by V. F. Mason
Jake’s first day in the park.
Jake. My hands crushed the frame. The glass cracked under my strength as a roar of injustice stilled in my throat.
It was supposed to be the name of our son. How dare she name the child of her fucking husband after my father?
Throwing the frame on the bed but picking up the photo for some damn fucking reason, I grabbed my jacket and left the house, but not before closing the balcony doors and checking the security alarm.
Right after I shut the door behind me, I slammed my fists into the wall several times, hard enough that blood dripped slowly from the wounds. My heart beat like crazy inside my chest, the only indication I was alive, because everything else was dead.
I could have loved her child and raised him as my own. I could have lived with the fact she tried to move on.
But I couldn't forgive her for marrying someone else while testifying against me in court.
Why did she do it? How could she do it?
I thought my one last revenge would bring me peace, using her body would soothe the longing in my soul for her. I thought it would show me that our attraction and love was nothing more than a novelty I had experienced and blown into epic proportions in my head during my time in prison. I was never into hurting women anyway, so this punishment seemed like a good choice. Along with destroying her family.
But all it did was worsen my condition.
I was the only one who lost in this battle.
Vivian Jackson was forever engraved in my heart, leaving it so scarred I couldn’t see a way of ever getting rid of her.
Placing the phone next to my ear, I waited for Vitya to pick up, and when he did, I ordered, “Put a person on her. She needs to be protected twenty-four seven, with reports. If so much as a hair leaves her pretty head, I’m personally going to kill whoever was responsible for her safety.” Ending the call, I walked to Dima and Petor who had waited outside for me, smoking cigarettes, but they straightened at once when they noticed my expression. “Airport.”
Dima frowned at my order, exhaling smoke. “But we weren't supposed to leave until tomorrow.” Reading my face, he shut up and opened the door for me to get in.
Resting my head on the backseat, I looked at the photo I stole from her and ran my finger over her face. Fucking weak sap, but I couldn't leave it behind. It would be a reminder for me to never go after her because of the kid in her arms.
Vivian broke me.
But no matter how much I tried to forget her, I could never allow anyone else to harm her. And since I planned to start a war, she could be collateral damage in it.
And no one, fucking no one, was allowed to hurt my woman.
No one, but me.
Vivian
Startled, my eyes snapped open. Disoriented, I studied my surroundings. The first thing my mind registered was the empty space beside me.
Running my fingers on the still warm sheet, I called, “Radmir.” But no reply came. Wrapping the linen around me, I sat up on the bed and my legs hit something sharp. “Ouch,” I muttered and then took the frame in my hands, only to see the glass was broken. Where was the picture? Did he take it?
Oh, no. No!
Quickly standing up, I rushed toward the living room. Everything was closed and locked. He’d left. The alarm was on, proving once again Radmir would always care about my safety even though he hated me.
He left before I could explain what happened all those years ago, why I married Alex. My heart ached with unbearable pain, and rubbing my chest, I willed myself to create a box of indifference inside me so it would go away. After all, the technique had helped me through all those years.
He’d come for revenge, and his odd behavior during lovemaking made sense to me at once.
Sobbing quietly, I fell to my knees as my mind searched desperately for a way to calm down.
But how did a person calm down when the world they had dreamed of burned to ashes?
He would ruin your life, Vivian. This is the kind of man you fell in love with.
Turned out my despotic father was right about one thing, as hard as it was to admit. The happily ever after wasn’t meant for our love story.
Maybe the time had come to move on.
Rushing into the airport, I dashed toward the ticket counter, and breathing heavily, I asked, “What is the next flight?” The young woman blinked at me from the other side of the counter, and then her eyes slid down my clothes. She must have found me presentable or safe enough to comply, because her fingers clicked with impressive speed on the computer.
“A flight to Moscow leaves in ninety minutes. And then there is a flight to Paris.” Biting my lip, I ran my fingers through my hair.
“That’s it? No other options?” It was freaking J.F. Kennedy airport, and they could offer me only two flights? I flew from Texas here so dad would have a hard time tracing me and it was all for nothing! Maybe I should have thought about it before my grand escape, but in the movies, they always had flights available to some cool places like Peru or Brazil or somewhere, right? Countries that spoke of passion and adventure?
“No, I’m sorry,” she replied.
My phone buzzed again with yet another call from my father and mother, and knowing him and his freaking team, they would start tracking me down in an hour and then block the flights if I tried to run away.
There was simply no time to think, so I snapped, if the jerk of her chin was anything to go by, “Moscow.” As much as I loved Paris, it would be the first place they would look for me. My younger sister, Tina, moved there when her modeling career took off, and at the age of twenty, she had already made a name for herself in the high-fashion industry. Dad hated it, but he couldn't do shit about her since she had a million-dollar contract, and it brought good publicity to his oil firm. Pathetic that even my younger sibling had her life well put together while I had to run like a little girl from his power and authority.
I couldn't afford to be found too soon, not until I could settle my mind and decide what I wanted to do with my life.
All I knew in that moment was I needed to breathe and my family suffocated me to the point of no return. I shouldn't blame them, because I was twenty-three years old, but resentment still settled inside and wouldn't go away.
“Only first class left.” She arched a brow, awaiting my answer. When I slid my credit card to her, her brow rose even higher, clearly recognizing the family name. I almost never used the golden card Dad had given us, but since he came up with this Alex plan, he could pay for this freaking flight. I’d need my savings for the future.
She didn't comment, made the arrangements, and gave me my boarding pass as my luggage was tagged and sent.
Even for this short trip, I didn't want to travel lightly.
“You need to hurry,” she said.
“Thank you.” With that, I went through all the check-ins, all the while my phone continued to buzz. Seriously, two freaking hours of me not answering it, and they had already created drama?
Maybe he should have thought about it before deciding to sell me off to Alex Jordan. Just thinking about the man was disgusting. The way he looked at me sometimes… the words he said. As if his one single determination was to make me his. The guy was obsessed from the very beginning, but not like the romantic heroes in romance books.
The only feelings he inspired within me was terror.
Deep in thought over Alex, or rather how much I couldn't stand him, I didn't watch where I was going and bumped into a hard chest, and if it wasn't for the strong hands catching me, my ass would have probably plastered the floor.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, while studying the guy in front of me who looked at me with empty, cold, brown eyes. His hair was pulled into a bun, and his ripped arms were covered in a tight T-shirt, which exposed his tattoos. He had an aura of dominance and wildness about him, and although he could be considered handsome, all he did was scare me.
“Stop scowling at the poor girl, Dominic,” a husky voice spoke
, sending unexpected shivers down my spine, and only then, my mind registered it was this stranger who saved me from the fall.
I turned around and my breath hitched, as his stare compared to Dominic’s, or whatever the guy was called, was soft and surprised as he scanned my appearance.
He was too handsome for any description to do him justice.
He was tall, around six-foot-four, lean yet muscled arms that were covered in sleeve tattoos that were visible through his tight, black shirt. His shoulders were broad, along with a toned six-pack, narrow hips, and muscled legs, which were covered in blue jeans.
As hot as the body was, it had nothing on his face.
He had the most beautiful, gray eyes I had ever seen. It was so easy to be lost in them that they almost took away the attention from his tanned, flawless skin, high cheekbones, and five-o'clock shadow, which made him even more handsome and emphasized the masculinity emanating from him. His hair was black and cut in the James Dean hairstyle that suited his overall look.
“It’s all right.” I finally found my voice, snapping out of the haze we had both created, and sent a weak smile to Dominic and him.
He murmured, “Krasivoglazaya.” Although I recognized phonetically what language he spoke, my Russian was nonexistent, so I had no clue what he said. Before I could ask him though, my flight was announced, and without further explanation, I dashed toward my gate, hoping like hell this bizarre feeling as if the earth shifted under me would go away.
However, it seemed useless, as his voice echoed in my ears.
Krasivoglazaya. Krasivoglazaya. Krasivoglazaya.
May 2017
Houston, Texas
Radmir
The man breathed heavily, his legs barely supporting him as he stood, but the chains that were hanging from the ceiling and wrapped around his wrists helped keep him upright. Blood slid down from his head to his chest, which was covered with small cuts and purple-blue bruises from all the beatings he had gotten.
“I don’t know anything,” he whispered, which only caused me to laugh more as I lit a cigarette, taking a slight break from the torture.
“Let’s get back to the story, shall we?” He blinked at me in confusion but nodded as I opened up the window. The smell of his sweat was seriously playing on my nerves. But then he had been tortured for the last seven hours, so he probably shouldn't be blamed for that. How come all those weak men managed to put me behind bars while they didn’t even stand a chance in a fight? They always got a fair chance, but they blew it so easily that I wondered if I should even keep doing it. Just wasting much-needed time.
Finally, he started talking. “I was working as a courier in a company that delivered fast mail. A man came up to me and asked me to give you a message to show up in a specific place. That was it. He just paid for the delivery. I don’t know anything else.” Then he begged, “Please, I have a girlfriend. We are getting married in two weeks.”
“Fascinating,” was my only reply, as if I didn't know this information already. Funny how he thought this should change my mind. I had a woman and wedding plans when he ruined my life. And they asked me for mercy?
However, putting me in prison was the only bad thing he had done, and he was young for his twenty-seven years, so it worked in his favor. He reminded me of those stupid, young mafia recruits who first did shit and then regretted it when it was too late.
But he deserved to suffer, because he was lying to me and thought he could get away with it. I wouldn't kill him, but I’d never hesitate to hurt him.
Not until he told me the truth anyway.
“Too bad that’s all you remember.” I threw the cigarette butt through the window, closed it, and turned around to the table with various instruments that made people talk fast. Up until now, I hadn't used much on him, beating him here and there, cuts, and stuff. Running my fingers over the metal, I settled on pliers and played with the tool on my way to him as he swallowed loudly and gazed at me with fear. “Looks like we’ll have to ruin that marriage finger of yours. Pity.”
I went for his hand, picking the finger, and was about to cut, when he shouted, although it was more of a whisper, considering his condition. “I’ll tell you, I will!” He licked his dry lips as he cast his eyes down. “The man wore a dark hoodie and sunglasses. He would ask me to send different packages on different days and paid good tips. One day, he asked if I wanted to make more money.” He cleared his throat. “My sister was sick. I had no choice, which probably doesn't mean much to you. He asked me to watch you for a day or two to learn your habits and then deliver the message on a specific day and time because he had a surprise for you. That’s what he called it anyway.”
Stepping back from him, I questioned, “Anything else?” He shook his head.
“He transferred the money into my account the next day. When I saw you on the news, I understood something was wrong… but honestly, I didn't care.”
The truth shone in his eyes, so I placed the pliers back on the table and took out my phone.
“Da?” Vitya answered on the first ring.
“I’m done. Get him to a hospital or something.” Hanging up, I rubbed my chin and asked one last question, which was an important piece of the puzzle.
“He never showed you his face, but would you recognize his voice? How much did he pay you?”
“One hundred thousand dollars. His voice always sounded funny, as if a robot was speaking.”
Fuck. How fucking rich and obsessed with his plan was he to pay so much to just a kid for information? A man like him didn't plan anything needlessly. The more people I asked, the clearer the picture became.
He wasn't just a man who hated me.
He was a man who despised me so much he didn't care what he used to eliminate me from the game, and since I was never hurt in his games, I came to only one conclusion.
The stranger who had ruined my life never wanted to hurt me or kill me; he just needed me to get out of his way for his grand plan, which somehow involved Vivian.
And it meant with me out and seeking him, I put myself on his hit list. Fisting my hands, I thought back to my woman.
She needed more protection, but what if it was her husband?
After all, Alex Jordan was the only man in this world who had reason to hate me and want Vivian at the same time.
A Few Hours Later
Soundlessly entering the house, I dashed toward Vivian’s room. Her husband was away on business in Houston, giving me the perfect opportunity to get inside the house. Visiting Houston without seeing her…It was an impossible task to ask from a man. She was visiting her parents, and thank fuck for that, because those assholes didn't change the security code, and I already knew how to get into her room from the orchids alcove located right under her balcony. Learned this shit when I came back for her six years ago when her father took her from me.
Finding her room, I opened the door and quickly shut it as she stirred on the bed. Removing my shoes, I walked closer only to stop when I noticed her son lying next to her in his airplane pajamas. He had long hair for a kid, black locks similar to mine. His chest rose and fell as he slept, his mother’s arm thrown over his belly protectively.
Why would she be scared for his safety even in her sleep? Instead of sitting on her side of the bed, I chose the place next to Jake and gently removed the hair from his face. I couldn't stop myself from patting his head; the sight of him awoke something inside me I couldn't explain. They looked perfect together, and for a second, I closed my eyes, imagining what it would be like sneaking here to see my family. To watch Vivian take care of our son.
But my eyes snapped open as I realized, I couldn't care about that, because something inside me said if the woman belonged to me, then her child did too, even if my blood wasn’t running through his veins.
But the golden band on Vi’s finger nullified my cravings because she stayed married, which meant she valued her family. And I couldn't claim what didn't belong to me.
I stood
because I needed to go, but not before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her murmur stopped me in my tracks. “Radmir.”
Was she dreaming about me? Shaking the thought away, I slipped back into the night, ignoring the pain in my heart and the voice in my head that shouted at me to go back and take them away from this place.
Why I kept torturing myself was beyond me.
Love was supposed to bring out the best in people, but all it gave me was anguish and desperation that transformed me into a stupid sap who couldn't live and function without his woman.
June 2017
Moscow, Russia
Radmir
Exhaling smoke, I sat down on the bumper of my Mercedes as my eyes admired the beautiful architecture in front of me. The house was massive, made out of white marble that shone bright in the morning sun, creating a magical image as though I was on the top of Olympus and about to meet the gods.
Or so was the comparison Vivian had used when I first brought her here.
The huge porch had double swings on both sides. Purple peonies were scattered around, her favorite flowers. The dark brown, oak doors had beautiful gold handles. The house stood in the middle of the property, secluded from neighbors and allowing much-needed privacy. A garden with roses and alcoves covered in a unique design created a sophisticated and luxurious look, which could have been used in magazines advertising the great interior design work.
The Bratva certainly had kept it in good shape. What the fuck was I thinking buying this property? It stood out among Russian houses like a sore thumb. People probably thought I was showing off, when in fact, I just recreated a fucking dream for my woman.
A memory from a long time ago hit me.
“Where are you taking me?” Vivian asked, mischief in her eyes as she nipped my neck while I fucking tried to drive with my raging hard-on.
“Surprise.” My voice was thick with my accent. I couldn't control it when my woman’s hand slid down my chest toward my dick.