Chapter 6 #3
Gobsmacked, my lips parted at the insult. A line formed between my brow; this man was going to make me age twice as fast.
He turned and spoke, “Un scuchetto di meschino filato, per favore.” One bag of cotton candy, please.
“Si signore,” The old lady complied happily. “At least someone knows how to speak properly here.”
“I’m trying,” I retorted, flipping my head over my shoulder and aligning it with my veil.
“Not enough,” she commented as she started the machine and took a paper cone, wrapping the cotton candy around it.
My jaw popped open; damn, this nonna was ruthless.
She looked up from underneath her glasses, which sat on the bridge of her nose now. “You’re lucky your boyfriend can help you.” She handed him the pink cotton candy.
“But he’s not—”
“Let’s go, kotyonok.” He linked my arm in his and patted my hand. “Grazie signora.”
The old lady waved as she spoke in Italian. “Prenditi cura di lei. è molto bella.” Take care of her. She’s very beautiful.
“Lo farò.” I will.
My eyes switched between the two, trying to determine the message.
“What?”
Konstantin directed me forward, pulling me into the crowd again. I looked over my shoulder back at the nonna, who stood with an all-knowing smirk as she crossed her arms.
“It’s not polite to stare, kotyonok.” His breath fanned against my ear as he picked on me.
Whirling my head back at him, eyes tensed. “She was shit-talking, wasn’t she?”
He took a bite of the cotton candy, leftover sugar glistening on his lips, making it distracting to focus on anything else. “Mmhm, you’re not supposed to curse.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. Trust me, she likes you.”
“Oh,” I paused arbitrarily. “She’s probably the first and only one here.”
“I doubt that.” His words were deeply laced with hidden meaning.
Tilting my head as he copied my movement, the loud sounds, rambling children, and bypassers faded into nothingness as I looked at him and wondered what he wanted from me.
His eyes shone with a flicker of possessiveness as it layered with one single word. Everything.
The idea was inconceivable. Prohibited.
Me and him? Only in madness could we indulge in such sin.
I blink, realizing I had stopped in my tracks as he lingered a few feet ahead. Ugh, he did that on purpose. Messing with my head was for his pure amusement.
Fuck him. Still, I couldn’t make a scene, so I nearly had to skip to catch up with him, and in heels, that should have been unforgivable.
“By the way,” he began, licking his fingers as I huffed at the mental foreplay he was trying to get at. “How come you dress like that?”
Casting my eyes down, my fingers ran down, tracing my waist and curves covered with the soft lace I loved to feel against my skin.
His gaze followed what he so desperately wanted for himself.
“What? Ugly?” I feigned innocence because it was impossible for me to be so; I look at myself like I'm a goddess.
“No.”
“Then?”
“You don’t dress like the others? Why? There’s supposed to be a code.”
“Technically before the first full year of sisterhood at this convent, you can still wear some of your clothes as a way to transition and part with your former life. It’s the last thing I have, that's me.” Explaining at length, as it felt I had opened a piece of my soul with him.
“So underneath that little piteous act, you’re like a gothic Bratz doll.”
His observation made me chuckle. “Something like that. More of a brat than anything.”
“Brats can be tamed, no?”
“No, not until we’re fully satisfied.” I leaned in, holding his hand still, biting off a piece of the cotton candy as I gazed up at him through my lashes.
Time became transfixed before a petrified scream broke the slow-burning tension.
Everyone ran as some vendors hid behind their carts, while others abandoned their stations completely.
“What happened?” We asked at the same time.
Scouring through the massive exiting mob, I spotted my veiled sisters further out, in a partially open field, the Ferris wheel behind them with eyes wide in terror, hands folded in prayer as they appeared to be in a circle, gripping onto the orphans.
“Over there,” I pointed out to him as we ran over and managed to arrive despite the frenzy of pushing and shoving.
Not gripping the context of the situation until my eyes saw the six-year-old brown-eyed, brown-haired boy being held at gunpoint by some scarred sicko.
My heart crumbled, terrified for him.
“Mauricio!” I ran forward before two heavy and controlling arms wrapped around me, a sandalwood musk enveloped me.
My motherly instincts kicked in as I could see the haunting past repeating itself.
“Let me go!” I screamed and fought, resisting Kon.
“No, you’ll only get hurt,” he yelled with unexpected force.
But I didn’t care. I needed to save Mauricio.
Reverend Mother and Sisters Alice and Marie ran to my side.
“He’s right, Blair. Think logically. We need to wait for the authorities.” She tried to remain calm, yet she couldn’t fool me with her shaking hands and failing stance.
The rugged-faced bastard gave an ultimatum. “No fucking cops. No negotiation. I don’t want to hurt the kid. I only wanted him.” He pointed the gun straight in front.
I froze, staring back and up at the expressionless Russian behind, who had vengeance in his eyes and bloodshed in his veins. He wasn’t just any man; he was a Made Man forged by Death and cruelty.
His hands dug into my stomach, fingers raving in loose control. “Stay here, kotyonok,” he commanded with a darker, lethal edge.
The look of death alone made me stay put as the heat of his arms fled my body as he walked forward towards danger without any fear. Without any second thought to the value of his life.
Fear held me hostage in my own body as the sisters made a sign of the cross as they began praying.
He strode forward, one arm extended with caution. “Let the kid go and we’ll talk.” He ordered mercilessly.
“No, not yet. This is a guarantee. Now, the brotherhood has come to collect.” He switched to speaking Russian as they violently began to exchange words.
God, what did he want from him?
Suddenly it went from bad to worse as the degenerate pushed the gun further into Mauricio’s neck as he screamed, clawing at his forearm.
This was the nail on the coffin as Kon balled his fist and, without notice, bolted at him; a shot fired as everyone screamed.
Dread anticipation lingered as he kept going.
The delayed reaction allowed him to slam his fist in the fucker’s face, knocking the assailant's ass to the ground.
This was a golden opportunity as Kon helped Mauricio to escape as I opened my arms wide and he ran into them.
Thank God.
Tears wavered in the lines of my eyes as I held his trembling body. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I rubbed his back, voice shaking.
My eyes snapped back to Konstantin as he watched me, a soft smile conjuring on my lips as, in slow, calculated movements, the assailant on the ground stared up at him and then took the gun and pressed the trigger.
A piercing thud resonated loudly as he hunched over, dropping to his.
“Konstantin!” I screamed from the bottom of my lungs.
The bastard held a smug smirk; however, even on his knees, bleeding, hands on the grass, Konstantin grew stronger. Somehow, he slipped behind him caging him as he brought his arms around the bastard’s head and twisted it. A faint snap as he went limp.
Dead. In his arms.
Konstantin lets him go as his face falls face-first into the dirt grass.
Kon’s chest heaved as he looked back at me, his gaze finding me like he needed to find comfort, but before he could say another word, he collapsed flat on the ground.
Without thinking or breathing, I handed Mauricio over to Marie and ran to him.
Hovering over him as I kneeled down, putting his head on my knees as he looked up at me, his eyes hazed.
My sight ran down to the red gaping hole in his lower stomach.
I lifted his shirt to see the extent of the damage, as I feared the reality.
My heart ran rampant with too many emotions.
“There’s too much blood.” My lips quivered as my hands became soaked in red, the back of my eyes stinging. “Someone help! Call the ambulance!” Yelling again at the nuns, the cops, anyone who could hear.
“Stay with me! Kon, look at me!” I said as his eyes began to close.