Chapter 15
Your Own Hand Is The Master
Alex
Andrei: You're still there. We have so much to take care of and you're frolicking on the beach with a woman who's worked diligently to take us down. You're fucked in the head, you know that?
I followed Jade into the house and peeked at my phone.
Gianna: Baby. Please let's talk.
Oh fuck—I’d forgotten all about her existence. The name sent a twinge of panic through me, but I kept scrolling to see all the notifications.
Andrei: Olya convinced me to have you both over for dinner. I'm not happy about it, but she’s pregnant and I love her. She wants to meet Jade. I’m ready to fucking kill you. EVERYONE AROUND ME HAS LOST THEIR DAMN MINDS. Come tomorrow at 7. I hate you.
Gian- my finger slid on the screen, dragging the red trashcan icon over her name and refocusing on the only person who mattered in the whole wide world.
“You prefer red?” I double-checked as I reached for the wine bottle. Jade nodded but her tiny smile spoke louder than any words.
She was unusually quiet and introspective, so as soon as I clinked my glass with hers, I started talking, like my tongue was out of control.
I told her about how my dog died. About Andrei’s usual paranoia. About my motorcycle accident when I was nineteen. I asked her about her friends and hobbies, and if she enjoyed studying law. Big spoiler—she didn’t.
Slowly, she dropped her shoulders and her smile was back. With a wine glass in hand, she sat on the couch in front of me, giggling at the way I spilled my soul in tiny snippets.
“I wanted to ask you something,” I said, and her eyes lit up with curiosity. “How did you get up on the roof?”
Jade sat up, the giddiness bursting out of her. “Promise you won’t fire anyone?”
“Fire anyone?” I echoed, having no idea what that meant.
Jade took a quick breath in and then—
“Maksim helped me.”
Holy fucking shit. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Are you serious?” I held back my laugh at the fact that Jade managed to corrupt my best security detail.
“Yes!” She threw her head back and cackled, letting me soak in her happiness. “He helped me climb up there. And then he lied to you about it because I begged him not to tell you.”
Begged him not to tell you.
So she knew. She knew I’d come or…she planned it that way.
“Where’d you get the weed?”
My gaze slid down Jade’s bare legs, and God knows I tried; I tried to stop checking her out, but I always failed.
“I had it in my purse. There’s a hidden compartment. Guess you didn’t see it when you sifted through my stuff.” She shrugged simply.
I had a staring problem. Couldn’t look away. I studied the way her lips touched the rim of the wine glass and the way her fingers held the stem.
And I just existed in the sudden silence with her.
But then Jade pulled her legs underneath her and pointed beside her.
“Come sit here.”
I almost jumped out of my chair. She watched me—the way I slowly, deliberately—moved to sit closer to her.
Was I a man? Or a thirteen-year-old boy? Because I sure as shit had never been this apprehensive.
A foot apart, we sat together, and I listened to the way her breath hitched in her throat.
“Can you tell me?” I looked down her body, the memory of the scar still raw in my mind. “You don’t have to, of course,” I assured her, “but I want to know how you got that scar.”
She visibly hesitated, and I instantly regretted asking. Maybe it was too traumatic, too recent, too dark for her.
I opened my mouth to retract my question when she reached over and placed the wine glass on the coffee table. Then, she put her hands in her lap and gulped, as if preparing herself.
“I’ll tell you.” She nodded, but it sounded like it was a condition. “If you tell me something too.”
I laughed quietly, very proud of myself for predicting Jade’s answer. “I’ll try to tell you anything you want,” I promised, mentally listing off every single question she would ask that Andrei and I promised each other we’d never tell her.
“Xavier..." she began confidently, “was upset that I came to break up with him so..." she wrung her fingers, suddenly lost for words.
"I'm sorry, Malyshka. You don't have to—”
"No, I'm okay,” she assured me, nodding quickly. "We argued. Obviously. And he just became more aggressive and—”
Jade stared into my eyes and I waited. Gave her all the space she needed. “He pinned me down. And ripped my dress, and…”
And there was more. There was definitely more, but she didn’t want to pronounce those words.
“I hit him with a bottle and he rolled off, but right before I ran off the deck, he kind of fell on me and did that…with his switchblade.”
It was subtle, but undeniable—she was trembling.
I was speechless. I could only stare at this beautiful and one-of-a-kind woman who gave me peace and elation, and wonder why life was so cruel.
Jade picked up her wine glass, taking a long sip.
"It's just that it's recent, which is why I have this reaction.
" She laughed nervously. "I never thought that would happen to me.” She looked into my eyes, her words pure heartbreak.
“Obviously. No woman ever thinks that can happen to her, but apparently…
it can happen to anyone." She finished her story, and without thinking about it, I grabbed her free hand.
She stilled from the sudden touch, her big, beautiful eyes going even wider. “He was going to kill you,” I summarized and Jade nodded slowly, sliding her hand further into mine. “Do you want me to kill him?”
There really was no good way of asking that question. Jade sat frozen in front of me, but slowly, the apprehension on her face melted into a small smile until she burst out laughing, her joy emanating from her.
"You're insane!" She struggled between her laughing bout, but I didn't smile. I was going to fucking kill him one way or another, I just thought…maybe she’d want to know about it. "Oh shit, you're serious?" Jade’s laughter died down abruptly once she clued in that this wasn't a joke.
We sat on the couch in front of each other, her hand in mine, my eyes on hers, my soul now firmly in her custody.
"That’s the second time you say that tonight, but…no one deserves for their life to be taken."
Damn, even after everything, she refused to turn cruel—her moral compass was unwavering. Some people absolutely deserved for their lives to be taken.
“Malyshka, he hurt you.”
I felt stupid trying to convince her—she knew it better than I did, but she couldn’t taste the sweet nectar of revenge. Yet. “And that wasn’t all of it, was it? Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her hand turned clammier with every passing second. She was nervous. So I tightened my grip on her fingers, just slightly, just enough to show that I was there for her.
Not dominating, no. She was in control.
“You’re not wrong,” Jade whispered with the wine glass at her lips. “I just…want to take the rest to the grave.”
I hated myself for starting this conversation, but unexpectedly, Jade shuffled closer. Her cheeks were flushed, and I couldn’t tell if it was the wine, this conversation, or the fact that we were still holding hands.
"I feel like..." she started, picking her words carefully. I remained still, afraid to spook whatever she wanted to say. "When another man touches me next...” An electric current ran through me and my gaze locked with hers, hoping all my thoughts weren’t spelled out on my face.
“He’ll just have to…I don't know..." Oh fuck, oh fuck, what?
! Tell me, Jade, tell me. "Be very…delicate.
" The word barely made it past her lips, but I heard it. Every single sound.
Delicate.
"At the same time, I'm not defined by what happened.” She swallowed, her fingers tightening around mine. “I don’t know. Maybe I just need...a different approach."
I swear, if a nuclear bomb had been dropped outside the window, I wouldn't have noticed and a diabolical idea crawled into my head right at that very moment.
My gaze flicked to our wine glasses—she had about half a glass of wine and a few sips of her margarita earlier. Enough to do a scary thing without regrets.
"Jade?"
This was risky. She could tell me to fuck off and that would be painful and awkward, and I would probably deserve it.
"In Russian," I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling extremely foolish for starting all this, but there was no backing down now, “we have this expression…svoya ruka—vladyka. It means…your own hand is the master."
The way her eyes sparkled told me she caught on immediately.
"It means you’re the boss..." Fuck it, now I restarted drinking and shot back the whole wine glass. "You have all the power. You decide what you want. You put your interests…first.”
I leaned forward slightly and Jade didn’t retreat.
“So, maybe you just need to experience a touch that’s yours, delicate and familiar but...with a man who has enough self-restraint to respect your boundaries."
I was sure the gates of hell would open and swallow me after this proposition. We sat on the couch in the silent house, only the ocean waves whooshing somewhere outside, oblivious to the unfolding situation.
It took time for her to find her voice, but I stayed quiet while I waited, my mind overrun with scenarios of what could happen.
"Are you asking me...” She came a tiny bit closer and I could see the way her pupils dilated. “To touch myself…while you give me instructions?" She explained it perfectly. "Not touching me? Just letting me enjoy myself? Let go of any doubt and fear…in the presence of a man?"
Yes, we were on the same page.
"Yes," I breathed out, eagerly awaiting her decision.
Jade chewed her lip, thinking it over. "How do I know that you’ll restrain yourself? And not cross that boundary...if it all becomes too much for you?"
Damn, Jade, valid question. She was definitely a lawyer—covering all her bases before committing to anything.
"You don't know for sure. There’s nothing in life that’s for sure. You’ll have to trust me. That's the hardest part."
But I knew I'd rather pull my own eyeballs out than scare or disappoint her.
It was dead silent as Jade considered my proposition, swiping her thumb over my index finger. I looked down at the contrast of our hands, my thoughts running away.
Just as I was about to experience a real bout of panic that this was the wrong suggestion, Jade lifted herself off the couch and pulled on my hand.
“I want to try.”