Chapter 6
Kazimir
Darkness had always been my friend.
In the shadows of winter in Moscow, I’d relished the peace of being in my room in the dark while the snow fell softly outside my window.
Where so many had grown up in poverty, I’d been surrounded by a lavish setting, my parents’ home a literal fortress.
In a way, I’d been a prisoner even then, protected as a child with two guards following me everywhere I went.
Only the darkness of night allowed me any freedom. I’d run the halls of the home, pretending that I was a superhero. I’d even believed my father was at the time.
I’d learned quickly that he personified evil and I’d reveled in the knowledge, wanting more than ever to be just like him.
Because he used the darkness as a backdrop, knowing men were often at their weakest in the absence of light. That’s why being locked inside a concrete box in the dark didn’t bother me in the least.
I’d been visited by several creatures, including a few rats. One had dared annoy me, leaving itself wide open for a taste of my anger by crawling across my leg. His squeal had barely appeased the raw sense of anger furrowing inside.
I thought about Mikhail, hoping that Kirill had managed to keep him alive.
The gunshot had been worse than I’d expressed, the loss of blood life threatening.
Yes, my brother knew that our deaths would be considered nothing but casualties of wars, but everything he’d been through, the close to two years spent in and out of hospitals and never having any friends or being allowed to play sports had taken a huge toll on him.
If my incarceration meant he had a chance at living life normally, so be it.
And Stash would make an excellent second in line. At least as long as he could control his rage. It would seem I’d already come to terms with my impending death. We would see about that. I had a few tricks up my sleeve.
With my eyes closed, I attempted to sleep. A single sound drew my attention. I moved to just behind the door, waiting to see who would be hapless enough to walk directly into a beast’s lair.
I gathered her scent even before she walked in, her long dark hair shimmering in the limited glow of the flashlight. When she didn’t see me, she physically sagged, but her pup was quick to realize where I was hiding.
This time, I closed the door behind her, not wanting us to be interrupted by anyone.
Spinning around to face me, she took several shallow breaths and almost lost her footing. I grabbed her arm, pulling her close, using just enough force she was required to place her hand on my chest just as she’d done before.
The effect was the same, a wildfire of need tearing through my system. She had the same duffle bag and in my mind, she was even more beautiful. I kept her close, drinking in the experience of being in her presence.
Her breathing was ragged, her entire body shaking, not as much from nerves as from the same nagging desire that had nearly consumed me all day.
“Hi,” she said, the fire in her eyes from disrespecting her required behavior lingering even as the uncertainty about how to handle the situation began to crowd in.
While she didn’t try to pull away, I sensed how uncomfortable she’d become so I let her go.
She rubbed her hand on her jeans before nodding and easing onto her knees, her hand trembling as she pulled the zipper and reached inside. I remained where I was, curious as to what she’d brought.
When she pulled out a small blanket, smoothing it across the dirt floor then proceeded to provide a little feast of food and drink, I was floored.
After she was finished, she poured some water into a plastic bowl for the pup and sat cross-legged.
She even positioned the beam of the flashlight just so, keeping it away from the direction of the window and creating a slight ambiance.
The girl was as smart as she was beautiful.
Whoever her father was, and my guess was the man who owned the vineyard, she’d been taught various skills that weren’t typical for a teenager.
A few seconds later, she tossed me a look of clear annoyance, the twinkle in them unmistakable even with the dullness of the light.
“Mmmm…” she started, carefully choosing her words. “Ya ne kusayus’.”
I won’t bite.
She was trying hard not to butcher my native language, but whoever her teacher had been, Russian had been something learned from a textbook.
The invitation was too delicious to pass up.
She’d even brought a small bottle of wine.
Was she kidding me? She poured a glass, cocking her pretty head when I hesitated taking it from her.
The taste was heavenly, more so than I should allow myself. If she was caught, I could only imagine what would be done to her. Even a princess was punished. I knew what would happen to me, but it was worth the risk.
“Ya ne kusayus’.” I repeated the words very slowly, and once more when she realized what I was doing. From there, she tried it again, laughing at herself for using the wrong intonations. But she continued until she finally sounded Russian.
“Tell me something else,” she said, lifting her eyebrows in hopes that I understood. She pointed to her dog.
“Sobaka.”
This time when she repeated it, she was flawless, even giggling her happiness.
“Very good,” I told her and she was overjoyed at my compliment. Just like a teenager would be. “Rafaela. How old?” I started by pointing to her golden retriever.
“Golden Angel just had her first birthday. I won’t try that in Russian.”
Laughing, I took some of the food she’d brought, munching on it before pointing to her. “How old?”
She looked away, shrugging as if I would be upset. “Eighteen.”
“How old?” The gruffness of my voice surprised even me.
“I turned eighteen a few days ago. Not that my parents cared.” Her look was hopeful.
“Why?”
“Because I’m nothing but property to them.
” She laughed when seeing my face. “Don’t look so shocked.
My guess is you have no understanding of how it works in old school families in Italy.
You might be shocked, but here in this beautiful yet archaic country, arranged marriages still exist. I have no doubt that’s what I’ll face at some point whether I approve or not. ”
She was no one to me, just a beautiful girl with bright eyes, vulnerable and sweet.
Yet as soon as she mentioned being forced to marry someone else, I was shocked at my body’s reaction.
I wanted to fucking kill someone. I was uncertain what to say to her.
She was undeterred, her rebellious attitude continuing, sparking a strange and powerful moment of desire.
“I know. Shocking. To commemorate this oh-so fabulous event, my father has a huge birthday party planned, which I have no interest in. But he won’t allow me to ignore the celebration.
As an adult, I’m fair game to the right rich man who will offer my father billions of dollars for my hand in marriage. ”
She laughed and the sound created a severe tightening of my balls. Fuck if I didn’t want her in the worst way. “Billions?”
“Obviously, I’m exaggerating, but I assure you money or some level of power will sweeten the deal. And just imagine the joy of discovering I’ll be engaged. How kind of my father to wait until I was no longer jailbait.”
Her disdain brought a smile to my face. At least she was of age, a rule that I required all my soldiers to follow.
While other Bratva and the scumbag Turks were heavily involved in sex trafficking including of children, our regime would kill anyone involved.
I wouldn’t hesitate to take the life of her father.
Her defiance glowed much like her skin, the anger swirling inside fueling her desires almost as much as our time spent together. Sadly, she had no idea I was using her for information that she was easily providing.
The party could be the perfect opportunity to escape. The sadness in her voice reflected a sharp knife digging into my gut. In many ways, she was a prisoner just like I was.
My balls tightened further from the same filthy thoughts, a longing to deflower her alongside the realization that I didn’t want anyone touching her.
Jesus. What the hell was I doing? I eyed her carefully. Shoving aside the desire wasn’t easy but necessary. My feelings were reckless, but not untypical.
“I answered your questions,” she continued. “Now, you owe me.” She pointed toward my chest. “Name.”
A chuckle surfaced. While I debated telling her the truth, what harm would it do? “Kazimir.”
“Kazimir,” she breathed. “That’s insanely sexy.” When she’d realized what she’d said, she laughed and the lilting sound was one that would keep me enthralled for a long time to come.
“Can you tell me your last name?”
“Not a good idea.”
“Why?”
I shook my head. “The less you know about me the better.” Which was very true. I had no clue what the hell was going on.
“That means you’re a powerful man.”
“Maybe I’m a nobody.”
She offered a defiant shake of her head. “No, you’re very powerful. My guess is you’re a prince of some foreign country.”
“I assure you I’m not a prince.”
“A drug dealer.”
She eyed me with desire in her eyes. “I am not a drug dealer.” Which was true even if there had been times our family had dabbled in the sale of illegal drugs.
“Hmm… A carnival worker who escaped the circus.”
Another round of laughter and my control was slipping. “You’re getting warmer.”
“Oh, goody.”
We sat quietly, the girl finally telling me a little about herself, enough that I had serious doubts about her intention of seducing me. She was simply enamored by a strange man who’d come onto her premises.
“Do you like art?” she asked, as if just trying to think of something to say. “You know, like paintings and drawings?”
The longer I was around her, the more savage I could become. She was far too tempting.
“Not really.”