by V. F. Mason
I shrugged. "Won't be my first scar." Michael came inside, patted my arm, and sat down on the chair. Vitya kept glaring and just rolled his eyes.
"Seriously, babe, let it go. We all know how these things usually go."
Babe? Clearly, being in the States changed how freely they felt about displaying their relationship. "At least tell me you had a good fucking reason to exclude me?" Vitya continued.
I held his eyes with mine, as I steadily replied, "Yes." After a beat, he nodded and joined Michael in the chair by lifting him up and settling him on his lap. "So… how long am I stuck here?" I always hated hospitals, useless waste of time unless you had some serious injuries, and second-degree burns on my hands weren't something I considered serious.
Michael snorted. "They want to keep you for a week."
"I'm not staying here for a week," I growled, as they both lifted their eyebrows.
"Tell that to those doctors. We wanted to take you back to Russia immediately. Anton came here last night, but that Connor guy who thinks he is the king of the fucking world"—Michael's accent thickened when he was annoyed—"wouldn't let us. Said you had some unfinished business here. That true?"
I rested my head against the headboard. "Yeah." Closing my eyes for a second, the memories of seeing my brother for the first time came back and a familiar longing settled in my gut. I wanted nothing more than to go to him, see how he was, and have a conversation about our life.
However, I knew the risks I took when I agreed to endanger Kristina in this plan. One thing Damian never forgave was a betrayal, so a warm reunion with my brother was out of the question, but we still had unfinished business. "Where are those motherfuckers?"
"In FBI custody." My lips lifted in a half smile at the idea of the pain they would soon experience. The state could fucking have them to rot in prison, but not until we got our fill first.
"Good." To fully inflict what we always wanted on them, we both needed to heal, and even though Damian would hate my guts once he woke up, he'd never pass up the opportunity to get his final revenge.
Once it was done, I could go back to my useless existence in Russia with the knowledge that some broken things couldn't be mended.
Vitya cleared his throat, which made me frown, and I snapped my eyes open. "What?" Both of them had their attention on the door with their brows raised in disbelief. My head automatically turned as my body tensed.
Rosa stood there, wearing some kind of silky red dress, her dark hair in a ponytail, her eyes wide with shock. She held my cross in her hands, the one I had given her right before I left her at the park and rushed into the car to save Damian. Her eyes kept on blinking rapidly. "Well, hello," Michael said, amused.
Rosa ignored him. Then after a few seconds, she took a few steps toward the bed and stopped right in front of me. She lifted her hand and softly touched my cheek as her eyes roamed over my body and face in wonder. She frowned, noticing my bandages, and she asked softly, "Does it hurt?"
I gulped, too shocked at her presence and caress to answer, so I just shook my head in denial.
She ran her fingers over them, pressed the button above me for the nurse, and in a moment, a middle-aged woman wearing green scrubs appeared. "Yes?"
Rosa adjusted my IV drip, and replied, "The patient woke up. Could you page a doctor to check on him? He needs pain meds."
My mouth opened in protest, but she covered it with her hand, and I barely restrained myself from licking and biting the soft flesh. "We both know you are in pain, so cut the macho bullshit."
The nurse gave her a skeptical look, but Rosa hurried her, "Now." Clearly understanding it wasn't the fight she wanted to take on, the nurse promised to call the doctor and left the room.
"I'm Michael, by the way." His face spread in a wide smile, clearly enjoying her bossy nature.
"Rosa." Then she cast her eyes down. "Nice tattoo."
Michael lifted his left calf, which had a Siberian white tiger on it. "Well, thank you, honey. You into tattoos?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Nope, never wanted to have one. I can appreciate good art, though. I just prefer my skin not to be a canvas for it." Why were they having a stupid conversation over my bed when she came to see me? Despite the pain, my hand twitched with a desire to smack Michael and then choke him for taking her attention from me.
"Well, Dominic here has his whole body painted." And just like that, he was granted life again. I gave him a sideways glance and noticed his wink at me.
"And you know that personally?" she questioned, her eyes shifting from him to me. "Are you gay too?" she asked me bluntly, as Vitya and Michael burst out laughing.
My face reddened. "Trust me, красавица, I do not desire men. Only women.”
Her brow lifted. "Women, huh? Have a lot of those?"
Was that jealousy I heard in her voice?
Vitya whistled, and then murmured, "Right in the trap." Then he said loudly, "Well, he isn't a monk.”
"Ah, my heart is shattered," she said, holding her hand to her chest. "I hoped for a virgin." Now she laughed with them as I sat there grimly.
For fuck's sake! They acted like a bunch of kids discussing the latest rumors. And why would she even think about other women, when I'd told her she was mine right before I gave her my cross? Then again, I never really spent time with women unless I was fucking them, so no wonder I didn't understand shit.
"Just so you know, there aren't any women," I said gruffly, as my eyes held hers. Something flashed through them, but before I could dwell on it, the doctor walked in holding a tablet in his hand. He wore navy-blue scrubs, had round brown glasses and mussed dirty-blond hair, along with darker skin. He looked around my age.
"Hey, Mr. Konstantinov, it's good to finally have you back."
Then he shook hands with Rosa with a smile. "And you must be the lady who demanded to see me."
"Yes, I want you to check him before he runs away from here."
He chuckled. "That so, huh? Eager to leave the hospital?"
"Yes." My reply was met with another chuckle.
"Yeah, I predicted something similar. Unless you want to have plastic surgery for the burns to limit the scarring, I don't really have any reason to keep you here." He read something and then typed on the tablet. "You'll have to change your bandages daily though, and apply a special ointment. In a week, check with a doctor, but you can do it with anyone.”
"Doc, have you seen my body?"
He blinked in confusion. “Yes."
"Do you really think I'm afraid of some scars on my hands? I don't give a shit. I'm leaving now." I had to check on Damian and create a plan. My apartment seemed much more comfortable for that than this little excuse for a room, and I wouldn't have to deal with anyone's shit.
"But he suffered from smoke inhalation and his hand was hurt," Rosa complained.
The doctor nodded. "I'll prescribe painkillers for the first few days, and his blood test came back clear for any effects from the smoke he breathed. So considering—”
Rosa interrupted him again. He sighed irritably, and my eyes narrowed. My woman could say whatever the fuck she pleased, so he better not upset her with his harsh comments or voice.
"Dr."—she glanced at his nametag—"Bailey. Are you absolutely sure he's fine? You kept Damian, and he only has a few cuts and a broken leg."
Bailey frowned.
"Damian?" he muttered. "Oh, Mr. Scott. Yes, I did, because he has a concussion, and we want to keep a close eye on the whole family. That's the only reason they are staying one more day."
One more? Wait a fucking minute.
"What do you mean? How many days have I been in the hospital?" I covered up the relief I felt over Damian's condition. We both got lucky, considering the situation. If there was a slight chance of him wanting to see me, I’d run to his room immediately.
We were twins; however, if he had done with my woman and my baby what I did with his, forgiveness wouldn't have crossed my mind for a long time.
<
br /> "Just one, you slept all the way through," Vitya replied, and then stood up, pulling Michael along with him. "We'll get all the papers ready, call for the car, and they'll bring your clothes," he said with satisfaction, clearly anticipating shoving them down Connor's throat. "Doc, could you also give us a list of things he needs to take?"
The doctor nodded. With no further questions from Rosa—who got quiet and studied the green plant at the other end of the room with fascination—he left the room with a quick goodbye as his pager beeped.
The silence between us unsettled me, so I cleared my throat. Her attention snapped back to me, and once again, I couldn't help but wish to drown in her expressive eyes. "Thanks for caring so much about my health." I cringed inwardly. Those weren't the best words to start a conversation. Blyat, I didn't have any experience in this, so no wonder. She shrugged and sat down on the foot of my bed.
"It's all right." Her hands still held the cross. She placed it on my stomach gently, but not before I noticed how she trailed her fingers over it. "You gave it to me yesterday. You should have it back. I hope you'll get better." She stood up quickly and made a move to leave, but I caught her hand right in time. I couldn't keep the groan of pain from spilling out as my raw skin brushed over the bandage when I squeezed my hand. Fuck, it did hurt like a fucking bitch after all.
"Oh, my God, what are you doing?" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't use your hands!"
"You wanted to leave. And the cross is yours," I said simply, and her eyes widened.
My cross was an indication she belonged to me, and everyone would know it. It belonged nowhere else but on her graceful neck, above her heart.
"Listen, Dominic. It's just weird keeping it, okay? I wanted to check on you, and that's about it.”
"That's my claim of ownership," I stated, and this time, her jaw hung open. Why was she surprised at my statement? She lived all this time with Damian. Hadn’t she recognized the signs of a man possessed?
"Excuse me?”
"It means you belong to me. What's there not to understand?"
She shook her head in disbelief, took several steps back, making it impossible for me to reach her, and exhaled a heavy breath. "It's impossible. I—" She licked her dry lips. "You look so much like him, the same face, even if everything else is different." My brows furrowed as I tried to make the connection with me being Damian's twin.
Why would she care so much if I—
Fucking realization hit me like ton of bricks.
The only reason she'd feel out of sorts with my resemblance to Damian was if she had a crush on him all this time and covered it up under the whole pretense of a brother-sister relationship he created. "I see." My voice was cold and detached. Not that I expected her to want to be with me from the start, but the idea of her being in love with my fucking twin never crossed my mind. A little harmless crush, yes, but a first-love kind of thing going on? No fucking way.
I wouldn't have cared if she were confused or unwilling, as shameful as it sounded. Men like me generally had no conscience. However, second best wasn't the title I wanted to have in the relationship.
"You do?" she whispered.
I nodded. "Yes, your explanation was quite clear. You can leave the cross and go." She blinked a few times and opened her mouth to add something, but I waved my hand dismissively. "Just go." For a split second, I thought her eyes watered and hurt flashed in them, but it was quickly gone, and she left the room, leaving me to dwell on my own misery.
Rosa turned out to be nothing but one more bitter disappointment in life.
Rosa
My heart beat rapidly in my ribcage. Breathing heavily, I sat down on the bench outside the hospital and tried to calm my hectic mind. The intensity of emotions I felt when I was close to Dominic couldn't be explained. My hand touched my neck. I already missed his cross. Somehow, it fit perfectly and I barely felt it.
I'd never had any experience with men in my life, and truth be told, I never had a real crush on anyone. All the guys seemed immature, and then once I started living with Damian, dating was kind of out of the question.
Dominic was another story altogether though. Even those two little snippets of moments we shared, he overwhelmed me with his masculinity and the powerful energy coming from him in waves.
I didn't believe in love at first sight, even though I loved reading romance books. My deep attraction and fascination with him had another name.
Desire.
The tingling sensation in my body, images of his tattooed skin against mine, his deep, low voice talking to me in the heat of the moment. I longed to explore it and finally find out what all the fuss about sex was.
But he was Damian's twin. If I tried anything with him, everyone would think I had a crush on Damian all along, and it just wasn't true. He was like a big brother to me. The idea of seeing him in any other light but platonic grossed me out.
How could I react so differently to the same face? And how could the universe screw me so much? Weren't there other men on the planet to tempt me?
Wiping away the tears that unexpectedly rolled down my cheeks, I plastered a smile on my face and went in the search of the Scott family.
On the way to Damian's room, I ignored the little voice that urged me to let go of all those stupid insecurities and run to Dominic.
Man with the dragon tattoo
Cleaning my knife, I admired the shape and form of it, not to mention the way it shone in the dim light.
Perfect to cut flesh.
A woman whimpered in the cell, and annoyed, I glanced back at her as she sat on the floor holding her knees to her chest. She had a split lip and several knife wounds I’d left on her. “Shut up,” I ordered, but she just sobbed harder, and I barely restrained myself from pulling out my gun and killing the bitch.
Loved her tight cunt too much for that though. Besides, who would willingly pass up some good pussy when she was also a looker? She had nothing on Rosa, but she would do until I got my hands on the princess.
She was a vision to behold in that red dress of hers.
“Please,” she begged, from where she sat on the floor. “Stop doing this to me.” Throwing everything on the desk, I got up, not caring one bit about my nakedness. I tugged her hair painfully. Her groan of agony was my reward, and my cock immediately got hard.
Too bad I didn't have time for it now. “Don’t forget whose life might end if you refuse me or open your mouth.” Her lips trembled as she closed her eyes. Leaning down, I licked her cheek and then bit it roughly, leaving marks. I didn’t stop until I felt the metallic taste of blood. Those weren't nice caresses by a lover. I was a fucking animal. Another groan and her nails dug into her knee, leaving bruises.
Fuck the meeting.
I could spare ten minutes for some savage fucking.
Standing up, I pushed hard into her mouth and moaned in pleasure. There was nothing better in the world than an unwilling woman on her knees in front of a man. Too bad images of a dark-haired beauty dampened my pleasure.
Soon, princess.
After I noticed there was a bathroom attached to the room, I quickly ran inside, locked the door, and turned on a hot shower, hoping it would at least warm my ice-cold body. I did not intend to step inside, because who knew when the crazy man would come back? My eyes chaotically searched for something to cover my body, and finally, they landed on a worn bathrobe. Although it was once white, the grayish color and heavy odor of cigarettes and whiskey didn’t prevent me from gaining a small sense of dignity when I put it on.
Opening up all the drawers, I hoped to find at least some kind of weapon, like a razor or scissors, but there was nothing useful. A few small black clips allowed me to pull my wild hair up and out of my face.
Leaning on the sink, I closed my eyes. The only sound I heard was my rapidly beating heart.
Think, Rosa. Think!
Despite my dad being in the mob, he always tried to protect me from this lifestyle. He never taught me how to protect my
self in dangerous situations. The resentment I felt at that moment couldn't be described.
He and his Cosa Nostra family put me in this mess; a madman planned to marry me for my virginity. Could his words hold even a tiny bit of truth? Would a plan to deflower me mean that Dad would marry me off to the one who took it?
What the hell happened to my father? Had life without my mother changed him so much?
I heard footsteps, and then someone entered the room. Quietly going closer to the bathroom door, I pressed my ear to it, listening to the conversation if there was any.
No freaking way was I getting out of this bathroom. Just the idea of him touching me again… Shaking my head, I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice asked worriedly, and everything inside me stilled.
Help! A woman would help me, right? As naïve as it sounded, hope blossomed inside my heart.
I burst out of the bathroom and came face-to-face with a young girl around my age who held a tray of food and water in her hands. Her oily blonde hair with black roots could use a washing. Her skin had several bruises. Her brown eyes, underscored with wrinkles, reflected utter hopelessness. She wore a tight black dress and stockings. “Here you are. Food is here.” She placed the tray on the bedside table, and then without even giving me a glance, marched back to the door. I couldn't let her leave.
Grabbing her hand tightly, I spun her around, and immediately regretted it once I registered how her body stilled and her hands rose to cover her face, a reflex that happened when someone beat you repeatedly. “I’m sorry.” I let go of her and pushed my hands behind my back. “Please, help me.” Her eyes widened, and she shook her head while I continued to beg. “Please, they keep me here unwillingly. That guy wants to rape me.”