Chapter 4 #3
A deep rumble left his throat. “Always so caring, kotyonok.”
“You know me. I might want you gone but not dead.” A petty smile drew on my lips, displaying my deepest true sentiments. Being a bitch is who I was at the core, but I was a bitch with a heart. So poor causes made my chest ache.
Out of nowhere, a gray silver pigeon came to the window, tapping its beak repeatedly to the point it felt like it was going to break, so I took a step forward when Konstantin straightened his arm out in front of me, preventing me from doing so. “What?”
“I’ll check it.” His order was devoid of emotion as he approached the glass. Raising the window still, the bird stopped, just waiting on standby. Noticing it had a small leather chain attached around his neck, carrying something.
“It’s a messenger bird.” I said mindlessly.
Konstantin grunted, meticulously taking the small rolled piece of paper from the bird. He then lifted a finger and ran it gently over the head of the pigeon as it cooed before taking its leave, becoming one with the leaves, and returning home.
He returned his attention to the note, unfolding it as his eyes scanned the letter. His gaze hardened, and his features became detached, like he didn’t like the news he received.
Treading lightly, I asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh come on,” My hands went up in the air. “Way to be hypocritical.”
“It’s better for your sake that you don’t know.”
“Stop trying to protect me, Konstantin. I am literally in the safest place in the world. No damn criminal would even think of coming to a secluded little town off the Mediterranean Coast in Italy! If you want this partnership to work, you have to trust me.”
A tick sowed through his jaw, like he hated the position I put him in.
“Aleskandra Reina De La Rossa.” Her name ripped from his lips like a heavy curse.
“Who is she?”
“You don't want to know, kotyonok.”
“Really? I’m already two feet in this shit—” I caught myself, holding my tongue as I resorted to using another word. “I’m already your accomplice. If this thing goes south, there is no saving grace, so spill.”
His eyes glanced back into mine, holding for a moment, letting it linger for a reflective second. Something akin to my ribs beating faster as a sigh fled his lips. “Queen of the underworld.”
“The underworld?” I mouthed, my brows furrowed. “What is that, some kinky BDSM club or secret society?”
“And how do you know what BDSM is?”
Flashing heat burned in my cheeks, reminiscing of the times where I was in a red velvet room filled with toys as I stripped naked as my dom put my collar on me and asked me to come and be a “good girl” as I knelt before him, kissing around the frame of his erection and began sucking on his—
I blinked rapidly, snapping myself out of that lustful deprivation. “It was something I heard about before. I don’t know.”
“Right.”
“Seriously, what is it?”
He deadpanned, not entertaining my absurdity.
“It’s not an it. It’s organized crime. The mafia.
Dirty politicians. Tycoon titan billionaires controlling things behind the scene.
Secret societies hidden from the world. Behind that thin veil, she— Aleksandra Reina De La Rossa— is the queen of the underworld.
More specifically, she is the underworld. ”
A cord wrapped around my throat, uneasiness spilling into my stomach.
The severity of the case increased; only then did I realize the true danger.
“Wait. Why would she be writing to you unless…” My words trailed off, not daring to jump to conclusions and assumptions.
After all, assumptions got you killed. So I asked another critical question. “Who exactly are you, Konstantin?”
He tilted his head, his movement almost animalistic, predatory in a sense, like if I would make a wrong move, he would snap my neck. “I told you before, kotyonok, we’re not common criminals. We’re far worse.”
My heart beat faster, ringing in my ears.
The sense of pending doom lingered close by.
“Who are you?” I repeated, not able to feel peace again until he answered.
One cold empty smile lined his lips. “I have no name, Ya Bratva. We Bratva.” The coldness in his words made shivers break out against my skin. “Konstantin Volkov, at your service, tormentor and former consigliere of the Bratva.”
The damned oath reminded me of a past formed not too long ago.
One I wished I could redo so it never existed.
My mind faded to a busy city night in Medellín, Colombia, almost three years ago.
Mindlessly slipping on my cholado— a cocktail mixed with fruit punch, condensed milk, ice, and more fruit— a popular drink in the city of Medellin in a new hotspot in downtown.
The locals had recommended it after I had challenged some other locals and slammed down three shots of their famous Aguaridente, and the drink had little effect on me, so to take precaution, I decided to switch to a soft drink so I wouldn’t get shitfaced.
It had been a few months since I started backpacking the world.
My older brother, Sean, had insisted on taking a break to scour the world, see the different cultures, enjoy the people, and then when I was done and ready to come and be an actual adult to contribute to our family’s multibillion-dollar enterprise.
To be honest, I was never committed to anything.
Mostly a floater, I never knew my purpose. I only did what I felt like doing.
Which was why I was here at the Loco Moka, sitting at the bar in a gorgeous tight red McQueen dress and red bottom heels, hair spilling over my shoulders, trying to figure out my next adventure, at least for the night. My eyes searched for all newcomers who walked through the door.
The club, itself, was decorated with the bar on the far right end, the main floor in the middle, and the exclusive sitting areas surrounding the rest of the place.
A blue hue illuminated the large area as it set the mood.
Classic salsa music from the 80s and 90s blasted from the live band as the women drew their men onto the dance floor, and they moved in sync, their bodies shifting and grinding on one another so intimately and sensually.
No one shied away from the instinct of attraction, and everyone embraced life.
It was so beautiful. To see everyone ripped away from their phones and in tuned with each other. From the youngest child to the oldest elder, this way of life was much more appealing to the heart than the busy life of New York City.
Ah, if only it could stay like this forever.
Too bad, happy ever after only exists in movies or books.
Sudden, a whistle snapped me out of my thoughts as a man approached me from behind.
“?Oye, gringa! Vamos a bailar.” Let's go dance.
“No bailo.” I lied; I'm just not feeling up to par.
He pouted as another curvy brunette took him away as she quickly seduced him onto the floor. I shrugged it off.
Maybe tonight wasn’t my night.
“Well, it’s been fun, but let’s go,” I murmured to myself.
Turning around to ask the waitress for the bill, loud gasps filled the air, the music became quieter as the sound of multiple footsteps lingered near.
I sighed, talking to the waitress. “Ay, gracias a dios que ya me voy, parece que se va armar.”
The dark-haired waitress, who appeared to be in her late thirties and was all chatter the whole night, wearing a casual orange halter top with mini jean shorts, suddenly became quiet. Her mouth became a straight line as her eyes widened with terror.
“?Que paso?” I asked, worried for her.
“?Vete, nina! ?Vete, ahora!” She shooed me away, rudely.
“?Y la cuenta?” And the bill?
“?Largate, perra!” Leave, bitch.
I was taken aback. Fine, if that’s what she thought. I wasn’t going to beg to stay where I wasn’t wanted. Filled with indignation, I snatched my bag from the counter, jumped off the stool, and stomped in the direction of the door. Opening my clutch to make sure I had my keys so I could get home.
Unexpectedly, I bumped into something hard and strong. My clutch dropped to the ground, and my belongings scattered everywhere, rolling over to the tip of his Oxford shoes.
Just my luck!
Wait, Oxford? Those cost a pretty penny.
For such a fancy guy, he sure was blind.
“Ah, watch where you’re going!” I kneeled down, without looking at the culprit, reaching out my hands and quickly picking up my lipstick, cards, and other belongings. All eyes were attached to me like I was the center of attention.
“I’m sorry, munenca didn’t see you there.” His voice was deliciously dark and carried a light accent, native to the locals.
“Yeah, yeah,” a sigh fled my lips. “Don’t worry about it.”
Quickly recovering my things so the embarrassment wouldn’t last, I realized I was missing one last thing when the floor shifted, and then I noticed a tattooed hand with an eagle, holding my favorite Mac lipstick: Velvet Teddy.
My gaze looked up, wondering about this dark stranger, meeting those dark, craving-whiskey eyes. Everything else followed. Bronze skin, curly brown hair down to the nape of his neck, and his broad shoulders fitted in a black suit. He was lethal sensuality and danger in the form of a man.
Slowly I reached my hand out and took the lipstick from him; our fingers brushed, and an electric magnetism passed through us.
He helped me to my feet, still towering at least a foot over me. “You’re forgiven, but don’t do it again.” I slyly flirted.
“What’s your name?”
“Blair.”
“Blair,” he repeated, savoring my name with his tongue. “What are you doing here?”
“Just leaving.”
“Don’t.”
A sarcastic chuckle passed my lips. “I’m not sure I should.”
“Please, stay.”
“Who are you?” I bit my red-painted lip, purposely refocusing his attention as molten heat ran through my body, blurring every rational thought.
Knowing this could only lead to disaster.
Destruction. Devastation.
He takes my hand and places his lips on it. “Marcello Castillo at your service, munenca.”
“Ah,” blush tainted my cheeks as I played this cat-and-mouse game. “And what do you do, Mr. Castillo?”
“Yo soy todo, and todo me pertenece.” I am everything, and everything belongs to me.
He smiled so charmingly, never letting go of my hand that night.
And just like a devil dressed in a gentleman’s suit, he stirred me into a web of lies and trapped me there. There inside the citadel and the Cartel walls.
Until there was no running away.
I blinked, my vision falling into Konstantin’s midnight blue, and the darkness of danger flashed through them.
It felt like deja vu.
The room became small, everything caving in like a cage holding me prisoner as my knees could no longer support me and I caved.
And it felt like the world was coming crashing down.
“Blair!” Konstantin’s strained yell was too close to stray from. Heat brushed against my cheeks when I realized his strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me up, close to his chest.
This man was everything I had run away from. Everything wrong for me. The nightmare that followed me.
Yet why did he feel so safe?
My throat went dry as I gathered some strength to speak. “Why does she want to speak to you?”
His features softened for a second as he glanced down at me. “I don’t know.”
I sighed, hating to leave destiny to the unknown. Hating myself for falling for the same lie. Hating myself for not changing.
My arms pushed against him roughly, wanting to get away from him.
He gripped me. “I swear I’m telling you the truth, kotyonok. I’ve been imprisoned for five years. At this point I have nothing left, so for her to come and offer me this opportunity was pure temptation and bait, but I don’t know what I can give her. There is nothing I can offer her.”
“Are you certain? No betrayed business partners? No unpaid debts?”
“I’ve paid my debts by rotting away in that damn cell. I gave up everything. I have nothing left to give.”
My chest cinched, seeing only the surface of sacrifice and pain lay over his eyes. “Alright, I believe you.”
Kon sardonically let out a chuckle. “You sure as hell don’t look at it.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I just… a lot of people have hurt me… or the ones I’ve loved, and I can’t bear the thought of—” My voice choked, and saltiness burned in the back of my eyes.
“I won’t hurt you.”
Somehow, I knew he was being truthful. “I know.”
His touch softened as his fingers let go of my arms, leaving behind its residue. He walked over to the window. “Once I get out of here, I’ll kill those who hurt you. Believe in that, Blair.”
There was no doubt in his words. No hesitation.
As easily as he could take a life, he could restore justice to many who were scared to seek their own.
He may not be half as bad as I thought.