Chapter 11 #2
It shouldn’t. She is not ours anymore. I don’t want her. Liar.
“You,” I snap, gaining the bartender’s attention. “The drinks you made were shit.”
Alyona’s head whips around at the sound of my voice and she gapes at me as though she doesn’t expect to see me. You can’t get rid of us that easily, krasotka. Gorgeous.
“I’m sorry,” the bartender says with a frown. “If you’d like something else, I can make you something.”
“Give them the Rainbow Vodka, Mazza,” Alyona says, sidling up next to me.
“I know you bought this place. I didn’t plan on coming here tonight.
” Her eyebrows furl together as she darts her eyes back to the table of men she's with. Then, she leans forward, and like the sucker I am, I dip my gaze to her cleavage that I know from fucking experience tastes like heaven. “It just happens to be our favorite club. I don’t want trouble.” She seems to question her own words, her eyes squeezing shut and her head shaking. “You know what I mean.”
“Sadly, I don’t, and trouble should be your middle name...” I trail off as my eyes skim up her purple throat that’s obviously been covered with makeup. When my eyes land on hers, I cock my head to really inspect her. “What happened to your face?”
Her eyes turn wild and she snaps, “Nothing.”
With that strange reply, she hurries away from me.
When she busies herself with a man back at her table, I push past several people until I make it over to her.
Fire blazes in her blue eyes. Panic. Fear.
The same fire when we would spar both inside and out of the bedroom.
My fucking dick remembers too and thickens.
“What happened to your face?” I demand, repeating myself and wanting an actual answer this time. Not whatever bullshit lies she thinks will satisfy me.
She scowls and begins blinking rapidly.
“Who the fuck are you?” the man she’s clearly with, snaps, grabbing her wrist and tugging her into his lap.
“An old friend,” I say calmly, slowly dragging my gaze from her to him.
He’s dressed well and carries an air of authority, but there’s a flash of insecurity shining in his eyes. It makes me want to pull out my pocket knife and dig the insecurity out so I can inspect it closely.
“He’s a friend of Tanner’s,” she corrects, running a pacifying hand down the man’s chest.
Yeah, he’s really fucking insecure.
“She fell and hit her face in the shower,” the insecure little scrotum announces, making Alyona stiffen in his lap. “Legs got too weak after I made her come over and over and over again.”
Anyone who has to proclaim they can get their woman off is most certainly unable to get their woman off. Poor horny Alyona must hate that shit. Again, why did she leave us? And replaced us with this piece of shit?
“Wait, I know you,” a man to their right, who looks similar to the one pawing at Alyona, states as he sits up to inspect me. His gaze lingers on my scar for a beat. “You’re one of the twins who are buying this club.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement.
And he doesn’t fucking know me.
“Zahkar Vetrov,” I confirm and offer a hand for him to shake. I know who the important people are just from looking at them and this guy is higher up the food chain than the insecure one.
“Adam. Adam Cunningham.”
“Pleasure.” I smile pleasantly, feeling anything but fucking pleasant. There’s a tension thickening around us. A lion wandering into another lion’s pride.
One Mississippi…
Adam snaps his fingers and a waitress appears like magic. I track her with my eyes as she fumbles with an iPad to take drink orders.
“Send a bottle of champagne over to Mr. Vetrov’s table,” Adam instructs, raking his eyes over my body and then nods his head. “A welcome celebration.”
I already don’t like this asshole or the fact he knew who I was before I introduced myself. That dislike only intensifies when his gaze lingers on Alyona as she bends to retrieve a fresh drink from the table. He stares at her tits for too long with no shame.
“I don’t want the cheap shit,” I growl to the waitress, shoving a hundred-dollar bill down her cleavage. “Thank you, sweetness.” I add on that last part because I don’t want to take out my aggression on an innocent woman. Not when there are so many more appealing targets I could aim it at.
Alyona glowers at me.
Like her.
I smirk. “I’ll be seeing you around, trouble.”
Her face blanches and the man’s possessive grip tightens on her hip.
I turn and make my way back to my table, ignoring the advances of a couple of drunk women, and sit across from my brother. A bottle of our Rainbow Vodka sits on the table beside two glasses. He snags one up and sips it.
“Much better. They should offer this before anything else, not send it as an apology when they fuck up.” He takes another sip and then shoves my glass toward me. “Where were you, anyway?”
I rub at the back of my neck and cut my eyes to him. “She has bruises.”
His jaw clenches. “Who?”
He knows who. She’s the only person here who I’d care enough to bring it up to him.
“Alyona,” I say anyway before chugging the perfect vodka down. “She’s here with someone.”
I don’t need to look at my brother to know he’s sitting ramrod straight in his seat.
“She’s a kinky bitch.” He plays it off but there’s a tone in his voice that gives him away. He’s angry. Violence simmers just below his skin. I wonder if I dragged my finger along his flesh if I would be able to feel the heat of it.
“Handprints on her neck and a black eye. Even the makeup couldn’t fully cover it up.” My hand fists with the urge to punch someone in the fucking face. “She’s not that kinky, brother.”
He whips his head around the club until he finds their table, his green eyes locked on her like a lion on a gazelle.
“She’s not the type to receive a beating and you know it.
Alyona was trained by motherfucking Vas Volkov and us.
” He turns my way and his nostrils flare.
“You think she’s fighting? Underground?”
She has the lithe, muscled body of a fighter, but those bruises don’t scream an injury from sparring. They’re something else.
“I’m not sure,” I grumble, hating how much she’s getting under my skin when I had every hope of forgetting her.
We brood in silence as our waitress keeps our drinks coming for the next couple of hours.
The crowd grows larger with the DJ they’ve hired doing a great job at keeping everyone dancing.
Everyone but us of course. As soon as Alyona prances past, Rodion darts out of the booth after her.
She lets out a shriek when he hooks his arm around her waist and hauls her back to where we’re sitting.
He manhandles her into the booth and sits down, blocking her in.
I slide around until I’m directly on her other side.
She’s trapped.
“What do you want?” she demands, her voice harsh and angry. “Jeremiah will lose his mind if he sees me with you.”
Mr. Insecure has a name.
“Us…” I drawl out, arching an eyebrow. “Why?”
She huffs and shoots me a scathing glare. “Because you made it clear we fucking know each other, Z. He’s not stupid.”
So?
Was he jealous?
“Answer some fucking questions and we’ll let you go back to him,” Rodion grinds out. “Don’t bullshit us. You know we can see through it.”
She squirms between us, clearly frustrated with her predicament. Join the damn club. I’m not happy we have to have this conversation either.
“Who gave you the bruises?” I demand, cutting to the point. “Was it him?”
She narrows her eyes at me, wickedness gleaming in them. “Jeremiah? Yeah. He’s my boyfriend. We’re into some freaky shit.” The deceitful little tease licks her lips and looks away.
“We didn’t fuck you up. Is that why you left without so much as a goodbye?” Rodion snarls, his eyes ablaze with fury.
She leans closer to me, sensing his impending meltdown. Since when does she cower from Rodion? Out of habit, I clutch her bare thigh to comfort her.
“Ouch,” she yelps out, her hand flying to mine.
Rodion reaches beneath the table to grip her wrist and pull it away.
My hand slides down to reveal a nasty teeth-print bruise on her thigh.
Rodion’s eyes lock with mine and hate burns in his stare.
Hate for whoever did this to her. Even after all the shit she put us through…
even now…he still wants to protect her. I know the feeling.
That bite isn’t from being kinky.
We don’t shy away from leaving marks on our lovers’ skin. But they’re seductive impressions to show ownership. However, the bruise on her skin is different. It’s a sadistic mark of punishment, spiteful and cruel, meant to cause pain, not pleasure.
“So you left us to come find some pathetic little cockroach who likes to knock you around?” I demand, unable to reel back my disgust. “Make it make sense, krasotka.” Gorgeous.
“It’s not like that.”
“Why’d you leave?” Rodion bites out, bitterness in his tone. “Why’d you leave us, dammit?”
The waves of tension between the three of us are brewing into an awful storm. Catastrophe is coming. I can feel it. Complete and utter destruction.
“Because I had to,” she cries out in frustration, voice wobbling with emotion. “Because there was no other way. That world would have destroyed us and you know it.”
Rodion and I exchange confused looks.
“What world?”
“Your world,” she chokes, hastily swiping away a tear.
“Alyona,” I rumble. The pain inside my chest makes it hard to breathe.
“I have to go,” she hisses, voice shrill. “Please, I beg of you, just leave me alone.”
Rodion reluctantly slides out of the booth to free her. My thumb swipes across her bare thigh, drawing her gaze to me. I greedily stare at her plump lips before meeting her stare.
“We’re not done discussing this, liybimaya.” My love. “There’s more to this story. There has to be.” I pull a box of matches from my pocket that I took from the lobby of our hotel and shove it into her hand. “You know where to find us when you want to talk.”
She blinks back sudden tears and I see a flash of the vulnerable girl I gave half my heart to years ago. “Goodbye, Z.”
Ahhh, but this is hello again, Alyona.