Chapter Twenty-six
Alessia
I flinched when Rodion turned to me, holding a cotton pad soaked with antiseptic. When he pressed it against my skin, I winced, a sharp pain shooting through my face.
Rodion didn’t pause. His touch was rough, like everything else he did. He did it with cold, almost clinical care. I kept my eyes anywhere but on his face, but his breath warmed my skin. He hooked a finger under my chin, tipping my face up to hold it steady as he cleaned the wound.
When he stopped, I looked at him, breathing through the sting. He turned back to the kit and grabbed a band-aid. Tearing it open, he returned to me and applied it to my cheek.
As his thumb smoothed over the tape, I asked, “Is my father in danger?” His eyes drifted to mine and held for a moment. Without answering me, he closed the kit and shoved it into the cabinet under the sink like he was done with me. “Marco told me everything. Does my father know who Luigi is?”
Rodion’s hand stalled over the door of the cabinet as he looked at me. “Does he?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know he was the reason I got caught in all of this. Marco said he wanted Luigi’s information through my father because he works in a bank where Luigi had some savings.” Rodion stared quietly. “My father is just a manager.”
He closed the cabinet with a firm push and spoke. “Go to bed.”
When he turned to leave, I saw a pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants. I spoke without thinking. “If you’re going to take me back to Leonid,” I said, “it’s better you just kill me with that gun.”
He stopped, scoffed, and turned halfway toward me. “You think I can’t?”
“I know you can. But why? Why send me to that old man? You knew he wanted a child. You knew I would have to marry his son after that. Why would you do that?”
“A deal,” he declared. “Next time, be careful when making one with me.”
My voice tore out of me, raw and shaking. “I was drunk. I don’t even remember a damn thing and you made a deal with me like that?” Heat burned in my chest. “Tell me, did I agree to marry someone? Did I?”
He stared at me for a long second, and walked back to me. His hand reached up and brushed my cheek again. I flinched and turned away from his touch.
“I told you what you are. A little gem, clueless and easy to win. And you smiled at that. That’s who you are, Little Gem.” He stepped back. “Now, go to sleep before this conversation goes somewhere you would regret.”
He turned and left, closing the door behind him with a sharp finality. I stood there in the silence that followed.
After a moment, I went to bed.
Sleep failed to come. I curled under the blanket and stared at the ceiling, running my fingers over the fabric as if it held answers.
My mind couldn’t shut down. I turned onto my side, then my back again, the sheets rustling with every restless movement.
When sleep finally found me, it wasn’t peaceful, but chaotic.
It was a stream of broken dreams and memories that kept tearing me awake.
At one point, I opened my eyes and saw Rodion. He sat on a sofa in the corner, bathed in the blue glow of a laptop screen. I blinked, wondering if I was dreaming, but before I could be sure, sleep pulled me under again.
When I woke up, the birds were chirping outside and morning light spilled through the edges of the curtains. I pushed the blanket away and sat up, rubbing my eyes. I glanced around the room, expecting Rodion to be there, but it was just me and the lingering scent of his cigarette in the air.
A deep voice came from beyond the hallway. Reality kicked in, and I straightened up. Would I be dragged somewhere else? A part of me didn’t mind staying here.
I stepped out of the room and followed the voice, half expecting it to be Matvet because Rodion never spoke that much.
But when I reached the sitting area, I froze.
It was a new face. Not entirely unfamiliar because I saw him yesterday at the gas station.
I turned to head back, instinct urging me to retreat.
“You might want to rethink that,” he said. “Come here, young lady.”
His tone wasn’t loud, but it was enough to stop me. I hesitated, still facing the hallway, unsure if he was talking on the phone or to me. When I faced him, he was watching me.
He stood with one hand inside his pocket, while the other lifted a glass of golden liquid to his mouth. He took a slow sip, his gaze still locked on me as if I were the one interrupting his morning. I swallowed.
He wasn’t old. Perhaps in his late twenties, but the way he carried himself made him seem intimidating.
His hair was dark brown. The mustache was sharp and trimmed, shaped to precision like everything about him.
His eyes were the same unsettling gray as Rodion’s, but Rodion’s were colder and more alert.
His smile curled slightly, as if he enjoyed my hesitation.
“You must be Alessia,” he said, his eyes scanning me as if confirming something he already knew.
“Yes.”
He stepped closer and gestured for me to follow. “Come on,” he said. “Coffee or whiskey?”
The casualness in his voice made me follow him. He led me to a bar and grabbed a bottle, pouring himself a drink.
His gaze flicked to me as I stood rooted in one place. When he pushed the drink to me, I shook my head.
“No, thank you.”
He tsked. “Don’t be boring. I’m not like my brother. I like talking.”
Brother? That meant he was…
“Dmitri,” he said, as if reading my mind.
I swallowed. “Alessia.”
He scoffed. “I know.” He gestured for me to follow again, moving toward the kitchen. “Coffee then?”
This time, I followed him without hesitation. He didn’t unsettle me like Rodion did. He was dangerous. I could tell by how he walked and commanded the space. But there was also something undeniably human about him.
The kitchen was large and modern. Dmitri started up the coffee machine, moved to the fridge and grabbed some eggs. “How do you like your eggs?” he asked.
Confused, I shrugged. Was he going to cook? For me?
“Any way is fine.” I watched, fascinated, as he sliced the onions and potatoes. He cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them thoroughly. When they were ready, he turned to the stove to cook.
The scent filled the kitchen, making my stomach grumble. In a few minutes, he slid a plate to me and poured me a cup of steaming coffee.
“Eat while we talk.”
I eyed the plate and pulled a stool to sit and eat. He really cooked. “About what?”
He occupied a stool across from me, his gaze dark with amusement. “Anything. Sex, maybe.”
I choked on the air. “Sorry?”
“What? It’s a conversation starter.”
“I don’t … I don’t like that topic.”
He sighed. “Too bad because I’ve got nothing else to discuss with you.” I looked at him, unsure whether he was messing with me or being serious. He pointed at my plate. “Eat.”
Lifting a cup, I took a sip.
Dmitri cleared his throat. “How many people have you fucked?”
My face burned as I stared at him in disbelief, a cough threatening to blow. “You’re serious?” He only raised a brow, no smile. I wasn’t about to tell him the truth, that my body count was zero. “Three,” I lied.
He let out a low whistle, nodding in agreement. “Not bad.”
I frowned. “Is that … a lot?”
“Not really.”
Exhaling, I watched him take a slow sip of his whiskey.
“Mine’s ten this month,” he said.
My mouth fell open. “Ten?”
He tilted his head. “No, eleven.”
I gawked at him. “That’s—”
“If business didn’t keep me busy, it would have been more than that.
” I stared at him, utterly speechless. Before I could respond, the sound of a car roaring outside made my heart stutter.
My fork clattered to the plate as I stiffened.
Dmitri took another sip, eyeing me lazily.
“Relax, that should be my brother. I’m done babysitting here.
” He declared as he got up. “Nice meeting you.” He voiced and left the kitchen.
From the window, I saw Doctor Dorothy walking toward the entrance while Rodion stayed outside, speaking on the phone. Dmitri joined him. They were brothers, no doubt about that. They shared something unmistakable: power. But Dmitri’s character was nothing like Rodion’s.
Dorothy stepped in the kitchen. She gave me a faint smile, her eyes drawn to my cheek. “This needs cleaning,” she murmured, brushing her fingers gently along the bruised skin.
“I was about to shower and do it.”
She lifted a small bag she was carrying. “I brought you clothes. Take a shower and after that, we’ll deal with the wound.”
“Thank you.” I whispered, clutching the bag to my chest. Without another word, I turned and made my way back to my room.
She brought two black skirts and white shirts, the maids uniform. I didn’t care because the only dress I had was filthy with everything I had endured.
I took a long shower, and changed.
There was a strange peace in me that had claimed a place inside me. I would not marry a man I didn’t know or carry a child for an old man. I had escaped Renat’s hands and Marco’s fury. That alone calmed me.
Once I was ready, I stepped out of the room to find Dorothy.
We had nothing in common, but at least we could hold a conversation.
As I moved through the quiet house, I caught her voice drifting in from the back side of the bungalow.
I assumed she was on the phone, so I walked toward the back door to join her.
As I reached for the handle, Rodion’s voice cut through the air. He was with Dorothy.
I pressed myself against the door to listen. Eavesdropping had become second nature to me. It was the only way to gather pieces of a puzzle no one wanted me to solve.
“Leonid must have found out you have Alessia. No one else knows about the donor,” Dorothy said. Rodion didn’t respond, so she pressed on. “Sir, if we lose him, finding another donor won’t be easy. Leonid is involved. Maybe visit him and see if he will accept money instead of giving him Alessia?”