Page 25 of Alexei

It was all her fault. This woman with a petite body, skin glistening with sweat. Her exercise shorts and tank top hugged her body like a second skin. I didn’t like the impact she had on me. Especially considering the plan to use her to get to Igor and then to Ivan.

That club would require me putting hands on her body. Goddamn it! It made my groin twitch just to think about it. It was a stupid plan if I couldn’t maintain my control.

Bad fucking timing for any emotion. I had to squash it.

I had always been immune to women’s charms. Until now. Agent Ashford fueled my blood and all it took was an elevator ride to push me over the edge.

Fuck!

Not what I needed right now. I needed to keep a clear head. I had to ensure we got to Ivan and killed him, before he got his filthy hands on little Nikola. It would be all my fault and nothing in this world could right that sin.

I wasn’t a good man, not even close.

My life consisted of a string of fucked up things that made me numb. It made me the worst kind of villain. It was what Vasili’s mother wanted. The ugly bitch wasn’t satisfied only with destroying my mother. From the moment she kidnapped me and dumped me with various families, she kept coming back.

Over and over again. But it wasn’t until that day, on my tenth birthday, that life became a living, walking nightmare. The day that kicked it all off. Not that days leading into it were all peaches and roses.

Thinking back, I thought that was the day I might have given up my innocence. An invisible noose wrapped around my neck, choking me as red images covered my vision.

Blood covered my hands. My clothes.

It was everywhere.

Splattered all over the living room. Lifeless eyes. Terror frozen on their faces. My adopted family was dead. Again.

Death always followed me. It was allherfault.

Anguish gripped me, the need to fight and scream burning through my veins as I watched the cold, hard eyes of a woman claiming to be my mother. She’d shown up every two years, ripping me apart from my current family, leaving nobody alive and putting me with a new family. But this time, I was stronger. Slightly older that little boy. I was finally able to fight and defend myself.

I tried to protect my adopted family. And failed. My adopted sister. My adopted mother and father. All dead. For loving me.

The scene in the room was grotesque, cold and lifeless. Their eyes blank, staring into a void of death. Gone forever.

Bitterness, hate, and rage swelled inside me at the woman who stood protected by her bodyguards. I hated them all. Wanted to kill them all. Make them pay for the suffering they caused.

It was hard to believe that not even an hour ago this room had burst with laughter, love, and warmth. This family had taken me in and treated me as their own. Loving me was their only mistake.

And because of this cruel woman, they paid the price in the worst way possible.

Yes, emotions could drive you to madness.

They made it hard to deal with life. So most of the time, I didn’t feel any emotions. Not a single damn one. It worked best for me. In fact, I preferred it. Strong emotions only got you or your loved ones killed. And loss left gaping holes in your chest that were impossible to fill.

I breathed deep, tamping down the rage and sorrow that twisted around my gut. My heart raced, a slithering hate squeezing around it. Sweat broke across my brow, my palms clammy.

Lately, memories kept coming back. It was worse than ever. Tenfold worse. I knew what triggered the memories.

Isabella and Tatiana. Even Bianca Morrelli and retrieving her mother from the clutches of Benito King triggered them.

The semblance of a family started to form for me.

And one thing I knew for certain… It would cost everyone their lives, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Goddamn it. I needed to get a grip.

Fuck. The. Memories.

I worked too hard to get to this stage in my life - where I had family and people I cared about.