by Raven Scott
He tilted his head, his ugly, evil smirk widening as a sliver of fear lodged between my shoulder blades. I should’ve stayed away from Anatoly. I should’ve listened to the voice that told me he was bad— there wasn’t a single redeeming quality about him. Crying out hoarsely when he jerked my head back, a muffled pop rippled up my neck to my ear. Greedy, calloused hands gripped my hips and pressed, and my cry morphed into a terrible shriek. Shackles dug into my wrists as my shoulders and elbows ripped apart, and black spots danced in my blurred vision.
“You shouldn’t have ghosted me— what a piece of shit thing to do, Joci. I wouldn’t even be mad if you just told me to my face that I’m not your type, and you didn’t think this was going to work out.” Beyond the blood that drowned out Anatoly’s heavy breathing, I wondered how the fuck this happened. His hardon dug against my abdomen; he was enjoying torturing me in the sickest way. And why?
Because I texted him that I didn’t want to see him anymore, and he couldn’t accept it? We’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks! Anatoly’s bad-boy routine was hot until I realized he was just a sadistic creep with not a shred of decency even to leave me be at work. I’d ignored him and eventually blocked him, but it didn’t take him long to find out where I lived. How strange, the kind of thoughts that my mind conjured on the brink of failing.
“… You put in a work order for a woman who dumped you?” Anatoly froze like a deer in the headlights of a semi-truck, his whole body frigid and stiff against mine. The soft ‘tsk-tsk’ of disappointment assaulted my brain, and I lifted my head forward to find no one in the room. “Anatoly… you should know better. Struass was right to take some initiative and look into this. I told you when I allowed you back that this shit had to stop. You’re not qualified to make this decision on your own.”
The room swirled around me, but there was only Anatoly and I— no one else. He must be watching or something. There was a mirrored wall; anyone with half a brain knew that it was a one-way mirror. Only… I didn’t have much of a brain left. How long had I been here? How much was wrong with me under Anatoly’s awful treatment? Ho—
“Aleksander— you’re ruining my vibe.” Anatoly’s voice wavered ever so slightly. The silence that met him was damning, and he stepped away from me to wipe his hands on his pants. He would’ve seemed nonchalant with that look on his face if not for the fact that his shoulders were touching his ears.
I wasn’t relieved, though; whoever made Anatoly afraid was worse than him, and being worse than him…
The door to the cell slammed open, bouncing against the wall, and even Anatoly jumped a little. My chains rattled loudly, cutting into my wrists as a faint gasp scraped my throat. Blinking hard, I trained my eyes on who must’ve been Aleksander. He was taller, broader— his face set in stone, and even the hair on his head screamed that he was in charge.
“This is a business, little brother—” Shit. Ducking my head, everything started to melt around me as my brain threatened to explode. The pounding against my forehead spread down my entire face, and my chin wobbled. “You can’t just do whatever you want against anyone you want. Besides— I saw your texts. The way she broke things off with you was more than fine. You’re overreacting. Again. I’m getting tired of your childish lashing out, Anatoly.”
“This has nothing to do with business, Aleksander— I’m on my own time—” But Aleksander held up his hand and cut Anatoly off, sending a powerful ripple of freezing air at me.
My eyes fluttered open, a ragged gasp billowing into my lungs to constrict my throat. Blinking hard, I sat up a little and glanced around, reaching a clammy palm to my neck. Icy cold air blasted my face from a vent in the ceiling, and I smacked it away from me to sink deep into my leather-clad seat.
“We’ll be landing soon. Do you not like planes, Joci?” Prickles rippled down the right side of my face, and I glanced over as Sascha watched me with concern softening his expression. “You okay?”
He was so sweet— Ophelia got lucky. My gaze flickered to her, just dead against his shoulder, before finding his again. Rather than answer and risk having to explain myself, I simply nodded. Ever since meeting them two months ago, when I was reassigned as a bodyguard to Ophelia, I thought about my predicament a lot more.
My predicament being how I ended up here, under Makovich’s thumb.
Tearing my eyes off Sascha, his usual, casual suit replaced with something that cost more than he made in a year, I pursed my lips thinly. He’d trimmed his beard sharp, wore fancy clothes, and was mature and wise enough to pull off whatever Aleksander was planning. Wrapped in dark grey silk, Sascha was stately, almost, in the way he carried himself.
That was the point, though. Aleksander wanted to know how much of an upper hand he’d have in negotiations. Frankly, I didn’t approve of storming out the gate with a lie, but I had no voice, here. The only person that would listen to me was Ophelia, and she was clocked out. My lips twitched— with the urge to smile or frown, I didn’t know. Honestly, it didn’t matter, anyway. From the moment I was reassigned, my life had gone on the up. I got to move out of Saint Petersburg, and now, I was following her to America.
I’d follow Ophelia almost anywhere. She was a woman all women aspired to be.
“Joci.” Dread rolled down my spine at Aleksander’s soft call, his finger crooking suggestively when I dared look over. Pushing myself heavily out of my chair, I struggled not to wince as my shoulders ached fiercely. Flying always hurt, but I ground my teeth against the throbbing as I sat across from him. For a long second, Aleksander was quiet, eyes roaming, face stoic and unreadable. I never knew why he kept me around— a man like him didn’t feel anything for getting rid of people, especially useless people.
“What are you plans when Ophelia and Sascha go back to Russia? Do you want to stay in America?” My eyes widened, and Aleksander covered his mouth with his palm to tap his cheek thoughtfully. “Regardless whether we work out a deal with Carlyle Santino, it’s not against our current policy that you stay. You’d have your out, even if Carlyle put you under surveillance for a time. I know how much you hate my family, and you have every right to.”
“… Are you serious? You’ve never let anyone out.” My voice wobbled, and I glanced behind my automatically— but Sascha had headphones on, and Ophelia was still asleep. Licking my lips heavily, I turned back to Aleksander to frown. “I can get out?”
“You’re dead weight to me, and through no fault of your own, Joci. I kept you around because I had nowhere to put you that Anatoly couldn’t reach.” My brows rose in surprise, my heart stuttering to pull them down sharply as confusion twisted my lips. Aleksander rubbed his jaw roughly, licking his teeth— as if what he had to say left a disgusting taste in his mouth before he’d even spoken. “I took you in these past few years to keep him away from you. Anatoly is… a character. I worried that if I resettled you, he’d try to finish what he started five years ago. It’s much, much harder for him to secretly go to America than, say, Krasnoyarsk.”
“I- I… I didn’t think you put that much thought into it.” After everything I’d seen and heard Aleksander do to Ophelia, he was so willing to cut me out, and I pursed my lips thinly. His emotionless mask stayed firmly in place as my mind churned, my gaze slipping to focus on the small, finished table between us. “I want to stay. Yes. I’ll take it.”
“You know what being out means, right? No contact with anyone— including Ophelia. No financial help. You’ll never go back to Russia— you’ll never step a foot in the Motherland again, Joci.” My lips parted, and air flooded my mouth to dry my words on my tongue. Nodding firmly, I clenched my jaw hard while my rationalizations raced circles between my ears. For a fraction of a second, I saw pity and maybe even regret flash in Aleksander’s dark eyes. “I know it’s been difficult for you because of what Anatoly did. I honestly wanted to kill you and get you out of the way because you’d serve me no purpose, no matter how hard I tried to think of one— and I did try, Joci. It put me in a str
ange position.”
“Is that why you made me learn to fight and sewed me to Lyov’s hip?” Aleksander didn’t hesitate to nod, and offense and relief made war in my chest. Sitting back, I winced when the throbbing in my shoulder shot down my back. A hard breath surged out of my nose, and Aleksander’s face almost sagged in a frown.
“You’re terrible at it, but who’d try to get Lyov, of all of us? I thought it would be the most neutral, safe position I could put you in. However, that’s changed. Lyov came to me after you kicked him out of Ophelia’s house and agreed to see a therapist.” I choked on my own spit at Aleksander’s declaration, and amusement took over his expression before he could stop it. Shock rattled my teeth, my eyes widening as all thoughts of being free temporary backstepped. “I was surprised, too, but you know Ophelia is a force of pure personality. The point is, I have nowhere to put you, Joci, so I have to let you go. I’d rather not kill you, because there’s no reason. You serve me no purpose dead or alive, but you can’t stay in Russia without looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. And trust me— Anatoly is still very much holding that grudge against you.”
2
Joci
I’d never met an American in person, but Carlyle Santino felt exactly like Aleksander Makovich. The aura he exuded as he stood, tall and confident, on the tarmac was overwhelming; even the way he tilted his head reminisce of my boss. Ophelia nodded at my whisper out of the corner of my eye, and I gripped the railing of the steps tighter.
“He’s hot.”
“He’s got a ring on, Joci.” Puffing out my lips absently, I hummed softly; I hadn’t scanned that far down, yet. America brought out the curiosity that Anatoly had almost extinguished… and I was going to live here! Oh, my god! Stifling a wide smile as excitement bubbled up like tar in my chest, I cleared my throat quietly. Aleksander would’ve gotten me what I needed to stay in this country legally, to work legally— all I had to do was figure out what my next step would be.
“Aleksander Makovich.” The deep, thundering baritone that rolled smoothly out of Carlyle’s mouth rattled up my legs, and all my thoughts vanished under a thick blanket of uncertainty. He held out his hand for Aleksander, and I and Ophelia paused on the plane steps to watch them shake. Only, they didn’t release each other’s palms while the tension in the air became suffocating. In slow motion, both men produced a gun from somewhere on their persons, and my heart leaped into my throat as blood rushed in the opposite direction. Holy shit- these guys are intense.
Still shaking hands, Aleksander and Carlyle glared at each other— like they could read each other even behind expertly built walls. True, the American might’ve had lighter hair, a longer face, and broader shoulders, but there was no real distinction between them. Obviously, both men were born for this meeting, this power, and I realized for the first time how difficult Ophelia’s job was going to be.
Aleksander moved a fraction of a second after Carlyle, gun barrels aimed down and trigger fingers itching. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck bristled, and I grabbed Ophelia’s arm tightly. A horrendous bang drowned out my gasp, but neither man flinched even as I ducked behind Ophelia.
I was watching some strange caveman ritual of manliness, and it was awesome to behold. They shot directly between each other’s feet and didn’t react at all; the willpower alone was incredible. Not that I want to be between them right now.
“This is the first time we’ve met in person.” Aleksander’s English was exceptional, his voice ringing across the tarmac to chase away the discharging of two guns at the same time. He let go first, and Carlyle Santino nodded firmly as they both tucked their weapons back. Suddenly, the buzzing in the air and in my ears stopped, leaving my head hollow as my brain struggled to solidify from the goop it’d been reduced to. “I hope my brother hasn’t been a nuisance.”
“My little brother deals with your little brother. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be here to meet you. This is Illya, my interpreter.” Hurrying down the steps as introductions were made, I shook my shoulders of weighty astonishment and took a huge breath. Eyes scanned me dismissively before Carlyle gestured us to follow with a flick of his wrist. “You’ll be staying in New York City, as you requested. Reece will be our go-between. Be kind to him- he’s a bit slow.”
“I take offense to that, Boss.” It seemed like everyone but Aleksander and Carlyle materialized out of nowhere, and my gaze swung to the man that spoke. Reece was only a little taller than me in my heels, with nothing about him to suggest he’d ever so much as talked back to someone aggressively. He stuck out his hand, but Aleksander ignored him to stride by before Reece could open his mouth to introduce himself.
He slowly curled his fingers, awkwardness seeping from his posture as he curled his shoulders. Even Ophelia and Sascha ignored Reece, and I inhaled a sharp, short breath before I reached him. Holding out my hand, I smiled when Reece glanced at me under knit brows wriggling with surprise.
“I’m Joci.” When was the last time I spoke English? I mean, I knew the very rudimentary phrases and could get by on simple conversation, but… I don’t think I’d ever actually spoken English to anyone but my course partner before. Reece smiled gratefully, warmly, clasping my palm gently, and I ducked my head in a curt nod. “My English is no good. I’m sorry.”
“Ah- I speak Russian fluently.” Reece squeezed my hand gingerly as surprise stretched my lips. “Let’s go before they leave us behind.”
“I need practice.” Unclasping our palms, I started after the group as a strange sensation rippled up my jaw and cheeks. Reaching to touch my lips, I frowned while my brain kicked into overdrive to find English words. “Weird…”
“English is a shitty language to learn as an adult.” Nodding as we caught up with Ophelia, I grabbed her bare wrist to get her attention. Raising my brows, I frowned when she shook her head. Either, Carlyle Santino didn’t care who’d be negotiating, or he already knew the outcome, and everything in between was useless knowledge.
If Carlyle was so much like Aleksander, he wouldn’t have agreed to meeting without already knowing what decisions would be reached. What was the point of these men trying to contend with each other? They were basically the same damn person, bar a few shades of color in their hair. When I closed my eyes, there was one aura and no distinction between them.
“Mason will be your driver for your stay. I’ve arranged security at your hotel. There’s been a lot of Albanian activity due to your visit. I wouldn’t want something to happen to you before we can renegotiate your influences, Aleksander.” Carlyle talked so proper that it was distracting as he gestured to the car. The young man smiled broadly, waving and touching two fingers to his forehead. “Take a week to enjoy the city. Anything you need, you can ask Reece, and he’ll provide to the best of his ability.”
“I’d rather get to business, and I know you’re not that patient a man, Carlyle. We’ll travel together.” If Carlyle was surprised at the brisk, almost nonchalant demand, it didn’t show on his face. Anxiety buzzed in my veins as they walked to a sleek, shiny four-door parked in front of the limo. No one moved— no one dared blink or breathe or sniffle for fear or drawing both those men’s attention. Together, they were scarier than even Anatoly, with their calmness and narrowed stares.
“Wow… talk about peanut butter and jelly, right.” Mason’s nervous laugh shattered the thick atmosphere, and I sucked in a huge breath to ease my burning lungs. He popped open the limo’s back door with one hand and rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “I’m gonna need a lot of weed to relax from that shit.”
“I wouldn’t relax just yet, Mason.” Ignoring the conversation, I climbed into the car after Sascha and Ophelia to heave a massive sigh. Sinking into the seat, I flung my arms over my face and slouched low. When Reece shut the four of us in and the car rolled forward, my mind stuck in place. Everyone expected something to happen when Carlyle and Aleksander met for the first time, but…
That was beyond anything I
could comprehend.
“Well… that went well, I think.” Sascha stroked his beard thoughtfully, slinging his arm over Ophelia’s shoulders and crossing his knees. His English accented much worse than Aleksander’s, but he still spoke it well. I’m starting to regret not trying harder. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s interesting that Carlyle brought up the Albanians. They downscaled when Carlyle’s father effectively destroyed the Italians. They could see his dealings with Aleksander as an opportunity to readjust their own terms with Carlyle.” Ophelia puffed out her lips, her brows furrowing slightly. “I’m sure I’ll get a clearer picture later on. No point in thinking about it right now.”
“We’re in America— we can have fun, right?” I cringed at how sloppy my English was, rolling awkwardly off my tongue and leaving a gross feeling behind. Flames licked my cheeks, but no one cast judging eyes on me as I raked both my hands through the ends of my hair.
“Yeah, we can. We’ll figure out what to do when we get to New York City.” Nodding as embarrassment clogged my throat, I clasped my hands in my lap. The back of the limo grew quiet; no one really wanted to talk to strangers forced together in a tiny space, which only made the air thick with awkwardness. Turning to stare out the window, I gulped down my feelings as my mind turned to Aleksander’s offer on the plane.
I took my out without hesitation, and now, I had some time to figure out where to go next. My English needed working on, and I didn’t even know where to begin with a job. Where would I live? How would I live? What struggles would I encounter, and how would I overcome them?
The person I was before I met Anatoly… would I be closer to her once all of this was behind me? I would never be that woman, of course. And that was saddening. One, seemingly innocuous mistake had irreversibly changed me for the worse.