Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Xeniya Morozova
We were back at Zeta—Severin’s fraternity house—and thank God I could change between the archery range and the frat party, because I would have been miserable in that cotton-candy dress. Instead, I was now in a black strappy dress—much more my style and much more comfortable.
Nikolai and many of his men were also at the Zeta house party.
It turned out Nikolai was Severin’s second cousin, the son of Aleksandr’s cousin, who happened to be the Bratva Pakhan in Chicago.
Nikolai was one of their top brigadiers and negotiated trade deals.
He also had the signature Volkov blond hair that Severin lacked.
And now that I looked at him closely, he did bear a strong resemblance to Mikhail.
Nikolai and Mikhail weren’t that far apart in age, either.
Mikhail was twenty-five, and Niko was twenty-eight.
I spent most of the night talking to him because as soon as I’d gotten to the party with Kaz—he had driven Veronika and me—Severin had glared at me in my tight black dress and left the room.
I had no idea why. So I spent time with my brother, my sister, Kaz, and Niko, who were fairly entertaining.
Veronika openly flirted with Niko, pissing Kaz off to no end.
Who needed TV when you could watch this level of drama play out in person?
“Someone is staring at you,” Niko said.
I blinked at him and took a sip of my vodka. “What?”
“That stereotype of a frat boy in the corner has been staring at you all night.” Niko pointed with his glass.
My gaze tracked to where he had pointed, and I found Chad Holloway leaning against the wall, drinking out of a red Solo cup, his eyes dissecting me like I was a dead body and he was a medical examiner. I suddenly felt the urge to pull my tight skirt down.
How much was it revealing?
I swallowed.
But maybe I should go over and talk to Chad. What could it hurt? He was my study partner, after all. So I did just that.
“Hey, Chad, what are you doing at a Zeta party?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It seemed like a fun idea.” He swayed slightly, his words slurred, and he leaned one shoulder against the wall for support.
I leaned my shoulder against the wall next to him, facing him. “You okay?”
“Of course I am,” he slurred.
I grinned. “Yes, of course you are.” A quiet laugh slipped out. “So how is the party going for you?”
“It’s better now that you’re here.”
My cheeks warmed. I wasn’t used to being flirted with; the Russian boys wouldn’t dare. I was completely off-limits to them.
“It’s hard to hear you over the music.” Chad gestured to the hallway.
I tilted my head toward the music. I guess it was a little loud, but maybe it was worse for him because he was drunk. Chad started walking toward the hallway, then froze. Did he expect me to follow? It was hard to tell from his drunk behavior, but a moment later, he motioned to me to follow him.
I complied because what harm would there be in following a boy into the hallway?
Besides, I didn’t always want to be in my siblings’ line of sight.
They were nosy and overprotective. But as I glanced back, it was clear they weren’t looking at me at all because Kaz and Nika were raising their voices at each other.
I couldn’t make out the words or figure out what was being said, but Ilya was one step away, ready to step in at a moment’s notice if the argument escalated.
I swung the door open and followed Chad into an empty hallway leading to a suite of downstairs rooms.
“Much better,” he said, his gaze roving over my body. “You’re gorgeous, Sienna.”
Warmth spread in my chest. “Thank you.” I twisted my hair between my fingers because I needed something to do with my awkward hands.
He took a couple of steps toward me. “I would really like to fuck you.”
I shuddered and pressed my lips together. I knew teenage boys were sex-driven, but I never thought they would be that direct. Weren’t they supposed to take you out on a date and get to know you first? Or was this the frat culture I had always seen on TV shows?
Was this normal?
Either way, I didn’t really want to lose my virginity to a drunk Chad.
He leaned closer, planted a hand on the wall beside my head, and backed me farther into it. I frowned.
“Come on, babe, don’t you want to fuck me?” he purred, and my eyebrows drew together. Was that supposed to be hot?
I placed a palm on his chest. “Not tonight, Chad.”
“Why?” he asked with a whine. Which was so unattractive.
“Because I’m not ready.” Heat crept up my neck, and I pushed at his chest. He was surprisingly sturdy.
He stepped in closer, stealing all my space. “I can get you ready.” He dropped his Solo cup on the ground, his beer sloshing over our shoes as his hands circled my waist. Goosebumps rose on my arms, and my heart raced in my chest.
I sucked in a burning breath as shock stirred in my stomach. I wasn’t prepared for someone to ignore my no. I froze. I, Xeniya Morozova, Russian mafia warrior, actually froze. I didn’t know what to do or say. Worse, I let him caress my waist as if he owned me.
“No,” I whispered.
One of his hands slid down to my inner thigh, under my dress. “Don’t worry, babe, you’re going to like it.”
Bile rose in my throat. I certainly didn’t like this. I pinched my eyes shut for a moment as his hand traveled farther up my leg, reaching my panties and slipping beneath the fabric. I stiffened and came back to myself.
I caught his wrist, twisted it, and pulled his hand out of my panties. “I said no, Chad.” I really did not want to hurt a governor’s son, but if he didn’t move away soon and leave me alone, I was going to damage his ability to conceive.
“Oh, come on, baby, let me give you an orgasm. I promise you’ll like it.”
“I said no.” I twisted his arm farther, stopping right before I snapped his wrist. He howled in pain, and I took the opportunity to step back.
“Ouch, bitch. That hurt,” he spat.
I crossed my arms. “You deserved it,” I deadpanned, then turned on my heel and walked—nearly ran—away.
I needed to get away from Chad. I felt sick to my stomach and somehow violated, even though almost nothing had happened. He hadn’t even managed to kiss me. So why did I feel so gross and so wrong—like I had done something? Like I deserved it?
I disappeared upstairs to Ilya’s room first. I locked the door, rifled through his drawers, and found the stash of pot I knew he kept in his sock drawer.
Then I opened his window and scaled down the garden lattice.
My dress bunched up to my underwear as I did it, but I didn’t care.
The night was dark, and no one would be expecting someone to scale the wall.
I wasn’t sure why I went through such effort to escape Chad.
It just felt right, deep in my bones. I didn’t want him to bother me.
I didn’t want him to find me. I just wanted to smoke my joint and then search for Severin.
I wasn’t sure why I wanted to find him. Maybe I was trying to outrun the sick feeling Chad had left in my body.
The feeling of being wrong and dirty. And Severin was my anchor. He always managed to steady my ship on storm-battered seas. His unhinged personality gave me stability, which I knew logically made no sense.
And yet it did.
Anytime I had a bad day, got a bad grade, or just felt off, I wanted to be near Severin.
He didn’t even have to say anything to make me feel better.
His mere presence did. But let’s be honest, it was Severin; he would definitely be saying something vulgar, ridiculous, or profound. That was who he was.
Severin was easy, familiar, and safe, and right now, I desperately needed him, regardless of what mood he was in or what he was doing.
I took a hit from my joint and walked through the back gates to the pool. Instinctively, I knew he would be back there.
And I was right.
His back was to me, and he was kneeling on the ground.
Relief washed through me. Just seeing him settled something inside my jagged heart. It wasn’t until I heard the moan that it clicked. Severin Volkov was between a girl’s thighs on the patio by the pool, and what did I do? Of course, I had to walk farther in to get a better view.
I swear, something was broken inside me, because even watching him with someone else brought me a massive sense of relief.