by V. F. Mason
I appeared to be in a wood cabin with a few chairs, some blankets, and a wooden table. The smell of chamomile and mint filled the air. A vase stood on the table with a couple red roses about to bloom. The soft petals still hadn't open up.
My back ached from being in the same position. But lying that way, I didn't feel pain in my ribs or arms. My face throbbed, despite the healing cream Quinn and Dorothy applied on my wounds daily, and I didn't miss their flinch any time their eyes landed on them.
I was yet to see it all.
A huge mirror hung on the wall near the doorway. I probably could have asked them to bring it over so I could learn the damage this awful man did to me.
But could I face it?
Deciding not to wait on someone’s pity anymore, I picked up the cane next to my bed—the one I used on my trips to the bathroom, which was indoors, thank freaking God—and on my wobbly legs, despite the pain, I slowly made my way to the mirror, all the while hoping Quinn wouldn't barge in.
I needed to do it alone.
Step after step, my bare feet padded on the floor. My toes didn’t really enjoy the harsh wood underneath. Finally, taking a deep breath, I faced my fear head-on. A horrified gasp escaped me as my reflection registered in my mind.
One long, red line went from my right ear to my full lips, and another line spread across my forehead to my left ear. My face was swollen with bruises marking my cheeks and nose. My eyebrows were gone. Quinn had shaved them off to have a better view of all the wounds. I saw only raw meat and nothing that reminded me of the girl I used to be.
Ugly.
So unbelievably ugly.
Without thinking, with all my strength, I raised the cane and smashed the mirror. I kept hitting and hitting it as it shattered into tiny pieces around my feet, but I didn't care. I wanted to destroy it all despite my blurry vision from the tears.
Sobbing loudly, I fell on the floor as my hands covered my bruised face, wondering who’d ever want to look at such a creature as me. Romance novels had the whole Beauty and the Beast theme, but I never came across a book where the heroine was the beast.
These evil men didn't just take me away from my home.
They destroyed any kind of hope of finding true love.
Rosa
She was dead.
So freaking dead.
Screaming in annoyance, I threw the phone on the bed since Frankie refused to pick up. I paced back and forth in the room, considering my options. Unfortunately, none came to mind in my panicked state. My closet included only a couple of dresses, because jeans and shirts were more comfortable during my stay with Luke and in North Carolina. And I didn't have time to have a proper shopping day to fill in the gaps in my closet.
The dress Frankie found for me was completely unacceptable, and I had no one but myself to blame for not looking at it all day. In my defense, last night, I came home exhausted and slept ten hours straight. Then I rushed to the university for two classes, where that redheaded guy kept begging to be my friend, so we hung out together for an hour. Then I quickly came back home, and since the clock showed five o’clock, I had only two hours to get ready.
I stood in front of the mirror. The strapless white dress wrapped tightly around my body, putting on full display my round, full breasts, which looked even bigger with my waist accentuated, and my firm ass. I decided to wear the emerald earrings he gave me, and I picked five-inch stiletto sandals and a clutch in green to match.
Since my hair tended to get in my freaking face all the time, I spent an hour on a waterfall hairstyle with my straight hair cascading down my back while the top was made into a braid on the side. It kind of gave my cat-shaped hazel eyes a vivid look. The weather was too hot for any kind of makeup, so I just applied gloss on my lips to emphasize their fullness.
Overall, I looked pretty damn hot.
Which brought me back to the fact that this dress made me seem desperate for attention. I preferred to have more subtle hints about sexuality than putting it all out there. And it ended right above my knees, so it left a lot of skin to admire.
Hearing the doorbell ring just as the huge clock in the living room chimed seven o’clock, my nerves got the better of me. He even came on time! Was there anything this guy did in half measures?
Exhaling a calming breath, I glanced at myself one more time before I left the room and slowly walked down the stairs. Considering the heels I wore, the last thing I needed was to end up face-planted on the floor.
My eyes once again admired the beauty of my father’s house. My shoes clicked on the golden marble floor, which shone from the huge, Swarovski chandelier lighting up the whole hallway. The house had countless rooms, even I had no clue how many, but everything was decorated in white and gold along with crystals.
Expensive dark brown oak furniture and lots of vases filled with roses were scattered around the house. The smell of the flowers penetrated every nook and cranny. Framed photos of my mom in different stages of her life hung on the living room walls as well as the dining room’s, where the wide table with place settings of expensive handmade porcelain china was surrounded by twenty-four chairs.
To sum it up, Dad freaking loved luxury, and it screamed from every corner of the house. Maybe I’d have considered it tacky had my mom not designed it. So being here, in this atmosphere, was somehow being connected to her, even if she was no longer with us.
Lucretia, our housekeeper of twenty years, winked at me, straightened her black apron over her black wool dress, and opened the door.
Holy mother of God.
Why did he have to be so handsome?
He stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his legs crossed while his free hand was inside a pocket. His black suit hugged his body perfectly, giving off elegance and power, but at the same time, a tightly made bun in the back of his head added wildness to the look. Several tattoos peeked out of the collar of his white shirt without a tie. The cross rested between the open ends, and my stomach fluttered as I remembered how he had put it on me while we shared our first kiss.
Our eyes locked for a moment in an embrace where the outside world didn't exist. His amber ones were lit with possessiveness as he scanned my body and clenched the rose in his hand tighter, while mine probably reflected the deep desire humming inside me.
My skin buzzed with the need to run to him, so I’d feel the protection in his arms once again, and I barely restrained myself from doing so.
Dating.
That was what we were doing. God, how did people deal with all this sexual frustration going on? When family obligations and mafia houses didn't breathe down their neck?
“Oh my,” Lucretia muttered, clearly appreciating his handsomeness despite her being married for thirty years and having five grandkids to raise. “Rosa, your guest is here for you.” She turned around, and left us standing there alone.
“You look gorgeous,” he said, his voice gruff. He extended the flower to me. “A rose for a rose.” Okay, not cringing at such a corny line was impossible, and he noticed it. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s kind of a lame pickup line.”
Frowning, he rubbed his chin. “It is?”
Confused, I nodded. “Well, yeah.” Or at least I thought so, based on all those books and magazines I’d read. Romance heroes usually had to be an exception to the rule, who knew all the perfect words.
“I wouldn't know. I’ve never been on a date before.” His voice changed to pissed off, as though the idea of me being on one and knowing stuff irritated him. I opened my mouth to reassure him, when the information he supplied stopped me in my tracks.
Um, what? “You’ve never been on a date before?” He shook his head. “But I mean… you aren't a virgin, right?” I almost groaned aloud at how stupid the conversation was turning out to be, and who the hell asked that kind of question on a first date, when the guy hadn't even had the chance to take you out?
Dominic’s eyes darkened as he straightened. “No.”
/> My stomach flipped, because my irrational mind didn't like the idea of him with other women. Just imagining him kissing and tasting them… yeah, nope. Wouldn't go there.
He cleared his throat. “Sex… was just sex. Nothing more.” A thin line formed between his eyebrows. “That’s not something a man should talk about with his woman.”
I almost gave up on this whole dating thing, at which we both apparently sucked, when my dad spoke from the far end of the house, coming out of his office.
“Do you know how to woo a woman or what, Konstantinov?” he joked, his eyes lit with amusement as he smoked a cigar. When would he finally quit his bad habit? “As entertaining as it is listening to you two, I’d prefer for you to take this date somewhere else.”
Dad caressed my cheek as I leaned on his open palm. “Whenever you want to end it, just let me know. Stay safe.” He kissed me on the forehead as his smell washed over me, calming my nervousness. Then he addressed Dominic. “My people will follow yours.” He raised his hand. “She is my daughter. I need to know she is safe. Curfew is one o’clock.”
My jaw almost hit the floor. “Dad, I’m a bit old for that, in case you didn't get the memo.”
“Not to me. Have fun.” With that, he motioned for me to follow Dominic, and the door shut behind us. Only a bulb on the ceiling of the porch allowed us to study each other. Two black cars waited for us to walk down the few steps. The sounds of fountains and green grass lightly swaying from the wind greeted us.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” he said suddenly, lifting my chin with his index finger. “I brought you a red rose, because it reminded me of you. Not yet fully bloomed, but at the same time, already beautiful.” He took it out of my hand and ran it over my collarbone, leaving goose bumps from the soft-as-silk petals. “It reminded me of your skin, and how I wish to cover your body with kisses.” A beat, and then, “Is this explanation better?” I nodded eagerly, and he lifted his mouth in a half smile. “Good. Let’s go.” With that, he wrapped his hand around mine and led me to the vehicles waiting.
I was about to have my first date, and despite the awkward-as-hell conversation before, I couldn't freaking wait for it.
Dominic
Glasses clinking and jazz music coming from speakers could be heard as we entered the expensive seafood restaurant in the center of Manhattan. Heels clicking, cell phones ringing, and people chatting loudly created a little buzz as waitresses interrupted meaningful conversations.
A bright chandelier illuminated everyone. Round tables covered with pure-white linen held delicious-smelling food. The long line at the entrance was testament to the status of the place.
I wondered what kept my fork from bending in half with how tightly I was squeezing it, as all this activity made my skin crawl.
“Becoming a surgeon will be a dream come true,” Rosa finished, although I only half listened to her words due to the control I was desperately trying to keep.
Backtracking to a few moments ago, I remembered we spoke about how much she enjoyed being back in school. “That’s good,” I answered curtly, sipping the wine I fucking hated. Ordering vodka in the restaurant didn't seem appropriate, and I didn't want to look like an uncivilized brute, even if I was one.
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting uncomfortably, but continued, “So… do you enjoy being the pakhan of the Bratva?” She quickly shoveled steaming risotto in her mouth as though shutting herself up.
“Not much enjoyment in that.”
She nodded, gulping water, and sending sideways glances at nearby people who seemed too interested in our conversation. Or maybe those fuckers just liked ogling my woman. She was fucking gorgeous, after all. All night, I restrained myself from whisking her away from here, locking us in my headquarters, and having my way with her beautiful body. Those legs, ass, and tits. My imagination took me to all kinds of dirty thoughts, and I wanted to beat the crap out of any other man who imagined my woman like that.
So yeah, needless to say, this evening was going to shit. Those voices in my head kept screaming at me to leave, because any place with lots of people unnerved me.
She opened her mouth to say something. She had a habit, I noticed, that when she was nervous, she tended to ramble aimlessly using a lot of unnecessary words. However, at that moment, we were interrupted by loud screaming from the other end of the room.
“You cheated on me!” As if on command, both of our heads turned in the same direction, and Rosa’s eyes widened as a woman wearing jeans and a shirt pointed a gun at the middle-aged, bulky man who sat with a young, blonde woman. Several women in the restaurant gasped in shock as everyone stilled, unable to take their eyes off the scene. “You fucking piece of shit! You promised you wouldn't do it to me again! And you did.” She frantically waved the gun at the mistress, I assumed, as tears slid down her cheeks. “And you took her here, where you proposed to me!” She started to sob, and he rose from his seat, wanting to get to her, but she stopped him quickly by targeting the gun right at his forehead. “Don’t even think about it, Robert.”
“Liz—” he started, but she shook her head, her eyes wide. Her hysterical laughter echoed in the room.
“No!” she shouted.
No, hell was worse than a woman scorned, apparently. She was under the influence of her emotions, brave enough to do stupid shit, and would only understand the consequences later when it would be too late to fix them.
And for what? A man who couldn't keep it in his pants? Turning my head toward Rosa to make sure she was all right before I acted on impulse to save the woman, I growled when she stood up and darted to the lunatic.
What the hell did she think she was doing? The woman spun around to her, the gun pointed at my Rosa.
Fuck! “Leave, lady. This doesn’t concern you. Walk away,” she advised calmly, and I fucking hated I couldn't do anything to help, because me standing up in front of Rosa at this point would only agitate this crazy chick more, and she could fire the bullet, hurting my krasavica in the process.
Rosa shrugged nonchalantly. “Why do you want to do it?”
Liz blinked at her, confused. “To punish him.”
Rosa raised her brow. “By killing this girl?” She pointed her index finger at the blonde, whose face had turned green as if she were about to puke her guts out.
“Yes, he has been cheating on me for four months with her!” she snarled.
“Okay, but he did cheat before, right?” Rosa asked, and when Liz nodded, she continued. “So if you kill her, you go to jail—for life, may I add—and he stays out of prison with all his assets and all his women.” She folded her arms, and asked, “What’s the point, then?”
Liz blinked a few times, opened her mouth, and then closed it, as her attention focused on her husband once again as if seeing him in a new light.
“Is he rich?” Rosa probed.
“Yeah, we have a business together,” Liz said, the gun slowly lowering.
“So divorce his ass and live your life.” Liz cast her eyes down, and in a swift move, I ended up close to my woman, wrapping my hand around her waist, while Vitya, who lurked in the shadows, came behind Liz and disarmed her, gently taking the weapon away.
People stood up, screaming and calling the police, as the manager ran to us. “Thank you so much. We’ve already called the authorities. They should be here any minute now.”
Rosa squeezed my hand tight, as she whispered, “Dominic.”
Exhaling a loud breath, I kissed the back of her head as she shivered. Then in few short steps, I reached the table with the cheater and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Listen to me, asshole.” He gulped, his eyes full of fear. “You won’t press charges against her, and you’ll pay any fine. Is that clear?”
He stayed silent, so I choked him a bit, and he nodded. “Yes, clear.”
Letting go of him, I continued, “And then, you agree to the divorce and give her half of the business.” Resting my hands on the table, I finished,
“And if you don’t do all of these things, you’ll have to deal with me. Dominic Konstantinov.” He clearly had no clue who I was, but my voice, and stance, and Vitya behind me, were enough to get my point across.
Clicking my fingers, I said to Vitya, “We’re leaving. Now.” Then I grabbed Rosa’s hand, practically dragging her to the exit.
“We didn't finish our food, and we were in the middle of a date,” she protested. She tried to dig her heels into the slick floor, but couldn't manage it.
“It’s over,” I stated, scaring anyone who wanted to come closer to us.
This whole fucking date was a stupid joke. This evening turned into a disaster. At this pace, I would never win my woman over, so my original plan of kidnapping was the way to go.
Vlad held the car door open for us. I hauled Rosa’s ass inside. Then the door closed loudly, finally leaving us in silence as the black panel separating the driver from viewing anything that happened in the back seat slid closed.
“What do you mean, no dating?” Rosa got right into my face, our thighs pressed next to each other as she furrowed her brows. “One awful date and you give up on wooing me?”
“That back there was a disaster. I couldn't even sit still before the crazy chick showed up, all those smells and voices.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Then why did you take me there?” Our shouts echoed in the enclosed space of the Mercedes, our tempers escalating.
“Because that’s apparently the best place in town.”
She chuckled, but it lacked any humor. “I hate seafood.”
Say fucking what? I called Damian specifically for this information, hoping to surprise her in a good way. “Damian said you did.”
She huffed, raising her chin. “Maybe he doesn’t know much about me either.”
“This just proves how wrong this idea was,” I said, exhaustion in my voice as her head slammed back, as if I slapped her.
“Fine, then. It ended rather quickly.” Her eyes didn't meet mine, as she pulled her dress lower, or tried to at least. The damn thing was too short to cover up her thighs in a sitting position.