Chapter 19: Tempted by Deception: Chapter 18

I’m faintly aware of strong arms carrying me in their cocoon. Ones I recognize even with my eyes closed.

I’m placed on a soft mattress and a warm cloth wipes between the valley of my breasts, brushing against my nipples before sliding to my sticky core.

“Mmmm.” I sigh in my half-asleep state as I bask in the soothing sensation.

I probably would never admit this out loud, but Adrian’s aftercare is addictive. It’s so tender in contrast to his brutal touch. So patient, too. He takes his sweet time cleaning my every pore like he finds pleasure in touching me this way.

I’m about to fall back asleep as usual when his strong voice filters in the silence, “Who were you talking to in the lingerie shop, Lia?”

My eyes snap open, my breath hitching when I find him standing over my lying position, the contours of his face shadowed by the dark. “W-what?”

“The man you were touching that red lingerie in front of. Who the fuck is he?”

Shit!

“A-Adrian…”

His hand wraps around my jaw. “It’s better that you freely divulge information or I’ll find him and rip his heart out while you watch.”

“No, Adrian…please.”

“Who is he?” His tone is frightening, harsh.

I shake my head frantically.

“It was me.”

Our attention snaps to the figure sliding inside my room from the balcony. I gasp as Luca comes into view, holding a gun.

“Looks like you have to die sooner rather than later, Volkov.” And then he shoots, the bullet lodging straight in Adrian’s chest, and he falls face-first against my lap, blood exploding on his white shirt.

“Noooo!” I shriek, bolting up.

My eyes open, and I quickly take note of my surroundings. I’m in my room, the morning light filtering through the balcony’s muslin curtains.

Luca isn’t in view.

There’s no blood either.

Please tell me that was a nightmare. Please.

I retrieve my phone with trembling fingers, going straight to Adrian’s number. He entered it the first time he was here in case I need him, but he’s always the one who texts to ask what I want for dinner.

This is my first time to contact him.

My unsteady thumb swipes over his name and I place the phone to my ear. I’m shaking, my limbs sweaty as I listen to it ring.

Please tell me he’s busy working or doing whatever he does when he leaves my apartment.

Heavy footsteps come from outside the bedroom before Adrian appears in the doorway, wearing only his boxer briefs. A sheen of sweat covers his sun-kissed skin, causing the full tattoo sleeves to shine in the morning glow. His glorious abdomen and chest muscles ripple with every movement.

His long legs cross over each other as he motions at his phone in his hand. “You called me?”

At first, I don’t believe what I’m seeing. I think it’s another sick play of my imagination. That this is the nightmare and the one from earlier is reality.

I dig my nails in my wrist and release a sigh of relief when pain rushes to the surface.

Without thinking, I scramble out of bed. Then I cry out, stumbling over the sheets when burning pain explodes in my ass.

Holy shit. That hurts.

Adrian is beside me in a second, grabbing me by the arm to stop me from falling.

I hold on to his forearm as I regain my footing and study his chest and side, making sure that it was indeed a nightmare.

“Take it easy, Lenochka. We don’t want you to hurt those talented legs.” His voice holds mild amusement.

My lips part at the fact that for the first time, I didn’t think about my obsession with keeping my legs safe in my haste to make sure he was okay.

That’s when the current situation dawns on me. “You’re…here.”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“But you always leave in the mornings.”

“I don’t have work early today.”

“Oh.” Is that why he was leaving early all along? Or is this only another excuse?

“Oh isn’t a word. Use actual ones.”

I blush at the obvious way he’s openly checking my nakedness. I find myself watching him, too, the way his muscles are taut to perfection or how the fine hairs travel to the waist of his boxer briefs.

“What…” I swallow. “What were you doing?”

“Push-ups.”

The sweat makes sense, but I still can’t force my gaze from him. Adrian has physical perfection that’s so different from what I’ve witnessed before. I’m used to seeing models and dancers who don’t shy away from removing their clothes and changing in semi-public places. But that type of beauty is pretty—aesthetic, even. Adrian’s rugged, harsh, and comes with an edge that’s complemented by his calm yet ruthless personality.

“Why did you call me?”

I force my gaze to slide up to his face. “Huh?”

His lips twitch in what resembles a smile. “The phone call, Lia.”

“Uh…nothing.”

“People don’t make phone calls for nothing.”

I rack my brain for something because I really don’t want to tell him I was on the verge of hyperventilating due to a visceral nightmare I had about him.

“Lia…” It’s a single word, but the warning is clear. Adrian is a damn dictator sometimes, I swear. He doesn’t tolerate having his questions ignored and will keep demanding an answer until I finally give it.

“I was going ask what you’re bringing tonight for dinner,” I blurt.

“I can send you whatever you like, but I probably won’t be able to make it.”

I fight the tug of disappointment that sinks to the bottom of my stomach.

Adrian raises a brow. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“I don’t care,” I say with so much stubbornness, it leaves even me stunned.

“As you wish.” He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest. My tender nipples harden against his skin and I suck in a fractured breath through my parted lips.

Will this pull between us ever end? Will there ever be a day where I’ll be in Adrian’s vicinity and not wish to be closer?

“You didn’t have a nightmare last night,” he murmurs.

That’s because I had it this morning.

I frown. “How do you know I have nightmares? Wait…you watch me when I sleep?”

“I do.”

My mouth opens, and when it finds no words to say, it closes again. It shouldn’t be a surprise since he cleans me up every night, but I dislike that he studies me in my ugliest form.

“You know, for someone who claims not to be a stalker, you have obvious stalkerish behavior, Adrian.”

“A stalker would never openly admit to watching you sleep. If anything, they’d keep it a secret for as long as possible.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “You’re still a stalker.”

“If you say so.”

“You really don’t care, do you?”

“No, and neither should you, Lenochka. The world means nothing if you decide it doesn’t.”

“I’m not you, Adrian. I care.”

“Why would you when it’d only hurt you?” His hand glides in circles on the small of my back, eliciting shudders from my skin. “You’re better than that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” A strange look passes in his eyes. It’s brief and quickly disappears as he says, “Since when did you start to have nightmares?”

“No particular date. Everyone has them.”

“Not like you. They seem more…raw.”

“It’s because they are. Sometimes, it takes me long minutes to differentiate between reality and a nightmare. Sometimes, what I have a nightmare about comes true.” My lips tremble at that, recalling how he was shot by Luca. Is that also something that will happen in the future?

“I presume this started a long time ago?”

I shake myself out of those thoughts. “Since I was a child. How did you know?”

“They seem deep-seated, and childhood events could produce that type of wild subconscious.”

“Are you my shrink now?”

“Not your shrink, no. I’m merely trying to understand that part of you better.”

I don’t know why that warms my heart, why everything in me becomes even more tender at those words. He shouldn’t care, he really shouldn’t, so why does he?

“There’s nothing to understand, not when I don’t understand it myself.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

I pause, watching the easy expression on his face. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you know about trauma from childhood events because you went through something yourself?”

“Perhaps.”

“Is that a yes or no?”

“Neither.”

“It’s not fair if you’re the only one who knows things about me, Adrian.”

“I told you. Fairness doesn’t exist. Besides, weren’t you the one who made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with me?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re obviously not leaving me alone, so I can at least get to know you better.”

“So you can escape me?”

“N-no.”

“You’re lying, and that’s one strike for the day.” He narrows his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, because you won’t be able to.”

The promise of his words hits me in the bones and it takes a few inhales of oxygen to get my bearings. “Then tell me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Your childhood. Did something happen in it?”

“The real question would be what didn’t happen.”

“Was your stepmom evil?”

A distant nostalgic look fills his eyes. “It was the other way around. My mother was the villain and my stepmom was the real-life Disney princess who didn’t get saved.”

That’s the first time he’s talked so openly about his family. “Why was your mother the villain?”

“Villains don’t need reasons.”

“Yes, they do. You said it yourself that they’re heroes in their own stories and, therefore, they want something.”

“Do you remember everything I said, Lenochka?”

“I have a strong memory.” My cheeks burn. “So?”

“So what?”

“Why was she the villain?”

“Power. It was her first and last goal, and Aunt Annika got in the way, and though it wasn’t by choice, she still paid the price.”

“What price?” My voice is low, haunted like the look in his eyes.

“Her life. She died when I was seven.”

It dawns on me then. Judging by the way he appears nostalgic talking about his stepmother and even calls her Aunt, he must’ve loved her. He must’ve had some sort of a bond with her. I can almost imagine a younger Adrian holding on to his stepmother’s light because his mother and his mobster father didn’t emanate any.

After her death, I assume a part of him died, too. His human side. That’s why he’s now an unfeeling monster who cares about no one’s demands but his own.

“Do you miss her?” I whisper.

“She’s dead.”

“You can still miss her.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have no clue what that word means.”

“You don’t?”

“Not in the practical sense, no.”

“I can explain. It’s when—”

“I don’t want you to explain,” he cuts me off.

“But—”

“Drop it, Lia.” The bite in his tone suggests that he’s done entertaining my questions.

I glare up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“If you say so.”

His hand lowers until he cups my ass cheek. I wince, gripping his muscled bicep for balance. “You’re sore. Let me take care of that.”

He sits down on the bed and pulls me over his lap. The position is so vulnerable and causes heat to rise to my cheeks and I squirm. “I can lie on the bed.”

I whimper when Adrian cups my assaulted ass cheek. “Or you can stay still.”

He reaches for the ointment he keeps on my nightstand. My attention is robbed by the intricate tattoos on his arms, the way they swirl around his skin, adding another mysterious layer to his personality.

“What do the tattoos mean?” I ask before I can stop myself. I’ve always wanted to know, but I figured he wouldn’t answer. This morning, he feels closer somehow. It could be because he didn’t leave before I woke up or because he told me about himself as normal couples do.

Wait. We’re not a couple.

Right?

Adrian retrieves the ointment and slathers the cool cream on my backside. I wince but soon moan when he rubs it in gently.

“In the Bratva, each tattoo has meaning.” His voice is as cool as his repeated strokes.

“Like?”

“The red rose means I’ve killed before.”

I gulp at the reminder.

“What is it, Lenochka? I thought you wanted to know.”

“I do,” I blurt. “Is the map of Russia?”

“Correct.”

“Do you love it, Russia?”

“What type of question is that? Who doesn’t love their country?”

“I mean, do you love it enough to tattoo it on yourself?”

“No. It’s for another reason.”

“What is it?”

“The vacation I never got to take as a kid.”

“Is that why you have a compass on top of it?”

“That’s to remind me of how far I’ve come.”

“What about the skull.”

“That’s because I’m a thief.”

“A thief?”

“Hmm. How to explain this. The Bratva is also called the Vory, which is to say we’re thieves.”

“So it’s a brotherhood of thieves?”

He dips his finger against my folds. “Something like that.”

I suppress a moan. “Do you like it? Being a thief.”

“I like the surge of adrenaline it brings.”

“So you like the lifestyle?”

“Yes, I do.”

A pang of disappointment hits me at his assertive words. I don’t know why a part of me hoped that he didn’t have a choice in being who he is, that he can quit if he chooses to. But I was only fooling myself. Adrian willingly chose this life because he likes it, and there’s nothing that will deter him from it.

Letting the subject go, I fall into the sensations he’s eliciting in me, how he’s stroking my ass and gliding his fingers through my folds and to my opening.

My eyes flutter closed as I rest my cheek against his naked thigh.

Hot breaths tickle my ear as he whispers, “Don’t fall asleep, Lenochka.”

“Mmm. I’m not.”

“Good. Because I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me inside you until tomorrow.”