I am not good at discussing feelings, at knowing what to say to a woman. I don't think I have an example to go by, as I have never felt quite this way about anyone. I look at her, and I want to find the words to get what I need out of her, but something more cruel shoots out, inserted before I can stop it. It’s this mask I have put on, this way I have to pretend has become automatic. I don't know who I am anymore.
“You need to change your attitude because we will be at the party in a few minutes, and I can't take you in while you are sulking.”
“Yes, Master,” she replies to me, that fire of hers coming back to bite me in the ass. I was wrong about her being upset. She is not that, at least not anymore. Right now, she is good and pissed at me. I can feel it radiating off her. I can’t help but smile at her, though, at her hostility towards me. She has such fire, and that is exactly what I love about her. I saw it on the dance floor when I summoned her to see me. I felt it the first time we had sex. I knew it in every quip of what she shot at me was just as good as my own. She is so sexy like this, even if right now she doesn’t want me to think that about her.
I can’t hold back anymore, especially knowing how close we are to the party. I want to make a move and damn it, I am going to make it now.
I grab her body and pull Natasha on top of me. My hand tangles in that gorgeous, long, dark flame of hair she has as I pull her lips down to mine. I kiss her, hard. I kiss her so that she can feel it in her womb, and all the way down to her toes that she has crammed into a pair of fuck-me-heels.
She is trying to push away from me, but I am not having it at all. I take both of her hands in one of mine behind her back, using all my strength to hold them there so she can’t resist me. I want her to feel this kiss the way she used to.
Natasha molds against me, and my heart holds a small bit of hope that she feels what she did about us being together in this moment, before the shit show named Jan Constantin fucked it all up for us.
My other hand tugs just a little at her hair, and my tongue slides into her mouth. I am going to take whatever she is willing to give right now.
All too soon, the car begins to slow, and I know this will have to stop so the show can begin. I break the kiss slowly with a satisfied and disappointed sigh at the same time. “You’re so sexy when you're fired up,” I tell her, my hand brushing across her face as I finally let her hands go so she is free. She still stays, frozen for a moment to listen. So, I say what I have needed to say for some time now.
“I miss you, Natasha. I miss us.” This is the most vulnerable a man like me will ever be, so I hope she appreciates it. I hope she feels something right now.
Chapter 11
The beautiful thing about life is that you can always change, grow & get better. You aren’t defined by your past. You aren’t your mistakes. -ThisJoyLoveLifeQuotes
Natasha
We are at a hotel bar, the kind where only the elite come. It makes sense that this has to do with the Clans in some way, or at least Clan Balan and the crowd it keeps, considering how much it must have cost to rent this place out. The bar on one side is entirely plain. The whole place is silver and white, a little too bright for my taste. It makes me look like a ghost in that dress, beyond the floating head of dark red hair that frames my face.
There are eyes on me the instant I walk in, just as I expected, and it makes it easy to forget that kiss I shared with Anton in the car. I remember the reason I have to be angry at him, even if he caught me in a moment of lustful weakness. Okay, maybe not just lust, but that doesn’t mean I have to just give in, forgive and forget. It's not time yet. We can settle this after I make it through this horrible night and see how bad it gets. I know for a fact it could get horrible.
Anton’s hand is on my back possessively. I don't try to step away from him, because I know there are worse men at this party than him. He is my protection tonight and will be for as long as I feel like I need him. Even if I leave his side, I have to believe he won't let anything happen to me, just eyes. It’s only eyes. That's what I tell myself.
A man approaches us, the kind that looks like a shark. His hair is a sandy brown and his eyes a cobalt color. If I didn't realize the way he was looking at me in this dress, I might have thought he was a handsome man. Not now. I think I am ruined now.
“When you’re finished with this one, I want a round.” Those are the first words that leave his lips, and I know I can't say a damn thing about it. I am disgusted by this. Anton smiles and chuckles, but I feel his arm tense around me. I think it’s best to get my composure really quick, and maybe touch up the makeup after that passionate episode in the car.
I whisper in Anton's ear. “Please, excuse me to the lady’s room.” He nods his permission and let’s go reluctantly, continuing the conversation with the man I dare not listen in on at this point.
When I get to the restroom, I quickly do my business and go to the mirror to touch up my makeup. I begin to whisper a mantra to myself. “I can get through this,” I say so quietly that whoever is in the stall will not be able to hear. “I am Natasha Kolosov.” I know in my heart that all I have to do, is wait for my father to find me. He will get me out of this mess with Anton. At least I hope that he will. He has to.
Instead of going straight back to Anton, I know I need a drink to put up with this. A little bit of liquid courage. I need something strong, a go to.
I order specifically, an Imperia Vodka. I only drink the best. I don't drink that other cheap, nasty knockoff shit.
“Old habits die hard, yes?” I hear his voice coming from behind me, and I almost do not want to believe the familiarity of it. It has to be an illusion, but as I turn around and look, there he is, my ex-fiancé Rusev, standing right behind me at the bar. Maybe I should have gone straight back to Anton. This is not the night to run into him. Hell, there is never a good night to see this man again.
I haven't seen him in so long, but it feels like yesterday when I left him for good. It's funny how memories work that way. All the beatings and the mark he left on me are fresh in my mind right then and there. That is happening way too much lately.
I don't even notice for a moment when he first reaches his hand out to me, landing it on my jawline he traces the scar that with makeup can only be seen this close to me now. I was so absorbed with my thoughts that it took me a moment to react, but this was disgusting. This is not how this chance meeting is going to fucking go. This is going to be on my terms now, because I know better. Rusev’s spell was broken long ago.
I decide in this moment that I will show him no fear. Why? Fear gives Rusev power, and he is never going to have power over me, not again. I know this for a fact. I may be under another man’s thumb, but I also know there is a way out. I will never stop looking and hoping for a way out, whether it is giving into my feelings for the man or escaping with my father.
I am not the scared little girl that Rusev used to know. His eyes pierce through me, but it does nothing to me. There is no knot in my stomach, no reason to look down as if I am worth any less. That is not who I am now. Just knowing that means more than anyone could imagine. I know I can’t be crushed. I can’t be controlled quite like that. I will always be kicking and screaming my way out, refusing to be the girl that I once was.
My uncle, Jan, made sure to give me the support I needed to transform into the strong woman I was always meant to be. He was always telling me that I was strong; that I was strong just like my mother. I may not have known the woman, but I saw pictures, heard stories, and I believed it. I knew he was telling me the truth about her. Only a strong woman could marry and have children with a Kolosov. I know enough about my father to know that.
What I do next, I do it to keep Jan and his memory alive, to do it justice. He would want to see me fight, and deep down I wish he were here to see this moment when I finally do more than just run or cower from the man that had me so broken down before, had me believing I was nothing but trash, a whore. Jan is smiling from somewhere, Heaven o
r Hell, it doesn’t matter. He is going to know that he taught me well and that I owe him one.
Maybe, my mother is watching me too. Maybe, she is willing this strength to me from wherever she is. I can’t imagine she would want to see me so oppressed by men either.
I lift my open palm and slap his hand, forcing it off of my face. It was a hard slap, the kind that everyone could hear as I make contact with his bare skin. My hand is red, but I don't care. How dare this man touch me after I have been gone from his grasp for a year now. How dare he think he has the right to touch me ever again. How dare he touch my scar, the one he gave me. What was he fucking doing anyway, admitting his handiwork? It wouldn't surprise me with this bastard. He is capable of anything evil there is to do in the world without remorse, without a rhyme or reason to it. He is just a narcissistic parasite.
I look him dead in the eye and ask him the one question I know he will have the answer to, the only one he is important enough to get an answer out of for. Otherwise, I would walk away and leave him wanting, leave him gasping for air as I suck out the marrow he gets when he tries to bring women like me down.
“Where is my father?” I ask him, my head beginning to scan the room already to see if I can spot the man. If Rusev is here, then my father must be here. They are generally part of a packaged deal as far as business goes, even if I have nothing to do with this evil man anymore. The only good news about me running into Rusev is this. My father can get me out of this mess with Anton with a snap of his fingers, possibly less.
“He’s not here,” Rusev says, reaching out his hand and pulling a piece of my hair up to his nostrils. He takes a deep breath in, his eyes closing as he savors my scent. I slap him away once again, turning around to grab my drink and backing up a bit. I don't know if I believe what he says about my father not being here. Why wouldn't he be?
“I don't believe you.”
“He is in Russia, and he is there on business Tasha, with your dear step-mother.” His tongue flicks out when he says it just like the snake he is. I glare at him as I take a swig of my drink. I definitely need this. This is ridiculous.
Rusev surveys me in the dress, and I am reminded, yet again, about the see-through nature of it. He, of all people, should not get to see me like this, but I hold myself high and pretend like I totally mean to do this. Maybe it’s the best revenge I have against him for all he did; making him miss my body. That was probably the only thing about me he actually cared for.
Rusev begins to laugh, the kind of evil laugh you expect from a villain on a children’s cartoon. I don't like it one bit, and people are starting to notice us over here. Maybe that’s a good thing, for me anyway. I don't know how Anton will take me making a scene with my ex-fiancé.
“What's so fucking funny?” I ask him, getting annoyed.
“I heard a rumor that you are now the personal whore of Clan Balan.” There is that word again, and my blood boils a little. I drink down more of my vodka. He has clearly been misinformed, considering I have nothing to do with anyone in that Clan other than Anton himself. I have not been in any other man's bed, though it does look bad for me with this dress and this party. There is no point in correcting him as he sneers at me. “Your father didn't seem to care much about your new status when he heard, or about the death of Jan Constantin, for that matter.”
I suddenly wish that I had the ability to kill with a look, laser eyes or something like a superhero. Rusev would be so dead right now. There may be a chance he is right, but my bets are on him twisting the truth about my father. My father may think there is something in this for him or maybe biding his time, but he doesn't simply not care, especially when I could be good business for him with Jan dead, if nothing else.
“Do you enjoy fucking Anton as much as you enjoyed fucking me,” he asked, thinking he is being seductive when really, I just want to throw up at the memory of letting him have his way with me at any point.
I think about my answer. It needs to be a good one, and I make sure it stings even though Anton and I are still on the outs right now. “I enjoy fucking Anton a lot more than I ever enjoyed it when I was with you. It really helps if I actually like the person I am fucking.”
Rusev raises his hand to me and smacks me across the face, the loud slap ringing throughout the venue. I know everyone is looking at us now because they heard that. They know something is going on over here. I feel the sting, the burning sensation that follows where his hand has surely left an angry, swollen redness against my left cheek. My eyes sting with tears I did not give voluntarily. They were slapped out of me.
Two years ago, I would be crying, I would be begging, apologizing, running, anything I could do to get out of being hurt worse by this man I was supposed to love. I would be blaming myself, finding where I was at fault, so I could fix it and never get hit again. The problem with that is Rusev has no logic. He doesn't hit because a woman does something wrong, he hits because it makes him feel powerful and keeps a woman around with the oppression of fear.
Fear leaves a heavy stench behind, and I am not in the mood to smell it. Instead, I don't even grab my cheek to show my pain. I feel the need to strike back. He is waiting for me, he is waiting to see what I will do. He is so wrong about anything he thinks, I can guarantee it.
He grabs my neck like he used to, squeezing it in his hand as he holds the power of my life now. He used to do this so often, I know how to breathe, I know how to live through this. I let him do it for a time, because I want him to have a false sense of security before I go after him. I want him to be shocked to silence, maybe to death.
“You’re such a fucking whore. You never change, Tasha. And therefore, Sergei is not coming to save you from this, do you hear me? If he didn't come to save you when we were engaged, why would he come now?” As he talks, I see red. I am so fucking pissed right now. He is going to regret this encounter.
Rusev releases my neck, and I cough once, not wanting to show any more weakness than what's already on display, though, if Anton gets a good look at this, he is likely to come save the day and possibly kill this man in cold blood right here. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but I think I deserve my revenge first. I deserve to get him where it hurts too, more than anyone on this planet does.
“It's funny how you are true to what I always called you now. Do you see how much power I still have over you?” he snarls out at me, too close to my face for comfort. “You are not a woman of wealth anymore. Your last name means nothing because you have tainted it, letting anyone in who knocks hard enough. You are nothing but an entitled little slut and I’m sure your father will never respect that or save you from it. You’ve done this to yourself, you little bitch.”
I down the last of my vodka, looking right at him. Now I do need the liquid courage as I feel the hatred for this man flare within me like a flame being fanned unnecessarily.
I reach behind the bar and grab a bottle, breaking the glass on the bar behind me and swiftly jab it into Rusev’s side. I dig its jagged edges in, pushing it so hard and deep I can feel a cut from on my own hand from it as his shirt becomes stained in the blood that he is building for me. It’s funny that it’s red because I would have expected some other color. He can’t be human.
I don’t care about the way I have injured myself. The point is that I need him to get it, to understand that I am not that weak girl that I was before, when I was with him.
“Don’t you ever touch me again, and never, ever forget my name,” I tell him with an anger I don't even recognize from myself. I may have never accepted or taken to the darkness of my father’s business before, but I will never be walked on again. I know this, in this moment. I won't let it happen, even if it means being that dark.
I am sick and tired of power plays and how men use women to fit their lifestyles just the way they want. So, when I do what I do, it’s not just about me, it’s about all the women caught up with mobsters, dealers, club members, criminals…. It is to make the men around me understand that I
won't stand for it anymore. There will be no more forced submission and beatings. There will be no more lording money and power over us as long as I have a say. And I am making sure that Rusev doesn’t mess with me or anyone like me ever again. I am hoping the scar I gave him reminds him of that every day, reminds him of who he was fucking messing with.
I am a Kolosov. Natasha Kolosov. Kolosov’s don't ask, we take what’s ours. I am taking back my dignity. I should never have let it be taken from me in the first place. I can't believe that I did.
“I am not that dumb little girl anymore,” I tell Rusev, letting the bottle drop from my hand, finally. Not that I expect him not to get that as his hand covered the spot where I injured him. He blinks and doesn't give away much of anything other than pain right now. It doesn't really matter, because I know he will feel it later. “I am a Kolosov. It is time you understand what I am capable of. I am my father’s daughter, after all.”
Chapter 12
The true soldier fights, not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. - G. K. Chesterton
Anton
I watch her walk away from me as she goes to the ladies’ room. I can think of more than one reason she is headed that way, like this sick motherfucker in front of me rattling on about how lucky I am to have a piece of ass that looks like that. Oh, I know how lucky I am, and I also know my luck could run out any day now. Her round ass and perfectly perky breasts are only two of the things that I love about her. I know I brought her here to look like exactly what this guy thinks, my little whore, a woman to breed with and take control of another Clan. I don't know any more if it’s her I am trying to convince of this or those around me. But it is all a game. I am not going to let this guy or any other touch her. I wonder if she knows that, or of that's why she went galivanting off away from me as soon as she heard this man speak about her.
I turn back to the man, whose name I have forgotten. I meet so many men on a daily basis, men with money and power as well as peons of other men with power and money. I get the feeling this man is the second of those things, I don't really need to know his name. I know all the important ones.
The Trade (The Clans Book 2) Page 7