You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2) (3 page)

‘I own you, Dahlia. I own every inch of you,’ he states possessively.

‘How can you say that if you are planning to give me away in less than a month’s time?’

‘I’m not giving you away,
rybka
.’

I squash the urge to grin like an idiot. I open my mouth to reply and he places a finger across my lips.

‘Don’t speak,’ he says, and his eyes are so desolate I feel frightened for him. What is it that this man hides? Why does he suffer so?

I stare up him mutely. He says nothing more and eventually I fall asleep inside the tight circle of his arm.

Dahlia Fury

I
wake up the next morning alone, touch the indent in the pillow, and sigh. I have no idea where he is or when I will see him again. My relationship with Zane reminds me of a falconer training a wild falcon. He brings the bird to ‘flying weight’. It is a euphemism for keeping the bird hungry. Only through small gifts of food will it recognize the falconer as a benevolent master and hunt for him. Like a falcon in training I feel underfed for his attention.

I get out of bed, use the bathroom, and going up to my own room get dressed before I go downstairs to the kitchen. Yuri is sitting at the counter. When he sees me he nods in acknowledgement, but his eyes slide away quickly.

‘Good morning,’ I say with as much dignity as I can muster. He saw me fall down the last few stairs yesterday. I turn towards Olga. She is standing on tiptoe putting something away in a top cupboard. She pops her head out from behind the door of the cupboard and smiles cheerfully. ‘Good morning.’

‘Can I please have a word with you, Olga?’

Yuri stands up and brushes crumbs off his clothes. ‘Right I’m off.’

I watch him leave and take the seat next to the one he just vacated. Olga closes the cupboard, goes to the coffee machine comes back with a mug of coffee that she puts in front of me.

‘Thanks Olga,’ I say and take a sip.

She sits opposite me. ‘So … how can Olga help?’

‘I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Hmmm …’

‘Last night you said that I have a chance of finding a way to Zane …  well, Aleksandr’s heart.’

‘Yes, I said that.’

‘What made you say that?’ 

She tilts her head and regards me speculatively. ‘Because he looks at you as if he can’t believe his eyes. Like a boy looking into a shop window full of the toy he wants most in the world, but can’t have.’

I shake my head. ‘I’m starting to feel like a Japanese tourist here. Give me a map please.’

She smiles. ‘With all the others he was doing basically the same thing. Different positions with different bodies to vary the boredom. But what he does with you. This is beyond what he ever dreamed of.’

I blush. ‘Oh, you mean the sex.’

‘I’m sure that is very good but no, not that. How can I explain to you? It’s like you woke him up from a deep sleep.’

I think of the way the gentle stroke on my hair that escaped out of his iron mask last night.

‘You’re the only one he wants, little fish,’ Olga says softly. 

After a breakfast ruined with confusing thoughts I step out through the French doors into the garden. There is no one about and it is so quiet and tranquil I can’t even hear the faint sound of traffic from here. I take a deep lungful of the fresh, cold morning air and it kinda starts to clear the cobwebs in my head. Maybe I should spend a little time alone in nature.

I drift around the side of the house. My destination is the Japanese garden that I saw from Zane’s study window. Leaving the springy grass I step onto a stony path and follow it until it opens out to a secluded stone garden.

I stand by a rock and look at the meticulously exact garden. There is no grass just a rectangular plot full of stones that have been so carefully raked the lines are as straight as a ruler. I guess it is beautiful the way a brand new chrome coffee machine is beautiful. In a cold, modern, flawless and functional way.

Me, I like a garden with flowers, weeds, bees, birds, worms, the occasional frog, a messy dog running through my flower beds, digging things up, barking, and the sound of children playing.

I rub my cold face with my hands.

Still, I guess this is Zane. This is the world he is trying to create inside and outside him. A flawless, exact, cold world where cascading water is represented by carefully placed stones. Something moves in my peripheral vision and I half-turn in that direction. It is in the window of Zane’s study.

Sunlight makes the glass glint so I have to lift my hand to shade my eyes in order to see into it. To my surprise I see him standing there watching me. For a few seconds we simply look at each other. Static starts up on my skin and I feel as if I am drowning in his gaze and all these crazy emotions swirling inside me.

As if pulled by a magnet I start walking towards him.

I reach the window and place my palm on the glass. The glass is freezing. Slowly, like a man in a dream he lifts his hand and places it on the other side of glass facing my hand. I smile at him and a ghost of a smile tugs the corners of his mouth. Behind him, I see the door open and slimy Lenny enters the room and waits by the door. I bring my gaze back to Zane and watch him change right before my eyes.

First his smile dissolves.

A distant and wholly professional smile takes its place. Then his eyes become cold and forbidding. Fascinated and transfixed I watch his chest lift and fall heavily before he takes his hand away from the glass. Then he turns away from me and faces the world with his mask firmly in its place. I retract my hand and walk back in the direction I came from, my mind’s eye replaying his transformation.

As I reach the swing, my phone rings. I hit accept and Stella starts shrieking into my ear. It is a long and melodramatic screech and I begin to laugh. When she runs out of breath, she takes a quick snatch of air, and carries on all full speed.

I sit on the swing. ‘Stop it,’ I tell her with a laugh.

‘I want to, but I can’t,’ she says and keeps up the shrill sound.

It is so infectious I almost want to join her. We’ve done it before. Both of us shrieking away. It’s actually quite fun, but if I start I’ll probably have all Zane’s staff out here in a second. ‘So you like them then?’ I ask instead.

‘Like them? Like them?’ she screams in my ear. ‘I’m fucking in love with them. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought I was seeing things.’ She pauses suddenly and in a far more, by far more, sober voice asks, ‘They’re not knock-offs from China, are they?’

‘No, they’re real,’ I say reassuringly and put the swing into motion.

‘Oh Jesus! I nearly gave myself a small heart attack there!’ she exhales with relief. Then she is back into gush mode. ‘Oh my God, Dahlia. They are fabulous. It’s the best freaking present ever. I couldn’t believe it when I opened the door and postman goes, ‘Been shopping have ya? I was half-asleep and I thought you had sent me the shoes from that woman with the Hong Kong connection, which of course, I would have been over the moon with, but bloody hell! Jimmy fucking Choos! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.’

‘Have you got them on now?’ I ask with a smile.

‘Don’t be daft. I’ve made an altar in my bedroom and placed them there.’

I laugh, feeling the cold wind in my face as the swing rocks me. ‘Do they fit?’

‘Of course, they fit. If they didn’t I’d have cut my feet to fit,’ she declares intensely.

‘You’re so mad, Stel.’

‘That’s no insult. That’s a gift. Haven’t you heard we throw the best parties. Talking of parties, we have to go out and celebrate my new shoes.’

‘Oh yes, lets, but hang on. Didn’t you go out on a date last night?’

‘Oh, screw him,’ she dismisses in a disgusted voice.

‘Why what happened?’

‘I’ll tell you everything when I see you,’ she says cheerfully, ‘I’ve got loads of exciting things to tell you. Shall we meet tonight?’

‘Tonight is good.’

‘Let’s go to Jamie’s. We’ll get drunk on something completely vile.’

‘Jamies! I can already taste the hangover.’ She can’t see me but I am nodding happily. I really miss Stella. She’s as irresistible as a laughing child.

‘I’m on a diet by the way,’ she says, ‘so can we meet early? That way I can just drink my dinner.’

‘You mean to say we’re not going to end up at Taki’s afterwards?’

‘I said I was missing dinner not supper.’

I laugh.

‘Seven OK with you.’

‘Yup.’

‘Oh, and I might be wearing my new shoes.’

‘You’re wearing them now, aren’t you?’ I ask.

She laughs. ‘You know me too well.’

We say goodbye and I get off the swing and go in search of Noah. As I get to the doors I turn back to look at the garden. At the bottom of it I can see Nico, a young shy boy, filling the bird feeders with seeds. I stand for a minute watching how quickly the blue tits come to feed. As I watch a robin comes and chases the smaller bird away.

That surprises me. I know from watching the birds from my window that the pigeons can be belligerent and antagonistic to each other, but it has never crossed my mind that the pretty Robin could be so aggressive. It reminds me of Zane’s assertion that the world is run by ferocity.  Even the thought he could be right makes me sad. 

With a sigh I open the door and enter the house. I tell Noah that I am meeting up with Stella at Jamie’s at seven o’clock and he doesn’t bat an eyelid.

‘I’ll check with boss and let you know if it’s OK,’ he says.

‘You can check with him all you like, but I’m going to see Stella tomorrow no matter what,’ I say coolly and walk out of the kitchen door.

My morning is mapped out. I’ll work for a bit, then I’ll work out in the gym and use the steam room.

Dahlia Fury

Humidity’s rising, barometer’s getting low …

T
he steam room is made entirely from some highly polished black stone. There is a bench carved out of the same material pushed up against the opposite wall. I close the door and go to sit on it. The seat is full of cool water droplets. I lean back against the wet wall, close my eyes, and breathe in the hot damp air. Minutes pass and my body begins to bead with sweat.

My eyes fly open when I hear a sound. I see a hulking shape through the frosted glass door. Someone is outside hanging up his towel. It can only be Zane. I straighten my spine and touch my hair self-consciously. It is impossible to look good in a steam room. The door opens and Zane walks in.

For a few seconds he towers over me, naked, his thick cock standing proud between his thighs. Then he walks over and kneels in front of me. Tiny droplets of steam billow between us. His black hair is plastered to his head and for some inexplicable reason he seems … dangerous.

Heart in mouth, I stare at him. I can’t look away or speak. I feel like a freaking rabbit, huddled, small and helpless. From the very first night he has had this ability to completely immobilize me purely by his presence. My lips feel hot and swollen, and I lick them nervously.

Without saying a word he unclasps my bikini top, and when it falls off, he bends forwards and takes a nipple in his mouth.

‘I’m all sweaty,’ I protest.

He sucks.

A warm gush of excitement spreads through my veins. My body arches. My hands rise up to curl on the hard, shiny muscles of his shoulders. His skin is feverishly hot, but my hands are so wet they slip on his skin. I look down at him and his piercing eyes are watching me intently. He holds my nipple between his teeth and not taking his eyes off me me bites down. The deliberate cruelty sends a jolt of sensation right down to my groin.

I cry out.

‘Real lust is like this,’ he whispers thickly, and licks the throbbing tip. Soothing it. Coaxing it into arching again into his mouth. He rewards it by sucking it gently. I fidget and moan restlessly.

He moves to the other nipple and I snuggle closer to his powerful body, my hips rocking, rubbing, wanting.  Wrapping his arm around my waist, he lifts me off the bench, and lays me on the damp floor. My mouth parts in invitation as he drags my bikini bottom down my legs and flings it behind him.

‘Yes,’ I whimper.

He crouches like wolf over my naked body and hungrily sucks and licks every inch of me. Finally he eases my swollen lips apart and slips a finger into me. I gasp loudly and arch my back, involuntarily making his hand shove deeper into my wet heat.

‘Your pussy is so fucking hot and tight,’ he says and finger fucks me roughly while I writhe and twist on the floor.

I almost scream when I feel his warm mouth suddenly latch on my distended clit. He sucks it hard and my body starts shaking uncontrollably. Waves of pleasure explode out of my core and ricochet inside me as I come hard and long. He laps at my folds, greedily drinking my juices.

‘Your turn,’ I whisper, my body still tingling.

‘My turn,’ he agrees, and reaches under the bench for a little black object. About five inches long and smooth, it has the thickness of a frankfurter sausage, but narrows down to a blunt tip no bigger than my little finger. The other end looks like a plunger.

‘What is that?’ I ask intrigued.

He smiles slowly. ‘It’s to hold you in place.’

I rise up to my elbows. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Let me teach you how to use this,’ he says, uncoiling to his feet. He strides to the door and opens it, and marvelously cool air flows into the room. I stay on my elbows and watch him take bottle from one of the metal shelves and pump a good dose of gel onto his palm. He comes back into the steam room and coats the black object liberally with it. The sweet scent of strawberries hits my nostrils.  He holds out his hand, I slip mine into it, and he pulls me upright.

Zane slaps the object, plunger first on the wall, and with a sucking sound it sticks to the smooth stone.

‘Wha-’ I say, but I am cut short.

Zane pushes me up against the wet tiles and I look up at him with startled eyes. Water runs down his face in rivulets and drips from his eyebrows and nose. He pushes his hips into my flesh so I feel the wood of his cock press into me. My mouth parts with invitation.

‘My sweetness and my hope,’ he mutters.

Then our tongues touch and searing heat fills me. Dizzily, I reach between our bodies, wrap my palm around his hard shaft, and tug on it vigorously. Without breaking the kiss he curls his large powerful hands around the backs of my thighs and lifts me clean off the floor. I wrap my legs securely around him and he immediately reaches under me and jams his thumb into my pussy.

I am so wet his entry makes a squelching sound. Distracted by his thumb thrusting in and out of me I don’t realize he has hoisted me to the black object stuck to the wall. The tip presses into my back.

‘Zane,’ I breathe looking into his lust glazed eyes.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘I’ve never had anything up my ass,’ I whisper anxiously.

‘A virgin ass. How sweet?’ His eyes glitter with satisfaction.

Unwrapping my legs from around his hips I stand.

‘Ready?’ he asks huskily.

I nod.

‘Bend your knees,’ he instructs and guides me so the tip of the plug touches the puckered entrance of my ass.

‘Now push up against it,’ he commands and watches as I slowly push myself onto the lubed up plug. The tip is rounded and fine so it eases past the initial resistance easily and quite suddenly it is inside my ass. And I am like a butterfly pinned to a board.

‘Look at you,’ he says, staring at my open and exposed pussy. ‘You’re dripping like a leaking faucet.’

He is not lying. This is a new pleasure for me and I am so turned on I can feel my own juices gushing onto my thighs as the plug traveling deeper into me sends intense shivers of pleasure running up and down my spine. I hang my head and take several deep breaths before I push it in a little more. Once it is about three or four inches deep he caresses my back and says, ‘Relax.’

‘Take me hard, Zane. Make me scream.’

‘I fucking plan to,’ he growls.

Taking a step forward he slams his hard cock so forcefully into me, I become so deeply impaled on the plug that I feel the cone of the plunger spreading my ass cheeks.

God, this is amazing,’ I gasp, my mouth open with surprise.

I never thought I would, but I love the sensation of being double penetrated. It is amazing to have his giant cock stretching my pussy and the slippery black plug in my ass. 

‘You wanted it hard,’ he says as he pulls me away from the wall and thrusts hard into me. Both his dick and the plug jam into me at the same time.

‘Yes, give it to me,’ I pant.

Again his cock and plug are withdrawing from my body. ‘Tell me you’re my little bitch.’

‘I’m your little bitch,’ I breathe unsteadily, as I take both him and the plug again.

‘Who’s your daddy?’ he asks on the next withdrawal.

‘You. You’re my daddy,’ I groan.

And so it went. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Until I am sweaty mess, my thighs are trembling, and my cunt is gripping him like a vise. Hot and excited and shivering like someone who has a fever I teeter wildly on the brink of coming.

‘I can’t hold on much longer,’ I cry.

‘Scream for me,’ he orders and sinks himself to the hilt.

I come apart, shuddering violently, animal grunts tearing from my throat, as he roars and shoots his load deep inside me. Covered in sweat and panting hard we stare at each other.

‘You liked that?’

I nod breathlessly.

He exhales deeply and withdraws out of me and watches his seed leaking out of me. Then he pulls me away from the plug on the wall, lifts me into his arms, and carries me out of the steam room.

‘No. No. Don’t do it-,’ I scream as he chucks me into the swimming pool. I emerge spluttering, push hair out of my eyes, and look for him. He is in the water a few feet away watching me. His eyes are mocking.

The water is wonderfully cool on my flushed skin.

‘Fuck you,’ I say, and turning on my back lazily swim in the opposite direction. I’ll get my own back eventually. A few strokes later he pops up next to me. We do two laps languidly, with him keeping to my idle pace.

Then he stops, curls his hands around my waist, and pulls me upright. He encircles my waist and draws me closer to him. Our naked bodies touch and I sling my arm around his strong neck.

‘I’m meeting Stella for drinks tonight.’

His body stills but expression doesn’t change. ‘Want me to get a table for you at the Matrix?’

‘Nah, we’re just going to go to Jamies.’

He raises a soaked eyebrow. ‘Jamies?’

‘You won’t have heard of it. It’s very low rent and a bit of a dive really, but it’s our local and we like it. They play the kind of music we dig.’

He nods. ‘Right. What time will you be home?’

My stomach flutters. We sound like a real couple. ‘I guess around midnight.’

‘Midnight? All right, I’ll be waiting for you.’

The thought comes unbidden.
I’m so in love with you, Zane.
I hurriedly drop my gaze so he does not see anything he shouldn’t in my eyes. I let my fingers trace the crevice of the scar on his face. ‘How did you get this?’

‘He had a knife and I did not,’ he says simply.

‘What happened then?’ I prompt.

‘I got a scar and he lost his life.’ His voice and face are devoid of any emotion.

Oh God! How can I possibly live in his world?
Yet I cannot walk away. Not yet.

‘Do these stars mean anything?’ I ask softly, tracing the blue star tattoos on the front of his shoulders with my fingers.

For a few seconds I think he is not going to answer then he gives a slight shrug. ‘Since you ask I will tell you. They denote the highest distinction that can be reached in
Vor v Zokone’

‘What is that?’ I am very curious about his past, but I keep my tone light. This is the first time he has ever offered any information about his past and I don’t want to scare him off by being too insistent or intense.

‘A rough translation would be Thieves in Law.’

I look at him levelly. ‘Thieves in Law?’

‘
Vor v Zokone
is the elite of Russian organized crime and operates under a very strict code of ethics. Breaking the code is punishable by death. When I got these stars they meant something. Nowadays, a lot of young men have them without belonging to the organization.’

‘Why do you have the same design on your knees?’

‘The stars are worn to declaring an intention never, no matter what the circumstances, to kneel or co-operate with what we call
musor
or pigs. but you probably know them as the police or government officials.’

‘So you are a member of this elite organization?’ I ask cautiously.

‘I did. A long time ago.’

I stare into his eyes, so luxuriously fringed by thick, wet lashes. ‘You are no longer part of it?’

‘When the Soviet Union collapsed the character of the Russian mob changed. The stupid ones quickly ended up behind bars, the highly connected ones bought up state resources for a song and became billionaires, others looked for new homes far from the motherland to run their often ingenious smuggling operations.’

‘Ingenious?’

He shrugs, the movement careless, elegant and foreign. ‘They were clever scams.’

‘Yeah. Like what?’

‘Like dyeing wood grain alcohol blue, labeling it windshield washer liquid, shipping tanker loads of it back to Russia, un-dyeing it, and selling the stuff as vodka. The goal was to avoid paying alcohol taxes.’

‘I see.’ I say softly. ‘So you were one of those who came to England?’

‘Uh …. hmm.’

‘Did you run the alcohol scam too?’

‘Nope.’