CHAPTER 6: YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?

NICO

I jolt awake, my heart pounding in my chest. Everywhere is fuzzy and I'm disoriented. It's the same nightmare, same eyes, same voice, same place and the same person.

The same dream I've had a million times since I was fifteen.

You'd think I would have gotten used to it by now, but I'm not. Every night, it's the same dream, each one worse than the last. But I'm not there, and I've moved on. Right?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, sweat sticking to my shirt. My brain replays the event like it’s currently happening. I squeeze my eyes shut to chase it all away, but that doesn't work.

With a sigh, I get up and enter the bathroom.

I splash cold water on my face; it works for now. I can't have these stupid nightmares hinder my purpose of being here.

I head downstairs to get coffee. I would have gone for scotch; hell, I still might.

At the bottom of the stairs, the sound of music from the gym greets me. Sasha. Of course. I wonder how long he's been awake. He's always in the gym whenever I come downstairs and only stops when I start pestering him. I wonder if he'd ever stop, or if he'd remember to.

I've been here for two weeks, and the guy is still not warming up to me. He probably has some genetic problem that makes him immune to my god-like charms.

“Hi princess” I say upon entering the large gym room, loud enough for him to hear.

He pauses mid push-up, but doesn't look at me. He takes a deep breath, reminding me how much fun I derive from baiting him.

He continues what he's doing, completely ignoring my presence. Oh, he's good.

“You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were ignoring me so you would get my attention, it's working you know”

He tilts his head, slightly. “Get dressed”

That's all he says, that monotone command that grates on my nerves and makes me want to break something. Or someone.

“Where are we going?” I say, then quickly add “Daddy” probably because I have a death wish.

His eyes cut to me, sharply, and annoyance was written all over his face.

Will he probably decide to kill me here?

Yes

Is it entertaining?

Hell yeah

Will I stop baiting him?

Fuck no

He finally stands, grabs a water bottle and gulps half the content. I try my best to look at anything but his hands, his face, literally every part of him. He made it very clear within the past week that he is as straight as a maypole. But my dick clearly doesn't get the memo since it's being a complete dick whenever we're in the Russian wall’s presence.

“There's a Bratva gathering, we're both expected to be there to act as allies. Keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself,” he says, like he's explaining simple math to a child. And he has that same condescending look on his face that fucks with my head.

And the worst part?

My dick twitches in my pants.

Really?

“Oh, so a party,” I say, grinning. “You really know how to have fun.”

He doesn't say anything in return, as expected. “Your coldness is becoming more boring each day” I mutter to myself. But he probably heard it since he glared at me before marching upstairs.

Tease.

Twenty minutes later, I return downstairs in my black silk shirt that I ‘unintentionally’ unbuttoned just low enough. Sasha is already downstairs, looking like he's heading to his own damn funeral. No surprise there. Black on black, with the icy expression that I'm starting to get used to.

“Dress to impress, have you ever heard of it?” I ask, fixing my cuff.

“You’re gonna scare the girls away dressed like that,”

“Don't touch any of them” he says.

“Why, you don't like sharing?”

He glares at me and I roll my eyes.

“Fine, sheesh” I agree.

One hour later, I'm doing the exact opposite.

It's not intentional, I mean, I can't just push a lady away. Much less one as pretty as her.

She's sweet-faced, laughs too easily when I say something wicked in her ear. Her hand brushes my sleeve and her perfume threatens to choke me to death.

I don't feel anything, not in the sexual sense, because apparently, I can't get my mind off another pair of eyes, stronger hands and broad shoulders.

Perfect.

I feel the heat of his glare before I see him, Sasha, standing like a stone, jaw locked and watching me like he wants to end me.

I push it just a little further. My hand finds the girl’s waist and she giggles. Funny, I still don't know her name. I glance at him, daring him to make a move. And he does.

One second, my hands are on the girl's waist, the next, Sasha's hand is on the back of my neck, shoving me through the nearest door.

The bathroom door slams shut behind us, and he pins me against the counter before I can blink. His breath is hot, and his eyes are the darkest I've ever seen them.

“You think this is a game?” he growls.

And I swear my cock twitches in my pants.

“Depends,” I say, a cocky grin glued to my face. “Are you playing too?”

His hands are fists in my shirt as he leans close, so close I can feel the restraint vibrating in the air between us. I think he'll stop and push me away, but he doesn't, he keeps inching closer, our lips almost touching. Almost. It's like he purposefully stops, to fuvk with my head.

But then his thigh presses into mine, our hips grind together, unintentionally. For one split second, everything tips as our cocks brush through layers of fabric. A groan bubbles its way up my throat, but I hold it in. Or I think I do, a groan ripples through the air, but it's not from me, it's from Sasha. The sound makes my dick harden more.

Then he pulls away, so fast. Like I burned him.

I lean back against the sink, laughing low, even as I mourn the loss of contact. “Careful, Sasha. I might start thinking you actually want me.”

He glares at me. Yup, there's that condescending look I've become acquainted with. If glares could kill a man, I'd already be dead by now. But they can't.

All they do is make me anticipate what would happen when he finally puts his hand in places he shouldn't. And he will, it's just a matter of time.