CHAPTER 23
Petal
A year ago, shoot, even six months ago, I couldn’t imagine anything scarier than my dirtbag boyfriend dragging me into his criminal bullshit. Then I was sleeping rough, experiencing being unhoused, and I thought that was the scariest thing I’d ever experience.
Now, here I am, riding in a luxury SUV that probably cost more than the house I lived in with the aforementioned dirtbag ex. I’m next to a man the most powerful mobster in the nation treats like a son. Only, instead of being afraid, I feel empowered.
“You are smiling out the window. What has made you so happy out there?” My giant Bratva beast sounds so grumpy I might be smiling at something other than him.
“Just thinking about the speed at which life can do a complete three-sixty, but by the time you’ve spun completely around, everything is changed.” That’s probably a confusing explanation, but he just nods as if I make perfect sense.
His right hand rests on my thigh while he drives; thick fingers knead my thigh and inch the hem of my dress higher and higher.
His eyes stay focused on the dark road ahead of us, but I see the muscles of his jaw flexing with tension in the reflection of the window.
Being coveted by this powerful, strong, capable man is an aphrodisiac even when he’s not touching me.
With a hand on the bare skin of my leg, even the attention he has to pay the road doesn’t lessen the impact.
“Please, explain.” His request may be polite, but there’s a demand in the simple words that sends a shiver down my spine.
The way he orders me around, not in a dickish way, but in a commanding one, really does it for me.
Did I know before I met Zinovy that I liked being bossed around by a dude?
Absolutely-the-fuck I did not. Is there any sense trying to pretend I don’t?
Not if the pleasure he gave me this morning is anything to go by.
“I guess I just like what you’re doing for me. Rescuing me. Taking care of me. Introducing me to the people in your life who matter to you, even though it’s probably risky. It makes me feel…I dunno…safe?” I ramble.
It’s probably dumb to bring up how much of a chance Zinovy is taking when he’s as open about his dangerous lifestyle.
But it doesn’t feel as if he’s doing it to brag about his power or make me feel threatened.
He’s just not hiding the scary sides of his life, although I have no doubt the reality is a thousand times more terrifying than the sanitized version of things he’s letting me see.
“You are safe with me, little bird. I vow it.” He speaks such good English. It’s easy to forget he grew up speaking Russian as his first language.
We lapse into comfortable silence as he navigates from the Pakhan’s palatial home to where Zinovy says “my” house is.
I really need to clarify what he means by that, especially because if he really did put the house in my name, that means there’s a public record somewhere attaching my name to the address.
Jordan may be in my past, but he made some vows, too, usually when he was high out of his mind on the drugs he stole from his distributor.
Promises like he’d never let me go, that he’d see me dead in a ditch before he saw me with another man.
So as much as I hate needing more help from Zinovy, I need to make sure he’s aware of the risks he faces just by being with me.
“I want your safety, Zinovy. So I think I need to tell you about why I’ve been living at the Dino-Mite storage place.”
“Good. I’ve been waiting for you to share this with me. It has taken you a very long time to give me these details, malynshka,” he grouses. I can already tell when he’s actually perturbed though, and this is not his real grumpy voice. It gives me the courage to continue.
I tell him all about Jordan and his buddies, even answering the embarrassing questions about how I could have ever fallen for a man like that. The only things I don’t give the details of are the debasing things Jordan made me do with his friends and his suppliers when he needed favors.
I don’t think Zinovy would judge me for it, but I’ll probably always be ashamed of the things that happened before I managed to get away.
Logically, I know I am a survivor and none of what Jordan did to me was my fault, but my mind plays tricks on me that make me struggle to accept what logic insists is true.
The creak of the steering wheel under Zinovy’s ghost-white knuckles is loud. Enough so I hear it over the thump, thump, thump of the tires on pavement and the hum of the engine. There’s no mistaking how enraged he is, but I don’t think it’s at me. I really hope it’s not at me.
“Allow me to be certain. You did not tell me of this dolboyob, this ‘Jordan’ because you were worried of the risk to me? My safety? Mine? I who am the blade in the hand of the most powerful Pakhan America has ever known? Little bird, this cannot be so.”
Okay, so maybe some of his frustration is at me.
I gulp over the rock lodged in my throat and defend my delay in baring my embarrassing history. I don’t want to make things worse, but I won’t let him be cross with me when it’s not my fault he didn’t already know about my past.
“First of all, Mr. ‘I am a blade,’ I only met you, like, yesterday. So it’s not like I’ve been hiding this deep dark secret for ages.
Also, I don’t think you can be mad at me for not telling you about my ex when you were deciding I belong to you like some bottle of wine you picked up at the airport duty-free shop. ”
I’m really building to a mad here. The more it sinks in that Zinovy might actually be blaming me for what I’m already struggling not to feel guilty about, the angrier I get.
Just because I feel guilty for being abused by Jordan for so long, doesn’t mean anyone else gets to judge how long it took me to escape or how long it takes me to open up to them!
“And besides, you’re telling me with all the super spy shit you pulled, stalking me for however long, you didn’t bother to hunt up any intel about where I came from?
That’s on you, Mister Blade! You know what, maybe this is a mistake.
You should take me back to Dino-Mite and leave me alone.
” By this point, I’m screaming; I know I am.
I can feel the tears soaking my cheeks, and I’m too upset to care.
I wrap my arms around myself and wiggle until I’m pressed as far against the passenger door as I can get.
I want to escape his hold on my leg, but it’s like an anchor I can’t escape.
His fingers flex on the soft skin of my inner thigh and I know there’ll be bruises there tomorrow.
Just a few hours ago, seeing Zinovy’s finger-shaped marks on me would have been thrilling.
Now the idea is just a reminder I’m in the clutches of another man who can use his strength against me any time he chooses.