Chapter 8 - Addison
“If you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second.” – Johnny Depp.
“You have to stop looking at me like I’m going to kill you.”
I saw his mouth move, but I could hardly process the words.
How could I when my heart was beating as if I’d run a marathon at the Olympics? It had been pounding so hard since that moment at the sink. I had tried to get it out of my head, but nothing worked. And to add to the discomfort, we were alone, just the two of us, in his bulletproof black Mercedes.
Playing with my fingers was the only distraction that sufficed. It distracted my eyes from his firm jaw sporting a slight scruff beard, and the fullness of his perfectly proportioned mouth that was latched onto my neck just a moment ago.
The mere memory of it made my beating heart skip a beat.
I couldn’t go on like this. Say something. I had to say something to dispel the awkwardness in the air. I cleared my throat. “Then don’t look at me like that; like you’re going to kill me.”
He scoffed but didn’t say anything.
So, I snuck another glance and suddenly wished I hadn’t. When I saw him under the colorful flashing streetlights, I had to swallow and squeeze my legs together. And the sight of his slender, long fingers comfortably gripping the steering wheel brought back memories of the ghost trails he left on my arm and how tenderly he brushed my hair back.
My toes curled and warm tingles rushed to my core.
Everything about him made me nervous. In an excited kind of way. I couldn’t explain it. He frightened me and yet, I felt drawn to him.
What was wrong with me?
This man kidnapped me, hurt Logan, lied to my family, and threatened me. I should be repulsed by him, loathe him. Instead, I fantasized about how good it felt to be caged between his solid chest and the kitchen sink.
“Just don’t do anything fucking stupid, alright? And then we’d be good. If you decide to break the rules, you should remember, I know Maria Simmon’s current location. You don’t want to mess with me, hermosa. Even if you run, you can’t hide. The Bratva rules this city. I have eyes everywhere.”
His voice brought me back to the world of reality and threats fired at my innocent best friend, who was completely clueless as to the current circumstances of things.
My brows wrinkled. “I don’t understand. I’m in a moving car.”
“And it is not unexpected for a girl like you to try and jump out.”
A girl like me?
I suddenly itched to know his perception of me.
He eyed me. “I’m not stupid. I’ve rehearsed twenty different ways this ride could go south.”
“Twenty is a specific number.” I was intrigued. This man was so detailed, and it showed in his looks and flooded everything else concerning him.
Subconsciously, I shifted in my seat and slightly twisted my body toward him, waiting for an answer.
His Adam’s apple bobbed when he turned back to the windscreen.
“The other scenarios are improbable. If you try either, you’d die of a broken neck and torn muscles. Either way, all scenarios would result in death. If you don’t die by your act of foolishness, I will kill you myself.”
His eyes were cold, and his tone was harsh. He was not bluffing. I gulped. “Just to confirm, where did you say we were going?”
“I didn’t say.”
The motivation to prod further shriveled like a single piece of thread consumed by flames and I stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, mentally counting down the minutes until we arrived at a place called C’est Magnifique.
He got out and, without waiting for his command, I followed right after.
As we entered the opulent confines of the luxurious store, a sense of awe washed over me. The air was thick with the scent of fine fabrics and the soft murmur of two women moving boxes. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a warm glow over rows of impeccably arranged clothing racks and gleaming display cases.
I suppressed a laugh.
I should have known; I asked for clothes. Where else was he taking me if not a clothing store? But if I’d learned anything in the past few days, it was that this polished, dark-haired man, was unpredictable. And he proved that theory again when one of the women came up to attend to us.
She was everything I was not.
While I looked like a homeless girl who lacked a comb, this woman—whoever she was—competed with the world’s most recognizable fashion icons.
Her beauty was the very definition of the word “hot,” and it didn’t help that she had visible curves. At that moment, I envied her, and I wanted my life back.
Nude lipstick, shiny green eyes, and copper-dyed wavy hair. Just the type of woman who’d fit perfectly in Mark’s arms. I would consider myself taller than many girls, at fight eight, but this lady with the high heels was a few inches taller than me. They stood at eye level, so he wouldn’t have to lower his head to plant breath-snatching kisses on her neck ...
Addison!
Needless to say, she had eyes only for him. If she noticed me from a glimpse over his shoulder, that would have been a miracle.
Batting her eyelashes, she stretched an arm forward and patted down the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.
“Hello there,” she purred softly. “J’ai ete surpris de voir votre message. Tu sais, j’ai garde le magasin ouvert juste pour toi. C’est tellement bon de te revoir. Ca fait quoi, trois mois? Mais qui compte?” I was surprised to see your text. You know, I kept the store open, just for you. It’s so good to see you again. It’s been what, three months? But who’s counting?
Shame on me for sleeping in Madam Arielle’s French home lessons. I only picked up part of the conversation and heard a little to understand that Mark knew this woman and he’d ghosted her for three months. Regular customer, maybe?
I turned to him, hoping for some clarity.
“Maeva. Allons droit au but, d’accord?” Let’s get straight to business, shall we?
My jaw almost dropped. I had expected to hear something other than French from him. And the way he spoke it so fluently, no one would suspect that hot Russian blood flowed through his veins.
“Playing hard to get now, are we? Alors, tu ne m’as pas manque?”
“Les affaires, business,Maeva.” He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his neck.
So, it was obvious that the two of them had more than just a friendly customer relationship going on. I turned away from them and busied myself with the shiny gold racks in the store.
My fingers brushed against the soft silk of a designer dress, its vibrant hue drawing me in. Each step I took felt as though I was traversing the halls of a palace, surrounded by treasures.
A heavy hand on my shoulder took my smile away, crushing the image of palace walls and hidden treasures, and I spun on my heels, facing him.
Every time I came into contact with this man, or even just looked at his face, the oxygen left my lungs, and I became speechless and dazed. How could one man possess so much power?
He arched his eyebrow, standing tall and with overbearing confidence, staring at me. His tousled, unruly hair made my fingers twitch to know how it would feel if I ran them through the dark locks.
“Are you fucking listening?”
I blinked. He’d been talking. “What?”
He let go of my shoulder with an eye roll and a sigh like it physically pained him to even talk to me. “The dressing room’s been prepped. They’re waiting for us.”
With that said, he walked away, expecting me to follow him like a lost puppy. The saddest part is that I did.
****
Maeva’s assistant pushed more racks toward us—well, more like toward him since the only thing I did was stand there and wait patiently while he made all the selections. I wasn’t allowed to pick anything or offer my opinion. The first time I tried was the one and only attempt I made. He glared at my hands until I thought flames would erupt, and I instantly pulled away.
No need to anger the gods. I didn’t think I could stand being struck by lightning bolts from Mount Olympus. Plus, his choices weren’t bad. At all. I was even surprised that he could differentiate between a body-con gown and a slip-dress.
As he perused the racks, the helpful assistant appeared at his side, offering expert guidance and suggestions with a smile that soon quickly vanished from her face.
“What’s the lady’s style? Boho, Flirty?”
No answer. So, she tried again.
“Chic, Vintage …”
Silence.
“Tomboy?”
One dangerous look from him shut her up.
“Her style is whatever the fuck I want it to be. Now, move.”
Even that didn’t go so well. Seconds later, she stood at the corner with her head bowed; and I heard her quiet sniffles as I tried on one exquisite garment after another, each one more luxurious than the last.
After each try, Mark looked more unimpressed.
I hated it, the contemptuous stare with which he looked at the dresses and the bossy tone with which he ordered me to try on another one. I hated modeling for him like a puppet whose strings were controlled by its master”s fingers.
Grating my teeth, I snatched a Qi Pao dress and stomped into the inner changing room. When I got out, Mark stood with Maeve, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a Vogue magazine, muttering more French I didn’t bother figuring out.
Soon, they both reappeared by my side, Maeva fisting a measuring tape with a scowl, and Mark grinning at the dress.
Seriously. He liked the Qi Pao?
“I’m not sure about this one.” I pinched the hem of the dress. “It makes me look thin.”
He waved a hand in the air and leaned on the wall. “It suits you.”
I kept silent. Who was I to argue with him?
Maeve startled me with the tape on my shoulder and a sharp hiss at her assistant, Cielle, to grab a stool. I wondered what the stool was for, seeing that both ladies were taller than me in their heels.
Cielle rushed forward with a fancy stool and Maeve practically ordered me to hop on. My eyes narrowed. If this lady didn’t know it, I would be more than glad to show her just how tired I was of being bossed around.
They exchanged glances that spoke volumes and she carried on with the rest of the measurements in utter silence.
When she wrapped up the tape, I climbed off the stool and he got off the chair, wheeling the rack closer to me. I swallowed a sigh.
Peeling a shiny cut-out jumpsuit off a hanger, he handed it to me. The sparkles caught my eye. It was pretty. But I was tired of trying on clothes. I decided to try my luck and give it a shot; maybe if I said something about it, he’d listen.
Deep down, beneath those cold blue eyes and stone heart, he could still have some humanity.
I fingered the tiny strings on the fabric, avoiding his gaze. “I, um, don’t think I have to try it on. It looks like it will fit me just fine.”
“What if I want you to?”
I was pushing my luck, but I wasn’t going to give up. Not yet.
He wasn’t the one that had to deal with the constant tying and untying of strings, and zipping ups and zipping downs. Any other day, with any other person, this would have been fun. But it was Mark, the wolf in the sheep’s disguise.
“What if I don’t want to?”
He took my hands and clasped them over the jumpsuit. Then, a mischievous glint crossed his eyes. “I know Maria likes to sleep with a cross under her pillow. But what good will it do to protect her from me?”
No more words needed to be exchanged. He’d made his point. Daring to disobey him was putting the lives of my loved ones at risk, and he knew I couldn’t stand the thought of that.
My chest burned with anger and tears welled up. But I had no intention of shedding a single one. I would rather try on a hundred more dresses before I let him make me cry.
Again, I trudged into the changing room and got rid of the Qi Pao. My vision blurred as I tossed aside the Asian-inspired clothing and stared at my reflection through the mirrored walls. Almost naked, wearing only my embarrassing beige cotton underwear and matching convertible bra—sorry I didn”t know I”d be kidnapped hours after my midnight shower—the cold biting hard on my skin and goosebumps appeared.
I rubbed my arms, looked at the glittering jumpsuit with the Greek neckline, and spotted the white price tag hanging on the side. My stomach turned and I felt my bile rise. It made no sense that he was willing to spend thousands of dollars on me—his pet. I felt uncomfortable, but that”s what he wanted, wasn’t it? It was all just a game to him; I was nothing more than a pawn in his hands, a bait for Logan.
I missed Logan. His smile, the sound of his crazy laughter, and the boring stories he told about work. Even the classy and welcoming ambience C’est Magnifique offered wasn’t enough to quench my desire to return home. A tiny part of me wondered if it was possible that he’d forgotten about me, and the ache in my chest burrowed deeper.
Sniveling, I hugged myself tighter, wiped my nose, and exhaled.
I’d heard somewhere before that tears never helped accomplish anything and I agreed. If Mark saw me now, without the jumpsuit on, I was going to get into so much trouble.
I bent over, reaching for the jumpsuit, but never made it. The door swung open without any warning, and I could have sworn my soul left my body when long legs draped in black pants filed past the threshold. My gaze wandered upwards and the more I looked, the more I froze on the spot. Disheveled hair, a crisp black shirt, and lips that wore a mischievous smile.
The small hairs on the back of my neck stood attention and I wanted to die of shame when his sparkling blue eyes were fixated on my cotton underwear. Awesome.
On second thought, why did I care what he thought of my boring underwear?
He shut the door behind him and pitched forward.
“I was beginning to think you’d tried to do something stupid,” he was saying; his heated gaze still pinned on the valley between my legs.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’ve been in here for eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds now. It takes you twelve minutes to try on a dress.”
I didn’t know which was scarier; him edging closer with every word he spoke or how accurately he timed the minutes I spent in the changing room. I took a step back and my feet hit a glass wall. I was forced to stop moving. My knees were shaking and that feeling between my legs, the one I shouldn’t be having, was getting stronger.
“That’s impressive,” I stammered. “The ... The time-keeping thing.”
Mark stepped toward me again, until he was pressed up against me. I should have stopped him. I should have shoved him back. But I didn’t. My heart hammered against my chest loudly, blood rushed to my ears, and the background silence felt like we’d been trapped in a bubble.
He took a strand of my hair and twirled it around his long, slender finger; and as he spoke, I stared at his mouth.
“Timekeeping is basic, Addison. There’s nothing impressive about that.” His warm breath hit my face, and something twisted below my stomach when he called my name. “You’re not wearing the jumpsuit.”
Honestly, I tried to look at anything else, except his mouth. I tried.
“It’s expensive.”
“Money can never be a problem for me.”
“I—You ... it’s not that.”
“Then? What’s gotten you so excited?” He leaned in, his lips grazed my ear.
“Excited?” I asked him.
“You’re blushing,” he said and placed his fingers on my neck. “Your heart is beating fast.” His knuckles skimmed along my collarbone.
Then he slipped an arm around my waist and yanked me closer to his chest. He smelled so masculine and earthy. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and sniff more of him. Suddenly we were back in the kitchen, pressed up against the sink, his lips on my neck.
The coil formed below my stomach and an unwelcome warmth settled between my thighs, pooling, until my panties were soaked. The rest of my words got stuck in my throat and I forgot what I wanted to say.
“Cat’s got your tongue?” He chuckled, and I had a tough time deciding if Logan’s laughter sounded better.
His blue eyes reminded me of the ocean on a stormy day, and yet the heat in them could incinerate me. He licked his full lips. So full … tempting.
“It’s a good thing if you’re tongue-tied. Because that’s how I feel when I see you; speechless, ... You make things so fucking difficult, hermosa.” His sexy voice rumbled.
He leaned in deeper, and I felt the steely outline of his erection pressing against my belly, and a burning sensation consumed my body, igniting some dormant desires.
I gulped for air, panted between breaths, and unconsciously fisted his shirt when he unexpectedly swooped down and covered my lips with his.
My brain tapped out; I closed my eyes.
He tasted like vodka and the tail end of a cigarette. So hot and soft at first.
But he didn’t just kiss with his mouth. His hand cupped around the back of my neck, and his other hand came up to cradle my jaw. He held me captive as he plundered me. This breath-stealing kiss was everything Mark. My fingers trembled. And I melted into him. He was rough, fierce, and specific. The way he bit my lip, tasted my tongue, moved against my mouth like a hungry predator feasting on its prey.
His blunt, domineering demeanor should have put me off, but it had the opposite effect. Although I wasn’t sure if any other man could pull off the neck grab and authority the way Mark did.
I moaned against his mouth, and his hand fell from my jaw, he grabbed my ass roughly and squeezed.
I’d never been kissed like this; Logan never did ... this. It felt good. So good. As if I were in a race and my brain was straining to keep up.
I tried to mirror his speed and expertise, fighting with equal aggression against his mouth, but he dominated. He released an animalistic growl, and needy butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
Then, his hand left my ass, and his fingers traced my ribcage, stopping only inches below my navel. He tugged at the waistband of my panties and my raging blood turned to liquid fire. My chest rose and fell, and I looked down at his hand.
My eyes widened. When I realized his intentions, it was already too late.
“Mark ...”
His fingers slipped under the band, he parted my legs and slid into the wetness soaking my panties.
“Mark!” It came out half scolding, half moaning.
“You’re already fucking wet, hermosa.” As he slid a finger inside me, his eyes lost focus and I pushed against him, creating some distance.
“Stop!”
He looked confused, and my heart leaped at how roguishly handsome he looked. “What?”
“I said, stop.”
“Why?”
The audacity!
Why?
I had a million reasons why, but the most important one came to mind. My loyalty to Logan. This ... This was wrong—whatever this was. The reality that I was being unfaithful to him crept like poison ivy around my heart, squeezing until tears stung.
“We can’t do this … in here.” Why did I add that?
“Who says?”
“Well … Oh ...”
He added another finger and thrust with no warning. I was on sensation overload, my head fell back on the glass wall, and I closed my eyes. Thoughts about Logan and how wrong this was, flew out the window and were immediately replaced by how good his fingers felt inside me.
“Mark...” His name whooshed out in a choppy plea.
“Open your eyes. I want you to see,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Your mouth says one thing, but your body says another.”
My eyes snapped open and met my reflection. Heat crept up my neck at the erotic sight. Staring back at me were half-lidded eyes, red cheeks, exposed ass, and parted lips, of the porn star herself—me. One of my legs was draped over the back of his thigh and I had my nails dug into the back of his arms.
He murmured against my mouth, “Look how fucking beautiful your body is, Addison.” My name sounded like a purr. “You fucking like this, don’t you?” His hand on the back of my neck slid into my hair. He twisted a hank into his fist and yanked my head back, as he roughly fucked his fingers deeper and his thumb caressed my clit.
More warmth flooded me, trickled down his fingers, and I craved more friction. Against all logic, I shamefully moved against his hand. I’d never been more confused; I wanted him as much as I hated him.
“Mark, please. We shouldn’t ...”
He swallowed my protest with his mouth. A feral sound left me, and my hands flew to his shoulders. Every part of me was throbbing. Needing more.
“God.”
“Me, hermosa. It’s me.” He licked my upper lip and increased his speed. “Say my name, baby.”
Baby?
Another finger joined the duo and unintentionally his name slipped past my lips, my breath shallow. “Mark...”
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.” His intense blue eyes held me with focus and his jaw muscles ticked.
With each thrust, the rest of my words were swallowed up between delicious grunts and sighs as I climbed higher and higher to the peak. All I could do was feel.
“Come for me. Just me. Let go.” He demanded and gave my hair a sharp tug.
“Mark…”
I reeled in the ecstasy and rode his fingers until a strong wave of pleasure rocked me hard when I hit the climax.
I trembled with a muffled scream against his chest, and he pulled back with a smirk. With a peck on my lips, he whispered, “This is nothing compared to the other things I will do to you when you finally become mine. Just fucking wait and see.”
He raised his fingers to his lips—the same fingers that had been inside me minutes ago—and sucked me off.
My breath was trapped in my lungs, I didn”t know how to react, and in the mirror, I stood there with flushed cheeks and half-baked eyes, watching him leave me in the awkward silence as he walked out the door.
****
Exactly forty-seven minutes. That”s how long it took me to finally step out of the changing room.
What happened in the changing room, had to stay in the changing room. But the images and sounds were still vivid. How warm his body was against mine; how urgent his kisses were; how delicious he tasted.
Plus, the lingering traces of his fingers sliding in and out of me weren’t leaving my mind anytime soon.
My cheeks were hot as if they had been stamped with a branding iron. I couldn’t even look up or at Cielle as I handed her the pile of clothes Mark had picked out.
“Uh, hi. Um, could you ... could you please add these?” I threw in a pair of jeans and some casual T-shirts.
“Sure.” She took them from me and in a flash, I had a folded paper in my free hand. Now I looked up at her.
Her brows made a funny twitch, and she eyed the paper like she was trying to pass a message across. I didn’t know what it was, but I hid the paper between the band of my shorts and underwear.
Mark didn’t notice.
When we arrived at the house, he didn’t come in after me. Barely even acknowledged me.
The men helped with the numerous bags while I headed up the stairs to my designated room, all the while thinking about the thousands of dollars, he blew off in less than three hours. No doubt, he had proven that this Bratva he talked about, that he belonged to ... they were as rich as they were powerful.
After the men left the room, I locked the door and took out the paper from under my waistband. I opened it and smoothed out the creases at the edges. It was a note. And I recognized the slanted handwriting. I smiled wide as I read it.
“My beautiful angel, I will get you out of there.”
It was him. My Logan.
He hadn’t abandoned me.