Chapter 6 Mikail
MIKAIL
Islept like crap. It was past four a.m. when I finally went to bed, only to toss and turn. But I needed to hear that she was sound asleep, with no nightmares disturbing her.
Those few nights after we returned, she would wake up in the middle of the night, shouting and crying for me. No one else could calm her down, but she would settle in my arms and fall asleep.
At first, Enzo thought her need for me to be close had something to do with me saving her.
But I was the reason she had those nightmares to begin with.
Each night, pretending became more difficult.
She clung to me like a lover. I had to put a stop to it.
After suffering such a traumatic event, she was confused.
She perceived me as her damn hero when I was her fucking captor.
Had to, but that doesn’t make a difference to me.
I thought the best way for her to overcome the horrific event was to stay away.
I refused to take advantage of her delicate state, and I didn’t want my brother to discover the truth. My priority became her, ensuring that what happened to her would never repeat itself. A war with my brother would have diminished my chances of gaining total power and control.
It killed a part of me to leave her.
I shouldn’t have left her when she needed me. When I needed her.
Fuck. I shove a fist in my mouth, shouting a muffled sound ringing with pure agony.
I was doing fine, getting through each day with my guilt and yearning as constant companions.
In close proximity, the lines blur. And damn her, she won’t stop.
Even as a child, she got whatever she wanted.
From sweets to whatever toy she desired.
She just had to smile at me, and I would be a sucker for her.
Enzo said I spoiled her, but even then, it was beyond my understanding—a compulsion I followed automatically. I needed to make this girl happy. Her smiles have always been the highlight of my days.
It fucked with my head once she stopped, and her punishment lasted a long time.
Over a year of silence until she tormented me in other ways, small innuendos here and there, secretive glances and smiles.
As if not letting me forget what we shared.
I never could, and never will. In that moment, while I knew I either fuck her or my father would, followed by his men, it was more than duty. I wanted to.
The beast growled, deaf to reason.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
I am a sinner of the worst kind.
After holding her last night, my arms feel empty. The memory of holding her is so fresh, it is as if I wear her on my skin like an invisible tattoo. No wonder it took forever to fall asleep when my body vibrated with this mix of restless energy and incessant desire for her.
Sleeplessness was to be expected after she molded her lithe body to mine. Holding her feels natural, as if every sinful fiber of my being has been custom made to fit her in the crook of my arms.
My cock stirs to full attention, throbbing. Anatomy has nothing to do with this unyielding need for her.
I haven’t jerked, haven’t even entertained thoughts of getting myself off. I have become a master at ignoring my baser instincts, but she uses my weakness against me proficiently. She could easily seduce me if I didn’t have an iron grip on my self-control.
Eight more days of this hellish torment traded with sweet promise for a slice of euphoria. I might break her if she unleashes the animal in me. That knowledge douses my blinding lust.
Rolling out of bed, I stare at the rumpled sheets, in disarray just like me.
My phone rings on the nightstand, and when I see who it is, I groan. My long-lost sister crashed into my life unapologetically, a force to be reckoned with.
I can’t fool her as well as I can my best friend. She sniffs around us and senses something is going on. Her complete loyalty is to the man she wanted to kill but ended up marrying, and I have to tread carefully.
The crazy gene must run in the family.
I pick up, my voice sounding even more gruff.
“Oh, dear brother, nice to hear you too.”
“When are you coming back?” I ask, not caring that I sound rude. They have to, or I won’t be held accountable.
“Hmm, maybe we’ll prolong our honeymoon for a bit longer.”
“Fuck no,” I blurt out, giving her the reaction she sought.
“You sound stressed. Could it be because of Dahlia?” she asks, tone drenched in certainty, already knowing the answer.
I rake a hand through my hair. “No.” I answer too quickly, sounding defensive.
For the first time, Calla doesn’t give me shit, which I appreciate.
“Don’t hurt her.”
“Anything else?” I grumble.
“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” she whispers, but I catch the worry laced in there.
I drag a hand down my face, so fucking exhausted. “Now you know. Say hi to the whipped idiot you call husband.”
“Don’t call him that,” she mutters, all friendliness gone.
Calla hangs up and I grin, knowing those two are perfect for each other.
I clasp my black watch around my wrist when there’s a soft knock on the door. I am about to say enter, but Dahlia lets herself in as if eager to sneak in and find me in some compromising position.
Only she can simultaneously madden and excite me.
Her beauty never ceases to take my breath away, but she could wear rags and would still be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Dressed in white jeans and a loose blue and white striped shirt, her hair falls down her back in loose curls.
“I’m bored,” she pouts and ambles toward me, her hips swaying in the rhythm of the lust rolling up and down my groin. “Not that you’re entertaining.”
I arch a brow at her, pointing at my chest. “Excuse me?”
She giggles and damn, I’d make a fool out of myself to hear those divine sounds.
“You’re a big grump. You know it,” she says unapologetically.
I pin her with a serious stare. “Maybe it has something to do with my line of business,” I remind her as if that will make her see me more as the Bratva king and less as the man she desires.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Oh yeah, all that blood and gore. How could I forget? Don’t tell anyone I know. The men in my life think I live in a fairy tale where nothing bad could happen to me.”
I chuckle. Damn, she’s adorable.
“But we know better, don’t we?” Her tone ends on a sensual note, casting a titillating spell over me.
The discussion slips into dangerous territory with ease, as if the Universe plots to make me fail my oath of staying away. It’s like she wields tendrils of seduction, enveloping me fully until I can’t think straight.
“What do we know?” I say throatily—hoarse with lust.
She looks me dead in the eye. “That I faced darkness and survived. That I’m tarnished.”
Clenching my hands at my sides, I groan. “You’re not fucking tarnished.”
She drops onto the bed and leans back on her palms, never losing eye contact. “It’s funny, don’t you think?”
I know I won’t like the answer, but like the idiot I am, I nibble on the bait, and she ropes me in.
“What?”
“Everyone thinks I’m damaged goods. Their minds spinning wild stories, but we’re the only two people alive who know what truly happened. At times, I would like to tell the truth.”
I cock my head, a chill rippling down my back, not understanding what she’s playing at now.
She avoids my gaze. “But you would do anything for the truth to remain buried.”
Unsteady on my feet, I swallow hard. “Are you blackmailing me?”
The thought that the woman I would die for would do that guts me. The betrayal would be impossible to overcome.
She whips her head toward me, rolling her eyes at me.
“In my side of the story, you’re a hero.
In yours, you’re the villain. Regardless, neither of us will change their minds.
” She shoots up and stabs a finger into my chest. “And don’t you ever look at me like I might betray you. I’d rather die than do that.”
She storms out, and I shake my head at her. These bouts of ferocity have increased, which doesn’t help with my fucked up mental state. The innocent princess has developed some claws, tearing at my resistance a bit more each passing day.
Following her trace because I would follow this woman anywhere, I find her in the dining room with her mother.
“I’m going shopping. Would you like to join me?” Dahlia asks her mother.
Marcella pats her hand on the table, offering a soft smile. “Maybe another time.”
“Your daughter-in-law is a bad influence on her,” I grumble as I sit down.
Dahlia sticks her tongue out at me, scraping some butter on a croissant and enough strawberry jam to cause cavities.
Marcella pins me with a knowing look. “My daughter-in-law is exactly the woman this family needed. Calla knows what she wants and is not afraid to go after that, consequences be damned. I admire that about her.”
Fuck me, did she call me a coward?
Yes, let’s start a fucking war. What a great idea! Wish I had thought about that sooner, and then all my problems would have vanished.
Going blindly after what you want is plain stupid. I refuse to be an impulsive asshole who doesn’t care about the consequences. In our case, the repercussions could be deadly. At least my sister can take care of herself.
I can love Dahlia from a distance and make sure she’s safe. I might regret everything else, but never that she is safe.
With my appetite gone, I munch the omelet when Dahlia clears her throat.
“I want a car.”
The fuck did she say? I almost blurt out, but remember we’re not alone.
Getting out of her gilded cage is one thing I’ve wanted for so long, I thought it would never happen, but now that it is unfolding, I am terrified I might lose her. That something might happen and she’ll slip away, lost to me forever.
The contradiction between knowing it’s best for her to gain more independence and worrying about potential threats rips me apart. The thought that she won’t need me anymore splits the frail sanity holding me together.