Page 17

Her fingers gently trace the gash on my side. She bites her lip as concern floods her eyes. “You shouldn’t have risked your life like that to save mine.”

I find her comment amusing, because she seems to think it’s fine for her to risk her life for me, but when it’s the other way around, she is against it.

“Funny, seeing as you did the same for me only seconds after the crash. Thank you."

She looks up at me, eyes bright from crying and her brows knitted together. She might even be annoyed with me for protecting her like that.

She pulls her mouth to the side and takes a sharp breath. “I guess we are even, then?”

My heart is breaking for her, and all I can think is that I had her all wrong. I misread everything right from the beginning. She isn’t anything like I thought she was. She isn’t some spoiled princess living a life of luxury off her father’s money.

She is as much a victim as every single person who encounters Danil Balakin. She didn’t deserve anything that he did to her, anything that he put her through. I can’t even imagine the life she’s had, growing up with a man that sadistic. It’s strange to me that I never even considered this. I just assumed she was his little princess. But clearly, he has no heart whatsoever. Not even for his own flesh and blood.

I trace my fingers along her jaw, noticing again just how beautiful she is.

“Thank you for saving my life,” I say again, because I really mean it. She did save my life tonight. I was caught off guard and could easily have been taken down by those men.

Whatever her reason, whatever her goals, she still saved my life.

For a moment there is an intense intimacy in our gaze, and I can swear she is about to kiss me.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” she asks, looking away from me.

Maybe I was wrong.

“Yes, in the bathroom.”

“Show me.”

I drop my hand down to her side, taking her hand in mine and leading her through to the bathroom. I sit on the edge of the bath. “In that cabinet,” I say, gesturing towards the cupboard beneath the basin.

She kneels down and reaches inside it, pulling out a black canvas bag with a red cross on to the top.

“Take off your shirt,” she demands, taking control of the situation.

I chuckle and start undoing my buttons, but wince as the pain shoots up my side and pulls at the gash.

“No, stop, let me do it.” She stands between my legs, with me sitting on the edge of the bath and her looking down at me.

I want to reach out and wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me.

She unbuttons my shirt slowly and gently, then brushes it off my shoulders, down my arms, and carefully pulls the sleeves off my wrists.

She is focused on what she is doing, so she doesn’t notice me staring at her.

Then she kneels between my legs and my mind starts to wander to other places. I have to focus to keep the sly grin off my face. Resting one hand on my inner thigh to balance herself, she leans over and grabs the first aid kit, then pulls out some disinfectant, pouring it onto a cotton swab.

“This is going to sting.”

“Go ahead.” It’s not like I haven’t experienced the burn of antiseptic before. I’ve just never had it administered by such a beautiful girl.

I take a sharp breath through my teeth as the alcohol soaks into the wound.

Her hand is on my inner thigh again while she gently cleans the wound with her other hand. I am staring at her long, elegant fingers and how close they are to my crotch.

Absentmindedly, I reach out and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She looks up at me, and my heart hammers in my chest.

The things I want to do to her right now. She is kneeling in the perfect position.

A mischievous grin splashes across her lips as she realizes what’s going through my mind.

“I guess the pain isn’t as bad as I thought it was?” she giggles, then looks down and realizes how close her hand is to my cock, which is beginning to respond to her touch and that look on her face.

She doesn’t move her hand away, though. Instead, she rubs it back and forth, the corner of her mouth curling higher.

And just when I am deeply distracted, she pours more disinfectant onto the wound and I cry out with shock. She laughs, a beautiful, musical sound.

I can’t help but laugh as well.

“I’ll put a bandage over it. It’s not too deep, you should be fine. But a normal person would go to the hospital and get stitches.”

“I’m not that normal,” I shrug.

“I know.” Her fingers trace over an old bullet wound higher up on my chest. She is quiet for a moment, then her hands trail down my chest, sending shivers through my body as they move back to the fresh wound on my side.

She pulls a bandage out of the med kit, and after smearing Betadine over the wound she sticks the bandage over it.

Still kneeling between my legs, she looks up at me again. Now both of her hands are resting on my inner thighs as her bright green eyes lock with mine.

“How does it feel? Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” I ask as I cup her face in my hands and pull her lips towards mine.

I press my mouth over hers and kiss her deeply.

The moment seems to last forever, and the feeling that runs through me is deeper than just some physical connection.

I can feel her, her soul, her heart, her smile against my lips.

I run my hand down her back and hold her tightly against me as I continue to kiss her.

The world seems to fade away in that moment.

Finally, I let her go, and she pulls away from me with a beautiful smile on her lips.

I stand up, pulling her to her feet.

“Let’s get something to eat, I’m sure we can find something in the kitchen.”

She picks up my shirt, sticky with blood. “Do you have anything else to wear?”

“In the dresser in the room next to the bathroom,” I reply.

“I’ll get you something.”

She disappears, and I take a deep breath when I am alone. Everything has shifted in the shortest amount of time. Finding out what I know about Sasha and what she’s been through has changed my entire perspective of her.

Who she is makes more sense to me now.

She returns to find me lost in thought about her and what she’s been through.

“Are you okay?” she asks nervously.

“Yes. I’m great, actually.”

“I found this.” She hands me a black hoodie.

“That’s perfect. Thanks.”

I pull it over my head, careful not to move my side too much. She helps me ease it down my body.

We stand in the bathroom for a moment, looking at each other. I wonder what she’s thinking. I want to kiss her again. I need to figure out what all of this means for my plan against Danil.

Honestly, what he did to her, it makes me want to tear him apart. It makes me want to torture him in all kinds of new ways and make him suffer an eternity of pain.

“So, um, let me see what I can make you to eat,” she smiles.

***

In the kitchen, I lean against the counter while she pulls out some spaghetti, some canned meats, canned mushrooms, sauce and a pan.

“Sorry, it’s not the best selection.” I shrug.

“I can make something amazing with this. Don’t underestimate me,” she laughs.

“I don’t think I’ll ever underestimate you again,” I say quietly, and she throws me a questioning look.

I help her cook, opening cans and getting things ready and find it a comfortable, fun task.

But she catches me completely off guard when she turns to me and asks. “Did your parents also teach you how to be stronger by torturing you when you were young? I mean, to mold you into the person you are today?”

“No, Sasha. That’s not how things are—parents don’t torture their kids to teach them strength. Your father was a monster for what he did. You are right about that. What he didn’t isn’t normal at all. My parents were kind, loving and supportive. When I was growing up, they kept me out of all of the mafia business, and I had a pretty normal life. I didn’t know about any of the mafia stuff until I was older.”

She throws the spaghetti into the boiling water and then turns to look at me.

“Why do you hate my father so much? What did he do to you?”

The question freezes me in place, and I can feel the way my shoulders and back tense up.

I take a slow breath.

“Your father took something from me.”

I don’t want to tell her more than that.

After everything she has been through in her life, she doesn’t deserve to be burdened with more pain or grief.

I will still go ahead with my plan to get revenge on her father, but from this point, it no longer involves Sasha. I want her taken out of it completely. I want to keep her safe from the pain and horror of her father’s deeds.

“What did he take from you?” she asks softly.

“Something I can’t get back.”

She stares into my eyes, and maybe she can tell that it’s not something I want to talk about, so she just nods and bites her lower lip before turning her attention back to dinner.

I appreciate that she isn’t pushing for answers, because she's the one I am trying to protect by keeping them to myself.

When dinner is ready, we stay in the kitchen, sitting on the counter with our legs swinging down as we eat spaghetti and laugh.

The whole mood has changed.

In sharing what she’s been through, she’s let me see a new side of her, and because of that, I know I am treating her differently.

Everything is more relaxed, open, intimate in a completely different way.

I feel like I am seeing her for the first time ever.

After dinner, we do the dishes together, which doesn’t take long because most of the food came from a can. Then I lead her through to the bedroom. I need to rest, and I am sure that after pouring her heart out earlier, she needs rest as well.

I half expect her to tell me she isn’t going to sleep in the same bed as me, but she just climbs beneath the covers and snuggles against my chest.

I wrap my arm around her, and without words, we comfort each other. Lying together, sharing warmth, sharing something more than just our bodies.

I stroke my fingers through her hair and down her back and she runs her hand over my chest. I listen to her breathing as it gets slower and deeper, until her hand goes still, and I know she has fallen asleep.

“I’m going to keep you safe, Sasha,” I whisper in the darkness. “I’m going to make sure you never have to go through that kind of pain again.”