His Smile: A Mafia Romance

by Katerina Winters

  With every hour and every minute that passed in her absence an indescribable rage accumulated within him, it made him feel weak and unhinged all at once. His fucking life was turning to ash, and it was all her damn fault. Flexing his fingers on the upholstered velvet of his seat, he watched blindly as act two neared the end. He felt like a husk of his former self standing in the rubble of his self-control, that unknown dark craving within him howled in anger.

  Bring her back. Drag her back if you have to. Do whatever it takes to bring back her light.

  He wanted her before him, those wide beautiful eyes staring up at him as he chained her to him. He wanted her to see what he warned her about, to show her the dark fire she stoked. He wanted to see the fear bloom in her brown eyes as he consumed her. It pained him to think of pulling her into his world, to reveal her to the monster behind the smile, to show her things he had seen and endured, or expose her to the choices he had made to survive and thrive in this world. There wasn’t any room for someone like her, a girl filled with bright unjaded light, not in his unforgiving world.

  But hell, if he wasn’t going to make room for her.

  The heavy, somber tones of music began. Slowly the stage transformed into a wooded meadow, trees dramatically being lowered in the background as the lights shimmered across the floor just right to create a dark rippling lake. Fog rolled in from both directions of the stage, and the prince looked around in exaggerated confusion. The string section held the ominous notes as the figure emerged from the shadowy mist. On the tips of her red satin points, her tall figure fluttered to the front of the stage in a slow classic bourrée. Dressed in black, all except her blood red slippers, Odile came alive.

  Leaning forward in his seat, along with the rest of the crowd, he watched Rahina come into her element. It felt as if this was the first time, he was seeing her; the tall, graceful bronze figure on stage was nothing like the cheery mushroom that had hounded him daily. Reenacting the routine of Odette, the white swan, Rahina swayed and leapt around the captivated prince. Purposely, she made the routine her own, telling anyone who watched that she was not Odette, that there could be no confusion—she was the black swan. Gradually, the music shifted to powerful notes cultivated just for her. Odile was seducing the Prince, and he was falling for her with each step until he had no choice but to take her outstretched hand that coaxed him to dance with her.

  Claws of possessiveness scored at the walls of his darkness as the man took her by the waist, balancing her form and lifting her into the air. Roman never took his eyes from her as she stared at the Prince, her smile one of seductive knowing as she wrapped him in her spell. At the end of each of her sequences, the audience cheered before quieting back down. Soon the Prince was dancing in a furious speed, full of large, complicated aerial leaps to represent his torn heart between the two swans. In a heart-racing finale, with Odette left of stage and Odile right, both dancing an identical dance as the Prince warred with himself, the Prince chose the white swan. It was ridiculous the amount of rage Roman felt at that decision, hell he was Russian, he had seen practically every rendition of Swan Lake there was, and the death of Odile was not a complete surprise. But God if he didn’t feel this one. As the Prince and the now transformed Odette dramatically danced together offstage to their happily ever after, the black swan danced alone in the center of the stage until there was nothing but her and the blue mist that was slowly fading to red. She was dying. The music increased with the frenzy of passion one last time as her dancing signified her broken heart, her arms constantly reaching to the direction where the Prince danced away, and Roman could swear, he could see tears in her eyes. With slow, heart-wrenching grace, the black swan sank into the red mist and died.

  The audience thundered. Everyone stood, clapping, cheering, some even crying as the curtain closed. Standing, Roman stood silent and unmoving as he watched the spot where she disappeared until the curtain closed fully.

  For the first time in days, he felt the mirth of a smile. There was nothing noble about Roman, and he certainly wasn’t a Prince, but he did know one thing—he would have his black swan.

  Chapter 9

  Stretching her legs to a point in the steaming milky water, Rahina let out a small groan. The extra-large bathtub had been one of the main selling features of her one-bedroom apartment. Leaning her head back on the bath pillow, Rahina shut her eyes and listened to the soft notes of music drifting in through the open door from her dark bedroom. Inhaling, her chest rose and fell in the bath’s water, the smell of lemongrass and eucalyptus was calming and very much-needed. Last night the performance went perfectly despite the constant lead weight stuck in her chest from the past week.

  For the first time, she felt as if she actually was Odile. Rahina could more than identify with the character’s longing pain she felt when the Prince turned his back on her in that final scene. She knew exactly how it felt to feel your heart drop to your stomach and your soul crack after taking a chance and putting your all out there in hopes that someone would finally understand. What made it even worse was that the sharp sense of betrayal was by every right absolutely absurd. Roman never led her on, nor did he even once insinuate that he even liked her company. In actuality, the man did everything to show her just how much he was the wrong man for her enthusiastic, misplaced pursuit.

  Sinking deeper into the water until it came up just beneath her chin, she stared at her feet peeking out of the steaming water at the other end. With no way of stopping them, images of Roman’s imposing figure and deranged smile appeared at the forefront of her mind, causing the throbbing in her chest to intensify.

  “Damn him,” she whispered.

  He was just so damn perfect. He was everything she wanted; he was a man that made her body sing in awareness just by walking into a room. And once you got past the absolute guarantee of danger and excitement in his eyes, there was something spellbinding about him. Something that said if she could gain his focus, she would be in for the ride of her life. But sadly, he didn’t want anything to do with her.

  Pattering sounds coming from her bedroom through the open door made her pause. Leaning a little over the rim of the tub, Rahina strained to listen. The pattering sound continued, checking her phone which was sitting next to her, she relaxed when her weather app confirmed it was raining, forecasting thunderstorms.

  On a rainy night like this, what was Roman doing? Was he in his office still? Reclining back on her pillow she stared at the white tiled wall unseeingly as she pictured him sitting at his desk leaned back in his chair talking on the phone as the storm raged outside his large floor-to-ceiling window. Or was he out with another woman? The throbbing feeling in her chest twisted sharply. Was that why he turned her away so suddenly? Feelings of inadequacy began to crawl around her heart, searching for a way in. Angrily, she mentally shook the feeling away. No, she refused to go down that path. If Roman didn’t want anything to do with her, fine, his loss, that meant she was just wasting her time on him anyways. Pushing down the hurt feelings, Rahina grabbed for her phone to turn up the music.

  The chime of an alert, signaled she received a text. Using her free hand, she had kept out the water, she tapped the message from her sister Rubina.

  (Are you still pouting about that joker-faced psycho?)

  Frowning, at her sister’s spot-on perception, Rahina tapped in the two letters of a blatant lie “no.”

  (Liar.)

  (You and I both know you can do a million times better than him.)

  “You have never even seen him, first of all, and secondly there is no one better, trust me.” As soon as she pressed send, she felt guilty. She was supposed to be getting over him, she had just told herself that it was his loss. Turning around and saying he was the best in all the land definitely wasn’t conducive of getting over the big, beautiful bastard. Readjusting in the tub, the water rippled and sloshed as she stretched her sore muscles.

  Looking down at her phone, Rahina watched the ellipses icon fade in an
d out, indicating Rubina was still typing her reply. A few more seconds passed with no reply, and Rahina was tempted to call when the message finally came through.

  (It doesn’t matter if I have seen him or not your description was more than enough. But I do have something I’m reluctant to confess.)

  Rahina’s curiosity piqued. “What?”

  (I’m pretty positive I may have seen him last night at your performance, a few minutes before I was led in to see you.)

  Sitting straight up in the water, her thumbs shook as she typed back. “You saw Roman? How?! Where?!”

  (I shouldn’t have even told you, but I know how much you want to know.)

  Rahina sat on pins and needles as she stared impatiently at the typing icon.

  (Last night as I was coming backstage, I saw a tall guy in a suit standing off to the side handing a porter a bouquet of orange sunflowers wrapped in black paper. They looked expensive, he looked scary, and those are your favorite flowers. I assumed it had to be him. Was I right? Did you get those flowers?)

  She did, when the porter delivered them to her dressing room, her first thought was of Roman. But the sudden relief she felt died away when she found no card or anything indicating it was from him. Doubt tarnished the elation she felt.

  “Yes, I got them, but there was no card, so I wasn’t sure.”

  (Well you shouldn’t be thinking of him anyways. Forget I mentioned him. You should be focused on getting principal anyways. Last night’s performance was amazing.)

  “For a minute there, I thought I was talking to mom until I read the compliment.”

  (LOL. Get some sleep. Forget about him, and I will see you at your birthday party.)

  Letting out a loud sigh, Rahina lowered herself further into the water until her knees were forced to bend, exposing the tops of her kneecaps above the now lukewarm water. It was time to get out, she needed to dry her hair, start a load of clothes in the washing machine, and get to bed early. Tomorrow, she had rehearsals and a final meeting with Nico to go over the details of her party.

  Stepping out of the bath, she grabbed her robe just as her phone chimed. Tying the belt around her waist, she released the clip holding her hair up, letting it tumble down her back as she turned and picked up her phone.

  She froze in the middle of her bathroom as she read the message.

  (Did you get my flowers?)

  The throbbing feeling that had resided in her chest for a week now spread out to her arms and legs. Making it to the edge of her bed, she sat down heavily as she stared at Roman’s text. That meant he saw her performance last night, and that the entire time she was dancing, his gray eyes were following her moves. The realization made her feel weak.

  Another message came through. (Respond to me Rahina, or I will do something drastic. Your choice)

  A lump of excited fear formed in her throat as she shakily tapped out a reply. “Why should I? You banished me from your life. I’m just doing what you told me to do and leaving you alone. Now kindly return the favor.”

  (No.)

  No?! What did he mean, no? Did he know the emotional roller coaster this was putting her through? The pain in her chest tightened unbearably. Laying down, she stared at her phone. She wanted to forgive him so bad that it actually hurt. She wanted to feel the relief of just letting him back into her heart with all forgiven, but she couldn’t. Despite the pain, it caused she simply couldn’t allow it, her pride wouldn’t let her.

  She tried another tactic. “How did you know I love orange sunflowers?”

  (You post nearly every aspect of your life on social media.)

  That was fair, she realized. “Well, you wasted your time and money. You were right when you said you are not the man, I thought you were. You hurt me, and I learned my lesson, and now it’s over. I wish you well, Mr. Mashir.”

  Rahina had intended to put the phone down. To throw it on the bed and walk away with her head held high. Instead, she watched with her breath held, knowing Roman would never let that be the last word. The disgusting part was, she more than hoped he wouldn’t let it be.

  (It’s far from over between us. It’s only just begun.)

  ~*~

  The club was packed. Vital was a large two-story industrial building that sat at the end of a dead-end street surrounded by empty parking lots. Tonight, the parking lots were filled to capacity, and there was a steady river of ride shares flowing down the street to drop guest off in front of the club where the double spotlights sat. A line of people covered the exterior wall as they were checked into the club, the ones turned away were politely escorted off the premises by a group of Mikhail’s enforcers. Standing in a private room, used mostly by management, Mosca stood next to Roman near the one-way window. Nearly as long as the room, the narrow window gave them nearly a bird’s eye view of the congested club. Every now and then he spotted some of Mikhail’s men, including Nico, talking into their headsets to one another amongst the sea of people. Looking down at the laughing and drinking people, Mosca felt inexplicably old. Deafening music thumped through the soundproof walls and vibrated their feet through the floor. Young women with irresistible dancers’ bodies pulsed against equally fit men. Mosca felt tired, just looking at the endless ocean of energy.

  Flicking a glance at his boss, Mosca watched as Roman stood very still with his hands in his suit pocket staring out the window. Following his line of sight, Mosca looked to the other side of the club towards the stage that took up the back wall. Directly in front of the stage was a large rectangular dance floor that led back to the bar and the viewing window above located above it. On either side of the club were two VIP balconies accessed by stairs that curved down towards the stage. Above the stage were rows of flat-screen TVs all joined together to create one colossal screen. On the screens was a montage video for the birthday girl. Roman’s eyes never left the screen. Clips of old videos showing Rahina laughing and smiling as a little girl flickered above the crowd. In one clip she looked to be eight or nine, her long black hair was wild and loose billowing behind her like a cape as she chased a dog. Eventually, the video progressed to what looked like her high-school years, wearing a pleated plaid skirt and white button-down shirt while she was dancing in a sad but comical attempt at provocative around the school’s flagpole. There was something so energizing about the girl, so full of bright shining vitality that made a man want to look her way and smile, Mosca noted.

  Roman, however, was not smiling.

  Mosca wasn’t sure what the man was thinking lately. Ever since the night he watched her perform, Roman’s mood had shifted. Thankfully, the volatile anger seemed to dissipate, but he certainly wasn’t back to his old self. If anything, Roman seemed focused—calculative. Mosca only wished he knew what the boss had planned so he could help. Hell, him and the other men, Mikhail and Alexei included, would do just about anything at this point to attempt the psychotic version of Roman back in his cage.

  The door to his office opened, and Dimitri walked in with a sly grin as he tried to straighten his slightly ruffled blonde hair. “Firstly, some of the women here are quite something.” Mosca watched with expressionless eyes as Dimitri wiped off the smeared lipstick off the corner of his mouth. “I just had two girls offer some very appealing activities. Just know that it pains me on a moral level to have had to turn them down. Also, Mikhail is currently offering the local fire chief a handsome offer to turn a blind eye on the obvious code violation we have here.”

  Both Mosca and Dimitri looked to Roman for any kind of reaction. Nothing. A flash of annoyance passed through Dimitri’s bright eyes, despite the captain’s unflappable appearance and constant jovial nature, Mosca knew that Roman’s recent mood was wearing thin with Dimitri.

  Straitening his jacket with a jerk, Dimitri sat down on one of the couches facing the long viewing window. Above the window was a long line of mounted monitors showing various security feeds of the club at different angles. “And lastly, Rahina is here,” Dimitri added with sarcastic cheer
fulness.

  Turning his head slightly towards his shoulder, one of Roman’s eyes caught Dimitri’s, fixing the captain with a silent, powerful look that told the captain to tread very carefully. Annoyed, Dimitri went to the bar-cart to make a drink.

  The lights in the club dimmed at the music lowered as the DJ excitedly announced the focal point of the evening. Escorted by four enforcers through the wildly cheering crowd, Rahina walked in with the radiance of a star and the presence of a Queen. Without meaning to, both Mosca and Dimitri let out a tired groan when they got a good look at her outfit. The theme of the party was gold, everyone was either wearing or covered in some sort of gold. Wearing a crown fit for an Egyptian Queen, the large sun-like headpiece sparkled on top of Rahina’s loose wavy black hair that trailed down to her hips. Her naturally bronzed skin seemed to glow as she walked slowly through the path the enforcers made for her, occasionally stopping to hug and say hi to people. The gold satin shorts and matching top might as well have been lingerie. The loose material sat off her shoulders and draped provocatively over her full breasts, and though Mosca wasn’t completely sure, he could have sworn he saw the outline of her nipples against the satiny fabric. The matching shorts were criminally small, sitting low on her waist exposing a generous portion of her sculpted abs and brief flashes of the bottom of her rounded ass cheeks. And of course, to make the outfit truly Rahina’s she wore a pair of gold studded sneakers that somehow made her long toned legs even more gorgeous. Mosca couldn’t take his eyes off of her and nor could any other man in the club.

  The tension in the room thickened to an unbearable degree, creating a distinct polarity between the private room and the club below. Neither man turned to look at Roman’s reaction to Rahina’s presence. They didn’t have to; they could feel the man’s anger rolling off his silent figure in waves.