Chapter Five

ISAAK

Clench, unclench.

I repeat the action until it’s all I can think about and all the residual anger slips through the cracks. It almost proves to be pointless, because whenever I raise my head to meet the gaze of Andrei, all my work goes down the drain and I’m fueled with a new kind of anger that cannot be hidden by the mere act of clenching and unclenching my fist.

I need a vent to channel all this anger coursing through me, yet I cannot leave the meeting because Father wants me to sit through it. It’s one of the talks I plan on having with him once we get back home.

If he’s not ready to step down as the leader then why in god’s name did he give me the throne?

To humiliate me?

Although I cannot blame it all alone on him. much of that is also owned by Lucy who sat through the ride and failed to mention it.

“So, I hear you want us to be joined in marriage,” Father says, the smirk on his face evident. He knows Andrei is at the end of the line, and he relishes it.

“Yes. If the world hears that your son is courting my son, it will elevate…” Andrei doesn't even look at me as he speaks, like my opinion isn't worth anything.

It is Kasym's look that keeps me seated. He knows just as much as I do that my outburst wouldn't mean anything.

“I know what that would mean. Do you think I would come all the way down here if I didn’t think this was worth my time? I think marriage is a fine way to secure—”

“Marry?” I blurt from my seat, pushing the chair back. I was fine courting a sure to be childish pampered boy for the sake of the family, Lord knew I didn't care about his gender. But to marry one?

I train my eyes on Father, ignoring how Lucy reaches for the gun strapped to her red dress and I turn my face to catch her gaze, daring her to pull her weapon on me.

Her loyalty may lie with Father but if she doesn’t understand that my loyalty is with the family too, then maybe we were never friends to begin with.

“Sit, Isaak.”

“This is madness. I am not going to get married to this man’s son,” I spit out, ignoring the way Andrei flinched at the pure vitriol in my voice.

“Yes, you will,” Father says with that same dismissive tone as though speaking to a child. “Now, Sit.”

The words hold enough venom in them that I take my seat, resuming my clenching and unclenching my fist, the unease traveling through every part of my body.

I take a breather hoping to calm my nerves but nothing changes, instead, the anger doubles. Marry his son? I would much rather strangle him than put a ring on his fucking fingers.

“Before we will discuss any further, I would like to see this son of yours. Perhaps his presence would enlighten my son and he would find pleasure.”

I want to tell them there is nothing they say that would make me find Andrei’s son appealing beyond seeing agony in his face as I crush and break him, but I swallow my retort.

It is not only unnecessary, but I am also not some whining puppy hoping to be told what to do.

Andrei snaps his finger and a door swings open, his son stumbling through it, as if someone pushed him.

I blink.

Fuck, he is beautiful. He is certainly not the first man I have been attracted to, and I know Father only agrees to this marriage because there would be no heir, which can only mean he has less competition, but everything I should be worried about disappears from my head as I study him.

He is scared, and a sick part of me can already imagine how many ways I can break that small body. He is delicate, and I want to exploit his boundaries, pulling on that blond hair until he is completely broken and that defiant look he wears now disappears into a more submissive look.

I smirk, and he stumbles, more so because the huge man behind him gives him a little shove further, and the slimsy white fabric Andrei had clearly put him in for my benefit presses against his flat chest, revealing shaped rosy nipples.

I push myself back on my seat, refusing to acknowledge the erection that spurts between my legs.

The son takes a seat beside his father, only when the huge man shoves him again. There is something about knowing that this is against his will that excites me.

I’ve always been a son of a bitch — literally, my mother was some bitch my father knocked up and when she gave birth to me, he put a bullet between her head — and I never gave a fuck, my desires bothering on the darkest sides of things. Even sex with Lucy the few times when I’ve let my dick do the talking had been all rough, my hands wrapped around her neck, choking her and fucking her senses out.

She loved every bit of it.

Father observes me as though every single nasty emotion is on display for the whole room to see.

It makes me furious.

Most of all, I want to wipe off that smug look on Andrei’s face.

“He looks like she’s going to break before I touch her,” I say, deliberately keeping my eyes on him so I can see his reaction, and he doesn't disappoint.

He gives me a glare, baring her teeth. I flash mine back, my pleasure increasing when he looks away first.

“Trust me, Milo is stronger than he looks. Though you might want to leash him,” Andrei says with a smile, putting his hand on Milo’s shoulders.

The boy flinches, but he doesn't make any moves to push it off.

“If I am to do anything to him and properly enjoy this marriage, then I plan on doing so,” I retort, making sure Andrei hears the implications in my tone.

Milo’s eyes shoot up from the table to look at me, and real panic lines that look. He turns to Andrei again but Andrei doesn’t acknowledge him. Whether he sees Milo looking at him or not, it’s impossible to tell.

He’s definitely some sick bastard.

Maybe even worse than me, and that is saying something.

He begins the conversation with Father again and this time, I barely hear a word of the things they say. I rise to my feet, walking over the table to where Milo sits, ignoring the silence that ensues.

“Stand,” I say, making sure the command is clear in my voice.

He raises his gaze to me, those wicked blue eyes boring holes inside of me. Impatiently, I pull him up by his hair, letting Andrei see just how I would treat him if he should be mine.

Hell, change that thought.

I want him to be mine.

I want those defiant eyes to not stare back at me but the floor, I want the trembling of his skin because of the fear he feels of the things I would do to him.

Milo squirms under my firm grip of his hair, but his hands clutch against mine, his nails digging into my skin.

The pain is cute, at best.

“Get your hands off my hair,” he curses and I smile, holding him in place.

My gaze turns to Andrei who watches with an unreadable expression, a mirror to the one Father had on, both their gazes fixed on us, watching in silence.

“Now, that’s better,” I say, turning back to face him. He says nothing, but no one else in the room is speaking but me.

They just watch me.

“Are you a virgin?” I ask him, and that flare of defiance comes rushing back into his eyes, making me smirk.

He is so easy to rile up.

“I believe the appropriate way to start a conversation is hi,” he chirps, folding his hands, and glaring at me.

I don't say anything, instead pulling him forward out of the chair and letting go of his hair so his knees hit the ground from the force of pulling himself away from my grip.

I stare down at his kneeling form, my hands on either side of my hips.

“Are. You. A. Virgin?” I grind out.

There is no way I would take a son over a daughter if someone else had fucked him, and from the look on Andrei’s face, he knows this.

Milo holds my gaze in that same look and this time, I do not hesitate to let my palm land across his cheek, forcing him to the ground.

He doesn't stay down for long, turning to me instantly, holding my gaze with eyes that wish they are armed with real bullets to blow my head out.

He is getting provoked, I can see it, and his resistance makes me crave the tears that sting his eyes even more.

“I am not going to repeat myself the third time,” I say softly, and he looks away, but not at the ground.

He trains his eyes to the wall behind me, spitting out his words as though saying them any slower would mean it would burn his tongue. “Yes.”

His eyes turn to Andrei, but Andrei only sips his wine coolly, ignoring that look. He turns to the man who shoved him out, but I can tell without turning my head that his expression remains blank.

“I don’t believe you,” I say to him, then turn my gaze to Andrei. “I don’t think he has a virgin ass. I think he has been with a boy. Maybe more than one.”

“I’ve never been with anyone, jackass,” Milo snaps out, and I grin.

“So you say. We will have to test him,” I say, the last part of my words directed at Father, but it is Andrei who responds.

“Surely you don’t hope to do that here, now,” Andrei says and I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to punch him in the face.

I did not take answers or orders from a rat like him.

“No. We will have to return with a doctor to test him.”

“What kind of insult is this?” Andrei rises to his feet, and I can immediately tell he’s furious.

Good.

I need him to do something stupid so I can end him here and now and put a bullet through his son's head immediately after, but of course…Father comes to his rescue.

“If you insist on checking if he is a virgin, why don’t you probe and see?” Father turns to me, his gaze daring me.

I give the boy another once over again, weighing if humiliating him some more in front of Andrei is worth more than my father’s wrath but nothing is really worth Father's wrath.

Never mind that everything I am currently doing is to piss Father off. One could call it our little game of power where he shows me he still has power over the cartel and I, well, not as ungracefully as a child, tell him I could still be a pain in the ass and the kind you take seriously.

“No. I trust you, Father,” I say, turning to my seat before changing my mind. I stride out of the meeting room, leaving Father and Andrei to discuss the details of their meeting.

I need a smoke.

Ignoring the clicking heels that follow behind me, I make a turn to a quiet corner of the mansion, pull out the cigarette and begin to fish out my lighter when Lucy lights the cigarette from the side.

She steps into my view as I blow the smoke into the air. Her presence still infuriates me, but I know if Father asks her to not mention a word to me, then her hands are tied but still, I cannot help but feel betrayed.

She observes me for a long time before saying anything.

“You know I couldn’t tell you, right?”

I don’t respond, not at first.

I puff a few more into the air and wait until she sighs and opens her mouth to say something before I speak over her, “All I know is that time and time again, you’ve chosen his side over mine. I mean, Goddamnit, Lucy. If it ever comes between me and him, you will put a bullet in my head without thinking twice about it.”

“I’ll think twice about it, after the bullet is in your head,” she says in a playful tone but the look I give her has her sobering up. “And some more, when I’m touching myself.”

I grip her neck, using the grip to slam her against the wall.

“It’s not funny,” I bite out.

She giggles, her breathing becoming uneven. Her eyes lock on my lips, but my mind is drifting and still going over what she said. Normally, I would have had no too problems fucking her against the wall, but she is right. She is loyal and whether that loyalty is with me or with Father, it rests in the family.

I still need to punish her for that fucking infraction, so I smile before pressing our lips together. She immediately responds, but my mind is not here.

Usually, I would be fucking into her by now, but I shift the angle of her head with my hand, letting my tongue slip into her mouth.

At first, I thought of doing it. Of fucking Lucy here with Father inside bargaining for territories and a husband for me with the man I loathe so much, but I hold myself in line.

I spin Lucy around, pressing her against the wall with one hand while the other one hikes her gown up, diving into her warm wetness between her.

She lets out a moan and arches her back forward, giving me easy access to her. I chuckle, letting my fingers work their magic at a dangerous pace between her legs.

Her wetness trails down my finger, and her moans keep filling the air.

“You want me to fuck you here?” I whisper to her ear as I slip a third finger inside her pussy.

“Oh, God! Yes! Yes!” I slip my fingers from inside of her and place it on her lips, allowing her to taste herself. She sucks greedily on my fingers, her need overcoming her.

“Taste how fucking wet you are,” I whisper to her ear, “Because that’s exactly how I’m going to leave you.”

I pull away from her, wiping my fingers on a napkin from my pocket that I throw in her direction.

“No,” she gasps, reaching for me but I shove past her making my way inside the house.

“Fuck you, Isaak,” she spits as I walk away, the feeling of vindication only growing more restless inside my chest.