Chapter TwoIrina

Chapter Two

Irina

Alexei Vadim is a fucking asshole.

I hate him so much I'd come close to throwing my drink at him at the gala last night. As if being a fucking mafia boss is not bad enough, he's handsome enough that I haven't been able to stop thinking about him since our exchange.

God. What kind of man looks that sexy in a tuxedo? I can't get the image of his handsome face and broad shoulders off my mind. I need to get laid soon, I've been single and celibate for too long. My brain is so caught up with thoughts of Alexei, I can't differentiate between right and wrong anymore.

"What are you thinking?" My best friend, Arielle, asks as she settles on the chair across from mine with a tray of French fries and a milkshake. She'd fetched me earlier for our regular junk food get-together.

I push my own snack aside and lean on the table. Arielle and I have been friends since high school. We don't keep secrets from each other. We're both twenty-three now, but we still share everything with each other.

"Guess who I met at the gala last night?"

She lifts a French fry to her mouth. "Your ex?"

I roll my eyes. "Try again."

She thinks for two long minutes.

I grow impatient. I don't even expect her to guess it right. "Alexei Vadim."

She stops chewing and bugs her eyes out at me. "No way."

"Crazy, right?" I shake my head, refusing to let my brain spin back to memories from last night. I refuse to let myself think of that moment when he angled over me, filling my senses with his woodsy scent. He was so warm I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him tight. And when he said he wanted to fuck me…

No. Don't think about it, Irina.

Arielle pouts and her shoulders sag. "Now I wish I'd gone with you to the gala. Imagine being in the same space as Alexei Vadim? I'd faint."

My brows knit. Arielle has had the biggest crush on Alexei since we were sixteen. I don't know what she sees in him or why she thinks a bad person like him is swoon-worthy. Maybe it's the same reason I imagined him actually fucking me.

"Be glad you didn't. You would have lost your mind," I say, reaching for my milkshake. "He's so mouthy and annoying."

My best friend waves a hand dismissively. "Please, he's every woman's dream."

"He's the head of the Russian mafia," I counter, frustrated she doesn't seem to see a problem with that. "He has illegal businesses and makes his money from them. He's a murderer. He's everything girls like us should be afraid of."

Arielle inspects her manicured nails as if I'm just blabbing and she'd rather listen to me talk about how sexy Alexei is instead. "Who cares? He's good-looking and rich."

"You're such an idiot." I sigh and sip on my straw aggressively.

She beams a smile at me. "I don't mind being an idiot if I could see that man naked. Did you get to talk to him?"

"Yes, and I told him I'd make sure to expose all his crimes." My father runs an anti-organized crime organization and I'm a part of that organization. I have a few journalists I work with and my father has connections with the police. I'm sure I can put even a man like Alexei behind bars with enough evidence.

She yawns. "I think you're a bigger idiot than I am. If you hate him so much, don't you think he would hurt you before you even got a chance to have him arrested?"

I consider that, but for some reason, I really feel Alexei wouldn't try to hurt me. "He won't. I think he wants to fuck me more than he wants to hurt me."

A sheepish smile curves her lips. "Did you say yes?"

"To what? Fucking Alexei?" I roll my eyes. "Why would I say yes when I don't like him? Maybe I should have secured a spot for you."

"All that man needs to do is look at me the right way and I'll be naked, waiting for him."

"That's gross." But I smile as a mental image pops in my head. It's not right to fantasize being touched by a man I don't like, but he's hot. There's nothing wrong with that. I mean, I wouldn't let him touch me that way in reality, or maybe I'm just a fucking hypocrite.

My phone rings and Mom pops up on my screen. I grab my phone and answer. "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, Irina. Where are you?" my mother asks.

"At the café, with Arielle. We're going to the animal shelter from here." My mother doesn't usually enquire about my schedule unless she's made plans for me. "Anything wrong?"

"Your father wants you home for dinner by seven," she says. "We have something to tell you."

I don't like the unnerving feeling I get from that, but I say, "Alright. I'll be home early."

"Be home by six at the latest. Remember your father doesn't like it when you're late for family dinner."

"I'll be home early, Mom. Take care of yourself. I love you." I hang up before she can nag any further.

Arielle looks at me cautiously. "Everything okay?"

"My mother wants me home early, something about a family dinner and them needing to tell me something." I can't think of anything they'd need to say that can't be said over the phone, and now I have to spend the rest of the afternoon with the suspense.

Arielle and I finish our food and head to the animal shelter, where we volunteer. The first thing I do is scoop up Rooney, a bunny I rescued a week ago. I brush her fur with my fingers as I inspect her for injuries. Thankfully, she doesn't have any.

"So, about Alexei," Arielle says, scooting in beside me. "Have you ever considered that maybe he's not as bad as you think?"

I hold back a sigh. The last thing I want to do is talk about Alexei. He's taking up a good portion of my thoughts as it is. Thinking of him will only make matters worse. "No, I don't think so. My father has dedicated his life to bringing men like him to justice, there's no way I'd make excuses for him."

"But—"

I put Rooney back in her cage and twist my body to my best friend. "No. We're not talking about him." I stand and dust my denim pants. "I don't care about whatever weird crush you have on him, I'm not entertaining any excuses."

"For someone who doesn't know me, you seem to hate me quite a bit."

My muscles go rigid at the sound of that deep, throaty voice, rich with Russian accent. I have to be hallucinating.

The sheepish grin on Arielle's face is proof that I'm not.

I whirl around and I'm staring into dark-brown eyes that make my spine stiffen. It's hard to focus on my displeasure at seeing him as my eyes drift over his body. He's wearing a black Tom Ford suit. His onyx hair is ruffled and his face glows in the sunlight like a supermodel ready to walk the runway.

I don't miss the sharp angles of his jaw and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he smiles at me. Honestly, Alexei is easily the most handsome man I've seen all my life. What the hell is he doing here and why does he smell so goddamn good?

"You don't look happy to see me," he says, and I notice one hand tucked away in the pocket of his pants.

"Is there a reason to be?" I drawl. I can't let on it's hard to breath or think when I'm around him. He's a stranger I only know from his rumored brutality. I hate that my body reacts to him in this manner.

He chuckles and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. "Considering you'll be seeing my face very often, I suggest you get used to it."

My brows lift as I cross my arms over my chest. "We don't have a cage big enough for your ego."

His laugh reverberates in the open space. "Your smart mouth will do you no good, malyshka ."

"Don't call me that!"

"Or what?" He runs a hand over his dark hair. "You'll be pissed at me?"

I tsk . "Is getting women angry your specialty? I mean, besides being a murderer and trafficker."

His eyes darken and I smile. I like it when my taunting gets to him.

"Careful now, malyshka ," he drawls. His calm voice is edged with something I can't quite place. Anger? Pain? Either way, something tells me it wouldn't be a good idea to push him any further.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"I've come to claim what is mine."

I crane my neck to look at Arielle who's gazing at Alexei like she'd jump on him and beg him to take her home. I turn back to face Alexei. "What?"

The corners of his eyes crinkle again. "I see you don't know."

"Know what?" I snap. If he's going to waste my time over some bullshit, then I'd rather watch Rooney eat some carrots.

"Get your things, I'm driving you home." It's an order, I can tell from the seriousness in his tone.

I reel back, unfolding my arms. "You don't have the right to tell me what to do."

"I do. You choose; I can stay here all afternoon and watch you feed your bunny friends, or you can be a sweet little malyshka and come with me."

He's either hard of hearing or he doesn't understand simple English. "I am not going with you."

A cocky grin forms on his face. "I don't take no for an answer."

"Get used to it." I turn around and make to leave when he grabs my arm. His grip is gentle, but the heat from his hand seeps through my skin, searing into my bloodstream and working its way down my spine.

He pins me with a stern look. I really can't tell if he's angry, but something tells me it wouldn't be wise to provoke him. I need to remind myself the man in front of me is the most dangerous man in New York, a devil of his own making.

Twisting my arm, I free myself from his grip and hold his gaze. He's being polite by asking and fighting won't stop him from taking me if he wants to. My eyes dart to the black SUVs lined up at the other side of the field. At least three men in suits are standing there, hands reaching for their pockets as they stare at us. All he has to do is say a word and they'll either shoot me dead or take me against my will. "Fine, I'll come. But don't fucking lay a hand on me."

He smiles, then he nods.

I glance at Arielle who's watching this interchange with a small frown. "Where are you taking me?" I ask. As much as I want, I can't let myself go without someone knowing where he's taking me. What if he hurts me just to get back at my father?

He shifts his weight, turning to move. "Home."

"How am I certain you won't murder me and toss my body down some sewer on the way?" I ask, narrowing my eyes on him. I have a feeling he won't hurt me, but that may just be me being stupid. I mean, the man is handsome and I'd fuck him if he wasn't the Pakhan of the Vadim Russian Bratva.

"Do I look like I want to hurt you?" He takes a step closer, our bodies touching. "I won't kill you, malyshka . Not when fucking you is my priority."

"I'm not surprised you prioritize the wrong things." I desperately hope he doesn't notice the way my breath hitches. I instinctively take a step back. "I'll grab my bag."

I turn around and nod to Arielle. She loops her arm through mine and follow me to Ms. Bakers office. Ms. Baker is my father's friend and the owner of the animal shelter.

"Irina, I think he's interested in you," Arielle says as we stroll through the narrow hallway leading to the office.

"He isn't. He's just a horny bastard who can't keep it in his pants."

My best friend shakes her head. "You're so oblivious. Have you seen the way he looks at you? That doesn't look like being just horny to me."

I push open the door to the office and we walk inside. "You're delusional." I unlink my arm from Arielle's and pick up my purse. Opening it, I pull out my phone and share my location with Arielle. "Just in case something happens to me."

"I'm sure he doesn't bite," she says, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "At least, not in a way that wouldn't bring you pleasure."

I roll my eyes as I send a text to my father to tell him Alexei is driving me home. With the way he hates Alexei, he'll be mad when he gets my text…or maybe not. They'd had a conversation on the balcony, out of earshot, at the gala last night.

Alexei leads me to one of the SUVs when I return outside. He opens the backdoor and holds it for me to enter, then he takes the seat beside me. The engine roars to life and the vehicle surges forward.

My thoughts whirl on the drive back home. I rest my head on the window, staring at the passing scenery. Anything to distract me from the churning in my stomach and the thought that Alexei is sitting so close to me.

Thankfully, he focuses on replying to messages and emails for the hour it takes to get to my father's mansion. The driver pulls the car to the curb and turns off the engine. I grab my bag, opening the door and sliding out before any of the bodyguards can come to help me.

I'm surprised when Alexei doesn't get out, even if only to taunt me a bit more. Just before I shut the car door, he simply says, "I'll see you again in a few days." And then his car moves off.

I stand staring at car until it's completely out of sight. I sigh, perplexed before turning to head inside.

The smell of deep-fried chicken greets me as I step into the foyer of the mansion, followed by my mother's voice as she instructs the chef in the kitchen. I shake my head and climb the stairs to my bedroom. Once inside my room, I kick off my shoes, toss my purse on the customized pink recliner in a corner of the room and fall on my bed.

My gaze is fixed on the ceiling, but all I can think of Alexei. Why did he offer to drive me home? And why did he seem so cold after he dropped me off? I just can't figure him out, no matter how hard I try.

***

My parents and brother are already seated by the time I come downstairs. As usual, my father is sitting at the head of the table. My mother is sitting on his left and my brother on his right. I settle on the chair next to my mother and check out the food on the table.

There's way too much, more than we could ever eat. We usually have some left over but today seems off, it's like we're expecting a small group of guests.

I reach for a plate at the center of the table and begin to fill it with deep fried chicken wings. "What's the occasion?"

My brother and mother exchange glances with each other, then they both look at my father. None of them care to answer my question.

I add some broccoli to my plate. "Is no one going to tell me what this feast is all about?"

My father clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a napkin. "You're getting married a week from now."

I scoff. My father has a terrible sense of humor if he's playing a prank. "Getting married? Stop messing around, Dad. I don't even have a boyfriend." I look at the others, expecting everyone else to laugh. None of them do, which can only mean it's not some sort of sick joke. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"I'm not," my father says dryly. "It's been decided."

"Decided by whom?" Anger flares in my chest and a part of me refuses to believe this is real. It can't be fucking real. "Look, Dad. I don't know what this is about, but I'm not interested, and I've lost my appetite."

I push up from my chair when my father says, "Sit down."

I turn to look at him. "No."

"Sit down, Irina," he orders, his voice more serious this time.

I sit with reluctance. "I'm not marrying you off because I want to, I'm marrying you off because it's the only way we can survive."

Tension crackles in the dining room as my brother and mother stop eating.

"What do you mean, survive?" I ask. If my father sees my fists clenching on the table or not, he doesn't let on.

"There are people, Irina, bad people who will hurt our family if you don't do as you're told," he explains, his is face marred with worry that does nothing to soothe the rage I'm feeling right now. "Getting you married is the only option."

"So, you're asking me to be a sacrificial lamb for the family?" My brows raise. "Is that it?"

His throat moves as he swallows. "Don't think of it that way."

I look around the table, hoping for backup, but no one says a word. It seems they'd already come to an agreement before breaking the news to me. "My answer is no. If you got yourself into a mess, then you should sort it out yourself. In case you haven't noticed, it's the twenty-first century, and you can't force me into marriage."

"You will not speak to me like that, young lady. I'm your father."

Right, my father. My father and I aren't the classic father and daughter. Our relationship isn't strained, but we aren't that close either. He'd been obsessed with my brother most of my childhood, doting on him because he's his heir.

"If you can agree to a marriage behind my back, then I think it's fair I speak to you however I see fit." I still can't believe this is happening. My father expects me to get married because he says so. "I'm twenty-three, I haven't even figured my life yet. Marriage is the least of my priorities."

"Irina." My mother's voice is almost a whisper as she calls my name. "We had no choice but to agree. It's either that or…"

"Let me guess. It's either I get married or everyone in this family is murdered." She looks away to avoid my glare. "What's wrong with dying? I'm the youngest, why do I have to make the sacrifice?"

"Watch what you say, Irina," my brother growls from where he's sitting.

"Shut the fuck up, Damien," I retort at him. I shoot back to my feet. "I'm not getting married and that is final."

I'm storming to the double glass doors which separate the dining room from the rest of the house, when my father's voice brings me to a halt.

"Alexei Vadim," he says. "That's the name of the man you're marrying."

My scalp prickles and a knot forms in my stomach. I spin around to face my father. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," he says, "you're to marry Alexei Vadim a week from today."

My mind flashes back to my conversations with Alexei at the shelter; the way he smiled when he told me I didn't know yet. This is what all of that was about, us getting married.

Panic ripples through me as I imagine how life will be with Alexei as my husband. He'll turn me in a sex slave, a breeding mare to carry his children. I can't marry him.

No.

I won't marry him.