by Belle Aurora
The way he stilled frightened me a moment. He rolled us both over until he was once again towering over me. He then asked me very, very quietly, “What did you just say?”
Oh, Nastasia. What have you done?
There was no use in pretending. Swallowing hard, I responded an equally quiet, “I love you.”
For a split second, Vik’s face turned pained. His eyes snapped shut, and his forehead fell to my chest. The longer the silence spanned, the more anxious I became. I had to do something. So, I did the only thing I could think to do at that point.
My arms wound around him in a gentle embrace. I feathered my fingertips up and down his back, watching in fascination as he broke out in gooseflesh. Feeling emboldened at his reaction to me, I ran my fingers through his hair, and I could feel his lips moving in the valley between my breasts. At first, I thought it a kiss, but when his breath warmed the skin there, I realized he was quietly speaking into my flesh.
When he suddenly lifted his head and sleepily blinked down at me, I smiled softly, and my heart puffed up in response. He lowered his mouth to mine, and my lips parted beneath his. The kiss grew and deepened, and when he lifted my legs to wrap around him, I felt his thick, hard length prodding at me.
My brows rose, and I whispered, “Again?” against his mouth.
Vik pulled back a moment to look at me through hooded eyes and simply stated, “We’ve got all night, baby.”
Oh. I liked the sound of that.
When he made to kiss me again, I got a little excited and moved to meet him, but our teeth clashed. He winced, then chuckled, and I laughed softly in return. My nose began to tingle, and I wasn’t so sure it was from the hard knock it had just taken. My throat thick with emotion, a simple mantra circled my mind.
I love you.
I love you.
Oh God, I love you.
We made love desperately, clumsily, and yet it was matchless. I found every moment of it as sweet and endearing as the man rocking into me, bringing me closer to rapture with every touch.
Present
Look, I know the kiss we shared in the pantry was good, but it couldn’t happen again.
Oh yeah?
Yes.
The wispy blonde spared me a friendly smile. “Nastasia, come on through.” She opened the door to the small room and gestured the bed. “Go ahead and get undressed. I’ll be back in a minute.”
If the super-hot kiss didn’t affect you at all, then what are we doing here?
Ugh. Shut up, brain. I am so sick of your shit.
I undressed quickly, put on the disposable panties, and waited quietly, contemplating every little thing that led to this very moment.
The lady returned, wearing gloves. Her brows lifted as she asked, “And we’re getting a Brazilian today?”
My brain cackled at me. Tramp.
I forced out a super friendly, “Yeah,” hoping the woman waxing me couldn’t tell I was going through an existential crisis.
Fighting to remain quiet as she waxed away my dignity, I held it together until she patted my hip and asked a nonjudgmental, “Want your bottom done too, hon?”
My brain crossed its arms over its chest, lifted a thin brow, and tapped its foot in question.
I started to nod as my mouth pursed in shame. “Yep.” The word shook, and it was embarrassingly noticeable.
As I pulled my knees to my chest and spread my cheeks for the woman, the realization hit me with the force of a brick to the head.
Oh God.
I wanted sex, and I wanted it with a man who drove me insane.
Yeah. My cooch wanted Vik real bad.
I internally wept.
I am a tramp.
3
Nastasia
It was only 9:00 a.m., but as I got out of my car and walked up the wide steps, the front door opened, and the man who stood there looked so sleep-worn, so disgruntled, wearing nothing but a pair of navy boxers, that I couldn’t help but stop in my tracks. I reached up and made a show of sliding my sunglasses off, taking in his body like the spectacle it was. If it weren’t for the jagged scars on his face, he’d be a perfect ten.
Damn.
A lusty, teasing smile stretched at my lips. “Okay. All right. I kind of get what Cora sees in your ugly mug. I mean, if we put a bag over your head….” I let the rest of the sentence fade away.
Alessio rolled his eyes, leaving me at the door. I laughed out loud, shut the door behind me, and jogged to keep up, following him down the hall and into the dining room. The second they saw me, a round of greetings sounded.
“My girl,” said Uncle Laredo, putting down the newspaper he was reading to give me his full attention.
A strange feeling passed through me. It always did whenever I saw him. It was as though I was transported back into the body of my eight-year-old self, and a tiny sliver of awkwardness reared its ugly head.
Genuinely happy to see him, I approached with a smile and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Good morning, Uncle.”
We’d been estranged for too long, spent too much time apart. I missed him terribly during that time. Now, I came to visit once a week in an attempt to bridge the gap.
Laredo Scarfo was not the most handsome man in the world, but he had something about him. The way he spoke, the way he held himself, he was charismatic.
“You look beautiful,” he uttered in a paternal way, his eyes smiling. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, boys?”
Nicolas Van Eden nodded enthusiastically, speaking around his food. “Like an angel.”
I had a special kind of love for the South African. He was quite honestly the sweetest man I’d ever met, and while he let me know on many occasions that he would treat me like a princess should I ever wish to date him, it was precisely why we would not have made a good match.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who needed to be doted on to appreciate a man.
As I passed him, I placed both my hands on his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
Roman Vlasic, half Italian Stallion, half Croatian Sensation, shot me a smile that dripped of sex. “Morning, lutka. Where’s my kiss?” When I passed him, he tried to grab at me, and I slapped his hand away, training narrowed eyes on him. “What?” he asked, the very image of innocence.
He was a sleaze, which was why I was not going to give him an inch, because, Lord, he’d take a mile, and with a face like that, I’d be tempted to let him.
I pointed an unwavering finger at him. “Hands to yourself, Rome.”
He blew me an exaggerated kiss, and if I were any other woman, I would have thrown myself into his arms right then and there. But it was the gorgeous little guy at the end of the table that was, by far, my favorite of all my uncle’s adopted sons.
Davi Lobo – extremely sweet but extremely short – had a smile that could cause a coronary, and although he didn’t exude the kind of seductive pull that others did, he had other qualities that made up for it. As I sat beside him, he turned in his chair, giving me his complete attention, took both my hands in his, and pressed butter-soft kisses to my knuckles.
And that was why women all over New York were half in love with him.
They fell the full way down whenever he listened intently to whatever you were saying, his steady gaze on your lips, without actually understanding a lick of it.
He was getting better though. And so, I asked, “How’s your English coming along?”
When he made a face, I chuckled. He spoke rapid-fire Portuguese, and when I made a face identical to the one he made just a moment earlier, he stopped and smiled, letting out a heavily accented, “Better, a little.” Then he put up both hands and made a gesture like waves in an ocean. “Slowly.”
“That’s great.” I laid a hand on his arm and said, “Slow is good.”
There was one man missing, but I was not about to ask about him. There was history there, and I didn’t want to bring any unwanted attention toward it.
It was better that Philippe wasn’t here
. Whenever we found ourselves together, there was an intense longing shadowing his gaze, one that I feared would never escape him. It wasn’t fair for him. My heart belonged to another.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Nastasia?” my uncle asked kindly.
Uncle Laredo still wasn’t used to me coming over unannounced, and after all the bad blood between our families, I was pretty sure he was waiting for the ball to drop. He just couldn’t seem to understand that being in his presence gave me a familial connection I thought I’d lost.
Helping myself to a piece of toast on Davi’s plate, I nibbled on it and uttered guardedly, “I didn’t think I needed a reason.”
Comprehending his folly, Laredo sat up straight, his newspaper forgotten, and said with absolute conviction, “You are welcome here, sweetheart. Always. At all hours. No matter what.”
Now if that didn’t just make my little heart sing.
“Good.” I grinned at him from across the table, and when he winked at me, a feeling of warmth settled in my chest.
The man seated to my left did what he always did. Trying his best to bleed into his surroundings, Alessio sipped at his espresso. When he felt my eyes on him, he looked up and lifted his brow. “What?”
My smile was deceptively serene. My words did not match the sentiment. “When are you going to stop screwing around and call her?”
He sighed loudly, then said, “How about you mind your fucking business, Nas?”
I let out an unladylike “Pffft” and blinked at him. “Do you even know me?” I laughed quietly. “It’s just not what I do.”
His jaw tightened a moment, but then he smiled darkly, the scars on his face stretching. “Tell me. How are things with Vik?”
Ooh. Touchy, touchy.
“Touché,” I muttered, taking the coffee right out of his hands and claiming it as my own, sipping loudly, then finishing with a satisfied “Ahhh.”
He looked at me like he might just strangle me, and a bubble of laughter stole up my throat. “Aw, don’t get pissy. You know I love you.” My lips pursed. “Like you.” I sipped at the strong, smooth coffee. “Okay. Tolerate you.”
When Mina found out she had a brother, she sure as shit didn’t expect it to be the ever ornery, Scar Face Scarfo. And, yes, it took them a while to bond, but now, they loved each other just as much as I loved my own siblings. It was nice. I liked that they had roots with each other, roots that ran deep. It was a bond that no other could replicate.
At first, Alessio refused to claim Mina. It didn’t help matters when Mina discovered that Sasha was the man who put those scars on her brother’s face. My eldest brother didn’t often do stupid shit, but sleeping with Alessio’s trampy wife definitely made the top of the list.
Yep. It was a shitshow.
Anyone with half a brain could see that the scars were a trauma Alessio would never be able to see past. Kind of hard when the reminder was worn so blatantly on his face.
It didn’t matter that his packaging was torn; Cora took one look at the broody jerk, and she wanted him. One shared evening, one tender kiss. That was all it took.
Corinna Alkaev was in love. And, like the asshole he was, Alessio refused to call her.
I wasn’t a complete imbecile though. Deep down, I knew Alessio felt unworthy. It didn’t matter that Cora wore her heart on her sleeve. Hell, she could’ve cut the damn thing out and placed the bloody, beating muscle directly into his hands. Alessio would still have trouble accepting that somebody who looked like him could draw the attention of someone who looked like her.
Did I love this choice of man for Cora? No, but I couldn’t really talk. My taste in men wasn’t exactly Michelin Star quality.
There was nothing I wanted more than for Cora to be happy, and because true friends supported each other, if Cora decided that Alessio was the person to bring her that, then I would help where I could.
It was a slow process, but I was working on him.
There was only one way I could approach this. I had to be subtle. Discreet.
So, I plucked my phone out of my back pocket, my fingers running over the screen. Next to me, Alessio’s phone began to chime. He picked it up and opened the message.
The image of Cora had him tightening his fingers around his phone. “The fuck is this?” he asked tightly.
My fingers kept moving over my phone. Alessio’s phone continued to chime. One after another, I sent photos of Cora to the idiot who refused to admit he felt the same way she did.
“Nas,” he warned, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His fingers squeezed his cell so firmly I thought he might break the damn thing.
His phone continued to ping. I just kept on sending images and told him frankly, “I want you to look at her. Look at that face. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no idea what she sees in you, babe, but she wants you, so I’m going to keep doing this. I’m going to show you what you’re missing out on, because that woman would make you the happiest man in the entire fucking universe, but you’re too much of a pussy to claim her. And you know what, Scarfo? One day, she’s going to find a man who doesn’t push her away every time she reaches out. No, that man will be brave enough to take her hand and pierce his own heart if it would only make her happy.” His jaw tight, he stared down at the table. When his cheek ticked, I shrugged and laid it down. “It could be you, but it might not be. She’s not gonna wait around forever.”
Sending one last file, I watched his eyes train on the video of Cora biting into a cupcake. Her voice sounded, “Take the photo.”
Then me. “I’m trying. What is up with your phone?”
She scowled. “Nothing’s wrong with my phone. You’re just an idiot.”
“Wait. It’s doing something.” My laughter broke through. “Oh shit. It’s in video mode.”
Cora threw her head back, bursting into laughter. Her shoulders shook, and she attempted to cover her vanilla-buttercream-covered lips, letting out an amused, “How embarrassing.”
I zoomed in on her face and teased, “Oh yeah. Lick it up, baby.” When I said what I said next, I had a feeling she might not have appreciated my sending this to the man himself. “Come on, sweet thing. Pretend you just finished with Alessio. Lick up that cream.”
Alessio’s entire body tightened as Cora gave bedroom eyes to the camera and made a production of cleaning her lips with her little pink tongue, ending on her tinkling laughter.
Standing so quickly that the heavy mahogany chair flew backward, Alessio turned and stalked out of the room, his phone firmly gripped in his hand.
See? Subtle. Like running your nails down a chalkboard.
I could not have been the only one who peeped the growing tent in his boxers. And just because I was feeling bitchy and was sick of his moody ass, I yelled out after him, “You wouldn’t have to jerk off if you just called her.”
Uncle Laredo let out a surprised, “Nastasia!”
Thoroughly reprimanded, I shrunk in on myself and pouted. “Sorry, Unc, but it’s true.”
By my side, Davi Lobo nudged my arm, then rolled his eyes. “Men, huh?”
I almost snorted. God, he was adorable.
All I could do was grin right back at him and quietly voice my agreement.
“Men.”
Letting people down was a sore spot for me. With the rest of my day free, I decided to visit a friend who I had greatly neglected. The more I thought about it, I had let my breakup with Vik affect my friendship with her. I hadn’t been to visit in quite a while, and I felt that guilt weighing down on me.
My stomach tangled as I recognized the last time I’d been to her house had been just before I ended things with her brother.
Really? Had it been that long?
Regrettably, yes.
Okay, so I hadn’t been to visit in months.
So, yeah. I was a terrible friend, I guess.
I mean, we still talked over the phone at least a couple of times a week and saw each other at work, but my heart was heavy with the realizatio
n that I hadn’t been there for her lately. What made it worse was that Anika had been a constant for me during my life, always ready to drop what she was doing if and when I needed her.
Lately, our friendship was a one-way street, leaning heavily in my favor.
That was not good enough.
I was taking a step forward to fix that and pulled into the driveway of the beautiful, big Victorian house that brought back too many memories to count. During my childhood, if I wasn’t at my own house, I was here. In our younger years, playing with dolls. Moving on to watching romantic comedies. In high school, talking about boys until the early hours of the morning. And eventually, as young adults, sleeping off a hangover until midday.
A feeling of contentment washed over me as I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The moment the mature woman answered, I smiled sweetly and said, “Hi, Mama.”
Dropping the tea towel she was wiping her hands on, she let out a happy cry before drawing me into her arms. I went willingly, and as she wrapped me up, I chuckled while she berated me in her heavy Russian accent. “You don’t love us anymore, do you? You don’t visit for so long, and now I am an old lady. What have you been eating? You are too little, Nastasia.” She pulled back long enough to cup my cheek and smile at me before her face turned irritated. “You stay away for too long. You won’t do that again, will you?”
I loved Doroteya Nikulin. She was the mother I wished for, and although I loved my own mother in my own way, she was nothing like Doroteya. This woman gave you all of her, every warm emotion, every kind smile. Once tall and slim, Doroteya was now all soft curves as she embraced her aging body. With light-copper hair that was once flaming red and beautiful blue eyes, she was so softly spoken that it was no wonder Anika turned out the way she had. She was a carbon copy of her mom.
She pulled me into the house and called out in muddled English, “Yuri, come see who is.”
The house hadn’t changed at all. The shiny floorboards were covered in plush burgundy rugs, all with intricate patterns that screamed Russia. The furniture was a mixture of dark woods, all expensive, all hand-carved and lovely. The crystal chandelier in the hall remained, twinkling delicately as soft, colored sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows. Every mantle held knickknacks. Imperial eggs, matryoshka dolls, golden-painted photo frames. It was as though they brought the motherland with them when they moved here.