She’s not like the others, you know.”
He shifted his gaze between the two women beside him. “No offense, ladies. My cousin’s only trying to make a point.”
I continued, “There’s something about her that just makes me feel….” My voice trailed off into silence, unsure of the word to describe how I felt.
“…at peace?”
I glanced at him and then gave a subtle nod.
He paused, watching me in silence. “I think I know what’s happening here.”
“Keep your opinion to yourself.”
“Okay.” He threw up his hands slightly, his lips pursed to suppress a smile. “But I still think you should make her yours; you already act like she is anyway.”
While he spoke, his voice gradually faded into the background, as did the club’s noise. My attention had shifted to something far more sinister than this conversation.
Rocco’s presence.
I sensed the bastard’s negative energy even before spotting him in the crowd below. I rose to my feet and walked over to the balcony, my footsteps slow and calculated.
“What’s wrong?” Nial got off the couch and joined me, hands on the steel railing.
I didn’t respond right away, but after he followed my gaze, he also spotted the bastard.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “What’s he doing here?”
“Looking for trouble, obviously,” I answered in the same tone, my grip tightening on the polished railing.
He raised his head and met my gaze, his lips parting into a pesky little smirk.
“Boss.” Konstantin appeared behind me, his voice low but laced with a hint of urgency. “We’ve got a situation.”
“I’m aware.” I didn’t take my eyes off Rocco.
He didn’t come alone. Of course, he didn’t. It would be stupid of him.
“I count six men,” Nial said to me, his gaze sweeping over the dance floor below. “Including the two at the entrance.”
There were more than six of them. I personally counted four others, hidden within the crowd. They were all armed, ready for bloodshed. I watched his men pull people out of the way as he walked toward the stairs leading up to my private booth.
I had five men with me, skilled and armed to the teeth. All around the club, the others lurked in the shadows, watching, waiting for my signal. If Rocco were foolish enough to start a war right here and now, he’d lose.
“Artur…Artur…Artur…” Rocco called softly as he walked toward me, his voice smooth and venomous. “Tell me. What brings you to this side of town?” His tone was heavy with the Italian accent.
“He owes you no explanation,” Nial replied.
Rocco halted in front of us, a stick of tobacco pressed between his lips. “Oh, don’t tell me this clown speaks on your behalf.”
I locked my jaw, my fingers balling into fists on my sides.
“Clown?” Nial chuckled, a deep, threatening sound that betrayed the smile on his face. “Say that again.” He stepped closer. “I dare you.”
The atmosphere was tense. Men reached for their guns, and the women raced down the steps.
“Temper, temper,” Rocco teased, wearing a mocking grin. “I’m not here to fight.”
“What do you want, Rocco?” I asked, my voice as flat as my expression.
“Nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I stopped by this prestigious club to blow off some steam. And then I happened to run into you good fellas.”
“What a coincidence, huh?” Nial chipped in.
“Beats me.”
I moved closer, placed a palm on his shoulder, and said quietly, “Listen, I don’t know what game you’re playing. But I’m not in the mood. So take your minions and get the hell out of here.”
His lips curved into a sly smirk. “It’s a free country, my friend. I can be where I want.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “And right now, this is where I wanna be.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Squidward. Leave,” Nial chipped in, voice light and humorous.
Squidward?
I almost sighed. Almost.
Even though I didn’t watch cartoons, I was familiar with this character: the grumpy octopus from SpongeBob SquarePants.
Now that he mentioned it, I saw the resemblance and couldn’t unsee it anymore. The shape of his head, the sunken cheeks, and the nose that hooked slightly downward.
“Who’s gonna make me?” he asked, oblivious to the insult. “You guys?” A dismissive scoff escaped his lips, his gaze sweeping across us and the other five men. “Last time I checked, you’re outnumbered.”
I hesitated for a moment, then said, “Check again.”
Before he could form his next thought, more than fifteen armed men rushed up the stairs. In less than three seconds, he and his men were completely surrounded.
He locked his jaw, his face twisting into a frown. His men had all reached for their guns and were already on high alert. But it would be foolish to try anything stupid at this moment.
“Tell your goons to stand down,” I growled, my expression dark and menacing. “Unless, of course, they’re eager to meet their maker.”
He clenched his fingers into fists, his eyes blazing with fury. But I couldn’t care less.
At his signal, they lowered their weapons.
“I’ll leave,” he said, slipping into the overcoat handed to him by his lieutenant. “But next time we meet like this…it’ll be you walking out the door.”
“Until then…get out,” I answered, my voice dripping with condescension.
His scowl deepened, yet there was nothing he could do about it. He turned around and had barely taken three steps when he stopped as though he’d just remembered something.
“Oh, and by the way,” he said, looking back at me. “You should take better care of your secrets.”
My brows knitted together, forming faint creases between them.
“Your ledger, for instance,” he added, wearing a smirk. “You never know when the wrong people will get their hands on it. Ohh….” He clicked his tongue in a rather mocking manner. “That would be catastrophic, don’t you think?”
Nial was about to warn him when I held his hand, signaling him to stand down. He did. Reluctantly.
“I’ll see you around, Tarasov.” Rocco turned and left, his men flanking around him in a circle.
“Just say the word, Boss,” Konstantin said to me, his voice laced with anger. “They won’t leave here alive.”
“Stand down,” I answered. “This is neither the time nor the place for a shootout.” My gaze followed him down the stairs and through the crowd of dancers. “His time will come. I won’t be so merciful then.”