Deviant Prince: A Forbidden bad boy Mafia Romance. (Born to Darkness Duet Book 1)

by Claire C. Riley

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marisha

  Alexander left first this time, and I hated watching him go. More so than our other secret rendezvous, these precious moments together had been fleeting in this garden, surrounded by contained wildness.

  Contained wildness. That’s what he and I were.

  Wildly captured seconds of passion, that left me aching for more, but the minutes together still had to be cautious, they still had to be armed against those who would take our realness and distort it. Pollute it. Kill it. Alexander was quickly becoming my sanctuary, just as these glass and steel buildings kept these exotic plants safe.

  My intimate parts throbbed, and wetness traced down my inner thigh. I pulled a moist towelette from my small red handbag and cleaned myself, a thrill tracing through me as I stroked against my clit. My body wasn’t finished. Alexander had proven that there was more pleasure to be had than a single orgasm.

  I could tell how his body longed for mine. I could tell how it hurt him to kiss me deeply before turning away and purposefully walking towards the braided rope separator in the distance.

  Harder still knowing what he was about to do. I knew enough about this life now to know that when a Bratva man was called to business like that that he was going off and likely about to kill someone. Maybe even several someone’s. I hated that this was his life, and then I hated myself for hating it, because he loved it. That much was obvious. He loved his life, his family, his power, and I realized that I loved him.

  I stayed behind, sitting on the bench and staring at the tropical flowers. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t satisfied. Each time I heard movement in the distance, I hoped it was Alexander coming back to me, ready to pick up where we’d left off. Ready to further sate our bodies of their carnal longings. Ivan could never make me come; he had no idea how to work my body into the sort of frenzy that caused wave after wave of euphoric release to shake me and leave me panting and desperate for more. More so he didn’t care to learn either.

  “Miss,” a voice called out to me and I blinked, looking up to find a young man in a forest green shirt with a Brooklyn Botanical Gardens emblem stitched across the pocket. “This area is off limits. I’m sorry to make you leave, you seemed really lost in thought, but it’s policy.”

  Embarrassed at being caught here, but glad he hadn’t turned up twenty minutes ago, I stood up. Turning my wrist, I flicked the delicate platinum band of my wristwatch, checking the time. It was only five-thirty. I still had an hour and a half before the official fundraiser dinner, but I could go to the mixer at the lily pools.

  “I’m sorry, I realized the rope was there for a reason, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s so beautiful here.” I walked towards the young man, not missing the way his gaze flitted down to my chest.

  “I don’t blame you, Miss, but rules are rules. I’d be happy to escort you personally to another beautiful section of our gardens.” He gave a small awkward bow and stepped off to one side to let me pass.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. I’ll find my own way. I’m attending the black-tie dinner tonight for the women’s shelter. I might head over to the earlier mixer and see if I can find a few friendly faces.” I could hear disappointment in his voice as he followed me back out into the public areas.

  “If you’re sure? I really would be happy to help you. I don’t have to lead another tour this shift.” The boy was so eager, barely contained desire for me tickling the edges of his words.

  “I’m fine. Really.” I lifted my left hand, brushing hair out of my face and putting the five-carat diamond ring and wedding band on full display. It was the most ornate set of the two he’d gifted to me, which Ivan preferred me to wear when he wasn’t with me. Just another type of branding, showing that I was no better than cattle at a butcher’s farm.

  The man’s eyes bugged out wide when he caught sight of the stone, and he took an obvious shift away from me, his body language leaning outwards instead of inward.

  “Oh, okay. Whatever. You’ll want to go that way to get to the five o’clock mixer. It’s still going strong.” He pointed sullenly, his shoulders slumped.

  “Thank you.” I smiled, trying to soften the blow. He couldn’t be much older than eighteen.

  Remembering how life had been in my teens, I made my way towards the lily pools. Dad was the chef of the house. Though, he mostly only knew how to make breakfast foods. I ate my weight in pancakes most weeks, because it was his best dish. Mom’s food was typically inedible. Burnt toast. Rubbery eggs. Stuck-together pasta because she forgot to stir. Unless she got takeout and hid the evidence before we saw it, Dad and I went hungry on mom’s cooking days. When the food was surprisingly edible, we’d praise her lasagna and moon over her enchiladas, and then Dad and I would secretly check the outside trash for the throwaway delivery containers so we could tease her mercilessly.

  They weren’t bad people. They weren’t. They didn’t deserve to die.

  When my friend Jenny was in trouble and being hit by her stepfather, my parents had taken her in. They’d fed her and clothed her for nearly a year until child services could place her in a good foster home. I’d begged for Jenny to live with us permanently. I didn’t understand at the time why they’d said no. After helping her so much, I couldn’t comprehend why they’d let her go live with people who didn’t know her and didn’t love her.

  They’d explained to me later about the lifestyle I’d been born into, and my obligations to the Bratva. Bringing in a child not born into the blood and ruin wasn’t something they could swallow.

  Of course, creating a child and birthing her into that world was different for them somehow. They’d even wanted more than just a daughter, but it wasn’t in the cards.

  God, we’d loved each other. Even when I hated our life, hated the illegal activities, hated knowing that someday I’d be called upon to do my duty, I still loved them so much it was insensible. So I’d asked to go off to school, to get away from the life of crime that surrounded them. I regretted that now. Perhaps if I had been there… perhaps I could have stopped them before they betrayed their employer, and perhaps they would still be here.

  The scents of iris, peony, and Carolina Jessamine hit me as I moved through a particularly dense area of flowers. I paused, leaning into a trellis to smell the pale yellow blooms of the Jessamine. It was sweet, but not noxious. On a whim, I pressed a blossom against my wrist and rubbed it in gently. Walking away, I lifted the tender skin to my nose and smelled how I carried the summer with me as I moved.

  The lily pools were beautiful. Expanses of flower-dotted water with fragile bridges reaching over their wetness. Tall, round tables were spread around the inner courtyard, and people in casual clothing milled about speaking. I roved over the faces, realizing that this mixer wasn’t female attendees only, but still I strolled into the thick of activity, finding a waiter and snagging a delicate flute glass of bubbling champagne with a cocktail napkin wrapped around its stem.

  I sipped slowly, not making eye contact, and just enjoyed the sights and scents around me. I felt free for the first time in a long time. Free of Ivan. Free of obligation. Free of worry. I felt carefree and relaxed, my body’s need sated and my heart soothed.

  Koi’s, violent shocks of orange and silvery white, darted through the deep green waters, bopping to the surface looking for food. It was easy to waste away the time here, and no one tried to bother me. Walking away from the mixer, preferring to spend some much-needed time alone, I crossed one of the bridges and found myself in an empty area next to a smaller lily pool. Sitting down on a bench similar to the one in the off-limits section Alexander had taken me to, I watched the other people and thought about how they seemed less free than the Koi in the ponds.

  To the small whiskered fish, the bodies of water were giant worlds. They were free to swim about, navigating the mazes that connected the pools. They had all they needed to survive and thrive. Even though, in reality, they were unable to leave the water, unable to escape the b
otanical gardens.

  But the people, much larger, were also packed into a similarly tight space. But beyond that, they were walled-in by their statuses, their neighborhoods, their spouses and careers. It was much harder for a person to change their lives than it was for the fish in the water to simply swim to another section of their contained universe of interconnected pools.

  What was I thinking?

  I sipped the champagne, tears building in my eyes. I dabbed at them gently with the thin cocktail napkin.

  Like my parents, I was breaking the rules. Being already married, I should never flirt with a man who wasn’t my husband. I should not be alone with another man. I shouldn’t give my body to another man.

  Yet, that was exactly what I was doing. I was flirting, fucking, and feasting on my own passions and desires instead of being the good little wife I was expected to be. But Alexander was what I wanted out of life and I couldn't turn my back on whatever this thing was between us. Even if it would kill me in the end. I wanted him. Needed him. I hated that our time had been cut so short here in the gardens.

  His body should be near mine still, smelling the Jessamine on my wrist, viewing the flowers and the Koi. When he was gone from me, I felt the absence of it keenly, like there was a hole in my chest.

  “Mrs. Zolotov, this isn’t the situation your husband agreed to. Where are the other wives you spoke of? Did Mr. Zolotov know you wanted to come early to tour the gardens?” The speaker, familiar as he was, made my heart skip a beat. Our driver, Decatur, was standing over me, his gaze piercing. I knew what he was worried about—I’d convinced him to bring me early, saying I was meeting some of the Bratva wives to tour the gardens before the fundraiser. He was paranoid, even insisting on walking me to the entrance and verifying the event and that attendees had free admission to explore the garden during the day.

  But he hadn’t checked with Ivan about my coming here early. I knew, because I made it a last-minute request and we had to leave the house immediately. But now, he realized that he was going to be in trouble with his boss. I almost felt badly for him. But he was my husband’s eyes and ears, and he didn’t care about me. Why should I concern myself with his well-being?

  “I was with the other wives, Decatur, but they’ve since left to dress properly for tonight’s affair. I will be fine in my current outfit,” I spoke dismissively, sipping the champagne and looking around him. “The fundraiser dinner starts in,” I glanced at my watch, still trying to act the picture of nonchalant innocence, “twenty minutes.”

  Decatur turned and walked several feet away from me, dialing his cell and holding it to his ear. He spoke low, and I could not make out his words. When he turned back to me, I continued my innocent act.

  “I suppose I’ll head over to the dinner now.” Standing, I swiped a hand down the back of my skirt to loosen wrinkles.

  “I will escort you, Mrs. Zolotov.” Decatur was at my side instantly.

  “I don’t need to be escorted, Decatur.”

  He squared his shoulders. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Zolotov. I’m to stay by your side until he arrives.”

  “Tonight’s female attendees only,” I sputtered out, losing control of my calm facade. “Ivan cannot attend.”

  “Nonetheless, he is on his way.”

  Decatur took me by the elbow and began leading me away from the lily pools.

  My pulse quickened erratically under his touch, and my heart raced. Ivan was on his way. He’d know, thanks to Decatur, that I’d asked to come early. And our driver would also make sure he knew that I was alone at the mixer, which crawled with men and women alike.

  I felt nauseous by the time we entered the pavilion. The sky outside was darkening, and the first stars were beginning to blink and shine through the pale blue glass above.

  Six-fifty. When would Ivan arrive?

  At seven, elegantly on time, Evelina and Katya Vasiliev strode into the space. The Bratva Queen’s gaze roved over the expertly set tables and stunning floral arrangements. She leaned towards her daughter and whispered something. Katya walked away, heading towards the huge buffet spread and the waitstaff preparing to serve the affluent contributors to tonight’s cause. Everything must be done to the queen’s liking.

  Evelina began to move, and after a few steps her eyes locked with mine. She smiled, and the expression was genuine. She moved towards me and Decatur, her bronze dress floating about her womanly body. She had perfect posture, understated makeup, delicate jewelry that wasn’t too showy. I liked Evelina, I realized, and it felt like a betrayal to my parents.

  “Mrs. Zolotov.” She flicked my driver a glance, and then focused back on me. “I’m so glad you were able to attend.”

  “I’m so grateful for the invitation, Mrs. Vasiliev. It’s an honor, considering my lineage.” I chose my words carefully, giving the smallest of bows and tilting my head forward.

  “Well, Alexander was quite insistent that you be here. You’re one of us now, he reminded me,” she said with a smile, not realizing the danger she’d just put me in with her words. But I knew, and I felt Decatur stiffen at my side.

  When I straightened back up, I caught sight of Ivan over her shoulder. His face was enraged, his tie loosened to hang awkwardly. He’d blame me for that, for him looking disheveled in public. It would be my fault, because anything that went wrong for Ivan was somehow my fault.

  As he approached, his expression only grew fiercer. He didn’t even seem to see the woman I was talking to, and the words he spoke as he approached enforced that fact.

  “Goddammit, Marisha. I’m supposed to be at a fucking meeting. A dealbreaker kind of meeting. The whole fucking thing is going to go under, because I had to come here and deal with you. I’ve only just struck this goddamn deal between Eduard Vasiliev and the Italians! My head is on the fucking chopping block!” He stomped forward, hands lifting to grip my upper arms. His fingers dug into my skin, short manicured nails slicing at the freckled paleness.

  Evelina looked between Ivan’s fierce grip on my arm and me, her smile falling as she watched him manhandle his wife. My cheeks flamed with shame.

  “Ivan, I just came earlier to tour the gardens. Some of the other wives were here.” I stuttered out the words, feeling weak and wishing that Evelina Vasiliev wasn’t here witnessing my humiliation.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me, Marisha.” He shook me harshly, causing my vision to blur.

  I couldn’t believe he was acting this way in public. Even if Decatur had told him that I’d come early, even if he’d told him that he’d found me sitting alone at a joint mixer, none of that was bad enough to warrant this kind of rage. It wasn’t me causing this tantrum—I was just the pressure that popped the cork. This business deal going wrong must be devastating. Money and lives lost. I was going to suffer the consequences of it too. And they’d be even more severe because he was losing control in front of everyone and making a mockery of the event. As soon as he realized his surroundings, realized who the woman was standing near me, he would swallow down his anger until we were alone, and then it would come back. Volcanic. A killing force.

  Would this be the time he goes too far and hurts me beyond bruises?

  “Mr. Zolotov,” Evelina’s voice cut into the chaos, and Ivan froze, his face going blank in surprise. He blinked, looking around the room, taking in all of the beautifully dressed women who were staring slack-jawed in surprise at the commotion he’d caused. “This is highly improper. This is a fundraiser. A fundraiser for the women’s shelter. And you are acting like a brute and terrifying my guests!” She picked her words carefully, but her tone was clear.

  Ivan still hadn’t registered who was speaking, but he released me and turned slowly to face the woman who was standing as tall as a regal goddess, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

  “Mrs. Vasiliev,” he stuttered out in surprise, hands reaching up to tighten his tie.

  It almost made me happy that Ivan was taken aback by her presence, though he’d known she was helping ho
st tonight’s gala so his surprise shouldn’t have been too great.

  “Please leave, Mr. Zolotov. Not only is this a dinner for female attendees only, but you have proven the very need for a women’s shelter against abusive spouses.” She turned from him, nodding curtly at two men standing on either side of the exit to the pavilion. They strode towards us, and it was obvious that they were heavily armed.

  “We’re leaving. I apologize profusely for causing a scene or any offense.” Ivan grabbed a hold of my wrist.

  “Your wife is more than welcome to stay,” she said looking back at us, her eyes still narrowed and her mouth cut into a thin line of disapproval.

  Ivan forced a smile but there was nothing pleasant about it.

  “I’m afraid my wife will need to leave with me.” He tugged on my wrist and we started to walk away. Decatur followed silently.

  I heard Evelina Vasiliev speak quietly to her daughter as we moved away, my eyes watering as Ivan’s nails dug into my skin. He was so angry. Angrier than I’d ever seen before. If he found out what else was going on…

  This thing with Alexander had to stop. It had to stop now.

  Or I’d never survive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alexander

  I stretched my shoulders and reared my fist back, landing it on the jaw of the Italian prick that thought he could mess with my family. I hit him again, the satisfying crunch of bone breaking the silence of the room. Nikolai and I had been beating Stefano Muselina for thirty minutes now, until he’d fallen silent, barely acknowledging the pounding of our fists on his flesh. We’d shown him exactly what happened when you messed with Bratva royalty.

  “I think our point is proven, Alexander,” Nikolai said, cracking his bloody knuckles, then placing a hand on my shoulder.

  I nodded in agreement. “Towel,” I ordered, and Karik handed one over to me. I wiped it down my sweaty face and bare chest before cleaning my hands on it and dropping it at Stefano’s feet. I crouched, gripping his face in my hands and lifting his lolling head up so he could look me in the eye. “The next time you get the idea that maybe you can handle something on your own, remember who you’re fucking with,” I gritted. I stepped back, letting his head fall back down, his chin hitting his chest. I nodded to my men to uncuff his wrists and let him fall to his knees.