by SR Jones
“Oh my God,” Maya exclaims.
The girl screams, but Costas doesn’t stop. He turns around, sees us, grins then starts to come.
The absolute freak.
“Sorry,” he says as he pulls out of the girl, slapping her on the ass. “I was right on the edge, couldn’t stop it.” He takes the condom off and throws it into a trash can without tying it off.
The girl is scrabbling to pull her jeans up and her top down. Her tits are hanging out of a greying bra, and she looks underfed.
“Here.” He digs into his wallet and throws some euros at the girl, who takes them, slips them down her top, and walks out past us, adjusting her clothing as she goes.
When she’s out of the room, Alesso turns to Costas. “If you’re going to fuck pros, you might want to pay a little bit more and go more upmarket. You don’t know what you’ll catch messing around with street girls.”
“I use condoms, asshole, and last time I checked, you weren’t my father. I like them downtrodden and desperate, gives it a nice edge.”
Maya makes a small sound, and I grab her hand, squeezing it. I don’t want her shooting her mouth off at Costas. He’s a royal screw up, and she’s got the attention already of Yannis and some other psycho we can’t find, don’t need to go adding Stamatis’ son to the list.
“What are you doing here?” Costas asks.
“Came in to pick something up for your father,” I tell him.
“What?”
I smirk and decide to piss him off. “Need to know basis, sorry.”
He shoots me a livid look. “You’re the hired help, Damen, and you’d do well to remember your fucking place. You think my dad gives a shit about you or your little boyfriend here?”
He points to Alesso and sniffs. I bite back a grin because calling Alesso little is somewhat of a stretch. He’s a few pounds lighter than me, and a couple of inches shorter, but he’s a big guy by any standard. Costas isn’t particularly. He’s not scrawny, and he has muscles from working out at the gym religiously, but he’s not in the same league of strength that Alesso has going on.
“No,” Costas says as if I’ve answered him, when I simply stare at him. “No, he doesn’t. He gives so little of a shit about you, he made you marry the fat family joke.”
Maya gives a hurt, little gasp, and I squeeze her hand again in comfort, but Costas must have heard as his gaze swings her way.
“Ah, sorry, did I hurt your feelings, Maya? Still think we’re friends who play hide and seek? Well, we’re not. Your family is an utter embarrassment to our name. Your dad’s a loser, your mother’s … sad, and you’re fat and ugly. The only thing you’ve got going for you is that no one’s touched that gaping wound between your legs yet, which is all bitches are good for.”
One moment, my hand is squeezing Maya’s telling her not to react, the next I’m slamming Costas down on the desk and grinding his cheek into the wood. “Say sorry, fucker.”
“I’ll have you fired, and you know you won’t be getting a gold watch and a reference, bitch,” he screams in reply.
“Don’t give a shit. Say sorry, now.”
I yank him upright by his hair, which earns another scream. “Say. Sorry.”
He raises livid eyes to look at me. “Sorry.”
I jerk him hard by the hair. “Not to me, fuckface, to Maya.”
He stares at her and grits his teeth. “Sorry, Maya.” Then he giggles. “Shit, I am sorry. Did a bit too much candy.” He taps his nose.
“It’s fine,” Maya says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
I let the bastard go, and he wobbles for a moment, before wiping his nose, sniffing, and strutting away from me.
Costas pushes past Maya and Alesso with a wave over his shoulder at me. “I’ll let it go this time, Damen, you’re only protecting your little bride. But touch me again, and you’ll be out on your ear.”
Then he’s gone. Maya rushes to me and throws herself into my arms. I’m a bit shocked his words have hurt her so badly, but I hold her, my anger at her these past few days dissipating as her warmth fills me.
She pulls away and looks up at me. “Damen, you have to be careful what you say and do to him. You are important to my uncle, but Costas is his son. You could get into trouble.”
I realize then, she’s not upset for herself, but scared for me. It makes my heart beat a little faster, and I’m not sure whether in happiness to have someone care for me in such a way, or terror of the fact.
“Come on,” I say, pulling away from her. “Let’s pick up the package we need and get you to the shelter, or you’ll be late.”
When we get to the shelter, I park up, and Alesso and I follow Maya in through the back doors, down a dingy tunnel, and out into a huge hall filled with tables and people talking.
“Maya!” A petite blonde woman, speaking English runs over to us and pulls Maya into a hug. “Oh, it’s good you’re back. Where have you been?”
“I erm … I got married.” Maya flashes her a smile and holds up her hand with the rings on.
The woman lets out a deafening shriek and does a sort of dance on the spot. “Oh my God! That’s epic! Wow.”
“This is my husband, Damen, and his friend Alesso. They wanted to come see what we do down here, and they’re going to help out too.”
We are?
“Oh, marvelous,” Blondie gushes. “My, what strapping lads. Well, you’ll certainly be useful. We’re going to be serving up in about half an hour, and you two can help put the tables out and carry the trays of food. It’s a heavy job, and normally Marcus does it, but he’s off sick with a bad back. I was dreading getting it all sorted, but now here you are.”
She turns to Maya and says loudly enough for me to hear. “Wow, girl, he’s sex on a stick.”
Maya laughs, but she flushes, and I like it on her. Ever since she threw herself into my arms in the office, my vow to stay away from her is weakening. That one moment of her soft warmth has slayed me. Now, I’m hyperaware of her next to me, the scent of her skin, the sound of her voice, the heat from her body.
“Maya, hey.” A young man shuffles over, limping slightly. He’s dirty and looks unwell. His clothes smell bad, and I try not to react. He speaks to Maya in accented English.
Maya goes to him and pulls him into a big hug. “Ashraf, I’m pleased to see you. How is your foot?”
So this is the young man she wanted to see. He’s clearly a refugee, and I wonder where from.
“It is getting better. I am careful to keep it dry and clean, as you directed me to do so, Miss Maya.”
“Did you go and see the doctor?”
“Yes, I went. I go to the one you tell me of. I don’t wish to go back to the one in the camp.”
Maya glances at me. “Damen, this is Ashraf, he’s from Afghanistan. He’s trying to get asylum here or in Germany. He was based in a refugee camp, but he left and has been on the streets.”
I nod and say hello to the young man.
“Go sit, Ashraf, and I’ll bring some food over to you when it is ready,” Maya says.
He grins at her and gives a small bow. “See you in a while, Miss Maya.”
She turns to me as he shuffles away from us. “It’s terrible, he’s been trying to get asylum here for ages, and the authorities keep playing games and stalling.”
“If he’s here illegally, though, Maya, he should go home.”
She turns to Alesso as if she cannot believe what he’s said. “He’ll die if he goes home. Jesus, Alesso, where’s your humanity?”
He sighs. “Not a conversation for now, but we can’t take the whole world into Greece; we have enough troubles of our own.”
I step in when I see Maya’s jaw tighten in that way I know means she’s about to give Alesso a piece of her mind. “What do you want us to do, Maya? These men look hungry; let’s get the food ready.”
She nods at me, but shoots Alesso a rage-filled look. Boy, he’s going to get a lecture later, I think with a smile.
No matter how I try to tell myself it’s a good thing she’s seemingly done with the idea of us, I can’t stop seeing her as mine.
I don’t think I’m ready to let her go.
I don’t think I ever will be.
No matter how hard I try to see Damen as nothing more than a bad guy, a thug, a killer for hire, I can’t. Somehow, he’s wormed his way in, and I see the bad, yes, but I also see the good.
The way he stuck up for me with Costas. Damn, it was hot.
It wasn’t something he did for show, to impress me. He simply reacted naturally to someone insulting me. The same way he had when my father hit me.
No one has been in my corner this way before. Not even my mother. Oh, she stepped up when she had to, and I’m grateful, but Damen? I wouldn’t have to beg him to help me. In fact, something tells me I’d have to beg him not to. Try to make him stop.
All the while we are at the shelter, he helps out, serving food for the men, carrying trays full of heavy pots of hearty stew. He interacts with the guys naturally. I find myself watching him far too often.
Alesso helps too, but oddly, for the one I always thought the more outgoing, he’s kind of reserved, but between us we get everyone fed, and soon the night is drawing to a close.
Ashref comes over to us. “Thank you, Miss Maya, and to your friends too.”
Damen says something then that I don’t understand, and Ashref’s face lights up. He replies, and Damen smiles and says something else.
Then they clap one another on the back, and we leave.
“What was that?” I ask Damen.
“Spoke to him a little in Pashto,” Damen replies.
“You can speak Pashto?”
He laughs. “A small amount. Alesso here, he can say a lot more. I’m better in Dari, so between us we muddled through.”
Wow, these guys aren’t simply hired guns, they are smart too. Something I should have realized a long while ago. My uncle wouldn’t surround himself with three men and make them his unofficial right hand men if they were stupid in any way. He still has other bodyguards at the mansion; big guys who walk the perimeter with big guns. These three, though, they’re more than simply a weapon in his arsenal, I realize. Not that I’ve spent much time with Markos, or know much about him, but he’s definitely part of their strange little gang.
We get to the house, and I realize I’m bushed. Totally exhausted. It’s been a crazy few weeks, and it’s finally catching up with me. We all grabbed a little of the food at the shelter, so I don’t need to eat, but I do need a shower and bed.
I yawn loudly and realize I didn’t cover my mouth. The guys are looking at me, and Damen only grins, but it is this sort of behavior that drives my mother mad. She says I’m not fit to be part of wealthy society. Thing is, with her taste in men, neither is she.
“I’m off to bed,” I tell the guys.
Damen looks like he’s about to say something, but instead he merely nods.
Markos is here back at the house too, and he gives me a grunt and a nod. The man is so silent, so uncommunicative, that I wonder what the hell goes on in his head.
As I head out of the room, I see Alesso take down a bottle of scotch from a shelf and swing it in the air. Damen nods. I doubt the guys will be coming to bed any time soon.
Showered, dressed in an oversized cotton tee, and all ready for bed, I settle in under the sheets and scroll through my reading app, trying to find something to read. I’m exhausted, but my mind is whirring. I find a mystery I’m halfway through and pick it up again.
Soon my lids are drooping, and I keep losing my place, so I put my phone down and close my eyes.
Something bright disturbs me, along with a beeping. I sigh and rub my eyes. Damn phone, I forgot to set it to nighttime settings, and someone has messaged me. It’s probably Stella. I told her I had married Damen, but she doesn’t know it’s fake, and she thinks I’ve lost my mind.
I’m kind of avoiding her because she’s such a good friend I don’t think I can meet her and spend an hour or two lying to her face, pretending Damen and I are in love and happy. She’ll see right through me.
I pull the phone out from where it’s partially under the covers and stare at the screen bleary eyed. It takes a moment for the message to register.
Daughter of the whore, don’t go getting ideas above your station now you’re married to a mob guy. It won’t do. You’re still a whore, and the spawn of a whore, and it would be better all round if you just fucked off somewhere. Go get a new life, Maya. You won’t like your old one soon.
I stare at the message, my heart hammering. Jesus. Whoever is sending them knows I am married to Damen, and he isn’t scared of him. Shit. Who wouldn’t be scared of Damen? My mind circles back to Yannis again, but he’s already pretty much ruled out as how could he have known I’d gone to Paris? Unless … Uncle has a leak? Someone really working for the Pappas organization. It makes sense, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone working for one family has double crossed them for another.
Shit.
I tell myself to forget about it, go back to sleep and tell Damen about it in the morning. I can’t. though. I toss and turn for ages before deciding I can’t leave this all night.
Getting out of bed, I put on the light and go to the door that joins my room with Damen’s. I try the handle, and it opens easily. I enter his room and glance at the time on my phone, past two in the morning. He should be in bed, but the bedside light is on, and his bed is empty.
I’m about to go and see if he’s still in the kitchen when I realize I hear the sound of water running. Stalling, I pivot and head toward the bathroom. The door to the bathroom is in a sort of nook, to the left of the bed, and I can’t see it until I round the corner. The sight in front of me pulls me up short.
I’d been about to knock on the door and shout to Damen, but the door is wide open. Damen is naked in front of me. Gloriously naked, in the shower, eyes closed, head down, one arm resting on the glass, the other … the other working his erect dick.
Panicked and about to back out of the room, I falter when his head lifts and his eyes snap open.
His gaze pins me where I am, rendering me unable to move a muscle. If I thought he’d be embarrassed the same way I would be, I’m wrong. He doesn’t let go of his dick. He doesn’t flush or panic. No, not at all. Instead, he shrugs at me, gives himself two more lazy pulls, then turns the water off.
He steps out, dripping wet and glorious beyond belief. “What do you need, Maya? As you can see, I’m kind of busy.”
There’s an anger behind his words, and I don’t know what he’s got to be angry about. I know I fucked up the other day, but we seemed okay again after tonight at the shelter. I swear, this man. I have no idea what mood he’ll be in next.
“I’m sorry, I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow.” I turn to go, but he grabs me, stopping me.
“About what? It’s obviously important enough for you to come in here interrupting my privacy.”
Interrupting his privacy? He had the door open. I narrow my eyes and poke him in the chest. “Maybe if you want privacy, close the damn door in future. Maybe if you want privacy, don’t tell the woman you’re protecting all about the door between your room and hers, then proceed to … to … to masturbate in the shower with the bathroom door ajar.”
He grins, damn well grins, and his dick twitches. Oh my God.
“Is this … I’m sorry, is my upset turning you on?”
He closes the gap between us and looks at me, deep in my eyes, as if he’s trying to read my soul.
“Do you know how many people answer me back?” he asks. Nonplussed, I shrug. “No one. I mean, Alesso does, Markos too, on the odd occasions
he talks. That’s it. No one else would talk to me the way you do.”
Does he want an apology? He’s the one in the wrong.
“And I just find it damn hot.” Another step and there’s no space between us anymore.
Only me, in my t-shirt, no underwear, core throbbing and wet, and him, big, hard, and so close we are now touching.
My mind goes offline. I swear thoughts shut down, and my body takes over. I practically launch myself at him. He catches me and pushes me against the wall at the same time my legs wrap around him, and his mouth crashes down on mine.
He’s kissing me like he’s dying for it, and I respond in kind.
We kiss and kiss, our tongues playing hide and seek as our lips suck and bite. Damen groans into my mouth, and it’s animalistic and raw. Something about him makes me wild, and I need him inside me.
It’s an elemental desire driving me, primal and urgent. It’s not even about getting off, not about coming, but more about needing him inside me, connecting with me. Taking me and making me his in every way.
I let my legs slide down him, and when my feet are on the floor I pull away to the side, slipping out of his arms. He gives me a quizzical look, and I slip my t-shirt over my head, leaving me naked before turning and walking out of the bathroom to the bedroom.
When I turn, I see he is following me, and it is slow, deliberate. He’s not rushing after me; he’s simply taking his time, like a lion stalking its prey before going in for the kill.
When I reach the bed, I climb on and lie down on the sheets, my arms above my head on the pillow.
He stops by the bed and looks down at me, his finger trailing down my stomach, making the flesh there contract in his wake.
“Is this a peace offering?” he asks.
I shake my head, because it isn’t. More a declaration of war because I’ve decided something. I want Damen. I may not like what he does for my uncle, but I want him more than any other man before, and I intend to get him. He doesn’t want to be caught, but he’s already halfway there if the way he’s looking at me is anything to go by.
No, this is no peace offering; this is my all-out assault on the man I want.