by Nicole Fox
But I took the tests at my studio and put them in the trash can around the corner. How the heck would he know?
Dad gestures at the chair opposite with his cigar, causing smoke to wisp in the air. “Sit down, Jamie.”
He seems annoyed, but not bloodthirsty like he’d be if he knew about the tests. I’m guessing this is about something else.
“What is it, Daddy?” I say, using my good-daughter voice as I sit down.
“Don’t daddy me,” he snarls. “Tell me something, Jamie. Am I a fucking joke to you?”
I flinch.
Yes, you are.
“No, of course not.”
“No?” He looks around, as though at an assembled audience, for effect. He’s really drawing this out. “So why are you treating me like one, then?”
“How?” I ask.
He scoffs. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. Declan has told me how you reacted to that Russian cur being put down a few nights ago. Apparently, you went as white as a sheet and whispered, That’s awful. That’s a verbatim fucking quote, Jamie. You know what verbatim means? It means word for fucking word!” He lets out a roar, leaping to his feet and tossing his cigar at the wall.
Spinning on me, he growls, “Why would you say that about a Russian? Have you forgotten who the fuck you are? Well? Speak!”
I realize something as Dad is shouting at me. Before I met Andrei, before this whole situation started, I would’ve crumbled with him screaming at me like this. But, for some reason, I don’t. I sit up straighter. I don’t know if it’s knowing that I have to be strong for our baby. Or the fact that Andrei has shown me that my them-versus-us mindset isn’t as bulletproof as I thought it was. Whatever it is, I don’t back down. I look him right in the eye.
“I wasn’t talking about the Russian,” I hiss. “I was talking about the innocent couple Declan executed.”
Dad flinches. He drops into his chair, gripping the edge of the desk with his free hand. With his other, he sucks on his cigar so hard his face turns red. Finally, he exhales. I resist the urge to cover my mouth, there’s so much smoke.
“You’re too soft,” he mutters. “It’s a real shame about that couple, I’ll grant you that. But you can’t start badmouthing the Family because of some collateral damage.”
“Collateral damage,” I repeat. My voice is low. I’m so fucking angry right now. “Is that really how you’d describe them? What if Mom was still alive, and we were sitting in that booth instead? Would we just be collateral damage?”
“Of course not,” he grumbles. “That’s not even close to being the same.”
“What, because we’re more important?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “Of course you are. Like I said, it was a—”
“A shame. Yeah, I heard you!” I stand up, staring down at him, wondering if I’ve ever really known my own dad. “But that’s not really doing it justice, is it? Because, like, missing your bus—that’s a shame. Not getting the dessert you wanted—that’s a shame. But killing two innocent fucking people? That’s a fucking tragedy. A war crime. An abomination.”
“Careful, Jamie!” Dad blusters. “You will talk to me with respect!”
“Or what?” I yell. “Are you gonna have Declan kill me, too? Oh no, you’ll have him rape and abuse me again, won’t you?”
I spin for the door, breath coming quick, full of anger and pent-up hate. But somehow Dad gets across the office in time to grab me by the shoulder.
I spin on him, slapping his cigar out of his hand. He dives at it, stamping it out.
“My fucking rug!” he snaps. “Jamie, you need to stop this. What the hell has happened to you?”
I smile savagely. “Oh, I’m oh-so-sorry, Daddy,” I sneer sarcastically. “Next time Declan—my abuser, which you don’t give a shit about—tells me he’s executed two innocent elderly people, I’ll just flutter my eyelashes and tell him what a brave boy he is. Yeah? Sound good?”
He stands over me, his whole body shaking. But he looks so small, so pathetic. I hate him and I’ve never missed Mom more.
“What happened when you were a girl is in the past,” he says. “Whatever you say Declan did, it’s over.”
“Whatever I say Declan did … so you don’t believe me, then.”
“Young girls get confused all the time.”
I feel like screaming and gouging his eyes out with my fingernails. I have a wickedly violent impulse in me, courtesy of spending my life in this Family. But it’s never been aimed this obviously at Dad before. I’ve never behaved violently, but, right now, I feel dangerously close.
“Just back off,” I snap. “Just let me get out of here.”
“You need to agree to keep whatever womanly concerns you have to yourself,” he grunts. “And to stop spreading vicious rumors about my second-in-command’s son. That could cause problems within the Family. Whatever else you are, Jamie, you are my daughter. Soon, we’ll find you a good Irish husband. You’ll have children and a home to occupy you. All of this will seem so petty.”
I blink away hot tears, tears of anger.
“Yeah, Dad, because we’re still living in the Dark Ages, aren’t we? You don’t get it, at all. You never loved me, did you? I don’t know if you’re even capable of love. You just love the idea of having an obedient daughter who jumps when you say jump. Just back the hell off!”
With a sigh, he steps back. “Just go and calm down,” he says, picking up his crushed cigar and frowning at the black spot on the rug. “We’ll talk about this later. And, in the meantime, no more nonsense talk, okay?”
He’s talking to me the same way he would an infant. I just shake my head and leave, walking down the hallway, trying to stop myself from breaking down into tears. I’m not generally an over-the-top crying sort of person, but this is just so messed up, and everything is spinning so far out of control, I can’t help it.
I lock myself in the bathroom, sit on the toilet seat, and let my head fall to my knees. The tears pour down my face as I think about what Dad said.
Collateral damage.
Vicious rumors about Declan.
Marry me off.
How has it taken me this long to realize just how evil and fucked up my dad is? I thought the Russians were the monsters, but I was dead wrong. It’s Dad and his lies, his casual dismissal of the worst hell of my life.
But, I can’t cry forever.
I stand up and go to the sink, splashing water in my face and toweling myself dry. I look at myself in the mirror, my eyes puffy and red, mascara running down my cheeks. I try for a smile, but it comes off as fake. But then, maybe that’s fitting.
All my life has been one big fake, except for a few things.
My photography work.
My friendship with Molly.
And—I can’t deny it now—Andrei.
I go back to his cell with my camera gear, which I always have to do so I don’t arouse suspicion, and wait at the top as Garret sends the elevator up from below. Jerry is the guard on shift up here. I don’t like the way he’s sneering at me, though he knows better than to outright say anything.
“Is something wrong?” I demand eventually.
“Wrong?” he asks innocently. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
He’s grinning. Feeling mean, I gesture at his teardrop tattoos. “Are those supposed to scare people?” I ask. “Pretending that you’ve killed people? Everybody knows you’re a faker, Jerry.”
He flinches, but only for a second. Then his grin gets wider and meaner. “Whatever you say,” he grunts. “All I know is, I’m sure everybody’s gonna get what they deserve soon enough.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
He shrugs. “Just passing the time of the day. It don’t mean nothing.”
I push him from my mind as I ride the elevator down. As I walk down the hallway to Andrei’s cell, I ignore the look that Garret gives me. He can tell I’ve been crying, even if I’ve tried to fix my makeup. He’s known me too
long for me to pretend around him, but I’m not in the mood to talk about it.
In the cell, Andrei is sitting on the couch, his hand over the back, his eyes closed as he hums softly. His deep voice fills the room and, wanting to distract myself from all this doom and gloom, I sneak up behind him, meaning to surprise him.
But I’m not even halfway when he says, “You’re back soon. What was so important?”
Oh, just that I’m pregnant with your baby. “Nothing,” I say, dropping my camera bag. “Don’t worry about it. I just … I need you. Just stay like that, please. Keep your eyes closed. Will you do that for me?”
I walk around to the front of him. His eyes twitch. “Do you have a surprise for me?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But you have to let me take the lead, okay? You have to promise.”
“Full of demands today,” he growls, but he sits up, tilting his head as though tracking me with all his senses apart from sight. “Fine. I promise.”
I dance across the room and run my hand up and down his crotch. His jaw tightens, his beard shifting. His fingers twitch and his manhood strains at his shorts, already huge and hard. I love watching how hard he has to try to maintain any semblance of control around me.
“Touch yourself,” he orders.
“I am,” I whisper, reaching down and palming my sex as I rub his throbbing length. “It feels so good. I’m already wet for you.”
“Don’t make me wait,” he snarls. “I’ll explode just from you touching me like that. I need your pussy. I need it now.”
“Are you forgetting who’s in charge here?”
“Are you?” he retorts.
But I’m just as hungry for it as he is. It’s just so easy to forget about everything when I’m being intimate with Andrei. For now, I don’t have to think about how messed up everything is. All I have to care about is how incredible his cock looks when I free it from his shorts. It springs up, rock-hard, eager.
I slide out of my pants and straddle him, gripping his shoulders, grinding my lips up and down him. His cock almost slides into me several times, but I kiss his neck, moaning into his skin, making him wait.
“You tease me so much,” I whisper. “Now it’s my turn.”
But even with his eyes closed, he knows how to stake his claim. He palms my ass with one hand, guiding me, and uses the other to bring himself to my center. My lips tingle as they split open for him. I sit down, taking all of him in right away as searing wetness makes us slippery and hot.
“I thought I was taking the lead?” I murmur, lost in heaven. My whole body is flaming.
“You were,” he groans. “But I can’t hold myself back with you. I never can.”
He thrusts up and I collapse forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Then I throw myself down, hugging his cock with my pussy, feeling every inch of him. I don’t care about anything anymore.
Just this moment.
This perfection.
I want him.
I love him.
I gasp, both at the invasive, silly thought and at how deeply his cock grinds up inside of me. Of course I don’t love him. It’s just sex, and maybe some emotion.
But love?
No, I need to make sure I don’t let my thoughts stray in that direction again.
Then we’re bucking, both of us sweaty and burning up. I lean back, smirking.
“Don’t open those eyes,” I goad. “We have a—d-deal …”
I can’t talk anymore.
My breath gets quicker and quicker. Everything is tingling and close. I feel like the room is spinning.
The crushing wetness starts at the end of his cock, and then breaks all throughout me, spreading. My legs tremble. My orgasm punches me, hard, almost knocking me back with the vibrating force.
I never want this to end.
I’m screaming way too loudly, but I don’t care. All I care about is grinding quicker on his cock, feeling my squirting juices mix with his pre-come, making us even steamier.
Then Andrei’s eyes open, a sexy-as-hell smirk on his face, and we stare right into each other’s eyes as his climax follows hot on the tail of mine. Really, mine is still thundering through me as his smirk wavers, his eyes getting wide and crazed. He braces his hand on my back, growling into my neck, kissing my skin, up to my chin, and finally locking lips with me in a moment of unbelievable passion.
We sit like that for a long, long time, his manhood wilting inside of me. I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling closer to him than I ever have before.
Finally, I slide away, but we don’t leave the couch. We make it to our island, lying half-naked together, intertwined.
“You cheated,” I say after a long pause. “I’m pretty sure I said eyes closed.”
His fingers slide idly through my hair in that way I like. “How is your work going?”
“Are you really interested?” I ask warily.
“I am,” he says, sounding surprised. “Yes, I really am.”
I tell him. “Molly called a few days ago. She thinks it’d be a really good idea to hold a private viewing of the photos I’ve taken so far. She wants me to hold it here, at the mansion. That way, we can get a more intimate feel, you know? But it’s so soon, and I’m not sure if they’re ready.”
“Hmm,” Andrei says. “But if it is a private viewing, what harm can it do? When is it?”
“Yeah, true. But still, I don’t know if people are gonna take photos, or what. I mean, I’m not trying to act like I’m this big-shot photographer, but—”
“But you are heavily implying that you are a big-shot photographer,” he says. I can feel his grin on the back of my head, we’re hugging so intimately. “So, when is it?”
“Oh yeah,” I giggle, realizing I totally spaced on his question. “It’s June twelfth. Molly was really picky about the date, since she’s so slammed with her event-planning stuff. Which means I’ll only have a couple of weeks to get it all squared away.”
“Do it,” Andrei says. I’m not sure, but I think I can hear a change in his voice. Plus, he feels tenser, stiff. “You have to do this, Jamie.”
“What, why?” I laugh.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“I shouldn’t,” I admit. “We both know that.”
“But do you?”
With a sigh, I whisper, “I don’t know, Andrei. I think I do. Yes, I do.”
“Then you have to agree to this private viewing, okay?”
I try to laugh off his weirdness. “You know you’re acting strange right now, don’t you?” I reach out to stroke his beard. “You need to shave this,” I tease, giving it a tug.
Suddenly, I grow serious. “Andrei, can I ask you something that will seem kind of random?” Not random to me, but to you, it’ll seem like it’s coming out of the blue.
“Sure.”
“Have you ever thought about having children? My friend Molly was talking about it the other day. And I realized I’ve never really given it any thought. But it got me thinking, sort of wondering.”
He narrows his eyes. I wonder if my Molly excuse has him fooled. “A few times, yes,” he says. “I’ve given it some thought. But, mostly, I try not to think about family. Family has always meant finding a woman, and … and I have never let myself consider that as a possibility.”
“Oh.”
He gives my leg a squeeze. “Don’t look so glum. I was talking about the past, not the future. But children? It would be good, I think. To have a son or a daughter to carry on my name. But it’s tricky. What sort of a father would I be?” He sighs. “What about you?”
This is it, my chance to tell him. I lean down, bringing my face close. “Well, actually—”
I scream as the door busts open, leaping up. Andrei growls and immediately sits up. Then we both freeze, too dumbstruck to react, as Declan swaggers into the room. Behind him, Jerry restrains Garret, who I guess was going to warn me that Declan is on his way. To stop him finding me, the Irish princess, sitting half-naked on t
op of the Russian boss.
I’m sure everybody’s gonna get what they deserve soon enough.
Suddenly, Jerry’s taunt makes sense.
Fuck.
I cover my breasts, my lips trembling in fear as Declan grins victoriously at us. “Well, well, well,” he says, laughing. “Jerry said I might find a little surprise if I came down here. I guess he wasn’t wrong.”
The way Andrei talks, you wouldn’t think he was half-naked on his back, clearly beaten as Declan hefts his pistol from side to side. “Declan Walsh,” he says easily. “You’re taller than I expected, since I was blindfolded when we last met. A bullying rat like you, I expected a tiny little man. But it seems they really can stack shit that high.”
He blinks. “Ha, Russian,” he grumbles. “Let’s see how much you’re laughing when I tell Cormac you’ve degraded and taken advantage of his daughter!”
Andrei just shrugs, showing no hint of fear. Which is nuts, because I’m scared as hell. I was just about to tell him about our baby, and now it looks certain that he’s going to be killed.
Dad will go berserk when he learns about this. If there’s one thing he’s always warned me against, it’s being with any non-Irishman.
20
Andrei
If this was a movie, the way it goes down would be much more dramatic. But in everyday life, horror creeps in slowly. That’s the way it is here.
After Declan comes barging in, he just casually walks back out. Five tense minutes pass as Jamie and I get dressed. She paces up and down, shaking her head. Her fists are clenched. She looks terrified. “Now what?” she says.
I just sit on the couch, watching. “Don’t just sit there!” she yells. “We have to—we have to …”
“Exactly. There is nothing we can do, unless you give me permission to fight. To the death.”
“Why are you even asking for my permission?”
“Because this is a small room,” I tell her. “I’d be putting you in danger.”
“You know what they’re going to do to you, don’t you?” she hisses.
I shrug. “I have some idea, yes.”