Chapter 6 Katya
I’ve been in this house two fucking minutes. Two. Minutes. Before some asshole with grabby hands thinks they can touch me? Great. Fucking daisies and sunflowers over here.
The plan was to portray a demure little flower. Well, that went out the window when my instincts kicked in. Honestly, better in the long run. I’m not a flower. More like a bomb and now I don’t have to dull myself as much.
I wasn’t sure what to feel when I saw the twins for the first time in three years.
A part of me thought I might feel shame at what I had done to them.
Another part thought I might feel disgusted.
These men have as notorious a reputation as Alexey, their empire competing with the Romanovas’ as being the top sex trafficking business in the nation.
They mercilessly kill anyone their father sends them after, they run an exclusive nightclub where men, women and even children are sold, and they do it all with a smile.
Well, Enzo does. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rafael appear remotely pleased in any of the photos the media catches of him.
To the side of the world who doesn’t reside in the dark underbelly, the Alessi empire gained their fortune through the stock trade and real estate, but just like my wannabe father, it’s all a cover.
I can’t name exactly what ran through me when I saw the two Italian twins…
but I didn’t like it. A foreign yet familiar sensation.
A contradicting force telling me even though I have never spoken to these men…
in some way, I know them. Like the invisible thread connecting us since that night snapped back into place and I’m pulled toward them.
Somebody get me some scissors…
As I shake the feeling away, I follow Rafael up the grand staircase. He turns to the left and walks down a long crimson hallway complete with wainscoting and dimly lit wall sconces. Not creepy at all…
He’s silent, typing away on his phone and I can’t help but admire his perfectly tailored suit as it hugs his long, muscular body. The expensive fabric clings to his biceps and thighs, and I wonder what he would look like splattered with the blood of his enemies.
I know, I’ve got issues. I’m begging you, institutionalize me.
My mouth waters and my body feels jittery, like I’m about to make a kill. Oh god, why is it doing that?
My spidey senses tingle as Enzo lurks behind me, like the hellhound he’s known to be.
I peek over my shoulder to gauge how close he is, and I’m not surprised when he’s already watching me like a predator, lifting his chin slightly with a challenging quirk of his brow.
His dark button-up shirt molds to his muscles, shifting like water over rocks, the defined abdominal muscles rippling with each stride.
Fuck. My heart beat quickens, climbing into my throat.
“Like what you see, Doc?”
I mimic his snark, checking him out one more time, except not drooling like a bitch in heat this time. “Hardly. Like what you see?”
I throw the question back, knowing without a doubt he was checking out my ass.
“Fuck yes,” he says without hesitation. My head jerks back slightly; I’d expected him to deny it.
Instead, he eats me alive, burning me from the inside. But I know what happens when good girls fall for bad boys. They land straight on their ass, usually into a stinking pile of dog shit and the boy that made them feel special walks away.
What? I’ve seen the movies.
Except here’s the difference—I’m not a good girl and no one knocks me on my ass.
I look forward seconds before slamming into Rafael’s back. Apparently, we stop in the middle of hallways in this household, no notice whatsoever. Rude.
Doing something on his phone, he doesn’t pay me any attention. “This is your room, Doctor Sinclair. It’s coded for your fingerprints. Place your middle through last finger on the pad and it will open. I will let you get settled and send Nova to give you a tour at four p.m. sharp.”
How the fuck did they get my fingerprints?
“Thank you, Rafael.” I pour every ounce of professionalism and sweetness into my tone. But God didn’t give me much of either of those so instead it comes out forced and I internally wince.
Rafael walks back down the hall while Enzo continues to stare at me like I’m the last bullet in the apocalypse.
He stands with his shoulder leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The shirt’s two seconds from bursting at the seams from the muscles bulging beneath it.
The sad thing is, I don’t even think he’s flexing.
He clearly packs more muscle mass than Rafael, which tells me if I’m going to take these guys out with force, I’ll need to take him down first. I know once I’m within his grasp, there will be no escape.
“Did you need something, Enzo?”
He shifts off the wall, encroaching upon me like a predator stalking its prey, slowly and with intent. “Care to elaborate on how you put down our man back there?”
I hold his stare, noticing his bottomless brown irises have almost no variation in color, only a single golden fleck in his left eye, like the north star in a light polluted night.
“Care to leave?”
His gaze drops down my body, sizing me up and a smirk graces his face.
His Italian heritage shows in the light olive skin tone, the straight nose, and dark features.
But so does the Russian from his mother: full lips and high cheekbones.
He has a small slit cut into his left eyebrow, but I can’t tell if it’s a scar or intentional.
His hair is as wild as his personality, thrown haphazardly into a bun atop his head, a few strands dangling over his brows.
Despite how alluring he may be, I have an assignment to complete. If I fell for every gorgeous man I’d met, I’d be a fucking Jenga tower in an earthquake because for some odd reason, Bratva men are seemingly bred to be beautiful assholes.
Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just follow—nope, I don’t follow them either.
“Nah, not really.” He circles me, his domineering aura forcibly moving me closer to the wall. Instinct tells me to guard my six.
“Then I don’t care to elaborate. All you need to know is I’m not a defenseless damsel. And this interaction is highly inappropriate and unprofessional.”
Without a word, he moves closer but doesn’t touch me. His head tilts, eyes gliding from my hair, running over my lips, and down my neck as if his fingers were brushing over them. Each spot tingles in a distracting annoyance.
In a single second, he jerks back as if shocked out of a trance. “Interesting.” He remarks before stepping away and disappearing down the hall.
“Zasranets.” Bastard, I mumble. Stupid men who feel like they can manipulate and intimidate with their bodies. He’s lucky I’m Lucy Sinclair right now and not Katya Romanova or I would have knocked him on his ass.
Despite my attitude, however, I can’t deny I’m flustered from the interaction.
But it’s not stemming from fear, only a curiosity I’ve never had the opportunity to investigate because no one has made me feel as alive as I had with him.
For a single second, I questioned what would happen next.
I couldn’t read him like I usually do with other people, and it left me feeling excited… and pissed off.
Doing as Rafael told me, I place my fingers against the pad and it lights up green then unlocks, letting me into what will be my new home.
My belongings sit in the middle of the room and before I begin unpacking, I double check the locks on the French doors leading to a balcony and the two windows on either side of it.
A cell phone on the nightstand catches my eye, probably due to the neon yellow note sticking to it.
For the new doc.
It has everything you’ll need.
I wad up the note in my fist as I do a subtle, yet quick scan for cameras or audio devices but don’t see any.
Once I’m confident all my entry points are secure and I’m not being watched, I let myself take in the room.
It’s painted off-white with wainscotting and ornate crown molding.
The king-sized bed is blanketed by a burgundy duvet and sable brown leather accent chairs sit across from it.
I open another door, leading to a walk-in closet with way too much room in it. Through the closet, a door at the back reveals a lavish bathroom complete with a waterfall shower and claw foot tub. The cream colors accented by gold fixtures welcome me unlike my sterile, cold bathroom at home.
I don’t know who designed this space, but it clearly has a woman’s touch.
When I go back to the room, I heave my suitcase onto the bed and unzip it. My clothes were clearly rifled through, which I predicted would happen. I didn’t pack any weapons but was sure to throw in a giant dildo for shits and giggles. I hope whoever did the little search enjoyed my surprise.
But now all I have with me to take out the two most dangerous men I’ve encountered are the two blades strapped to my thighs.
I’m a bit surprised Rafael granted my request for private, secure quarters. With his reported untrusting nature, and Enzo’s lack of boundaries, I assumed I’d be shit out of luck.
Just as I finish unpacking, and right at four on the dot, a knock draws my attention to the door.
When I open it, I find a red-haired woman, no older than me, dressed in a deep purple dress and heels.
She’s stunning but the bruises covering her skin could rival my own.
The ones around her bicep resemble fingers and the shiner to her left cheekbone makes my murderous hands twitchy.
“You must be Nova,” I say with a grin then immediately drop it and clear my throat thinking maybe my smile came off as more psycho than welcoming.
“Yes, Rafael sent me to give you a tour and help you settle in.” Her sweet, upbeat aura surprises me. “Shall we get started?” she asks as she not so subtly peers over my shoulder to try and spy.
What is it she thinks she’ll find?