NEW YORKI slam the door shut, ignoring the treacherous part of my heart that feels like I have just let something precious slip from my fingers. I clench my palm to numb the rage. Skylar has pointedly refused to come to terms with the fact that there's no escaping me and I must admit, it's becoming quite frustrating.My heart sinks with the realization that she's right. I might never win her over by keeping her locked up in a fifty feet tall, glass cage. But hell if I'm ready to have that conversation with myself. Other men gently woo their ladies. Other men shower their women with soft, unconditional love. Not me though. I know what I want and I go after it like an unhinged, wild bull.Skylar will just have to accept me the way I am – the brute, the devil, and maybe, just maybe, her worst nightmare.I will never sing her serenades and throw flowers at her feet. I will never give her slow dances by the fireplace or whisper sweet nothings in her ear, but I am ready to devote the p
NEW YORKAfter a brief talk with the guards I had stationed outside the door which reveals that there's been no sound or suspicious movement from Skylar's room for the past few hours, I become even more worried.It's not like the little Russian minx to go a full hour without causing some kind of trouble, talk more of four while hours.I push open the double doors and walk into the darkened room. The heavy draperies have been pulled shut, obstructing any form of night light from filtering in. The bedside lamp and all other room lights are turned off, too. I pause for a moment, trying to adjust to the pitch blackness. When I'm still unable to really make out anything, I whip out my phone and put on the flash light.I switch on the bedside lamp and my gaze lands on the lump underneath the duvet."Go away." She mumbles.I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God she's okay… Or is she?My eyes narrow as I notice the slight movements of the lump.Fuck! She's shivering.I rush to her bedside and
NEW YORK When I told Luca I felt like death yesterday, I didn't even know what feeling like death meant.But right now, I feel like I would much rather prefer to be buried six feet under than continue to battle with this excruciating pain.My fever came back with a vengeance after I had taken a brief nap. By five in the morning, I woke up and Luca was gone. I am still refusing to acknowledge the pang of disappointment I felt when I woke and he wasn't there. Or the way I felt so safe, so protected in his arms last night. My mind is playing games with me again. That must be it.I woke up and could barely move. My body temperature had sky rocketed and I burned all over. My entire body hurt and it felt like a jack hammer was being powered through my skull.I do not remember ringing the bell for Luca to come to me, but I remember thinking about it. In the next five seconds, he barged in, eyes already wide and alert like he'd been awake for a long time.Long story short, the good doctor
CHAPTER 29I beat harshly against Luca, trying to escape his crushing, though gentle grip."Put me down, you brute!" I squeal.He pauses for a while, looking down at me with what resembles amusement."Suit yourself, my pet."He lets go and I tumble, landing arse first on the marble floor."Ow!""C'mon. You wanted to walk on your own. We're almost there so get up, lazy ass."I shoot him a stinging glare, praying to the heavens for the power to reduce him to ashes where he stands. I ignore his outstretched hand and get to my feet on my own. Determined to prove to Luca that I can make it on my own, I take the first step. Everything feels okay. I mean, I don't feel faint or anything.I take the second and third step. Without warning, a hand pushes against my back and I stumble, crashing to floor in a tangle of legs and feet.I shut my eyes tight, waiting for the pain to register. It never comes. Instead, I feel warm, almost snug.My eyes shoot open to find Luca's smoky gray ones fixed
Cold.So much cold.It seeps through my scanty, torn shirt and burns through my skin, chilling my nerves and bloodstream. It makes my bones ache and my teeth chatter with a resilient rhythm. I lie on the concrete floor, my hair hanging in dark, frozen icicles down my stiff face. I can barely blink my eyes. My sixteen year old, once powerful frame rattles helplessly, in time with the depressing sounds of ice drops that fall against the tiny window of my cell. Winter in Russia is horrible. Winter in a Russian prison is a total nightmare. The cold makes you numb. Your lips, limbs and even eyelashes become completely numb.This is not the conventional Russian prison, mind you. It is more like an illegal cell facility, established by the Russian crime syndicate, the Bratva. Here, petty crimes and big crimes are punished in equal measure, no matter the age of the offender.In the cell next to mine, a ten year old boy is held—for stealing a loaf of bread from the local markets under Brat
CHAPTER ONE…CAPO'S POWERNew YorkTen Years Later…Everyone have different ways of dealing with grief. Some bawl their eyes out. Some shed crocodile tears. Others go into deep depression.Few people show no emotion. Even if the pain threatens to claw its way through their insides and make itself known, they show no emotion.And I am "few people". I watch as his coffin is being lowered into the hard, unforgiving Earth.My father.My mentor.My anchor. For the past ten years, he and Ricardo have been the only constants in my life. It feels like I've always looked up to him my entire life. Hell, I was practically always glued to his side. But it all ended too soon. Way too soon.We had ten years together. Ten very short years. I thought he was invincible. He had undoubtedly shown me over the past few years of our time together that he was the hardest man to kill. But he did not see it coming. No one did. The bullet hit him square on the head, completely shattering his skull struc
London"Father's been acting strange all week."Yulia pauses the smooth motion of the brush she's been running through my hair and meets my worried gaze in the mirror."How do you mean?"I huff."Oh, don't act like you haven't noticed. He's always looking worried. He barely eats, sweats alot and he does not even look me in the eye when he's talking to me anymore."I run my fingers through the smooth surface of my dresser."Something's definitely wrong, Yulia. And from the looks of it, it's bad."I stare at Yulia earnestly through the mirror, willing her to agree with me.She purses her lips for a while, contemplating my words."Well, you're right about one thing. Something's not right."I heave a sigh of relief. Atleast I've not been imagining things."Want to go snooping?"Yulia's already wide eyes widens even more. She has such beautiful eyes.Yulia is just drop dead beautiful, full stop. Sometimes I wonder how she ended up as my personal maid."What exactly would you gain from that
New YorkThey say it is often difficult to find somebody that shares your pain. Somebody that shares your desires, and in my case, somebody that shares my want for vengeance.I guess I'm just lucky to have that one person, my best friend and closest confidant, Ricardo.I know this mission is as important to him as it is to me. Romanov had personally seen to it that Ricardo and I were tortured and starved during our days in prison.All the horrendous things he'd done to us flashes through my mind and I can swear Ricardo knows what I'm thinking because his eyes darken with pain...and fury, his fingers clenching tightly over the leather of the Italian sofa.I sit back in my chair, letting his news sink in. I'm shocked, extremely so, but the deviant gleam in my best friend's eyes tells me that Ricardo is not playing around.He sloshes the remnants of his beer in the nearly empty bottle, his calculative blue gaze sharp with focus.I lean in on the opaque, glass table, finally finding my v