Chapter 18 Alik
ALIK
Ishould stop but I can’t. My brain cells are dying from blood loss, every drop currently below the waist, my cock so hard I could use it as a battering ram.
Watching Sera make herself come is the most erotic thing I’ve seen in my life. I came down here to avoid her, to try to purge her from my system with sweat and alcohol. And now I want her more than ever.
Self-destruction.
That’s what it is when I lift her arm from the water, dragging her hand from her pussy and up to my mouth.
She’s soaking wet, from the pool, from her orgasm.
I can see where her release glistens on her skin and I push those fingers past my lips.
Wrap my tongue around them and suck. Almost come from tasting her.
Sweet, tangy, entirely Sera.
I lap her liquid up, barely able to beat back the beast in my chest as her flavor saturates my senses.
Beneath the water, Sera’s hips buck, tiny aftershocks ripping through her as I lick her fingers clean. By the time I let her hand drop, breathing is an afterthought, my next hit the only thing I can think about.
Her next orgasm the only thing I want.
So much for keeping my fucking distance.
“Alik?” Sera’s voice pulls me back to reality.
The vodka swirls in my otherwise empty stomach, a headache pounding to life behind my eyes.
“You okay?” she asks.
No, not even a little. She’s so beautiful.
Cheeks pink, skin flushed, nipples rosy.
Black hair loose and floating on top of the water.
Pleasure radiating off every pore. She looks so much healthier than she did weeks ago.
So much stronger. And if I stand here a second longer, she’s going to snap what’s left of my fraying self-control in two. “Can you stand?” I ask her.
“Uhh…yeah.”
I nod, forcing myself to let go of her hypnotic green gaze. “Good.” I have a million other things I want to say, but all of them will just make this situation so much worse.
I swim to the side and push out of the water, ignoring my raging hard-on and Sera’s sharp inhale when she gets a fleeting view of my nearly naked body.
I don’t let myself turn around and dive back under with her, no matter how much I want to.
Don’t bother drying off before I yank my clothes on over my wet boxer briefs and track water through the house as I storm through the halls to my office.
My chest is still tight, my dick practically rubbing a hole through my clothes, the determined fucker refusing to back down despite being shoved in my jeans.
I’m not jerking off again. I did it once while watching Sera’s little taunt yesterday and again before interrogating Rocco. My fist isn’t giving the satisfaction I need and my fist is the only fucking option I have.
I can’t have Sera. I can’t want her. It was true before. Even more so now.
I drop my ass into my desk chair, scrubbing a hand across my jaw as I stare at the picture in front of me. Moving sluggishly, I adjust the vase of Rina’s favorite flower. Lilacs.
Failure and guilt force their way to the surface, just like always.
My priority is finding the men who took Rina from me. The fact that they’re the same ones who want Sera amplifies the urgency. A fresh wave of anger boils over as I pick up the picture frame and look at the face I’ve loved since I was a boy.
Rocco’s tip about the club might be the thing that gets me closer to the answers I need. I pound out a text to Dimitri, ordering him to make sure that Sera gets back to her suite safely. Then I down three more shots of vodka and block out all thoughts except how to get into this nameless club.
After hours of working contacts and what feels like endless dead ends later, I get an unexpected call.
“Che cazzo, Valentin,” Rem Cosenza growls as soon as I answer.
“You sure are ruffling a lot of fucking feathers tonight. And here I thought you were a fly-under-the-radar kind of assassin. There’s nothing stealthy in pissing off the heads of multiple crime families.
What the fuck do you think you’re doing? ”
“What I came here to do, mudak. What’s it to you?”
“You’re starting fires. Ones that can get out of control fast. My uncle and I have only just gotten business back to normal. I don’t need you fucking things up right now. So, tell me what the hell you’re looking for and I’ll do what I can to help.”
“How altruistic of you.”
“Fuck that,” he says with a harsh laugh.
“Your pot-stirring is turning into a major pain in my ass. I want it done and you gone. The faster those two things happen, the happier I’ll be.
Any help I give you is entirely self-serving, believe me.
Tell me exactly what the fuck you’re trying to achieve, and I’ll do what I can to get you there. ”
I don’t answer immediately, letting the silence drag out until Rem starts to curse me in his mother tongue.
Something about riling up the ’Ndrangheta underboss gives me a perverse sense of satisfaction, and I let him fester as long as possible, payback for that time he tried to kill me with a cocktail pick.
Just before he’s about to hang up on me, I tell him want he wants to know.
My search for the Albanian. The story Rocco gave me about the club. My chance to find Shkodra before the auction.
When I’m done, Rem considers everything I’ve said. “This Albanian—why do you want him so badly?”
“What does it matter to you?”
I can practically hear the Italian’s homicidal frustration through the phone. “Okay, different question. What are you going to do with him once you find him?”
“Question him. Dismember him. Preferably at the same time.”
“Vaffanculo. Fuck, Russian. You sure do cause a lot of fucking trouble.”
Something in Cosenza’s voice catches my attention. “What do you know about him?”
“Nothing that will make me regret you ending him, that’s for sure.
There’s scum of the earth and then there’s scum of the earth, you know.
Shkodra is the latter. Disposing of him would be a favor.
God knows many have tried, but no one has managed to pull it off.
He’s a slippery shit. Near impossible to pin down. ”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” I mutter. “And why is that trouble for you, Italian?”
“He’s one end of a long line of dominos.
Knock the Albanian down and a whole world of shit gets stirred up.
” Rem’s sigh is resigned. “To answer your question—it’s not so much trouble as a huge fucking mess to clean up from here to your motherland.
I love the idea of burning that trafficking ring to the ground, Alik.
I was just hoping to go on my honeymoon first.”
I laugh, picturing how pissed off Rem must look. “Prioritizing your dick, Cosenza? That isn’t like you. Married life that good, huh?”
“Fuck off, Valentin. The last thing you should be thinking about is my marriage. Or my dick.” The murderous edge in his voice is back.
“Just ‘cause you backed off the Arkhangel job and warned us about the danger Lena was in doesn’t mean I forgive you for shooting at her. Or flirting with her, you asshole. This little alliance of ours lives on shaky ground. One misstep and it all fucking crumbles.”
The Italian underboss sounds as pissed as I feel. “You’re the one beating around the bush. You called me to offer your help, not the other way around. So, stop threatening me and pussy footing around and tell me—can you help me get to the Albanian or not?”
“Yes, you fuck. I can. Give me until dawn. I’ll get you the access you need.”
“Spasibo.”
“Coglione,” Rem spits back, hanging up.
Call over, I check my messages. A text from Dimitri confirms that Sera is asleep in her suite. I trust Dimitri with my life, but his assurance doesn’t stop me from opening my computer and pulling up the video feed from her bedroom.
What a hypocritical fucker I am. I never installed cameras in her bedroom in the apartment, but the mansion is a different story.
The size of the place is for my sanity, but also hers.
I feel ill every time I remember what she said about being locked in her room.
The night terrors it would trigger, how she physically hurt herself trying to escape her nightmares of Rocco.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Alik,” I mutter, zooming in on the feed of her asleep in her bed. “A sick, fucking idiot.” I can’t trust myself to check on her in her room. Our interlude in the pool is all the proof I need of that. Every time I swear I’ll keep my distance I end up getting even closer.
Sera is quickly becoming the biggest chink in my armor.
An addiction I might not be able to break.
But I’ve also sworn to keep her safe. If I can’t trust myself to physically check on her in her bedroom, we’re both just going to have to settle for the shockingly clear video feed that doesn’t hide a single detail of her long body curled into a ball under the covers.
She’s sleeping soundly, no current signs of distress. No nightmares chasing her. I zoom in on her face. Give myself a moment to stare at her features. To remember what her eyes looked like as she came. Remember what her lips felt like when she kissed me.
Addiction my ass. More like obsession.
I slam my laptop closed, give my cock a hard squeeze. The determined fucker is rock solid again. As if I need another reminder of how much trouble this woman really is.
Daybreak is about five hours away, enough time to shower and catch some sleep. A few hours later, I’m in the kitchen inhaling coffee and food when Rem’s message comes through:
Your invite arrives tonight. 10pm. Be ready.
Don’t call me again.
“You called me, asshole.”
From now on, you get to be a pain in someone else’s ass.
Then a name: Giovanni Marchetti.
Great. Exactly what I need. Another fucking Italian.