Chapter 9 Vaughn #2
I don’t know how long the video lasts. It’s long enough for them to go into multiple positions. Long enough that I feel like I’m watching porn stars on drugs.
I don’t even see all of it since it was edited and cut and zoomed in on all the parts a “porn director” would think are fit to tantalize his audience.
Just when I think the video will never end, the final shot, the one that exists in all porn movies, comes through. He grunts, rubbing his cock—aggressively, I might add—then comes all over her stomach, breasts, and face.
He marks her in front of the camera for me to see as she licks his cum off her lips. Then, she moans with a sigh, sounding satisfied and positively spent. “You should’ve used my mouth.”
I expect the video and the surreal experience to end.
It doesn’t.
Instead, the camera flips back to show the face of the man whose dick’s performance I watched for the past half an hour or so.
His hair falls on either side of his forehead, damp with sweat, his eyes glinting, the blue looking darker, almost gray, the brown as black as his soul.
He grins at the camera, then bites his lower lip, and says in Russian, “This could be us, Mishka.”
Then the video stops. On his face.
A smash echoes in the air, and I realize I’ve crushed the bottle of milk with my bare hand.
I remain calm as I watch my blood mixing with the milk, drops enlarging in a pool, turning pink. The liquid sloshes off the counter, drenching my shorts and leaving streaks across my white socks.
A mess.
Like my life right now.
Just because of a thorn in my side that I should’ve left to die in that cave.
But I didn’t.
The time has come to put him in his place and teach him the manners he obviously lacks.
I’m surprisingly calm for someone whose girlfriend of four years cheated on him.
Someone who had to watch what could only be described as a sex tape of her riding another guy’s dick.
And not just any guy’s.
Yulian’s.
Not that it matters whose dick she was riding, but the blow is harsher knowing it’s him.
The one guy I just can’t stand.
Danika doesn’t know about it, or she wouldn’t have shown up at a charity ball put on by Aunt Reina, mother to my friends Gareth and Killian.
She’s also Nikolai’s maternal aunt and an ex-mafia princess, but unlike Niko’s mom, she chose to stay away from the Bratva world and only indulges in charity-related organizations.
Her sons aren’t as distant, though. Jeremy, Nikolai, and I—the future mafia heirs of the New York Bratva—are their best friends.
I don’t even need to be here, but I asked Mom if I could attend on her behalf. She’s a big champion of this charity and is friends with Aunt Reina, but I convinced her it’d be good if I were to give the check instead of her.
However, I possess no philanthropic intentions tonight. I had the guards organize a romantic dinner for my parents and made each of them believe it was the other’s idea—you know, so they don’t have a chance to bail.
They’ll eventually know it was me and I had a plan, but by that time, I’ll be done.
I don’t want them to witness my most disgraceful form.
“Hon!” Danika throws herself into my arms.
I don’t hug her, just pat her shoulder mechanically, with a complete sense of indifference.
Once upon a time, I saw her as a partner. Right now, she’s nothing.
It should be frightening that I’m able to discard her so easily. I suppose it did hurt when I watched the video of my one and only girlfriend of four years cheating on me so blatantly.
But did it hurt enough? Should it hurt some more?
Possibly, yes.
I think other guys would be more devastated if they were in my place.
But then again, I’ve always been a pragmatic person, and emotions have little influence on my decisions.
Danika is just a rotten limb that needs to be amputated. That’s all.
“I missed you.” She drops a kiss on my cheek, then looks around. “This place is amazing. You should’ve told me beforehand, and I would’ve worn a better dress.”
That’s usually my cue to tell her she looks gorgeous in whatever she’s wearing—tonight, it’s a red spaghetti-strap dress. The marks from her wild night are hidden by makeup, but she was sloppy with a finger mark near her nape that’s not completely concealed.
A simmering hurricane bubbles beneath the surface of my psyche, shoving itself against my harrowing emotions with inexplicable intensity.
I reach out, meaning to skim my fingers against the mark—not even sure why I want to do that—but instead, my thumb stays there, on his thumb’s mark. This is where he put his fingers when she was giving him head before he grabbed her hair, making her choke on his cock.
I’ve never made her choke on my cock, but he took the liberty to do so with what belongs to me.
So now, I press down on the faint trace of Yulian’s thumb.
This is entirely…novel. I don’t know why I want to do this or why I feel the need to dig deeper, go harder, as if it’s his thumb that I’m jamming.
“Ow!” Danika yelps and I let my hand fall as if I’ve been possessed.
When I don’t apologize and just keep staring, Danika’s mouth pulls in a downturned pout.
“Is everything okay, Vaughn?”
“Not really, no.”
“What’s wrong?” She rubs my arm.
I stare at her hand, at the red nails that were digging into Yulian’s arms and back, holding on for dear life, and then at her face. “I think you know exactly what’s wrong.”
“What do you mean…?”
I pull out my phone, make sure the sound is off, and show her the video. At first, she frowns, then her eyes widen, and she tries to snatch it away, probably to hide it? Delete it?
I don’t know, and I couldn’t care less, so I slide it back into my pocket and keep my hand there, in my pocket. “Was he the first guy you cheated on me with?”
“It’s not what you think, it’s—”
“Was he the first?” I cut her off, my voice unchanging, too calm, too detached. It should be disturbing how easily I’m able to see her as less than a speck of dust.
She bites her lower lip and looks down, tears welling in her eyes, confirming my suspicions. Of course he’s not the first. She looks like she does it on the regular.
And I didn’t notice.
Maybe I didn’t care enough to notice.
Maybe I trusted her too much to question what she told me.
“I just… I just needed more,” she whispers, looking around, searching to see if anyone is listening to her fall from grace. Danika has only ever cared about her reputation, which I’ve always thought was a shallow fixation, but I’ve never really faulted her for it.
Now, I realize I don’t even know this girl.
“Was I that unsatisfying?” I ask, my voice stripped of emotion.
“No, it’s…you’re not rough enough and too nice, and I don’t like that all the time. But really, I love you—”
“Spare me the love confessions. You didn’t look like you loved me when you were being fucked by another man.”
She glares at me. “So if a man cheats because he’s not satisfied, it’s fine, but if a girl does it, it’s an issue?”
“It’s an issue both ways. And when did I cheat, Danika? I was fully devoted to you.”
“You were fully devoted to the life you wanted in which I just happen to fit!” she whisper-yells. “You don’t even love me; you love the idea of me.”
“Don’t belittle my feelings just because you couldn’t reciprocate them. I gave you everything.”
She laughs, the sound long and bitter. “Everything, yeah. Just not your emotions, not your jealousy, and definitely not your heart. Do you even have one?”
“Danika…”
“You’ll break up with me now, and you’ll do it publicly so you can humiliate me for daring to humiliate you.
You just can’t stand the idea of another man touching your thing, I get it, but you know what, I don’t regret any of it, least of all last night.
At least I spent the night being worshiped by a man who knows exactly what he wants and goes for it, which can’t be said about you. ”
I narrow my eyes.
She laughs, but tears well in her eyes. “You thought I couldn’t figure out your plan?
Fine, I knew the day would come that you’d find out about the sex and ditch me, or I’d marry you and live with a lifeless statue who knows all the right things to do and say, knows exactly when to smile, laugh, and say the right words, but lacks any fucking soul.
I never really had you anyway. Guess I lucked out that it’s ending now instead of years down the road after we spawn kids. ”
“Are you done?”
“Yeah.” She lets out an exhale. “I know I never had you fully. I never even had a fragment of you. All I had was an illusion.”
I let my lips set in a line as I speak in a loud voice for all those around me to hear, so that Danika’s precious social circle will become her downfall. She’s always loved gossiping about the new shit in town. It’s only fair that she becomes the topic.
“You, Danika, have cheated on me multiple times when I’ve only ever been loyal to you. You mistook the pedestal I put you on as a throne and are not fit for me. From today on, you’re nothing to me, my family, and my social circle. I do not want to see your face ever again.”
I don’t even look at her as I stride out of the venue amid whispers and gasps.
Nothing further is required on my part. After tonight, Danika will fall out of the Upper East Side’s grace faster than a shooting star.
In a few weeks, people will forget her name.
Her dad’s fall will be harder, and they’ll have to change states.
Countries, even. She’ll be a has-been in no time, and I’ll never hear from her again.
I asked the members of staff to burn her things at my place.
Sterilizing my space from vermin, so to speak.
I bought her most of that luxurious stuff anyway, and I can ruin it in a heartbeat.
I can burn her both literally and figuratively.
Just as I gave her power and status, I can revoke them just like that.
The extent to which she means nothing to me is almost coldhearted.
Maybe it’s always been that way.
Maybe it was really the picture I had in my head, not her.
Because ever since I watched her sex tape, I’ve only made methodical decisions.
I revoked all her exclusive memberships that I pay for and had her banned from all of the Upper East Side’s prestigious clubs.
Then I asked Dad to block any of our dealings with her father and presented him with damning financial data that will soon circulate in all mafia circles and paint her father as an irresponsible partner.
After that, I had myself tested for STIs, even though I only ever fucked her with a condom, but I had to be safe in case she gave me something nasty. Thankfully, the result came back negative.
I can safely say the Danika chapter is now finished.
Just like her.
I might not have killed her, but her and her family’s fall from grace will be much worse than death.
For someone who cares about appearances more than anything, social banishment is the worst punishment I could inflict upon her.
I pull out my phone and put in my earbuds as I approach my car.
Once I’m in the back seat, I greet the driver and tell him to take me home.
As we start to move, I go to the cameras I had Jeremy’s men in Brighton Island install at the mansion Yulian shares with his goons. Just like my friends have formed the Heathens’ club, Yulian and his entourage have the Serpents’ club, and they’re rivals in the heart of The King’s U.
Jeremy said his people could only access the outside, near the gate of the mansion, but that’s enough.
For now.
I watch for the other things I asked Jeremy to arrange after I told him the story this afternoon.
He, like any logical person, expected me to be more devastated, but I was busy detailing my plans and exactly what he needed to do.
It’s around midnight on the island right now. One camera shows a motorcycle flying through the gate, then stopping suddenly, throwing the driver onto the concrete, sending the bike to the opposite side of him.
A smile curls my lips as I watch him sit up with a groan while the guards rush up to him.
Yulian removes the helmet that saved his skull from cracking into pieces and shakes his head like a dog, grinning. “I’m totally fine! Good call about the leather jacket, Cy. I would’ve lost my fucking arm, goddamn!”
My smile falls as he laughs while Cyrus gets out of a sports car and approaches him, eyeing the bike suspiciously.
He should.
Not sure if Yulian tells that prick everything or if he had the time to inform him, but he probably did. I was able to confirm that Yulian flew back to Chicago on his private jet as soon as he was finished with Danika, so that gave him ample time to inform Cyrus.
Not that it matters.
“What’s up, Zveroushka?” Yulian walks toward the bike. “Mad at me or something?”
Zveroushka. A diminutive form of Zver (Зверь).
He called his bike Zver. Beast in Russian.
Who the hell gives diminutive forms to their motorcycles? Yulian apparently.
I watch as he keeps walking, his fingers tightening around the phone.
Just a few more steps.
Just a bit more…
“Yulian, stay away—”
Cy’s words are cut off when the bike explodes right in front of Yulian’s eyes. Cyrus shoves him out of the way at the last second as the flames mount to the sky.
There’s an army of soldiers running around, shouting orders as extreme chaos ensues, but Yulian isn’t rattled.
He’s laughing—manically.
He’s lost his mind. Good.
From the research I did, that bike is the most precious possession Yulian has.
He also has a name for it, so it’s only fair he sees it blow up in front of his face.
That’s why I asked Jeremy to have one of his men mess with the bike and plant an explosive that would go off around this time—when Yulian usually returns to the mansion.
I timed it perfectly.
If he hadn’t followed his routine, he would’ve been blown up while on top of it.
Which wouldn’t have been a bad idea now that I’m thinking about it.
I pull out his number and send him a screenshot of the fire as he sits there watching it burn.
Me
Just for the record, I could’ve killed you but chose not to.
I go back to the camera just in time for him to check his phone. Yulian jumps up and looks around, then grins at his screen.
I don’t like that expression.
He’s supposed to be in pain.
Or at least upset.
He has to pay for messing with me.
My fingers clench around the phone when he texts back.
Yulian
Are you flirting with me? The answer is yes, by the way.