I can see he’s angry, but he’s containing it well. I say nothing. I’m in self-protection mode now.
“Answer me, Chiara,” he demands, loudly.
I look him right in his eyes, and I nod. “Yes.” It’s his turn to silently glare at me. “I thought you knew.” Saying it deflates most of my anger, especially when I see his reaction on his face. He looks sad, and hurt, and honestly wounded by my words.
He looks away, and slowly, by millimeters, his hands move down my arms, then he releases me. “Your father told me to give you time, that you’d just got out of a bad relationship. He told me you’d always been the sensitive one. He said you’d come around, eventually.”
Did he say I was a virgin? I wonder.
He walks away, toward what must be a bathroom. I hear water running. I should go. I should find my fucking father, and put a bullet in his head. I wonder if Misha would let me borrow his gun.
I’ve got my hand on the doorknob when I hear, “So you’re gonna drop a bombshell like that, and just walk out the door?”
“I thought it would be best for both of us if I go,” I say.
“Your father knew I’d wanted you all along. He practically dangled you in front of me when negotiating the costs of Matteo’s wedding. He wanted my family to buy the dresses for the wedding, then he mentioned how you deserved a more expensive dress than he could afford. He talked about you coming home for the wedding, while asking me to pay for the reception.”
I knew that my dad didn’t have the money to put on the spectacle that Angelina demanded. I just didn’t realize I was what he was bartering with. He’s even more cruel than I realized.
He seems closer when he continues. “He told me when to ask you out, when to ask you to marry me. He gave me a timeline. He orchestrated our entire relationship.”
I lean my forehead against the door and close my eyes, fighting tears.
He reaches out and touches my shoulder lightly. “Say something, Chi. I have to hear what you think.”
I want Misha. I don’t want you. I don’t love you.
I shake my head. I cannot think about Misha right now. I have to focus on Guilia. I turn toward him, and with tears in my eyes and my voice, I negotiate. “I’ll marry you, Frankie, but the conditions still stand. Dante doesn’t marry Guilia. And if he lays another hand on her, I’ll cut his dick off.”
He shakes his head, but his eyes are as watery as mine are. “I can’t marry you if you don’t want me, Chiara. I won’t.”
I sigh, and wipe my cheeks. “Then you’ll never have me.” I turn the doorknob, and open the door.
“Wait,” he says, and closes it gently. “Wait.” He inhales deeply, but he doesn’t know what to say. He’s conflicted. “You have to want me. You have to want this.” He reaches down toward me, and lightly kisses my lips.
I reach up, and touch his shoulder. Instead of pushing him away, I move my fingertips up his neck, and bury them in his dark curls. I’m worse than my father. I’m a whore. I’m selling myself for my sister’s protection. But haven’t I been for months? The only difference now is Frankie knows. And of course, Misha is in my life now.
I pull away, and with my fingers still in his hair, I insist, “You have to tell my father.”
He smiles at me, and nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do it. Whatever you want, my light.”
I reach up on my tiptoes, and kiss him again. Seducing Frankie to get him to do what I want will be so much easier, now that I know what I’m doing.
At least I can thank Misha for that.
Chapter Nineteen
Misha
I swagger into The Vodka Room, and lean against the bar. Kat approaches me, looking as sexy as ever. She speaks to me in Russian, and I’m starting to think she does it just to taunt me.
“I know you have Russian coming out of your mouth, but how much Russian is coming in your mouth?” I ask, hoping to shut her up.
“All of you, whenever you want to Mishka,” she answers without being ruffled. She winks as she hands me a glass with clear, bright red fluid in it.
“What flavor is it this time?” I murmur. She kinda deflated my amusement over my sarcastic comment with her response. “And why do you call me Mishka, when everyone else calls me Misha?”
She spouts a bunch of Russian, then licks her top lip.
I have no idea if she’s telling me what Mishka means, or what flavor vodka I’m about to drink. Neither really matters. I throw back the shot, then my eyes go wide when it travels down my throat. It burns!
“What the fuck did I just put in my mouth?” I ask, as I lean over the bar and grab an ice cube.
“Something about half as hot as I am for you,” she replies. “It’s jalapeño vodka.”
“That is the worst shit I have ever tasted in my life,” I grumble, as I suck on the ice cube.
“Want another hit?” Kat teases.
“Sure. You only die once, right?” I reply.
She refills my shot glass. “For you, maybe sooner. Your father is in the office, and he’s looking for you.”
I throw back the shot, and inhale loudly. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that when I got here?” I demand.
“I did. In Russian,” she says, and laughs as she turns away. The other girl laughs with her.
“Yea, it’s hilarious. I’m the only moron in the Bratva who doesn’t know Russian. Fuck you, both of you,” I exclaim, as I head toward the office. I only came in for a drink, not a fucking lecture.
I open the door to find my sister and my father chatting. I groan as I enter, then shut the door behind me and lean against it. My sister is sitting behind her desk, and my father seems more than comfortable sitting on the other side. He never had a problem with my sister’s intelligence and ambition, he just didn’t encourage it as much as he should have.
“I guess she told you,” I say, as I stare back into a face that is probably a lot like my own will look in thirty five years, if I live that long.
He chuckles. “I’m not mad at you, Misha. In fact, I couldn’t be happier. It worked just the way I planned.”
“Of course, because everything works out the way you plan, doesn’t it Papa?” I can hear the bitterness in my voice, but he just ignores it.
“Your sister says you want to run. But there’s nowhere for you to go, Misha. Stay, it’s the best thing for both of you if you stay.”
“I swear to God if you even think about hurting her, I will destroy this entire family, starting with you.” It’s not an empty threat. I could do it, if I wanted to. And he knows it.
“Don’t think you’re too smart, Misha. That always leads to failure.” He gives me a smile that would look more at home on a wild animal. “And you know a lot about failure, don’t you?”
“You know what I don’t fail at, Papa. Remember that when you go to bed tonight,” I warn him, as I turn to let myself out.
“That’s the second time you threatened me tonight, boy. It makes me think you’re angry.” His voice is light as he says it.
“Don’t hurt Chiara and you won’t have a problem from me.” I shrug, and casually shake my head. “But if you hurt her, it will be the last thing you ever do.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little stupid head, Misha. I have no reason to hurt your girlfriend. Especially if she gives me what I want. If you give me what I want.”
I hate him. I hate my father and this family. Why couldn’t I have been born to a normal family? I sigh loudly. “Any other father would be proud that his son had fallen in love with a beautiful, smart, educated woman who has a good job with benefits. No, not you. The only thing you can think of is what you can get out of it. You don’t care about me. All you care about is yourself.”
“I care about this family, Mikhail, as should you. This is the only family you will ever have.”
“I hope that’s not true. I hope I can have my own family, far away from this one.” I finally open the door, and walk out.
Kat calls out something I
don’t understand. I throw up my middle finger, and head out of the bar.
*****
I assured myself I would stay away from Chi. So why am I parked in the alley behind her house, drinking cheap vodka while watching for her bedroom light to come on? It’s well past eleven. She should be home by now. Maybe she went to visit her fiancé. Maybe she decided to stay the night. Maybe she’s fucking him right now.
I take another swig of vodka, and it’s the last one in the bottle. Great, now I’ll have to go and get another bottle, because she doesn’t keep anything stronger than wine in her house. I stand up, and begin draining my bladder behind a dumpster, when I see her light come on. She looks out into the darkness but doesn’t see me.
She steps into her bathroom, and in a few minutes she’s nude and strutting past her window. Why in hell would she do that? Is she trying to goad some psychopath into breaking in to her house?
I sit down and lean against my motorcycle. I really hope the cops don’t come any time soon. I’m too drunk to drive. It’s a little cooler this evening, and I pull my jacket closed and shove my hands in my pockets. I said I would stay away from her, and that’s what I’m going to do. The light goes out, and I remind myself that I am not going to see her.
That’s when my phone starts vibrating. It was fucking stupid not to jam the signal after threatening my father. I could lead him right to her. I pull it out to turn it off, and I find a text from Chi.
Where are you? I’m in bed waiting.
I’m not going. I swore I wouldn’t. But I’ll stay out here and watch over her. I power down the phone, and lean back, watching her back door. That’s when I see her bedroom light come back on, and it stays on. Then the light at her back door comes on. She opens the door, and looks out for several moments. She walks away, leaving the door open and the light on. Is she trying to attract bugs, raccoons, or rapists?
Either way, my fantasy has lost her damn mind. I leave my hiding spot, and walk silently toward her door, as if I’m drawn to the light like a moth. I close the door behind me and lock it, before I turn out the light.
When I lean against her bedroom door frame, she turns toward me and asks, “What took you so long?”
She’s beautiful, and everything I’ve ever wanted. And she was probably with her fiancé again. “What if I hadn’t been out there? What if you invited in a family of stray cats, or a homeless person?”
“I knew you were there. I felt you,” she murmurs, and pulls the sheet off her gorgeous nude body.
“You were with him today,” I accuse. I don’t know if she was or not, but I want to hear how she answers. She says nothing. “You know who I mean, your fiancé.”
“I saw him earlier, but I spent most of the evening with my brother and sister, waiting for my father to get home so I could murder him.” She smiles at me as she says it.
“You’re making me crazy,” I mutter, as I try to tear my eyes away from her. “Did you fuck him?”
“What is wrong with you tonight, Misha? Why would you ask me that?” She looks sweet and innocent, but she doesn’t answer the question.
“It’s a yes or no question, Chi. Did you fuck him?” I stalk toward her. I take in the look in her eyes, the set of her mouth, the way she’s breathing. It all says something is different about her. I can almost smell it.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” she counters. She moves slightly away from me on the bed, not toward me. That confuses me, and along with her unwillingness to answer, it makes me furious. “Maybe you should go home, and sleep it off.”
“And then what will you do? Unlock both doors and open all your windows?” When I get to her bed, I place my knees on it and crawl toward her. I’m still dressed, wearing my leather jacket and boots. She slides backward, until her back is against the headboard.
She exhales a ragged breath, and looks deeply into my eyes. She looks unsettled, and afraid. And she still hasn’t answered.
“I threatened to kill my father today.” I don’t know why I tell her that. She’s sitting with her knees up, and her hands wrapped around them. My thighs meet her shins, and my hands are on either side of her, resting on her pillow. She seems so small right now, like a little bronze ball of dark hair and big bright eyes. “I did it because of you.”
“I threatened to kill my father today too. And if I’d seen him, I would have done it,” she replies. Her eyes get bigger, and they’re sparkling because of unshed tears. “I did it because I found out today that whether I marry Frankie or not my father plans to marry Guilia off to Dante.” She’s upset, but she’s more angry than sad. I think she really will kill her father. I wonder if she’ll need help disposing of the body.
We stare into each others’ souls. We are feeling the same things. We are both hurt and deceived by our fathers. Neither of us asked for this. Both of us want out.
“I’m so sorry, Misha. I kissed Frankie today, to get him to do what I wanted him to do. Do you know how that feels?” Her voice is louder, angrier. “I used the promise of sex to manipulate someone, like I was selling myself. I am selling myself.” Finally she reaches out to me, and touches my face gently. “I’m powerless, Misha. You’re the only thing that makes me feel safe.”
That makes me feel more like a man than I ever have, and hurts me in ways that I can’t describe. Because I can’t help her. I can’t see a way out of this, without us killing our fathers.
“They don’t know about you Misha. You kill people for a living. You can kill my father, can’t you?”
I could, and not think twice about it. But I know that’s not what she really wants. She’s distressed, and she’s not acting like herself.
“Are you drunk Chi?” I ask, as I survey her pink cheeks and her bloodshot eyes.
“I might have had a few glasses of wine with my mom, while we waited on my dad to get home,” she replies.
“Oh, my love.” I tear off my jacket and throw it on the floor. Then I scoop her up into my arms, and hold her against my body. I wrap her up in the blanket, and hold her tight. She begins to sob, but not loudly. She’s trying to be strong and hold her tears in. I leave kisses on the top of her head, and tuck her dark hair under my chin. “I love you Chiara.” She grabs hold of the front of my shirt, and straightens out her legs, and cuddles into me as close as she can. “What does your name mean?” I finally ask.
“It means light,” she whispers.
“It would, wouldn’t it,” I reply.
I rub her back and hold her close until she stops crying, and she falls asleep. Somehow I untie my boots and kick them off. Then, I lie beside her, enjoying the feel of her skin. She wants me so much, and she trusts me more than I deserve.
She’s becoming everything to me. I won’t let her marry Frankie. I can’t even spend a night away from her.
Things are going to change, tomorrow. I’ve decided. I’m taking my girl.
Chapter Twenty
Chiara
I wake up feeling more thirsty than I’ve ever been in my life. I open my eyes, and expect to be alone again. Instead, I find that I am curled up against Misha’s big, hard body.
I remember having wine at my parents’ house. I remember my mom calling me a cab. After that, it’s kind of a jumble of images that I’m not sure are real. I left my back door open because Misha didn’t answer his phone? That can’t be right. I wouldn’t do that, would I?
But here he is, in my bed. He’s fully dressed, and I’m completely naked and wrapped up in his strong arms. It’s the first time we’ve woke up together. This feels amazing. He has a bit of blonde scruff on his pretty face. He looks so young and carefree. He’s almost smiling.
I wish he was nude, so I could go exploring. I’d love to kiss every inch of him. I don’t want to wake him, but I have to touch him. I reach out and lightly stroke the stubble on his chin. Then, I touch his soft, full bottom lip.
“Mmmmmmm,” he purrs, and pulls me closer.
My fingers stray down his neck, and he sighs loudly. I lea
n forward, and kiss his throat.
“Chi,” he whispers.
Yes! Even in his sleep he wants me. I kiss over his exposed skin, to right under his ear. His hands travel down my back. And my hands, well they travel down his front. I stop at his jeans, but his fingertips continue back up to my shoulders. I shiver at his gentle touch, the contrast between what I know about him, and how he is with me. Can this man, so young and innocent looking, really be a killer? What if he isn’t who he says he is? What if he’s trying to somehow impress me with the Bloody Ivanovich reputation?
I’m distracted from those thoughts when I notice his shirt is hiked up, and his flat stomach is exposed, I see a gap between his skin and the waistband of his pants. My hand slides down, into his jeans, and find his penis is wet and hard, and it extends way past his underwear.
I smile when I hear his sharp intake of breath. “Chi,” he mutters. He tries to move away, but I grab hold tight.
“You’re not getting away from me, Misha. You’re mine,” I whisper against his ear. “This is mine.”
“Yes, Chi, all of me is yours,” he relents, and rolls over onto his back. He places his hands behind his head, and leaves his eyes closed, but his grin looks pretty self-satisfied.
“I can’t believe you’re still in my bed,” I say, as I pull up on his shirt. He sits forward a little, and helps me remove it. “Why’d you sleep with your clothes on, anyway?”
He gives me a little sigh, but falls back onto the pillows. “You were drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
That might be the sweetest thing a man has ever said. Ever. I thought men liked it when their partner’s inhibitions were down. Apparently not my man. And this man is a supposed to be a stone cold killer?
“I wasn’t drunk. I had some wine,” I argue. I hitch one leg up, and straddle his hips. My hands go out to his beautifully sculpted and inked torso, tracing the Bratva stars first. He inhales deep, but doesn’t resist. He’s obviously Bratva, because no sane man would have the tattoo inked on their skin if they weren’t.
War (Bratva and Mafia Chronicles Book 1) Page 12