by V. F. Mason
Damian, Vitya, Michael, and another man stopped their conversation as they studied us with raised brows. A woman who I assumed to be was Damian’s wife, covered her mouth with a fist, blinking rapidly while leaning on her husband’s chest.
“What’s stopped this party of—” An older man stopped in his tracks as we studied one another. He had gray hair and green eyes with a few wrinkles at the corners, while his buff physique was encased in an expensive three-piece suit. He held a cigar between his fingers and a glass of whiskey. His face had a permanent sad expression, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “She’s here,” he exhaled on a whisper, darting toward me, but I shook my head and he halted.
“Who are you?’ my voice shook, and despite trying to control my temper, I couldn't help but scream those words. Hysterics wouldn't really help me in this situation. “It doesn't matter. Dominic kidnapped me before my wedding.” Turning my attention back to Dom, I poked his chest with each word. “Take me back home!”
He grabbed my finger, wrapping his palm around it, and with equal force, replied, “You are home!”
Loudly, I exhaled a heavy breath. “Are you insane? My home is in Rome!”
“No, it’s here, in Moscow with me.”
Balking a few times, I swallowed loudly, and then asked, “We really are in Russia now?” He drugged me, put me on a plane, and then brought me across the globe to a country I knew nothing about? How could I not see the madness in him? Maybe he had some stalkerish problems, and I fell for them with his hot persona?
“Well, duh,” came from the bar, as the blue-haired girl spoke. “You just realized it?”
Annoyed beyond measure, because the last thing I needed was some kind of lame joke from her, I shot back, “Sorry, Konstanciya. Kind of hard to see outside the tinted car or while I was drugged on the plane.” Just as the words left my mouth, it was as if a lock in my mind clicked open, and the light shone so bright my eyes closed as I struggled to breathe from the power of it.
Memories like vivid images of a movie played in my head, changing one after another in short clips.
Catholic school.
My captivity.
Damian and years of hiding.
Sapphire and Kristina.
My father.
Dominic.
Our first meeting in the park, kiss, making love.
And finally what Alfonso did to me.
“He raped and chopped up an innocent girl, barely sixteen, in front of my eyes.” My whisper was the only sound in the room, but I felt a change in the atmosphere the minute the words left my lips. “Right before he gave permission for his guards to beat me up. Then he jumped in to finish the job.” Despite the memories coming back, I still couldn't recall what exactly he did to me. Maybe my traumatized mind tried to protect me from it, but I would have preferred to know. Tears slid down my cheeks as sobs shook my body, but I had to let it out. “They must have placed me in some car, because I woke up to it burning and—” Exhaling heavily, I tried to control my emotions but failed, because who could possibly hold onto control in such a situation? “The fire licked my skin. The only thing on my mind was you.” My eyes finally travelled up to clash with Dominic’s, whose held agony and pain, his hands clenching into fists.
My sexy Russian. Tears continued to fall, as I said, “The doctors claimed my mind was blocking something, that maybe it didn't want the memories back so it could protect me. Instead, I ended up in a family who claimed me as theirs, and I almost married another man.” Covering my mouth with my palms, I shook my head back and forth, not quite believing this.
Why would this happen to me? Did I deserve it? What the hell did I ever do wrong in this world? First, Eric, and then Alfonso, and only God knew who stood behind him. Where was the fairness like they taught us in Catholic school? Be good, and good would come your way? What the hell did I do wrong?
Sinking to my knees, I screamed and sobbed at the same time, holding my head in my hands as the devastation of how evil people had ruined my life, playing their games with me as if I was a doll. My eyelids became too heavy for me, dizziness overwhelmed me, and I swayed to the side. I would have hit my head if a strong set of hands hadn’t picked me up, and that was the last thing I remembered before darkness took me.
Dominic
“One more.” My order was met with a worried look, but Kostya complied and gave me another shot of vodka. I finished it in one gulp like the last one, winced, and bit the tomato next to me to sweeten the taste. Clicking my fingers, I waited for another one, when a voice from behind me spoke.
“Getting shit-faced won’t help her in this situation.” Radmir sat next to me on a stool, and immediately, Kostya had a whiskey ready for him.
Raising my brow, I pointed out, “Funny you are saying this to me, considering you aren't a saint either.”
He chuckled, while studying the girls dancing on the pool table. “Unlike you, I have better reasons for it.”
Slamming the glass on the bar, I snarled, “My woman was abused and then turned into someone she isn’t, all because of some sick motherfucker who I still can’t locate. That’s not reason enough for you?”
He barely even reacted, calmly sipping his drink. “Where is she?”
I was slightly thrown off by the change of subject, and automatically replied, “Upstairs. Ruslan said she just fainted due to shock and nerves. I left her with Michael, as her words still hurt me. I couldn't just sit there.”
Even saying it, I sounded like such a betrayer to my woman. She needed me the most right now, but her broken voice still echoed in my ears. They had hurt her deeply, and I failed to protect what was mine. Yes, they were punished, but at what cost? All those memories… for her, it just happened yesterday. So here I was, drowning in my sorrows, while my best friend and his man watched over her.
Inexcusable and pathetic. The pakhan of the Bratva became a coward.
“Right. But she is yours. Unlike me…Vivian married Alex and had his son.” Radmir’s cold voice snapped me back to our conversation, but before I could comment, a redhead came to us with a huge smile on her face. She wore a short skirt that displayed her long legs, and a white top without a bra, so her nipples were visible through the thing. My revulsion must have shown as she shifted her attention to Radmir. Why the fuck she would even consider approaching me was beyond me. I’d never touched the Bratva whores, preferring escorts in the past. Not to mention, there was no one and never would be after my krasavica.
“Sovietnik,” she murmured, trailing her index finger down his chest, her eyes scanning his shirtless chest with appreciation. The man just came from the gym with only sweatpants on. “Would you like my company?”
Radmir didn't move, and we shared a look with Kostya. Since Radmir was released from prison five months ago, he had never taken a woman to his apartment despite being celibate those five years in prison. He used to adore women, never having one for more than one night, but they had all liked him. Generous gifts and dinners, he didn't just fuck them like most of us. Vasya once told me he tried to find the one among them, but failed. Once he had met Vivian, everyone else ceased to exist though, and he lived and breathed for her.
He grabbed her hair painfully, and she moaned in pleasure, stepping closer to him and fishing for a kiss, but he pushed her aside harshly. She almost stumbled back on her heels. “I’m going to repeat one more time what I already told you, and if you do not listen, your ass will be out of here permanently.” She whimpered, holding on to the couch, and cast her gaze down, not able to bear his scrutiny. “Never touch me without my permission.” He addressed the rest of the whores who stood in the corner, their eyes wide. “Same goes for you. I’m not fucking interested in what you are offering.” They nodded frantically. The redhead joined them, and they enveloped her in a tight hug. “I’m tired of explaining to each one of you,” he barked. “Turn on the fucking music.”
Igor quickly put on the speakers, as no one needed an angry Radmir. It
wasn't a pretty sight, and present members were all here before his imprisonment, so they were aware of the infamous temper.
Radmir swiveled on the seat and came back to his whiskey. Only his clenched fist and ticking jaw were indications of his emotion, and I had a feeling he’d be going back in the ring to fight really soon. That was all he did, fight and drink. He didn't even do his job as my sovietnik, and I couldn't allow it to continue, or people would demand a change in leadership. Truth be told, at this rate, Vitya deserved the title more than Radmir.
We had been best friends. He was my mentor.
Yet my best friend suffered, and I didn't soothe his pain. Enough was fucking enough.
Would there be repercussions? Yes. Would he declare a war and do stupid shit for which the Bratva would have to save his ass? Yes. But he was part of the brotherhood.
Fuck with whoever you want, but don’t fuck with the Bratva.
This was the credo we lived by, and I’d be fucking damned if my sovietnik couldn't take advantage of it.
So I said the words that he never expected to hear, but which would change the course of his life forever. “Her kid, his name is Jake, and he is five years old. He is yours.” He froze, inhaling sharply. “The reason she married Alex Jordan was because he blackmailed her. I don’t know the details. But he never had her. She is still yours.”
The chair flew to the floor as he stood up, grabbing the sides of my shirt, while spitting furiously, “Where was your loyalty? I’ll fucking kill you!” Men dashed to us, because no one dared to threaten the pakhan. I raised my hand to stop them, because we had to hash it out between ourselves. By the glaze of his eyes and his fierce stance, he was in a trance and itched for a fight.
A fight I had to give him, because he had to unleash all the pent-up anger before going after the love of his life. Otherwise, he wouldn't think with his head. And I couldn't allow that.
The pakhan of the Bratva always took care of his brotherhood.
In that moment, it meant allowing my sovietnik to pour all his frustration, fury, and anger on me. He pulled his fist back and punched me right in the face. My head tilted back, and I quickly re-grouped and delivered a hit to his stomach, bending him in two while the men formed a circle around us, and the women gasped, running away from the bar.
“She had my son! My son, Dominic!” He delivered a blow to my liver; the sick son of a bitch knew the weak places to hit. I kicked him so he’d lose his balance, but not before he grabbed my neck, punching me rapidly. We tumbled to the floor and our fists flew, to a point it was hard to know what was where. We just blindly hurt each other.
“What the fuck?” Don shouted, and in a second, he wrapped his arms around Radmir from behind and lifted him off me while Vitya held me, but we still faced off at each other, even standing and ready to go again. We both needed it.
“Out of all the people, I didn't expect it from you, Dom.” This hurt much more than any bruises from the fight, but explaining the fact I had no choice back then was pointless. I’d never see reason if someone hid my child away from me.
“Forward, never back, Radmir. Remember?” We stilled, studying one another as his teaching flashed through my mind. Whenever I was in a rage back in my teens or wiped in the ring, not wanting to stand up, these words were like a mantra to me. I just hoped he’d listen to me and understand the importance of them as he once taught me.
In a few short seconds, his face stilled and an indifferent expression covered any kind of emotions he must have felt. “Let go of me,” he quietly demanded, and Don did just that while Radmir addressed Vitya, completely ignoring me, which in other circumstances would have earned him a bullet in his forehead. “Give me all the information about my son and Vivian.” He paused and then still, without looking at me, questioned, “What you told me in prison… about her giving testimony against me. Is it true? Or one more of your lies?”
Probably telling him these were never my lies, but Vasya’s to begin with, wouldn't solve anything, so I kept my mouth shut. Before he accomplished his quest, no conversation would matter to him. He had to see it in a different light.
And for that, he had to meet his kid. “Yes, it was the truth.” His jaw ticked. He nodded and disappeared into his wing with Vitya hot on his heels. Vitya knew what to do if the information ever came up.
Don scanned me from head to toe and shook his head. “Dominic, I suggest you clean yourself up before Rosa wakes. The last thing she needs is to see you like this, smelling like a fucking garbage truck.” He whistled, and his Cosa Nostra men stood behind him at once. “I can’t stay. Mary needs me. Bring her back when she is ready.”
My brows furrowed; it wasn't adding up. Why would Don leave before he had the chance to reconcile with his daughter? Coming here made no sense. Reading my question, he said, “Mary is pregnant. I need to be with her now, and Rosa… I have a feeling she won’t want anyone’s company for a while. I’ll be staying at the Marriott hotel in New Arbat.” So he wasn't leaving the country, just preferred to live quietly with his woman. He slapped me on the back, hugging me close, and whispered for my ears only, “She needs you.” Grabbing the jacket from Igor, he exited into the night, leaving me with hectic thoughts and a body that hurt like a motherfucker.
Rosa
The loud rustling wind blowing into the room and swaying the curtains woke me. My eyes snapped open, and for a second, I scanned the room, disoriented.
Where the hell was I?
The moonlight shone brightly in the wide room with only a single mattress where I lay. It was surprisingly comfortable, as it molded to my every curve. Canvases and paintings were scattered on the floor, against the wall, everywhere. Some of them tarnished, as if someone broke them with a fist right in the middle.
And then I remembered.
Dominic.
I was in his apartment wing after the eventful day that finally opened my eyes to what had really been going on in my life.
“Hey, darling. Nice to have you back.” Michael startled me, and I noticed him in the doorway holding a bottle of water in his hand while the shower ran in the bathroom. Despite the cooling breeze on my skin, my body felt hot all over. Sweat ran down my back, soaked the sheets, and made the hair on my neck damp. Removing the blanket, I rose up on my knees and took Michael’s offering, because my throat seemed too dry to speak. The warm liquid soothed me, and licking my dry lips, I smiled at Michael.
“Hello, stranger.” He grinned, kneeled next to me, and hugged me closer. Wrapping my arms around him, I enjoyed it, because it felt like having one piece of my life back. “Finally, you’re back.”
Resting my chin on his shoulder, I asked, “Who is in the shower?”
“Dominic.” His voice sounded off, and it bothered me.
“What are you not telling me?”
He exhaled a heavy breath right as Vitya walked in and frowned. “Sneaky siren, already up on my man?”
Rolling my eyes at his teasing, I addressed him. “What’s going on with Dom?” Why the hell did my possessive man leave me with his two close friends and take a shower? My expectation was that he’d lie next to me and hold me in his arms during my nightmares. Instead, he seemed unaffected by my presence here.
As weird as it sounded, getting my identity back was like the last piece of the puzzle clicking into place, and I had my feelings and personality back. Where shyness and uncertainty were before… confidence and annoyance came back. I probably could have sat and lost my shit over the past year all over again, and repeated the hysterics, but honestly, what was the point? The family where I ended up were nice folks and never harmed me. Guilt struck though, knowing Oliver had really loved Angelica. But they brought me back to health and took good care of me. Being angry solved nothing, and I simply refused to lose any more time at gaining my life back.
No more freaking tears in my life anymore!
“He got drunk and then had a fight with Radmir.” Probably seeing my blank expression at the name, Vitya elaborat
ed. “Sovietnik of the Bratva. He had been in prison.” Oh yes, Dominic told me about his story. My heart ached for the guy who went to prison for a crime he didn't commit and then his woman married another. “Your father left as well.”
That surprised me, and I rubbed my forehead, wondering why he wouldn't wait to talk to me. Although I could understand his hesitation, he probably didn't want to overwhelm me at once. “Okay, thanks.” I got up and squealed as my body was only covered in a sheer white nightgown.
Vitya cursed, spinning around so fast he probably had whiplash, while Michael whistled. “Hot.”
Blushing, I folded my arms, so at least my breasts were invisible. Geez! Gays or not, my girls didn't need to be flashed at anyone but Dom.
“Michael, fucking stop looking!” Vitya demanded, while Michael sighed in exasperation.
“Those are boobs, babe. What the hell would I do with them anyway? But nice ones, if the magazines the guys have scattered around the headquarters are anything to go by.” A giggle escaped me, and he winked, clearly trying to ease my embarrassment. “Be proud, babe.”
“That’s it!” His man wasn't known for his patience; he grabbed him by the nape, pushed back on his chest, and whispered something in his ear. Michael flushed instantly, his breathing speeding up.
With a smug grin, Vitya dragged him outside, but not before calling to me over his shoulder, “It’s like last time, Rosa.”
Sinking on my butt, I understood his meaning at once. We had a similar scene before Damian’s wedding, when he came in all beat up and hid from me in the shower. Back then, I joined him and we talked.
But my instincts screamed at me that talking wasn't what he needed in this moment. The idea appeared in my mind so suddenly I didn't even pause to think about it, just jumped up and proceeded to make it true.