by L. L. Ash
“You’re...” I started, not sure how to even speak the things I was feeling.
He was downright amazing. But even those words weren’t enough.
“Are you alright?” he asked, hand stroking back a strand of hair from my face.
“I’m fine. But those guys… They scared the shit out of me,” I admitted. “You should have just given them what they wanted. I can’t believe you risked yourself to save my purse and a fur coat!”
“That’s not all they wanted,” his eyes darkened for a moment. “Besides, I know how to handle myself.”
“How?” was the question so prominent on my tongue.
I had to know how.
“I grew up with some...unsavory people, Adele… We were on the streets a lot. In Brooklyn, and all kinds of places.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling as he continued. “I had to learn how to disarm a person. That’s how you stay alive. The guys in the...some guys taught me that.”
“‘Guys in the-’ what?” I asked, but he shook his head, slicing his fingers through the messy hair on top of his head.
There was something he wasn’t telling me, and that didn’t sit well.
Standing up, he started shedding his own clothes, dropping his suit on the floor of the closet and digging into his suitcase.
“Serge?” I asked quietly, but he heard me.
Our eyes met and I saw something in his. He was disturbed or bothered. Or both.
“Come in,” I whispered and he dropped the t-shirt he had in his hands.
He looked from the bath, to me, then to the bath again before straightening slowly and moving my way.
Moving forward a little, I unplugged the bath and let out a little water so it wouldn’t spill over the edges when his body joined mine, then I curled back against the side.
“Scootch forward a little,” he told me, now standing stark naked, no shame about it, either.
I did, and he slipped in behind me. Legs framing my entire body in the bath. The water rose around me again, spreading warmth inside and out, as his skin slid against mine.
I leaned back against him and relaxed, hands on his legs and my head pressed back into his chest.
Several minutes passed in silence, and still I could sense something was bothering him.
“‘Guys in the-’ what?” I asked again in a whisper, my hand squeezing his thigh.
My head rose with his chest as he heaved a big sigh, his chin falling to rest on my hair.
“Bad guys,” he said finally.
“No matter who they are, they’re in your past,” I told him.
Silence.
My body stiffened a little as I sat up and turned toward him.
“They’re in your past, aren’t they?”
He bit his lip and looked out the window toward the city.
“Serge…”
“They’re still around...” he finally said, his breath whooshing out of him. “But only to an extent.”
“What do you mean?” my heart started pumping with fear.
“I mean,” he said quietly, his voice grating. “That I give them money and they give me...protection.”
“Protection? Protection from what?” I demanded.
Who was after my man?
“Noone in particular. But I’m… My business isn’t exactly legal here, Adele...”
He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.
It was his nervous tick.
“What are you not telling me, Serge? I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on. Something changed tonight. I could see it all over your face. Tell me, please.”
He blew out a long breath, eyes still glued to the view outside the windows, looking over the city.
“I-uh...One of the guys...he works for those bad guys. He gave me some bad news today.”
“What kind of bad news?”
“They need me to take on a client.”
I watched his fists clench up and jaw tighten at the words.
“You mean a...”
“Yes. That kind of client. It’s something I would do for them. I scratch their back, they scratch mine… But we just… We just got things figured out between us and I...”
He growled and pounded the water with his fist, causing it to splash onto his chest.
“And what happens if you don’t,” I asked carefully, my stomach already in knots and nauseous from the idea of him taking another woman on the side as a favor to these bad men.
“I’m fucked, that’s what,” he said simply.
“What if you...” I started asking, but he interrupted me, sounding aggravated.
“I could get arrested. I could go to jail for selling sex. I could get buried so fucking deep, I’d be taking it up the ass for years. Without these guys, it’d take one little call from a disgruntled client, of which I have several right now, by the way, and the police would track me down and take everything from me. Goodbye world. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they could send someone after me. You don’t just desert these guys, and you certainly don’t tell them no.”
My heart dropped into my knotted stomach.
“Who are these guys?” I asked in a whisper.
“The Russian mafia. I’ve been running with them since I was a kid.”
His shoulders sank at the admission, as if it had lifted a weight off him to admit the words.
“Oh my God...Serge...” I felt like crying.
No. I was crying.
“So that’s what happened. I want… I want to be with just you...until you get bored of me, anyway… I already called off my other clients and I was ready to commit for a year, two years, however long this lasted...but I don’t think I have a choice in this, Adele...”
“Then you don’t have a choice,” I agreed, hating every word coming out of my mouth.
“I’ll… I’ll come up with something,” he breathed into my neck, his arms pulling me further into his chest.
And for as much as I knew the man, I knew he would.
With everything in him, he would try.
Chapter Twenty
Serge
Adele was sleeping again, and I was on the lush porch, smoking.
Again.
Instead of being warm and comfortable with her ass in my crotch, I was freezing my ass off in just my coat and a pair of boxers.
But fuck, I needed it.
After the shithole tonight had turned into, I needed something to take the edge off.
Sex was out of the picture, because Adele was just too emotionally fragile. So instead of working off my nervous energy, I held her in bed until she fell asleep.
Dragging in another bitter lungful, I slowly let it seep out between my lips.
I felt my nerves ease with every breath, tar blackening my lungs as I relaxed.
“Serge?” Adele called through the glass window, knocking gently.
I turned and saw her in just her silk nightgown, face drawn in worry.
I fucking hated worrying her. I wished I could take it all back. I wished I’d made up some fun, nice story, or at least something that didn’t involve another client and Russian mobsters.
She didn’t deserve my shit, and I didn’t want to drag her into it, either.
It’s one thing to air my dirty laundry around her, and it’s another thing altogether to bury her in it.
I snuffed the cigarette out on the concrete planter nearby and went to the door.
“Are you ok?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I nodded. “Needed a little fresh air.”
“Fresh air?” she lifted an eyebrow.
“Ok, so I needed some nicotine-poison air.”
She chuckled and took my hand.
“Throw that out and come to bed. You’re freezing.”
I so totally was.
Tossing the butt of my smoke into a plant pot outside, I left it to hang out until morning when I wasn’t so cold and dressed in more than just my underwear.
“You smell like smoke,”
she said, leading me back to bed.
“I can go shower...”
“No. You’re coming to bed,” she told me firmly, her hand not loosening its grip.
I didn’t deserve this woman.
“I know you have a lot going on and your brain is probably going like, a million miles an hour, but you need to sleep. Rest.”
We crawled into bed after I shed my jacket, and she took my face between her hands.
“You are too good to me...” I whispered to her, one hand digging into her hair.
“You just need to start giving yourself a break,” she smiled, then kissed me.
Ash mouth and all.
As she lifted the hem of her silk nightgown, she also pulled down the front of my underwear.
“Luckily I know how to distract and relax you,” she grinned mischievously and sank onto me.
Lucky was right. I was one lucky bastard.
It wasn’t long before they found me.
And when I say they, I mean the Russian mafia.
I was packing up some things at my apartment a few days later, ready to move into Adele’s apartment, when there was a knock on the door.
I felt unease rumble through my belly as I peeked out the peephole.
There was nothing but black. Someone had their hand over it.
It had to be them. I knew the methods they used.
Opening the door, I saw Iev and another man, the latter with his arms folded across a wide chest.
“You know what this is about,” Iev said simply.
“I know,” I nodded, letting them in.
They sat and I offered them both tea, which they accepted.
“This is seeming like a warm visit,” I told them eventually, as I held out their teacups.
“It’s a warm reminder,” the other man said.
“And as I told Iev, I’m not doing this anymore. I’ve got a girl and I want to keep it that way. I’m not a prostitute anymore.”
That was only a sort-of lie. I didn’t feel like a prostitute anymore, and now with Adele as my only girl, it felt more like I was in a relationship with a rich girl then being paid for my services.
“What do you mean you’re not doing it anymore?” the man asked in a low voice. “You’re still young, what have you got to lose?”
Everything.
I had everything to lose.
“I can’t do it. I promised her I’d...”
“We already gave her your number,” the man stood, leaving his tea on the table, untouched.
“And I said...”
“You will make this happen. Sergei,” he warned, turning toward the door with Iev on his heels.
Bullshit.
We’d see.
“We are a family, and with family, you come through for each other. Understand?”
“I understand,” I shrugged. “And I hope you understand me.”
He looked angry as he left my apartment.
This was either going to be bad, or this was going to be catastrophic…
Adele
It’d been an entire week since his confession. Actually, eight full days.
And they couldn’t have gone any better.
Waking up to the same, wonderful man every morning was like a dream, his arms around me, lips on my neck, warm breath in my ear whispering the sweetest and dirtiest words, depending on the morning.
This morning? He was sweet.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he breathed, stretching a little before pulling me further into his embrace.
I just grinned into my pillow, feeling good.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt so content.
So happy.
“Morning,” I hummed back, nestling back against his chest.
“It’s Friday. When do you get off work?” he asked.
“I’m the boss. I choose my own hours. Why?”
Did he have something planned?
“I don’t know. I want to get the weekend started early. I’m so fucking bored around here without you.”
I laughed, turning to face him.
“You don’t have any hobbies or something to do?” I asked, nestling my head right next to his.
We were so close our noses brushed together.
And the magical thing? There was no morning breath. At least on his end, anyway. I figured if mine was bad, he could move.
“Sure I do. Only problem is the girl I want to perform these hobbies with is gone all day.”
I lifted an eyebrow.
“What? Fucking is a hobby.”
Laughing, I nestled further into him, face in his chest as he hugged me.
“Maybe you should find a second hobby,” I mumbled into his skin, hearing the rumble of his chuckle and the strong thump of his beating heart.
A shrill ringing filled the room, making us both jump a little.
“Who the hell is this?” Serge asked, removing one arm from around me to unplug his phone on the side table and look at the blinking ‘private caller’ on his screen.
With a tap of his thumb, he answered and put the phone to his ear.
“Serge,” he murmured in his rough sleeping voice, something I wished I could steal and tuck away for my own personal use.
His body tensed underneath me and his heartrate picked up into a frantic thump-thump-thump.
Only his voice didn’t show it.
“Antonia,” he said slowly, as if he was confused.
Antonia? Who was that? And why did she make him nervous?
“No, uh, I’m not taking new clients right now. I’m...”
Oh my God… So this was her.
“I can do lunch.” Pause. “Sure. I’ll meet you there at one o’clock.”
What?
The moment the phone left his ear he swung his gaze over to me.
“Ad, I-”
“You don’t have to explain to me,” I frowned. “I know who she is. I know what servicing her will do for you.”
With that, I got up, extracting my body from his and heading toward the shower.
“Malishka, I have a plan. Please, stop and listen to me.”
I paused, nothing but my panties on as I hovered in the arch between my bedroom and my bathroom.
“If I go there, act like I’m doing my job and just happen to make her hate me, then no harm, right? Instead of charming her, I’m going to make her grossed out. Nobody wants to fuck a slob. I’ll handle this, Adele. No intimacy involved.”
I gulped.
His words sounded good, but in the back of my mind, I wondered if he was even capable of making her dislike him. Sure, I had moments when we first met that I didn’t like, but his looks almost overcame those on their own.
He couldn’t hide the sensitive, interesting person he was, and she would pick up on it under the act he’d try to put on.
But at least he was trying to keep to our verbal contract...right?
“If you do have sex with her,” I said finally. “I need you to tell me.”
“Babe...” he pleaded, but I just held up a hand and moved to the glass walls of my shower.
I’d spend some good time at work and try to exhaust it all out of my system. And if luck persisted, then he’d succeed.
I heard him cursing to himself where I left him, thrusting his hand through his hair with force before moving out of the bathroom.
Chapter Twenty-One
Serge
I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull this off, but somehow I had to manage. My future with Adele hinged on my success during this lunch.
No pressure or anything.
I walked into the Italian seafood restaurant at fifteen minutes after one, starting off my asshole-in-a-bad-way routine I’d been working on ever since the call this morning.
My button up shirt was dirty with a cream cheese smudge I’d rubbed into it, hoping it’d give off a sour scent if I left it long enough. My hair was tousled and messy, and I made sure to smoke three cigarettes before our meeting.
If the woman could look at me and still want me like this, she must be desperate.
“Antonia,” I told the hostess, smiling flirtatiously with her just in case my date was watching.
The girl drew back a little, looking me up and down before forcing a smile and taking me to Antonia.
She sat there, waiting with a smile on her face.
Oh shit…
I’d miscalculated.
Oh fuck…
The girl was...more than a little humble in appearance. Poor thing didn’t look like she ever made it through puberty.
Her dress was nice, hair combed back into a high ponytail as she sat there with dreamy eyes, staring at me as I approached.
“Hi! You must be Sergei!”
“That’s me,” I said in a severe voice.
Last thing I needed was for her to think we were friends or something.
“Hi! I’m Antonia!”
Her full-face grin and vibrating energy screamed underage to me, so I asked a simple question.
“How old are you?”
“Oh, I’m twenty-one,” she giggled like a teenager.
It wasn’t like Adele’s giggles, which were wrapped in grace and sensuality. No, this was childish.
Not seeing a way out since she hadn't sent me away at first sight and smell, I sat down.
“Oh, looks like you got a little something there,” she licked her thumb and reached over to smear the stain I’d inflicted on myself earlier.
As if now I were the child.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped and she jumped back.
“Oh, sorry. I take care of my little brother a lot and I guess I just do that naturally now.”
Her nervous giggle grated on me as she still stared at me with stars in her eyes.
“I thought you’d be prettier,” I said finally, resorting to insults now.
Couldn’t this girl just take a hint that I was not a likable person? An asshole? Move on to something better.
Her face fell and her eyes dimmed.
“Oh, I… I suppose you probably would. I bet the girls you usually see are beautiful. I’m sorry I’m not what you expected.”