Chapter 3 - Iosif #2
The color has drained from her face all over again. The fire that had momentarily blazed in her golden-brown eyes has guttered out.
She gapes at me in horror. “That’s—you can’t just—”
“You won the lottery, devochka,” I remind her, handing the flask back to her.
I refuse to overthink the endearment that slips out.
“You should take some time. Take a bath. Sleep on it. Think about what would have happened if I hadn’t stepped in tonight.
You think about what any one of those drunk bastards would have done to you.
Maybe all of them, if Daddy had gotten enough money to let them take turns.
At least with my name attached to yours, you will be Janella Yuri. You will be untouchable.”
Grabbing the gauze, I wind it around her arm. When I’m done, I tip her bowed head up with my knuckles beneath her chin. “You will never be a pawn again,” I say to her. “Not while you are mine.”
“I’m not yours,” she rasps, pained.
I take a step backward, my head shaking. “Except that you are. Your own father sold you to me. Remember?”
***
After showing her the clothes that I had one of my men bring her—something warmer and more suitable for the weather than her skimpy little dress—I close the doors on Janella for the night.
Before I walk away, I give Ivan two explicit instructions:
1.No one is to enter without her permission.
2. She doesn’t go anywhere without mine.
Despite plenty of security, the penthouse feels like a ghost town after the heated match with my impromptu companion. Resigned, my feet lead me to my office.
All I’d wanted tonight was a little break from it all.
Instead, I find myself pouring out a drink like it’s the end of any other day. And when I drop into the immaculate leather of my chair, I’m more exhausted than before. I’ve got nothing to lose by clocking back in.
I pull up Miron’s contact on my phone and hit the dial button.
He answers on the second ring. “‘Sup, Iosif?” he asks. His mouth sounds full.
“Long night,” I say, half a warning. “Any news?”
There’s a brief pause on the other side. I pick up the faint sound of rustling from my younger brother’s end. He’s always squirming, antsy. Even in the safehouse I set up for him tonight. Trifon’s told him to shadow me as a part of his training while he’s on Thanksgiving break from school.
“He’s boring,” Miron finally answers. “Just moved some product through the Southie warehouse earlier. Nothing to write home about.”
I don’t trust that at all. I sigh but decide not to press. A part of mentorship is trusting his instincts—and, when it comes to it, letting him fuck up and learn from those instincts leading him astray.
“You good, bro?” he asks.
We really shouldn’t have let him go to an American university, no matter how well-reputed. He picked up way too many of their fucking colloquialisms.
Clearly, his instincts are fine, though. Then again, I’d rather chew broken glass than share with my baby brother how royally I’ve lost my mind tonight. “Just had a shit night, bratishka,” I tell him, always as honest as I can be. “You’ll report back the second anything changes?”
I’m positive I hear the crunch of a chip being gnashed between his teeth.
“Will do,” he says through his mouthful. “Why’re you calling? Isn’t the whole point of taking the night off to chill out? No running on fumes or whatever?”
Or whatever.
I can’t help but snort, amused despite myself.
“Goodnight. Don’t fuck it up,” I chide and hang up before he can say anything else.
I down the rest of my vodka, letting the heat build in my chest, and set the glass on my desk. The bath and sleep I’d recommended to Janella doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe I’ll jerk off too. Take a load off, pun intended.
Right now, I could use anything to quiet my mind.
Or else, I’m actually going to have to sit with what I’ve done, what I’m doing. I’ll have to wrestle with why, exactly, I’ve gone through such lengths to protect this woman. Sure, I’ve learned things about her. She’s been through tough shit. She isn’t the only one I’ve come across who has, though.
Maybe I really am running on fumes, and it’s finally run me fucking stupid.
Turning the lights off behind me, I continue to my bedroom. Shedding clothes as I go. I leave them in a pile, unbothered, knowing Oksana will have one of her girls take care of it in the morning. All of my help is compensated above and beyond. In return, they’re trained to handle my brand of chaos.
I forgo a bath to stand beneath the scalding hot shower, letting my night wash off of me in sudsy rivulets. I stand under it until the water goes tepid. My fatigue is bone deep.
It’s not just the exhaustion from dealing with the Zakharov rat. The Yuris have had a busy couple of years in general.
When I finally crawl between the covers, there’s no fighting my thoughts.
I’ve brought a profoundly traumatized young woman into my apartment.
After I bought her. I even stabbed the moron who would have almost certainly maimed her.
Put her in my car and called the family lawyer to get a marriage license and prenup, to start with.
I stitched her up myself, instead of letting Ivan or someone else handle it.
Sooner rather than later, I’m going to have to explain why the hell I’ve done this to my family.
Why? She isn’t the first damsel in distress I’ve come across.
I’ve never been one for heroics. If anything, I’m the shit-eating sidekick.
Anyone who knows me would agree. And they all know, as I do, that there is more darkness than light in my world.
Janella Driscoll will be better off, but by how much?
She’d asked me so plainly: Are you nuts?
It’s a fair question.
Maybe I am.
Because when I close my eyes, all I can see is her leonine eyes ablaze and glaring at me. Her soft mouth puckered into a petulant pout. Her voice, hoarse and defiant, fighting me. And it makes the corners of my own mouth fight to turn up.
I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’ll see that version of her again. No matter how much I have to push at that meek exterior of hers before it finally gives again. What’s underneath it all is so much more fascinating.
It’s a good thing that being a monster is an occupational hazard I’ve long since made peace with.