10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

T oula

Irini was a beautiful bride.

I was grateful the Russian had requested a small ceremony. My mother had made wedding plans, but my father had shut her down over breakfast one morning. She’d tried to tell him that a small, intimate wedding wouldn’t do anything for either side. She argued that a large production would show the Russians our success, forcing them to recognize our superiority. My father had told her no, which had caused even more conjecture to what the marriage contract had stipulated. There were whispers in the hallways that the Russian had made my father a deal that was almost too good to be true. They also talked about how my father had said yes to most things about the wedding because he didn’t want the Russian to back out. I could have told him that wasn’t the case, but no one had asked me, and I didn’t volunteer the information.

I watched from the front pew as my father walked my sister down the aisle. It made me wonder if my parents weren’t taking any chances with Irini’s cooperation. I had visions of her turning around at the altar and taking off, her veil floating behind her as she ran. A smile floated on my lips at the image, but before it could settle, my mother pinched my side. She didn’t chastise me, but I knew. We needed to be somber in church. My smile dropped, and I maintained the aloof expression that would work to appease my mother.

Once my father passed Irini off, he sat at the end of the pew. My mother was next to him, with me on her other side. Katalina and Sophia filled in the rest, with a guard positioned at the very end of the row. It was a simple church service, where only the most senior members of each faction were in attendance. The blonde frat boy sat in the front pew on the Russian’s side. He was next to an older, well-dressed man, whom I recognized as their pahkan.

The reception immediately followed at one of the Russian-owned convention centers. This was the first union, marriage and business, between us and the Russians, and every associate wanted a chance to network. These were new connections, and with them came new opportunities for more money. I didn’t blame them, but I also didn’t want to take part. This time, I was important, and I couldn’t escape the social game. My father had let it circulate that I was opening his next club in a year. There were people who had wanted to make my acquaintance, but mostly, I floated from one conversation to another. I never stopped long enough for anyone to monopolize my time. I just wanted this night to be over.

The Russian walked Irini into the reception hall. Most people ignored the blank stare on her face. They were too busy enjoying the reception to care about her mental state. The only consolation to this nightmare was that she didn’t cry. She never left her chair, her hands clasped together in her lap. The Russian checked on her at least once a half hour, but I was trying not to pay attention. Making sure I was facing the opposite direction, I couldn’t handle watching him bend in front of her. He would clasp his hands over hers and whisper in her ear. He’d been doing it the entire night. Irini barely acknowledged him, but it was enough to keep everyone happy.

It was towards the end of the night when he slipped out of the reception hall door with Irini on his arm. I waited another hour, and then I made my excuses. The bride’s family customarily stayed at the venue, and my father had instructed the guards to escort us directly to our rooms. This wasn’t his territory, and while we were safe enough, no one was going to take an unnecessary risk.

Angelo walked behind me, but when I approached my door, all he said was to stay put. I rolled my eyes as I walked in, wanting to slam the door in his face, but I let it latch instead. The sound lingered in the room’s stillness. Laying the back of my head against the door, I took a minute to breathe.

My mind wanted to relive the night in the library. He had asked for a wedding gift, and I was excited to see how far I could push him to break. However, every time that thought came to the surface, I immediately felt guilty. I never considered my undesirable status in these moments, and that thought alone should have scared me enough to abandon this path.

Kicking my heels off, I unzipped the dress I’d worn, throwing it on top of my suitcase. A shower sounded like heaven, and all I wanted to do was wash this day down the drain. I couldn’t worry about the future. I was my father’s daughter, and I would deal with whatever was thrown at me with complete control. My mother never looked over her shoulder or questioned if she’d made the correct choice. I would channel that same energy.

I leaned against the shower wall, letting the water pour over me, each droplet of water washing away a wedding memory, until there was nothing left. Finishing, I wrapped a towel around my body, securing it with a knot. I didn’t bother with my nightly routine, not really caring. I went to turn off the light in the bathroom, and that’s when a shadow passed in front of the door. My heartbeat raced as the shadow moved backwards. A gasp escaped me as someone turned off the bedroom lamp that I had left on.

There were no weapons in the bathroom, but if I could reach a lamp in the bedroom, I could use it as a bat. I wasn’t afraid of fighting back, but the towel was going to be a problem. Being dressed would have given me an advantage. I counted to three before I moved towards the door, preparing to run. A man was sitting on the bed. His head hung low, yet his eyes focused on me. The window curtains were wide open, the full moon on display as it cast rays of light around the room. The shadows danced on his face, and I took a deep breath when I recognized the Russian. I was only in danger of losing my heart.

Neither of us said a word.

His eyes roamed me from head to toe as I relaxed, leaning against the doorway. I didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but it was obvious the Russian had intervened in his own wedding night. Still dressed in his tuxedo, his hands dangled in between his knees as he cracked each knuckle. Not a hair had been out of place at the reception, but now it stood on end, as if he’d been pulling at it. His gaze seared the towel, and I reached for the knot to make sure that it was still tight. The Russian crooked his finger at me.

Deep in my subconscious, I was aware I didn’t want to be with any other man but him. We had been damned from the moment he stepped out of the shadows of that patio. It was ironic that we only thrived in the darkness. There was no fairytale ending for us. Just tonight .

I wouldn’t cower, and I wouldn’t lower my head and play the vestal virgin. If this was going to happen, it would be on my terms. I’d pack the memories away for a rainy day and wonder what could have been later.

Walking towards him, I didn’t stop until my knees hit the edge of the mattress, standing between his legs.

The Russian loosened the knot of my towel, letting it fall to the floor. I felt his eyes roam over my naked flesh. They started at the top of my head, down my breasts, to the apex of my thighs. I tried to rub my legs together, so that there wasn’t much visible, but he caught the motion. His eyes darkened, his nostrils flared, and I thought it made him look like a starved animal. He was hungry, and I was his last meal. The intensity made me nervous, and I didn’t want to ask him if that was normal. Shivers ran up and down my spine, and I focused on the moon in the window.

He gripped my hips in his hands, and I let out a gasp, bringing my focus back to him. His strength surprised me, even though I didn’t care if he left a bruise. No one would know, but I’d wear it like a badge of honor. Leaning forward, he laid his forehead against my stomach. He blew out a deep breath, and I felt it against my skin as he whispered, “I am going to Hell.”

I didn’t have the heart to respond to him. He was a made man. I was a mafia princess. Chances were good that we’d pay for our crimes. Karma was a cruel bitch like that.

Time seemed to pass slowly as I stood as still as a statue, but eventually, the Russian fell back against the bed. His hands pulled at my hips, so that I didn’t have a choice but to move with him. I wouldn’t normally bend for a man, but in this instance, I let him take the lead. My lack of experience hindered me. I didn’t want to break the silence, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing. He must have understood my hesitation because he picked me up by my hips and placed me where he wanted. My knees bracketed his head.

The only sounds in the room were the Russian’s low groans, which seemed to echo when he finally pulled me against his face. It was a new sensation, and I wasn’t able to stop the anxious tremors that coursed through my body. I tried to stare at the moon again, but where it had calmed me before, the open curtains reminded me someone could be watching. The far wall was blank, and I found it comforting to gaze at. It dulled the screams that were coming from the dark recesses of my mind. If this was the only time I would get to be with him, then I wanted to enjoy every minute we had.

I felt his nose part me, pawing at my clit. Each swipe sent shockwaves through my system. Every so often, I could hear a whimper in the room, not cognizant enough to notice they were coming from me until his tongue swiped at my inner walls. I threw my head back, letting loose a long wail.

I didn’t think he’d die between my legs, but I wasn’t comfortable trying to explore. I didn’t want to make any sudden movements for fear that he would stop. He must have understood my apprehension because he patted my thighs and then ran his hands north to my hips. He rubbed the skin there in a soft caress before guiding me in a rocking motion. My moans became incessantly louder when his tongue made broad stokes against my clit.

My body was on fire, blazing trails running over my arms, my legs, and my chest. My nipples pebbled from the sheer wantonness. I wanted more, but I didn’t know how to ask for it. The Russian knew. He gave my hips one last squeeze and then let his hands roam back to my thighs, down to where my hands lay limply at my sides. Intertwining our fingers, he brought mine up to the top of his head, burrowing them into the silky strands of hair .

His hands didn’t stop tracing my arms until he reached my shoulders. They lingered over my collarbones and tiptoed down my chest until they landed at the tops of my breasts. His caresses made me ache for more. Pulling at the strands of his hair, I hoped he would get the message. There was a dark chuckle between my legs before he suckled my clit, squeezing each breast in one of his hands before he flicked my nipples with his thumbs. He never stopped, nor did he slow down. It was the best kind of misery.

Eventually, it became too much. I closed my eyes. Light bounced behind my eyelids like shooting stars as I succumbed to an explosive orgasm. My knees shook on the bed, and there was a light sheen of sweat on my body. I gripped his hair tightly, trying to ground myself in him.

I thought for sure he’d flip me to the bed, taking what he wanted. I would give him everything. He only had to ask. As I was coming down from my high, I could feel his tongue lap again at the wetness that had formed. He barely let me catch my breath before I was squirming again for another release. This time, I was better prepared.

I experimented with different ways of shifting my hips against his mouth. If I rocked back, he’d play with my clit. If I rocked forward, he’d lap at my walls. It must have been the sexual awakening, but I was becoming territorial over him. I didn’t want him to leave.

Not caring about his sexual history, I wanted him to be my first. To enter me and claim me as his. I didn’t want him pleasuring another woman, and I for sure didn’t want to think that it could be my sister. He’d never force himself upon her, but in my delusion, she was my competition for his affection.

I shifted my weight a little and grabbed the back of his head from between my legs. Giving his hair a good yank, I wanted him to know that I was a willing participant. I rode his tongue until I could barely hold myself up. My limbs felt like jelly, and this time, he lowered me to the bed, laying across the duvet cover.

I was good at hiding my emotions, but as I stared into his eyes, I let him see everything. How I felt. How I’d give away everything, including my status, to just be with him.

Breaking our stare, he kissed my forehead, his lips lingering before he left the room.

No words exchanged.

I was in shock. It was if nothing had happened. As if I meant nothing to him.

I hadn’t cried since I was a child. The rules dictated we show no weakness, but as I laid on the bed, my sobs filled the empty room. The tears ran down my cheeks as they pooled on the duvet. I silently screamed in pain as I lay in the wet puddles.

I could no longer deny I had feelings for the Russian. In the early of hours of the morning, I tried to gather those emotions and enshrine them in a tomb. Sealing the door, I knew those feelings could never see the light of day. I’d never survive if anyone found out how I felt about my sister’s husband.