Chapter 4 Mikail
MIKAIL
In my office at our joint company headquarters in midtown, I riffle through some papers to sign, twice as many with Enzo away. I don’t know which side of the business thrives more—the criminal or the legal one. The fact is, both make me richer than I thought possible, making me untouchable.
Pride engulfs me, knowing how far Enzo and I have come. Our fathers’ deaths could have destroyed us, but they shaped us into the men we became.
A proud smile tugs at my mouth. We could have continued living unperturbed, taking what we desired, doing what we wanted, knowing not even our fathers could say anything as their only heirs. But the levity was swiftly replaced by responsibility.
We went from the troublemaking heirs to the kings of the underworld, merging our fathers’ empires into something even greater.
My phone vibrates on my desk with a text, and a grin teases my lips as I open it.
Dahlia does that so effortlessly. Expecting to receive some music score she’s working on, my smile freezes while my body burns up, my cock stirring with raw need.
I clench my fist around my phone, having trouble discerning reality from fantasy.
There are pics of her in two different bathing suits, making me salivate and rage with possession at the same time.
Which one should I wear?
To the funeral of anyone who will see you? That’s what I type before I delete it, regaining the control only she can crack.
I don’t know what is up with her. I blame my damn sister for instigating her.
Ever since Calla reappeared, Dahlia has shown a rebellious streak increasingly often.
While I have wished for nothing else in the last four years, when it comes at the expense of my sanity, I don’t like it. At fucking all.
I study the scraps of material that showcase her tiny waist and hourglass curves. Goddamn it, my finger traces along the contour of her body, wanting to dig my fingers into her waist and fuck her senseless.
For a moment, that’s all I envision until desire rolls into something darker.
That side of me she glimpsed when I ripped through her virginity.
I knew it was the only way, but fuck, I could lie all I want, I loved those small whimpers she made, her whispering my name in half awe, half agony while my cock was sheathed in her hot and tight core, gripping me like a heaven made vise.
My cock throbs in my pants, getting painfully hard. I ignore it, pretending it’s not there.
Dahlia!
You’re no fun.
She sends me another pic of her delicate face, pouting. I have never seen someone as beautiful as her—pure perfection and flawless grace. She owns my complete attention, ensnaring me. My heart, body, and mind are devoted to her—loyal soldiers who will serve their queen till death.
A feminine masterpiece. Elegant features sculpted by the hand of a creator who took his time, dedicated his entire attention, obsessed with creating something stunning.
She’s God’s magnum opus. There is simply no more beautiful woman on earth than her, with her delicate cheekbones and full lips, her unblemished skin and graceful posture.
I want to tell her she can only wear those swimsuits in my presence, but I know she will torture me, regardless. Whichever she chooses is no better. One is red, a thong with a triangle top. The other is a black one-piece with a deep V, exposing the valley of her breasts and belly.
I haven’t forgotten how she dressed up at the bachelor/bachelorette party.
I glared at every motherfucking asshole who even dared to glance at her while I drank enough vodka to thrust me into alcohol poisoning.
There simply wasn’t enough vodka to numb my desire while Enzo unabashedly made known my sister is his, leaving me to sulk in my misery.
I’ll wear both.
To fucking where?
I type and send before I can stop myself.
To the pool.
With nostrils flaring and rationality shot down, I quickly text.
I swear to God if one guard sees you like that, I’ll have some explaining to do to your brother.
You’re not my boss.
Patience. Fucking patience.
Teetering on the edge, I call her. Maybe if she hears my resolute tone, it will wake her up from this nonsense. But the phone keeps ringing until it sends me to voicemail, only to get a pic of her in the pool a few minutes later.
She sticks her tongue out, eyes shining with rebellion and something more sinful that does nothing to tame the beast rattling inside of me, wanting out after years of captivity.
Her hair is slicked back, drops of water painting her skin, and from this position, I can see the back of her bathing suit that shows half of her ass, two thin straps holding it together, pushing me straight into madness.
I knew it was a disastrous idea to move here. I wish I could blame my brother for this situation, but it’s not like he forced me into it.
When my assistant steps inside to take the papers, I finish signing the documents, scribbling my name hard enough to leave indents in the desk.
Shoving them her way, I growl, “Clear my schedule for today.”
With murder on my mind and my palms itching to grab a handful of her ass, I drive toward the compound, not knowing if I will shoot the first guard near her and punish her later or the other way around. Fact is, someone will go blind, and her ass will be red.
It’s as if the men sense my violent mood and open the gates immediately. The car speeds down the paved road, leaving my sanity behind.
Parking, I jump out of the car, heading toward the back patio to the outside pool, searching for the guards who have seen her, only to come to an abrupt halt. Not only is no one in her vicinity, but it’s the first time they roam the perimeter seemingly without a purpose.
I rake a hand through my hair, pinning her down with a hard glare. “Get out, right fucking now.”
She rolls her eyes at me and continues swimming, disregarding the tsunami she unleashed inside of me that’s ready to level this entire compound.
She wants to play this game. Fine with fucking me.
Crouching, I grab her by the wrist and pull her up, shielding her from the guards. She squirms and starts kicking, but I wrap my hand around her neck, squeezing lightly. That gets her attention.
She smiles brightly, as if she ate fucking sunshine. “Can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”
“Playing with a beast? I’ll chew you up whole and spit you out in pieces,” I snap, losing my composure by the second.
“What’s your problem?” she huffs.
My chest heaves with my labored breathing. “My fucking problem is that you mess with the security. They’re supposed to protect you every minute of every fucking day, and you flaunt your body, which is not only inappropriate, it’s desperate.”
Her eyes widen, lashes of anger making the blue in her green eyes turn to liquid lightning bolts.
“Desperate, you say? Fuck you, Mika.”
She pushes at my chest, and I let her go as she mutters under her breath the entire time she dries herself.
She whips her head to me. “Say you’re sorry.”
“Or what?” I dare her, panting raggedly. She challenged me enough for one day.
I don’t even have time to blink before she unclasps the knot at the back of her neck. The flimsy straps fall, exposing her perfect breasts, round and perky, and we’re fucking outside.
I glare at her before scanning the perimeter. I swear, every guard has his back to us, helping me in keeping my frail composure, which gets increasingly more difficult with each second.
She bends at her waist, but I yank her up by the elbow. Pulling her up, I smash her front to my chest, wrapping my hand in her hair. She’s a trembling mess of want and rage. How I would like to indulge, but I can’t. She better never pull this shit ever again.
Pressing my forehead to hers, I inhale her soft whimpers, not of how hard I grip her hair. That’s more to hold on to the last strand of my sanity, but because I am one inch away from pressing my mouth to hers. I realize her strategy. She wants me to give in.
“I’m your brother’s best friend,” I remind her.
“You keep saying that. Can’t think of a better excuse?” she mumbles.
She’s on a roll today, and I am one second away from hopping on the jet and dragging that asshole back from his honeymoon, kicking and screaming if I have to.
I am sure I can withstand anything but not Dahlia. Not when I am burning with raw need and desperate craving. Not when I am sick of lying to myself and even sicker with this desire for her.
“I’m six fucking years older than you,” I grit out.
She blinks at me and huffs. Fuck, this excuse is officially the stupidest one yet.
“Should I call you daddy then?”
A growl rumbles in my throat just like my despair rippling through me. “You have a dirty mind, Dahlia. But it’s nothing compared to how depraved I am.”
She palms my chest, her hands lowering in exploration. “Show me.”
Two words that undo me, blasting my world to pieces. I inhale a deep lungful of air; it feels like I deprive the rest of the world of oxygen. My eyes twitch, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to collect myself.
“I touched you once and swore that I’d rather cut my hand than hurt you in any way possible again.” Sure, that will help, reminding her of the second biggest obstacle. How we began—rape.
Her hands’ movement stops, thankfully, because my dick didn’t get the damn memo.
Her eyes become slits, slicing me open. “God forbid you touch me again, right? Afraid I will like it just like then? You hurt me by not wanting me back. You said you’d give me anything I asked. I want you.”
A brief pause follows, carrying enough explosive to blow up my entire world.