The Drifter's Memoir of a Second Life

NATALIA

PROLOGUE

“Is this what you wanted, kotyonok?”

The words are no more than a harsh whisper against my skin in the dimly lit room, his husky voice heavy with the desire that holds us captive.

“Tell me,” he orders, and although the room is not properly illuminated enough for me to make out much, I can tell he’s staring at my face because his eyes are a hot brand on my skin. “Does it please you to see a man as powerful as myself driven to his knees for a little thing like you?”

My intimate walls flutter around his thick fingers, my back arching off the wall.

Perhaps I would be able to string enough words together to answer his question if he wasn’t wrecking me from the inside out with his magical fingers.

“If my son were to walk into this room right this moment, would you run into his arms?” He demands in a voice filled with anger and jealousy. “Or would you keep riding my fingers like my perfect little slut?”

He twists his fingers inside me and curls them at an angle that has stars bursting behind my eyelids as my orgasm slams into me. A muffled cry falls from my lips, my hips rolling into his hand unashamedly as I ride the wave.

My father in law’s eyes blaze with dark possessiveness as he watches me unravel, and I may be his son’s on paper but in our stolen moments, there’s no denying I’m wholly his.

His favorite plaything.

His forbidden obsession.

01

Lick, toss, gasp.

The clink of our glasses connecting with the table top is muffled by the deafening music blasting through the club’s speakers.

“Natalia, we’ve done four already. I don’t think we should do any more,” Neomi, ever the voice of reason chokes out, her eyes watering almost as badly as mine.

“I hate to agree with Neomi but I think so too.” Bianca gasps. “I swear these things have an extra burn to them.”

They aren’t wrong.

My lungs are on fire. It feels like a volcano is about to erupt inside my chest and I’m beginning to wonder if tossing back shot after shot was a smart idea.

“Why are you both staring at me like it was my idea to get drunk when it was Bianca’s?” I scowl, lightly dabbing the sides of my eyes and hoping it doesn’t ruin my makeup.

After making a bold decision to to do something selfish before my life officially became tied to the Bratva, I and my friends decided to hit the club with every intention of drinking to stupor and dancing our asses off until my bleak future as a housewife to a man I have absolutely no idea how he takes his coffee--probably black--became nothing but a faraway thought in my head.

We ditched security, left in Bianca’s car and didn’t inform anyone we were heading out. This truly is the most audacious we’ve ever been.

But so far, we’ve only been able to tick one item off our list.

“Fine,” Bianca huffs, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. “I agree it was my idea but now I’ve got an even better one. Let’s not drink anymore. Let’s play a game instead.”

Neomi’s eyes grow wide. “Uh-oh. It’s probably going to be Truth or Dare.”

Bianca smirks. “Just dares. No truths.”

I lift a brow. When my best friend smirks like that, I know she’s got something up her sleeves, and tonight I’m unhinged enough to throw caution to the wind and dive right in.

“Nat, we’re gonna start with you because you’re the reason we’re here,” she says and I shrug in a move that translates to ‘bring it on’. “For your last act of rebellion before you get married, I want you to do something bold. Something you’ll look back on years later when your husband’s fucking you boring old missionary and thank me for.”

Neomi chokes on her own saliva while I laugh because you just have to love Bianca.

“Are you going to dare me to pick a man here and ride him in front of everyone?”

Bianca’s eyes gleam with delight. “I like the way you think, but no. All you have to do is walk up to him and get his number. Whether you fuck him or not afterwards is entirely up to you,” she informs me and I roll my eyes. As if. “And I’m going to be doing the picking; not you.”

Mulling her words over in my head, I carefully think this through.

What if whomever she picks happens to recognize me as the Cosa Nostra princess?

I mean the chances of that happening are low but not entirely zero.

I’d be in deep fucking shit. Not only would I be blowing our low profile tonight, I’d also be inviting the wrath of my brother and my soon to be husband.

But then I realize that only by thinking about how they’re going to take it, I’m letting them win.

Tonight is mine. Not anyone else’s.

Folding my hands across my chest, I lean back against the booth. “So who’s the lucky man?”

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the club shifts.

The crowd parts at the entrance which my seat gives me a direct view of, everyone stepping out of the way as if on cue. And that’s when I see him.

The man who will live rent-free in my mind beginning from that day.

He looks to be in his late forties, walking in like he owns the place and instantly making the room feel ten times smaller with him inside it. He dwarfs everyone else in the vicinity, his shoulders wide enough that I know he works out. A lot.

His inky black hair flops back on his forehead, his narrowed eyes scanning the corners of the club almost imperceptibly as if he’s looking for someone but doesn’t want to be obvious about it. There’s a scowl etched on his ruggedly handsome face, his sinfully shaped lips pressed  into a flat line that suggests he’s unimpressed by his surroundings.

There is a certain dangerous air that hovers around him, warning me to look away.

Yet I can’t seem to get my eyes to co-operate.

“That one,” Bianca decides, her voice drawing my attention back to the conversation at the table.

Wait, what are we talking about again?

Oh, she was just about to dare me.

I follow her extended index finger only to realize with bated breath that she’s pointing at the gorgeous man who just walked in. The one that looks like a Greek god come to life.

“Him?” I gape.

She nods, her lips twisting wryly. “Not your type?”

I damn near roll my eyes at the question. Both my friends are well aware I have a thing for older men, which only makes my upcoming wedding even more depressing.

“He looks like he would chew me and spit me out.”

“He looks dangerous.” Neomi agrees, appraising our target, if I can call him that. He looks too predatory to be regarded as anything other than.

Bianca scoffs. “Neomi, darling, we are the danger.” Then she turns to me. “One last act, Nat. Are you taking the dare?”

Should I or should I not?

My gaze follows him as he shoulders his way through the crowd with a confident gait that makes him look extra intimidating… and so unbearably hot.

We’re not the only ones who have noticed him. He’s drawn the eyes of every other woman and even some men in the vicinity. A surge of possessiveness boils up inside me. It’s insane, but so is my reaction to him.

Screw it. I’m doing it.

Tossing back another shot for liquid courage, I flip my long black hair over my shoulder and push to my feet. “Hold my purse.” Neomi wastes no time taking it from me. “And wish me luck.”

“Girl, you don’t need luck when you look like that,” Bianca hollers after me and it’s a huge confidence boost that comes at the perfect moment, considering I’m about to do something very fucking crazy.