Chapter Eleven - Fiona

A small plastic strip has successfully decided the trajectory of my life, and as I step out of my bathroom, I'm having a hard time catching my breath. I hold on to the pregnancy strip willing it to change colors as I keep tossing the outcome back and forth in my brain.

No. It's fake. It's a drugstore pregnancy reveal. Once you go to the doctor, you'll see that it's not real. It can't be real. Not with him.

I've been in this toxic thought cycle for the last few days and can't shake it because there's no way in hell it can true. Pacing back in forth in my apartment, I return to the bathroom, dropping both my hands over the sink, taking a hard look at myself in the mirror.

"What have you done?" I ask, beating myself up for several reasons.

I should have worn protection with the man. Rookie mistake. I shouldn't have thought he was going to do it.

Your career and your life are ruined. You're having a baby by a mobster. I don't know if Ruslan is a mobster for certain, but I can only assume he's after the files. The files. The files. The files. In one flash, and one hot night, my life has shattered into a thousand pieces, and there's nothing I can do to change it.

"You're going to have a baby with a mobster, Fiona. What the fuck? " I lack the energy to brush the bird's nest on top of my head into anything presentable. I look like a hot mess, and my limbs are sore from lying in bed.

Every time I've gotten a text from my friends, I've ignored it.

SOPHIA: Have you heard from your mystery man?

RACHAEL: Has he hunted you down yet? How's work? Girl, we haven't heard from you in a couple of days. Are you hiding out in your apartment or something? Come out on the weekend!

I want a do-over, and if I could fling back the hands of time to the past, I wouldn't exactly take back the dare, but I would have only kissed Ruslan, not taken it any further with him.

No, you wouldn't, Fiona. If you knew Ruslan was a Russian mobster, you would have bypassed him altogether and waited for the next man to approach you.

My rational thinking has been thrown out the window. Not to mention there's a thick cloud of grief blanketing me like a heavy weight. My mother is the only one I've spoken with in the past few days, and it's not a healthy thing to do.

"Hello? Mom?" I wished I could give her a hug and curl up in her arms back in Ohio like I used to.

"Hi. You've heard?"

"Yes. I can't—I can't go."

"You won't be there? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I can't face a funeral now." Especially after knowing I slept with the man who murdered my father. Even though, when I think of Ruslan, my entire body flushes with a strange heat.

My mother paused for a long beat before answering. "Very well. I understand. He knew the consequences of his profession and the type of lifestyle he was leading."

"Yes, he did. Mom, I love you, but I have to go." I'd held in my tears on the phone wanting to keep strong for her because she might have let him go for the mob, but deep down inside, I knew she made the ultimate sacrifice in love, releasing him go to the mob.

Hauling myself out of the past, a mournful sigh escapes my lips as I wet my hair, put a brush through it, scraping my hair up and into a ponytail, just so I feel a little better about myself. Going through the motions, I brush my teeth, throw on some new clothes, making the decision to call my girlfriends, and let them in. I've been sulking long enough, and it's not going to help anything.

Finding my phone, I punch them up in a group chat. Sophia's the first one to chime in.

"Oh my God! Where have you been?"

Posting a weak smile on my mouth, I reveal a little more. "I've been going through some things, and I need to talk to you guys. I'm sorry I haven't rung you," I tell them.

"Okay, I'm coming over. I've got a half day at work today, but I can come around," Rachael says.

"Please. I need help," I admit, both of my friends promising to visit. I hang up, a wave of relief washing over me. "Yes, talking to my friends will help," I reason. I do my best to stop moping, getting myself a juice. Feeling a little better, I turn on the TV working out how to pick up the pieces of my world. After a few minutes, a dainty tap at the door stops me in my tracks.

Pleasantly surprised, I head over to the door. I thought the girls couldn't come until later. Oh well, it's good they're here now. Maybe they can help. Crossing to the door, I open the door, my heart picking up speed for some unknown reason. When I swing it back, I see why. Ruslan is standing in my door, taking up space, his cool, obsidian pupils dancing with shadowy darkness. My feet stay frozen to the spot. All the blood drains from the top of my head to my toes as my hand drops off the door handle.

There's only a blank slate existing in my mind, and I'm sure my heart stops beating for the few seconds, while my mind remains blank. He's wearing a cocky grin, and as I take in the measure of the ruthless killer in front of me, I fear what he might know about me.

Play it cool. Don't let him know that you know. His diamond watch catches the light from my window, his spicy cologne—strong, but not overpowering. He cuts an imposing, yet sinful figure, his white linen shirt open at the top, a gold chain gleaming around his neck, and the outline of his chest muscles visible.

He's wearing a navy-blue blazer and charcoal tailored pants to finish the outfit. His tight biceps ripple with every flex, making me burn up from the inside out. Holy shit. Ruslan—the Russian mobster is standing smack bang in the middle of my door as if he owns it. After a couple of shallow breaths, I manage to bring my mind back online, and I almost wish for it to read blank again. His jeans fit him well—too well, and I sneak a glance down lower, and if you didn't know what a Russian Mafia man looked like, you wouldn't recognize Ruslan to be one today. The only dead giveaway is the blank expression in his eyes, and the handful of intimidating tattoos covering his pale skin. Ruslan's mouth spreads into a wide grin, his eyebrow arched.

"Are you not going to invite me in?"

With a shaky breath, I smile, hanging on to the doorframe for stability, because if I don't, I'm sure I'm going to keel over. "Sure, come on in."

Fuck. How did he find me so quickly? This can't be happening.

I think I have some breathing room as Ruslan enters, but as soon as the door closes behind him, he snatches my wrist, causing me to gasp a large gulp of air. Fuck. He knows. He's going to kill me. The rate of my heart picks up double-time as I surrender to him, letting him thrust me against my living room wall, and I can't help but throw myself back in time to the Nobu Hotel . Fuck. His energy is so darkly intoxicating that it makes my panties wet.

"What are you going to do?" I ask him breathily as Ruslan towers over me, pinning my wrists above my head, and pressing his hard, sinewy body against mine. God, he's a hard man to resist.

Ruslan nuzzles his nose into the center of my neck, his hot breath and cologne spreading like the most wonderful disease over my skin, and then, the unthinkable happens, I feel the wetness of his hot saliva skim along my neck as he licks it. Shivering, I release a small whimper, letting it escape my lips. I wish I didn't allow myself to give in, but Ruslan's too hard to resist.

"What am I going to do to you?" he asks, chuckling, as I draw in air. He's quiet for a moment as he stares into the depth of my eyes, and it's almost as if he's deciphering the code to my soul. I don't want him to see, and I don't want to consider the fact "Your eyes are magnetic. They remind me of the beautiful lakes we have in Russia."

Stand your ground. Licking out my tongue I run it around the fullness of my lips. "That still doesn't explain what you're going to do to me," I remark boldly, knowing I'm one step from the edge of a very dangerous cliff. My arms being stretched above my head are to ache, and I want to put them down. Ruslan senses my discomfort, smirking and letting my arms drop.

"Why did you give me the wrong number, Red October?"

"Red October. Is that what you're calling me now?"

"Something like that," he murmurs, leaving a deadly trail of heat running through my veins just by tracing a hand down the length of my body. "I warned you."

"How did you warn me?" I ask as Ruslan's fingers skim over the full cup of my breast.

"I warned you that I would hunt you down, didn't I? And here we are," he says, his suffocating heat enveloping me.

Phew. He doesn't know. But he will in due time. Play it cool.

"Yes, here we are." I grin, keeping in alignment with the thrilling game we're now playing.

"Are you glad that I've come?" he questions, dropping his mouth to mine as he tugs at my bottom lip.

"Yes, I'm glad you're here." And as much as I want it to be a lie, it's not.

" Good. I want to be here too. To make you come again and again," he says in a gravelly voice. "Nice apartment, Fiona."

"How do you know if it's a nice apartment? I haven't given you a grand tour," I tell him, relaxing a little. His mouth dips to mine, his touch stimulating every nerve ending in my body as his tongue glides in effortlessly.

Ever since Ruslan took my virginity, other than my masturbating, my pussy has ached for the man to touch it. For days afterwards, I'd grown confident that it didn't mean as much as it did. He didn't have any hold on me, but now as he stands in front of me, he's weakening my defenses. The joke's on me, because I'm the one falling. I lick my lips unconsciously as Ruslan groans in appreciation, smiling at my slightly parted mouth. My heart hammers hard in my chest as he strokes a finger down the back of my hand, breaking me apart slowly but surely. His hot breath blows on the tip of my eardrum as he nips at it. I giggle, wanting him to do it again as he hitches my leg around his body, thrusting his hard length into the side of my thigh.

"Red October, the only real tour I want is of your sexy body," he admits. "I like the little challenge you gave me to find you. It's been a fun mystery game to play, and now that I'm here, I like it even more," he says, and there's no reason I have to resist. Besides, if I sleep with him again, it will make things easier.

"So—then a grand tour is off the cards," I murmur, letting my mouth do the talking, merging mine with his as his merciless tongue enters, tap dancing in tune with mine. A rapid brush fire courses through my system as his hands trail down the length of my body, cupping a handful of my ass. He proceeds to own my mouth as my hands involuntarily rise to link around the back of his neck. His well-tapered beard brushes against my skin, tickling it, but I don't mind, and I can't stop even if I want to. His deliciousness is too much to counter. I don't know how long it takes before we both come up for air, but it's long enough to convince me that the bedroom is the only place we need to go to.

"If you only knew the dirty thoughts running through my mind right now, especially when you lick those sexy lips of yours." He chuckles, his rich cashmere scent bringing me close to drooling point.

"Why don't you show me more about these dirty thoughts you're having?" I request, toying with the curl of hair at the base of his neck. He holds my gaze, running a finger down the side of my face.

"I'd love to show you," Ruslan drawls with a severe edge. "Lead the way, Red October."

Taking his hand loosely, I walk past my open-plan kitchen, hoping he won't pay attention to the balled-up tissues in the trash where I've been crying for the last day or so.

If and when he finds out I'm carrying his child, he'll never let me go. Sleep with him this one last time and then it's over. It shouldn't be too hard.

It's almost as if my feet and body are doing the walking, but my brain is elsewhere. If I start overthinking about the fact that I'm going to bed with the same man who killed my father, I'd be sickened. There's so many reasons not to follow through, yet in my head I believe it's smarter to play this treacherous game with him.

There's no use resisting. He'd just track me down again.

We reach my bedroom, and I unfurl my fingers from his, dipping to flick on the lamplight, but Ruslan quickly shows me he has other plans. I gasp in shock as he holds me firmly in place from behind, his hard cock sticking into my back. God . I'm dying to feel him inside me again. I remember what it felt like the first time, and I want more of it. He grinds himself against my back as one possessive hand splays over my stomach, the other lightly around my throat. I should be fearing for my life, but Ruslan is having the opposite effect. Currently all my fears of being with him are starting to fade.

A flood of fervent desire rushes through me as a slick, wet patch pools, thick and fast, between my legs. Ruslan's mouth dots a trail of kisses down the back of my neck. I sigh blissfully as he reaches under my dress, pulling my panties to the side, barely grazing my pussy with his open palm. I wriggle, slightly moaning at his touch.

"Ruslan." I let his name escape from my mouth as he chuckles like a cat who just received the cream.

"See, it's a good thing I found you, isn't it? Now you can receive your reward, Red October." I'm complicit, but I don't want to give him everything so quickly. I clamp my thighs together, trapping Ruslan's hand between the apex of my shaky thighs.

"Not so fast," I tell him, controlling the pace and myself by biting down on my bottom lip.

"Ah," he says, his grip tightening around my throat as he manages to slide his hand out. "Is this the game we're playing?" His brusque tone drops an octave, while my pussy throbs in anticipation. He quickly lets me know who's in charge, folding me over the bed with my ass in the air. Once again, his swift power is shockingly thrilling to me as I feel the cool breeze of air from behind, I realize he's already whipped my underwear off, and now my panties are down around my ankles.

"Yes, but you like it…," I squeeze out, Ruslan drawing out a confidence I didn't know I possessed. I'm doing my best to keep control of my tumultuous emotions, and I know it's a sacrilege to offer this man my body, but at this point, I'm happy to do it willingly. For a brief second, my father's face flashes in front of my eyes, panic rising. Keep the box safe, Fiona. Its contents are stowed away in a drawer for now inside a shoebox, until I figure out what to do with it, and if Ruslan had the inclination and know-how, he would be able to take it from me, and my father's dying wish would fail to be fulfilled. Even if I don't know what the photograph means, he's inches from it. Gulping down the secret guilt, I take a deep breath, hearing Ruslan strip himself of his belt and then the soft landing of his pants as they hit the bedroom floor.

Bracing myself, I grip the sheets, my breathing wild and ragged. What's he doing back there? "Are you ready for me?" he growls trailing hot kisses down my back. "On all fours for me, Fiona." Crawling up onto my bed, I breathe deeply, my dress up around my waist, my ass bare. Ruslan holds my hips, and I'm pleasantly surprised when I feel his tongue dipping in between my legs. I let my fingers sink deep into my bed sheets as his tongue maneuvers through my slickened folds. I feel his hand reach forward to the underside of my body as his mouth continues its adventure, dipping and swerving in and out of my pussy.

This feels too good, and I'm losing what's already left of my mind. It has me traveling to places I didn't think I would go.

You can do this, Fiona. Do it for the Marino bloodline. You're already pregnant with the man's child. What's left now?

As Ruslan's mouth darts in and out of my core, a high pressure build-up inside is too much to hold, and I explode around the mercilessness of his tongue, my body spasming into orgasm.

" Ruslan! Oh my God! "

"What a game we're playing," he says, out of breath himself, and I can barely steal enough oxygen to gather myself, my body still processing the aftershock waves of orgasm. I turn over as Ruslan hovers over me, his chest bare. I don't even remember how and when all his clothes came off, but they're gone now.

I let my fingers do the work across his sculpted, hard chest, his tattooed ink detailing the life he's lived. I run a finger over a raised circular scar resembling a bullet hole near his nipple.

"Wow."

"A little battle scar," Ruslan explains in a deep, husky voice. "My God you are fucking beautiful, Fiona. You're all a man could ever want or need." I revel in the rawness of Ruslan, his violent power— palpable. I expect rough handling and aggression, but Ruslan's gentle caresses in the in-between stages have me floating atop ocean waves. Flipped over with, my long hair spread around me, Ruslan takes me out of my dress, and the rest of my underwear, bending to flick his tongue over my erect nipples, drawing them out even more.

Nobody has to know, and this is the last time.

When he finishes, his generous mouth plants firelight kisses down my hip bone, his tongue grazing every so often with his beard. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to let go.

My pussy is burning up like a furnace, and I can no longer fight all these feelings for Ruslan. His touch lights my body on fire, and for a moment I tighten before he enters me. My hymen's already broken. I watch his pupils dilate in surprise, but Ruslan doesn't skip a beat.

Please don't say anything. Please don't say anything.

He doesn't speak a word of breaking me in. He gently places the tip of his thick cock into my dripping folds, and I wince in temporary discomfort, thinking it will hurt again like the first time, but no, this time, he fits in beautifully as my pussy throbs.

It barely hurts, and the more he buries himself inside me, the deeper I fall into the dangerous abyss. How can I tell this man, I'm carrying his baby?

Ruslan's fingers interlock with mine as my bed rocks to his thrusting rhythm. Don't think about what he is. Don't. Pinning my legs around Ruslan's back, his mouth scorches mine with kisses as he breathes heavily in time with me. The more he penetrates, the more I open like a wounded flower for him. A ball of anguish tightens in my throat as my suppressed grief climbs to the surface.

I wish it were different, Ruslan. I wish you weren't the man you are. I wish I wasn't carrying your goddamn baby.

Digging my fingernails into Ruslan's back, remorse forces my eyes to sting with tears, but Ruslan's eyes are squeezed shut. Both of us are climbing the peak back to euphoria. Ruslan's face contorts as he pants heavily, lost in our fake world, an explosion due to erupt. A drop of Ruslan's sweat slides between the crevice of my breasts as he swells inside of me, the friction unbearable on my clit. I sing out in both ecstasy and guilt as my body shakes into simultaneous orgasm with Ruslan.

He's broken me in taking me over the cliff face to the edge of an orgasm I'd never had with any other man except him. Now I'm tainted for life.

We fall into an exhausted heap, breaking apart, the guilty sex eating me alive, but I can't help but admit that it felt so damn right at the time. Ruslan twirls a piece of my hair around his fingers, a satisfied smirk on his face. "What a wonderful end to the evening." Now the euphoria is wearing off, the danger of harboring an enemy in my bed is glaringly obvious. My heart pounds, and I hope he can't hear it.

"I'm glad I didn't make it too hard for you to find me," I say, seeing Ruslan's scars up closer than before.

Think quickly, Fiona. You can't get into a conversation with the man or start talking. A bright idea lands as I quickly shift away from his grabbing hands, a smile on my face.

"Too hard?" he scoffs as I fake a giggle, both unnerved and captivated by his presence.

"Would you like a coffee?" Ruslan strokes my back, as I slip out of his grasp, quickly finding my robe and wrapping it around myself.

"If you're making the coffee, then I want it."

If you know what I'm going to put in the coffee, then you wouldn't want it. Smirking, I pad lightly through the house to the kitchen. The stutter in my chest almost has me come undone. My iPhone slips devastatingly close to the floor, feeling panicked. I watch the hallway half expecting Ruslan to be standing in the doorway. My fears remained unrealized as I prepare his coffee, and mine, finding my packet of sleeping pills and crushing them, letting them dissolve into the coffee. My eyes dart backwards to the door as I carry his drink of sleep through to him.

I promised my father. Protect the Omerta files. By the time I'm done, beads of sweat drip down the crack of my spine from abject terror.

Slipping back into the room where my hot enemy awaits, my hands tremble as I cross the threshold. God, he is hot, and with the bed sheets draped dangerously low over his toned waist, it makes the situation even worse. Shivering, I agonize over my decision, setting his hot coffee down on the bedside dresser beside him. It's the only way….

"Thank you." I slip under the covers with Ruslan, sitting upright and sipping my coffee first. I need him to drink it so I can buy time to escape when he falls asleep.

It's strange to have him here. We've barely spoken, and as far as I know he just thinks I'm the hot girl from Destiny Bar. "You're welcome. Maybe we'll have time for a second round," I tell him, confident that in a few minutes he will be knocked out.

Ruslan leans over to kiss my cheek. "Yes, but maybe we could talk some first," he slurs, the sleeping pills starting to work. He's a big, tall guy so figuring out the ratio of pills to his body weight was hard enough to do. I watch carefully, sipping my coffee as Ruslan slips into unconsciousness.

Fuck. Now's the time to escape.