You Don't Know Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  ‘Trapped,’ he growls.

  ‘And loving it,’ I whisper.

  He unclasps my bikini top and flings it away. The sun beats down on my exposed breasts. The sensation is just delicious. My nipples harden with the look in his eyes. A wave comes up high enough to tickle my toes.

  ‘Surely there must be some law that makes this indecent exposure or illegal,’ I gasp.

  ‘We’re in Europe. On a private beach. No one gives a shit,’ he mutters, his eyes hot and dark with lust. He kisses my breasts and I close my eyes and enjoy the pleasurable sensation. He sucks my nipples until they harden almost painfully.

  Another wave teaming with bubbles hits us, I barely feel it. All my attention is focused on him pushing aside my bikini bottom. Then he is suddenly inside me, big, hard and strong. He swallows the small startled cry that races out of my mouth in a fierce kiss, and only breaks it to stare deeply into my eyes. His black eyes are pits of shifting emotion as he moves steadily inside me.

  The waves lap between and around our bodies, coming right up to my waist. He pulls out of me.

  ‘Turn around and show me your pussy,’ he orders.

  ‘What, here?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  I turn my head. The figures are still on the beach, but they’re too far away to see my face and they probably can’t see what we’re up to, and if they can, so what, I’ll never see them again in my life.

  I turn onto my elbows and knees, my breasts dangling and dragging in the wet sand. He pulls my bikini bottom down my thighs to expose my sex. Bracing his hands on my hips, he shoves his cock into me. My whole body spasms, my toes curl into the sand, my back arches, and a soft scream exits my mouth. A wave breaks and runs under me, washing my nipples with silky warm water. Sand slips underneath me. The surf swells up over my calves as he plunges again and again.

  I look up and see the bright blue sky. What if one of the figures comes down the beach? Discovery is a thrilling thought. A bigger wave sweeps over my body, belly and breasts. I look down between my knees and at Noah’s sturdy masculine legs as he pumps steadily into me.

  He reaches with his hand and circles my clit. My breathing becomes uneven. Soon my climax will be upon me. He thrusts harder and faster, pushing me deeper into the sand. I lift my head towards the sky and wait for it. It rushes in as a large wave crashes into me, soaking my body, soaking my sex, submerging my hands. I feel the suction of the water as the wave returns to the ocean. I feel my body float like a piece of driftwood, if not for Noah’s firm grip. I begin to tense, my whole body stiffening. I shiver. With a roar he withdraws, and I feel his hot cum shooting onto my back as I go over the edge.

  He pulls my bikini bottom back up and splashes my back with seawater. Then we scramble further up the shore and collapse on the dry, hot sand. We watch the sunset filling the sky with russets and pinks, and when I turn to look at his face it is lit with the same colors. My heart trembles with love. I touch his cheek with my fingertips and he smiles.

  ‘You look beautiful in this light,’ he purrs.

  ‘Funny, I was thinking the same thing,’ I say, and his lips crash down on mine. I hear a soft moan escape my lips.

  For dinner he takes me to La Merenda. It’s a quirky, tiny, crowded place where everybody sits on stools with their shoulders and elbows practically rubbing. Wine is effectively red or white out of juice glasses. Don’t even mention the word Coke! They don’t take credit cards and you can’t even call to reserve a table. Noah sent someone to go there physically the day before to book us a table.

  You sit at the table and watch Dominic La Stanc, a world renowned chef, who used to work for the most expensive restaurant in Nice, perform a smooth ballet with his sous chef and the one waiter tasked with serving all twenty-four tables in the restaurant. They have a small, traditional menu written in chalk on a blackboard, but when the food arrives it is clear why people are willing to put up with the inconveniences and discomfort.

  I have the fleur de courgette, (the yellow zucchini blossom) battered and deep-fried to make a sort of flower fritter. It is a dream of a dish. For my second course I have the beef with orange and it absolutely sings. After a lemon tart baked to perfection, it is time to go back to London.

  I must admit I left a part of my heart in France.

  Twenty-five

  Tasha Evanoff

  One day before Papa comes home I arrange a meeting with Mama. We meet in our usual place — the ladies toilet in Harrods. A long time ago we decided that it was perfect for us. It is very clean and beautiful. It’s more like the fine dressing room of a rich Russian or Arab woman. The staff never bother us, leaving us alone to chat quietly. When it is time for us to leave, usually thirty or forty minutes later, I slip a fifty pound note into their tip saucer. I don’t know what Vadim must be thinking about my time in the toilet, but so far he has pretended it is normal for me to disappear into the toilet and come out nearly an hour later.

  To avoid Vadim ever seeing my mother, she is already waiting in the toilet. I hug and kiss her and we sit down.

  ‘You look wonderful. Have you been on the sunbed?’ she asks.

  ‘I’ve been to Nice,’ I tell her.

  She shakes her head. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going on holiday.’

  ‘It was a surprise visit,’ I tell her, smiling broadly.

  Her face changes. ‘What’s going on, Tasha?’

  I tell her about Noah. The whole time she frowns and looks more and more disturbed.

  ‘Where is all of this going, Tasha?’ she asks when I have told her everything.

  ‘I love him, and I’m going to tell Papa when he gets back that I’m not going to marry Oliver.’

  Her whole face contorts with fear. ‘What?’

  ‘I plan to tell Papa that I don’t want to marry Oliver. I found out that Oliver is not what he has been pretending to be.’

  ‘Oh, darling. That’s not going to work with your father.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She shakes her head, her brow creased with anxiety. ‘You don’t know him like I do. He will not agree. His pride is at stake.’

  ‘He will, Mama. I know he wants me to be happy. He thought I could be happy with Oliver, but once I tell him that I could never be happy he won’t force me. Papa has never hurt me before.’

  She looks at me pityingly. ‘Oh, darling. You can never know your father. Until now you’ve never disobeyed him so you haven’t seen anything but the face of a man who has everything going exactly the way he wants it. Have you ever wondered why he let you watch me being thrown out? Why should a child witness such a cruel and ugly scene?’

  Yes, it bothered me for many years. I could never understand why he let me see it. To punish my mother? To show he was boss? ‘Why?’ I whisper.

  ‘It was a warning to you. Disobey me and this is what I’m capable of.’

  I feel her words like a chill on my skin, but I don’t allow myself to absorb that idea. It is too frightening. I don’t want to be dissuaded from my purpose.

  ‘It’ll be fine, Mama, you’ll see. I’ll convince Papa.’

  Mama bows her head for a few seconds. When she raises her head, her eyes are troubled. ‘Whatever you do, do not tell him about Noah.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to,’ I say quickly.

  ‘Good. Just tell him you don’t love Oliver and don’t want to marry him because he is a pervert who will make you unhappy. Don’t give him a focus for his anger, and do not be careless. After you tell your father, whatever method you are using to meet Noah, it would be wise to discard it and wait for the coast to completely clear before you attempt to see him again. Your father will immediately suspect that it is another man that has made you change your mind and he will be watching you closely.’

  She looks sad.

  ‘In fact,’ she adds, ‘I believe it may already be too late. You have most probably done something to alert him. Look at your face. You are glowing. I knew the moment I saw you that you were different
.’

  I lean forward, my heart beating fast. ‘Do you really think he knows?’

  ‘If I know him as well as I think I do, then, yes. He can read people like a book. He is waiting for you to make your next move so he can make his. He already knows his move.’

  I feel a shiver of fear go through me. ‘He loves me,’ I insist stubbornly, because it is too painful for me to believe that my father could be such a bitter enemy of mine.

  ‘Darling, darling Tasha. There is no other way to say this. Your father is a psychopath. Asking him to love you is like asking a plate or a table to love you. In fact, it would be unfair even to ask it of him because he can’t do it. He is incapable of love. There is no one he truly loves other than himself. You and your Baba are around only because it suits him. If it didn’t he would have no hesitation to get rid of either of you.’

  I gasp.

  ‘If you look deep into his eyes you will see nothing. There is nothing at his core. There is only a naked, all-consuming, aggressive, grotesque obsession for more and more and more material gain and glorification.’

  That afternoon I go to see Baba. She is sitting in the garden with her coat and hat on, and her eyes are closed as she soaks in the last rays of the sun. She opens one eye when my shadow falls on her, before closing it back.

  ‘Sit, Sergei,’ I say as I sink into the chair next to hers. He lies down next to me.

  ‘Baba,’ I say, gently tickling Sergei behind his ear, and keeping my voice neutral and casual. ‘Do you think that Papa loves me?’

  She does a strange thing. She doesn’t immediately look at me and say, of course, he does. She takes a deep breath and doesn’t turn to look at me. ‘Why do you ask this?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just wondered.’

  ‘The honest answer is I don’t know. Let’s hope we never have to test his love for you.’

  I chew at my bottom lip. ‘Do you think this great alliance he has planned with Oliver is more important to him than my happiness?’

  She sighs softly. ‘I have always told you the truth, and no matter how much it hurts I will not lie to you. Your happiness is not more important than this alliance he has planned.’

  ‘I see,’ I note quietly. ‘What will he do if I refuse to marry Oliver?’

  She turns to me then, her eyes urgent. ‘Do you really want your man?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say immediately.

  ‘If you really value your dream, then you’ll say nothing. You will give your father no warning, no opportunity to strike first. You will simply run away with your man. Take nothing that can be traced back to you. Leave every single person you know behind, and start again in South America, or Asia. Are you prepared to do that?’

  ‘I can’t leave you and Mama.’

  ‘Then you will not have your dream,’ she says with such finality that I grow cold inside.

  I lean forward restlessly. ‘But even if I could leave you and Mama, Noah will not consent to run and hide as if we have done something wrong, anyway. We’d be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives. Noah is not afraid of Papa. He says he is ready to take on Papa.’

  In the last rays of the sun, Baba suddenly looks old. ‘If what you say is true you must prepare for bloodshed. His or your father’s.’

  Twenty-six

  Tasha Evanoff

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qT6XCvDUUsU

  Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?

  papa has come back home. It is incredible how quickly the time passed. When I kissed his cheeks and welcomed him back I felt a tremor of fear inside me.

  Even now, as I stand outside his study, I am not ready to face him, but I will never be ready. Childishly, I wish I could turn back the clock even one day, but I cannot put off what has to be said. My hands shake as I take a deep breath to steel myself before I rap gently on his door.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asks.

  ‘Tasha.’

  ‘Come in.’

  I let my hand drop to the door handle, turn it, and step into the room. My father is at his desk, his head bowed over some papers. He has his reading glasses on. He does not speak, just beckons me forwards with an open palm. I walk towards his desk, fear speeding through my body, and stand in front of him.

  His dark, dead eyes peer over the rim of his glasses. ‘Sit.’

  ‘I prefer to stand, Papa.’ My voice shakes. My father is a very intimidating man and it will be easier to keep my nerve if I am standing. Papa slumps back in his leather chair, removes his glasses, and lays them on the table.

  ‘What do you want, Tasha?’ His voice is totally expressionless and his face stony. I immediately feel unease. Mama was right. He is ready for me. He has been waiting for me to do this and he knows exactly what I am going to say.

  I feel frozen with fear now, but I cannot turn back. I spit out the words I have rehearsed so many times. In the bed, in front of the mirror, in front of Baba.

  ‘Papa, I’m sorry, but I cannot marry Oliver. I do not love him and I never will. I know that this is what you wanted, but this is my life and I deserve to choose who I marry.’

  Papa smiles. It is a sly smile, and suddenly I know I should have listened to Baba. I should have persuaded Noah to run away with me. He would have done it for me, I know he would have. Instead, I have done exactly what Papa wanted, played right into his hands. How brilliantly he has played his game, and how silly I have been. Now he can execute his next move.

  ‘This is not something I am asking of you, Tasha Evanoff,’ he says gently.

  Tears start running down my face. ‘Papa, please don’t ask me to do this. He is not the man you think he is. He has strange needs. He wants to do cruel things to me.’

  ‘I know about his needs.’ His voice is cold and hard. ‘But he will not trouble you with them. I will make him understand on your wedding night that there are whores for such things. My daughter is to be treated like a Princess or she will be an early widow.’

  I stare at him open-mouthed. ‘Is that what you really want for me, Papa?’

  The corners of his mouth turn downward. ‘Is it so bad what I want for you? To be respected by society?’ He shakes his head as if he can’t understand me. ‘When you marry Oliver you will become Lady Tasha. You will move into that splendid stately home and be the mistress of it. Your children will be Lords and Ladies. What does it matter if your husband visits a whore or two to satisfy his needs?’

  ‘Oh, Papa, please. Please. I don’t want to be Lady Tasha and I don’t care if my kids are not Lords and Ladies. I want them to be happy. I want them to have a normal father and mother who love each other and love them too. I just want a small life with a husband I love and children that are happy and healthy.

  ‘And I am telling you that you will marry Oliver Jarsdale. Do you understand?’ he yells suddenly, slamming his fists onto his desk.

  My heart jumps in shock at his reaction.

  I bite back the terror. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Papa. I mean no disrespect to you. I love you, but you cannot force me against my will. I’m not a child anymore. I don’t want to marry a man with such taste. It will disgust me to be with him.’

  He stares at me and studies me as if I am a different species from him and he must decide what technique would work best on me. He stands and comes around the side of the desk. I resist the urge to flinch when he stops next to me. His body radiates a strong aura of something I find utterly repulsive.

  ‘Do you know that I was the first one to call you by the nickname solnyshko?’ he asks softly.

  I shake my head, confused by his sudden change of demeanor.

  He smiles. ‘So no one told you the story. Well, I called you that because I was at your birth and I saw your head—you were born with a full head of gold hair—appear out of that bitch’s cunt and, I swear, it looked like the sun coming out of the depths of night. So I called you little sun. My little sun. Until today you have been my perfect little sun. You can ruin it all in one stroke.’

  ‘I just�
�’

  His powerful hands reach out suddenly and grip my shoulders. I am unable to stifle the scream of shock and fright. In an instant he pulls me forward until my face is only inches from his. I smell the coffee he drank on the plane, the cigar he smoked on the way home.

  ‘Think about the people you care for, little sun. They all depend on you to survive. This one selfless act could mean so much for their future … existence.’ He pauses and takes stock of the reaction I am unable to conceal. He reminds me of a snake, extending its tongue to sense the vulnerability of its prey.

  I understand that he has left the most important words unsaid. ‘Papa, I can’t—’

  ‘If you defy me, Tasha, you will leave me no choice. Those you love the most will suffer the consequences.’

  I gasp at the unveiled threat. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Who do you love most in this world, solnyshko?’

  The loving nickname on his lips suddenly sounds grotesque. Baba, Mama … Surely, he couldn’t be referring to them. I shake my head in disbelief.

  ‘I’ll rub them out one by one.’

  His words are like a dagger to my heart. I choke back my growing sense of helplessness. I have to free myself from his clutches. He could be bluffing. He must be. ‘I’m your daughter. How can you threaten me like this, Papa?’

  ‘I do what is necessary to get what I want.’

  ‘Only a monster could be so cruel,’ I cry tearfully.

  ‘What do you know, you silly girl? You’re nothing more than a spoilt brat.’

  ‘I’m not a spoilt brat.’

  His eyes flash with annoyance. ‘No? You agreed to this alliance. And now after you have turned everybody’s life upside down you have changed your mind. You are an Evanoff and we keep our word. Nothing will stop this alliance. You should know I mean every word when I tell you no one you love is safe. No one. Unless you submit to my wish.’