Chapter 18 Katya
Three days pass at an agonizingly slow pace after the ordeal with Enzo and of course he’s been MIA along with Rafael. Nova told me the twins are handling some things, and I’ve felt an uncomfortable rage at Enzo for going off and doing stupid shit while healing from a literal stab wound.
Ilya would be on lockdown if he’d been in that position but the idiot I’m caring for currently seems to have no regard for his life.
He probably needed a blood transfusion or something more than a shoddy patch job, but the stubborn ass wouldn’t stay longer than two seconds after I mentioned Victoria.
Possibly—definitely—a wrong move on my part.
Note to self, don’t mention the dead mother until after you’ve finished repairing the shishkabob.
Luckily, I’ve been at the Angel House often, keeping my mind distracted, and when not there spending time with the Angels and checking on their injuries, I’ve been planning how I’m going to take on two of the most notorious and ruthless men in North America.
I’ve decided I need to do it simultaneously.
I’ll be beaten down and exhausted if I have to take one on and then try and fight the next.
I’d never survive. I’ll have to take them on at the same time.
If I can get them into a vulnerable position, possibly sleeping in the same room…
that would be the easiest course of action.
But I have yet to learn if it’s possible.
If I can get them to care about me, I can use it to my advantage.
A bit of a bitch move and not usually my style, but they aren’t my usual targets. This assignment might be a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants job, which I absolutely hate but I’ll do what I need to. Even if I come back barely alive, I have to return home.
I have to survive long enough to take Alexey out. It’s the only thing that’s kept me going this long.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, distracting me from the careful plans I was constructing, and I’m shocked to see it’s from the man who’s been ignoring me the last three days.
Enzo | Hi, baby. You in your office?
Don’t call me that. Have you ever heard of sepsis? You should have been checking in with me over the last three days, asshole. | Me
My fingers grip the phone to the point my joints ache and the ringing in my ear intensifies with the silence in the room now that I’ve turned off the music I usually have playing while I plan murder.
Enzo | It would take more than sepsis to take me out, baby. I needed some time to contemplate how to handle a certain situation.
Does it always take you three days to contemplate? | Me
Enzo | Nah, that’s Raf’s thing. I’m usually a go get her kind of guy.
It’s “go getter” | Me
Enzo | I said what I said.
I shake my head with an unwelcomed smile when I exit my office to find Enzo sauntering down the hall, cool as a cucumber, pocketing his phone.
His cocky smirk and undeniable swagger makes my heart do a little flip.
I internally bitch slap the useless organ, but she bounces back quickly when I take in Enzo’s dark ensemble.
Dressed in his black slacks and a dark knit sweater, his thick gold chain dangles at the perfect height over his collar bones and his hair is tied back in a loose knot.
He’s gorgeous and unfortunately, he knows it.
God truly is unfair sometimes. Why did he have to stick me in a house with not only this man strutting toward me but also his twin brother?
Twin.
As in identical.
It’s probably against some code to sleep with your employer, probably against a lot of fucking codes to sleep with one of the men you were sent to murder. In fact, might as well screw some horns into my skull and drown me in holy water because not only do I want one of them, I want both.
Wanting to fuck two brothers…be shared by them, that sure as hell goes against some kind of code. Probably a moral one, maybe a divine one too but I’ve already purchased my ticket to hell.
God, what a generous fuck you it would be to the man who tortured me all my life.
His own sister left him because she fell in love with an Alessi, not that I’m out here falling in love but the idea of giving Enzo my virginity…
after years of Alexey using it to threaten me, telling me he’ll sell me off to the highest bidder bullshit if I step out of line, making it seem like all I’m worth is the price of my hymen, to then give it to one of the men he despises most in this world.
And if I’m tapping into my vulnerable side, I have to admit Enzo is the only man I can imagine taking that piece of me. He matches me in the way a burning forest fire matches a tsunami. Both destructive and out of control, but opposite in their foundations.
But am I heartless enough to use Enzo?
Yes.
He’s no different.
Enzo steps close, his presence looming over me. His gaze runs over me like fingertips trailing featherlight caresses over my skin. The eye contact this man makes sends chills up my spine. I’m not entirely sure if it’s from fear or arousal, however, and that’s the dangerous part.
“Hello, Little Doc.”
I reach out to his abdomen, but stop myself before I make contact. “How are you feeling?”
His head careens to the side, a lazy grin lighting his face as his fingertips come up and brush a piece of hair behind my ear. “Worried about me, baby?”
“Worried you’ll tear a stitch, and I’ll have to drug your ass again, sure,” I say snarkily and he chuckles.
“Yeah, that won’t be happening again. Come on, you can admit it…” He leans in, crushing me against my office door as his breath tickles the hair behind my ear. He places the gentlest of kisses to that sensitive area. “You care about me.”
“I—” He pulls back, a gleam in his eye telling me he knows exactly where he has me. “I know my life was threatened if I didn’t save you and I care about myself.”
“You are such a bullshit liar.” He pulls away, his hands settling on my hips.
“And you haven’t called me the last three nights.” God, I sound like a needy bitch…
His face shifts, clearly not realizing I noticed or cared. But I did, and I would deny it if asked outright, but I missed his late night calls. Like a balm over my mind, I slept better knowing he was there with me in some way.
“You drugged me.” Despite the ire in his statement, he pull my hips forward, pressing me into him further as if he were trying to meld our bodies into one.
I slap his chest. “I was trying to save your life!”
“I’ll forgive you on one condition.”
“You’ll forgive me?!” I practically shriek as he bites his bottom lip, clearly amused with himself. God, this man is a migraine personified!
He kneels slightly, brushing his fingers over my jaw. I would bet my life one of Enzo Alessi’s love languages is physical touch, the man can’t seem to keep his hands off me and I’m not sure if he’s like this with everyone, but my ego is going to tell me it’s just me.
“Play a game with me.”
It’s not a question, but a command. Still, I answer it like one. Pushing my fingers into his shoulder, I force him off balance and he steps back. “No.”
He’s back, pushing into me, having a two-millisecond rebound rate. “I’m not ashamed to beg, baby. Pretty, pretty please.”
All I want to do is play with him. In more ways than one but I know in any game I begin with these men, it will be me losing and begging for more.
What’s the worst thing that could happen?
“Fine,” I concede, and a saccharine grin replaces the little pout across his lips.
“Follow me.” Turning, he walks slowly, waiting for me to follow and I do. “Do you like knives, Little Doc?”
Love them. “I…don’t mess with them much,” I reply, catching up to his side.
When I do, he interlocks our fingers, and I get the sense not so deep down, Enzo’s a bit of a romantic. “Have you ever held one? Thrown one?”
Yes. Yes. “Huh… No. Well, held one, yes. I mean, I cook with them. But no, I’ve never thrown one.”
“Are you not a doctor?”
“What?” My steps halt and Enzo mimics me.
“Do you not use scalpels as a doctor? Surely you should be comfortable holding a blade to some degree?”
“Oh. Y-yes,” I stutter, realizing my mistake. “I assumed you meant throwing knives. I know how to handle a scalpel, although I imagine it’s much different than whatever you’re thinking.”
I surprise even myself with how seamlessly the lie slipped from my lips. Enzo leads me to the elevator, then down to the level below the ground.
When the elevator doors open, they reveal a large room with a wall full of weapons, practice dummies, a boxing ring, gym mats, weight equipment, and a shooting range.
It’s like my wet dream down here. The smell of the canvas, the saltiness of the sweat that’s leaked into the pores of this place, the cold air brushing against my skin from the AC vents, it’s like a home away from home.
Boxing rings and practice mats are where I find solace, where I can release all the anger coiled up inside me, striking down anyone who nears me.
A shiver of excitement runs up my spine.
I need to bounce on the canvas, bloody my knuckles and feel the cleansing pain that can only come through that specific type of release.
“Like what you see?”
Hesitating for a moment, I try to describe exactly what I’m feeling, but I couldn’t find the words even if Enzo knew who I was. “It’s…dangerous.”
His devilish smirk captures my full attention.
“I’ll show you how fun danger can be.”
With our fingers still interlaced, he pulls me toward the shooting range. Three tables are lined up with three bullseye dummies set ten feet away. Two sets of stainless-steel throwing knives, three each, sit atop the table.
It feels as if it’s been years since I’ve held one.
Even though I was able to sneak my twin blades in, I’m itching for the chance to throw one.
My fingers reach down and run along the cold steel, a wicked desire to pierce my own skin and watch the blood glisten on the silver blade almost overwhelms me.