Chapter 17 #3
“So leave me the fuck alone, Artem, because from the second I touched those piano keys and you weren’t there, I realized I have no obligation to you. That the two of us do not exist and never will. Instead, I am engaged to a man who, even though he couldn’t be there physically,
still managed to make me feel I wasn’t alone. That he was with me. That is what I need. Not a man who wants me only so he can sleep with me until he gets bored, then go to a club looking for whores!”
I don’t even realize tears are sliding down my cheeks while the words keep pouring out like an avalanche.
“I came to London to escape from Bratva and people like you. That is exactly why, in ten days, I am going to marry someone who will keep me away from this rotten world I no longer want. Starting with you.”
But the bastard starts laughing, and the next second, he gently grabs me by the throat and pulls me back in front of him.
“You really think that is what will happen? A wedding and a life far away from the mafia?”
My bags fall to the floor, and with my hands free, I try to hit him in the chest and arms. He doesn’t let me go, and I don’t have enough space to land a strong blow, but one of them makes pain twist across his face, wiping away his arrogant grin.
“You are wrong on both counts, dusha moya,” he breathes over my lips. “That wedding will happen, but you will marry me, while your dress will be stained with the blood of your current fiance. Do you understand?”
“You’re crazy...”
“About you, yes.”
He presses his mouth to mine so hard I feel as if the brutality of it might draw blood.
Then he releases me, making me sway on my own legs, which have nearly turned to jelly.
Fuck.
I recover immediately.
“I hate you,” I say in one breath, furious.
“I hate you too. But I love you more.”
His words make no sense.
“Stay,” he asks, but this time his voice is a little softer, and I can feel my heart breaking again.
“It’s too late,” I manage to say with a coldness that visibly trembles.
“Stay, Katya...”
My God…
He destroys my soul with the way he whispers these words, as if he is begging me.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he stayed at that club instead of coming to me.
How many times would I live through situations like this if I chose to stay with him?
Too many. And I don’t want the life I saw my mother have.
So often she cried, worried, when my father had a meeting that could end tragically, or with pain when she suspected he was with another woman.
All because she could not trust him.
Just as I feel I can no longer trust the man standing in front of me.
“Not with you, Artem,” I say with pain in my voice, shaking my head, fresh tears filling my eyes that can barely look at him anymore.
His face hardens, and this time, I tiredly pick up my bags from the floor and walk past him.
He doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t even move, but I hear some sounds slipping through his lips, spoken with dangerous calm.
“Ten. Nine...”
I walk away and ignore him. I have no idea what countdown he is doing, because I hurry toward Oksana’s car, where she is still behind the wheel.
Around her are three large black Land Rover Sports, identical to the one Dimitri drives every time.
Beside one of them, Yaroslav and Sasha are waiting, but their eyes immediately fix on me. The latter is smoking, his face serious, just like the man beside him.
For one second, I think it would be polite to go to them and say goodbye, but Artem’s countdown still echoes in my head, making my heart beat faster. I have less than ten seconds to get into the car, so I only greet the two of them with a discreet nod.
I open the back door, throw my bags inside, and after slamming it shut, turn to get into the front seat beside Oksana.
Except I collide with a lean body.
“Zero,” he whispers as one hand grips the back of my neck and the other circles my waist.
And he kisses me.
No.
He doesn’t kiss me.
He devours me.
He steals the air from my chest and commands me to submit through the tongue that conquers every resistance I try to raise.
I can’t fight him, even if I want to. I shove my palms against his chest, and when my fist lands, it draws a pained grunt from him.
It does ‘t make him stop.
He presses my back against the car, pinning me with his powerful body.
I am soft.
And broken.
Maybe I am weak, but through the tears spilling from the corners of my eyes, I surrender and let him kiss me. Maybe I no longer touch him with my hands and no longer have the energy to hit him, but he feels it too, the absence of the passion that was there before.
I am numb.
And crying.
His lips move to my cheeks and gather my tears, whispering softly, but threateningly. “Cancel the wedding, dusha moya. You have ten days to come back, or I will come after you. And don’t you fucking dare let him touch you, because at our wedding, you will sign with his blood.”
My heart is pounding hard in my chest, completely lost in his gray and brown eyes, which show me the seriousness of his words. But my soul hurts too much because I am convinced that his madness is trying to drag me into a dangerous game where I will lose everything.
And not only financially.
“Stay away from me, Voron,” I ask with tearfilled eyes, pushing him again with my palms.
This time, he moves out of my way, and I have the chance to get into the car, beside my friend who is staring at me in shock.
“Drive,” I tell her firmly, fastening my seat belt and looking straight ahead.
“I can’t,” she says. “I’m flanked by these tanks, can’t you see?”
I clench my teeth and curse loudly in every language I speak fluently. Then I lower the window slightly toward Artem, who has meanwhile lit a cigarette and is taking a calm drag from it, looking like a man with not a single worry in the world.
“Let me leave, or I’ll get behind the wheel myself and I guarantee I’ll make my own way out.”
“I believe you capable of it,” he says, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“Then tell them to move.”
“They will not move, dusha moya. These cars will always be near you, for protection.”
With wide eyes, I look at the three terrifyingly dark vehicles.
“I don’t need them!”
“Yes, you do. And you better don’t give them any trouble, or I will come to personally take care of you.”
He takes a step closer, until his face is a breath away from mine.
“I will come anyway, but I have something to solve in the next few days. Be a good girl and don’t make me kill more people than I’m already planning to.”
Then he looks at Oksana, and his expression turns cold.
“If you are truly her friend, make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid and that she doesn’t run from security. You are both in danger,” he informs us without allowing any room for reply, then takes a step back.
As if on command, the cars begin to move.
One in front, two behind, but when we approach the large gate leading to the main road, another identical car joins the first. One of them completely blocks the road, makeing room for us to exit, and then, flanked by cars, we head toward Oksana’s house.
My friend still seems to be in shock.
I expect her to scream, have a breakdown, or start crying, frightened by all the madness I have dragged her into too.
But her reaction is something else.
“Girl! He’s obsessed with you,” she exclaims, hearts in her eyes and enthusiasm in her voice. “This whole thing with the cars is so romantic!”
I’m staring at her as if she has grown another head.
“Are you serious?”
“YES! Ohmygod, if I found a man who can speak to me like that and kiss me the way Pakhan kissed you... I would give up my entire handbag collection for a man like that.”
And I should mention she has an impressive collection of handbags worth more than many would imagine.
If she is considering that kind of option, something tells me I have lost my ally.
“Don’t tell me you’re taking his side after you saw that picture too, and after he chose that club instead of coming to my recital.”
Her enthusiasm slowly fades, and her face twists slightly. “You’re right. He’s a bastard. But he’s a very sexy bastard who, after some torture, deserves forgiveness.”
“Not from me.”
Her eyes linger on me for a moment, then back at the road, more serious than before. “He won’t let you marry Oliver.”
“He has no choice.”
“Katya… We’re talking about the most intelligent Pakhan the Bratva has had in the last twenty years. Everyone knows his madness is built on a terrifying intelligence, which is exactly why so many people prefer not to stand in his way. He’ll find a solution to get what he wants, which is you.”
She speaks as if she is truly convinced of this scenario.
“He won’t,” I say, holding on to my own certainty. “There is only one man in this world he listens to, and I already spoke to him.”
“His father.”
“Yes.”
She looks ahead at the road, and I do the same. But after a few seconds of silence, my friend adds. “There comes a moment in life when the son can surpass the power of his mentor. And I’m afraid Voron has already done that.”
“Then why does he still listen to his father? He did when he agreed to let me move into his house, and now he got a call from the Vor telling him to let me leave.”
She shrugs.
“Maybe out of respect. But one thing is certain, Katya. He will fight anyone for you. Even his father.”
Her words give me something to think about, but among them, one single word, spoken far too often in recent days by Sasha, returns to my mind.
War.
“Is that blood?” she suddenly says, starting to examine me with a hand reaching toward me.
“Where?” I ask when her voice jolts me from my thoughts.
“On your hand.”
I immediately examine my hands and discover that along the outer edge of my left palm, I am smeared with something red, something that looks very much like dried blood.
I didn’t cut myself or anything like that, and at once, I realize where the stain came from.
“It isn’t mine,” I say quietly, seized by a worry I should not still feel. “It’s his.”