AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It leads directly up to the penthouse,” Adrian explains. “That way I don't have to walk through the casino floor.”
Can't really blame him. The Volkov name is known throughout Vegas. It brings both intrigue and fear to those who hear it. The doors open, and I'm carried out to a sea of opulence. The entire outer walls are nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the wave of lights coming from the Las Vegas Strip. Burnt orange leather sofas and black armchairs are strategically placed in front of those windows for optimal city viewing.
It's so different from the house. It's cozier and less gaudy. There's a comfortable simplicity to it that makes me wonder which place he prefers more. Strolling through the penthouse he doesn't bother with a tour but takes me straight back to the bedroom where he sets me gently on the oversized duvet, so my feet are dangling over the edge.
“I'm sorry about the house,” I whisper regrettably. “I know it's been in your family since your father came to America.”
Adrian shrugs as he helps me out of my shoes. “Houses can be remade.” He stands and goes to the bathroom. I can hear water running and when he comes back out, he's holding a white cloth. “You can't be.”
“Well, at least you wouldn't have been forced to marry me,” I joke to lighten the mood, as he washes down my sore feet. He stops his ministrations and looks up at me his face dark and serious.
“Don't say that.”
His voice is a gentle susurration that belies the savage look on his face. Having him look at me like I'm something special to him causes my emotions to spiral and I can't keep the tears back anymore. There aren't many people in my life that have shown me kindness outside of those who raised me. My own parents never felt the need to hold me or care for me as parents should. Even my grandfather, though he often showed me a gentle side of him, never showed me any true compassion or kindness. He never looked at me the way Adrian is looking at me now.
Like I'm the center of his world.
Like I matter. In this moment I don't feel disposable. I don't feel like a pawn that can be easily tossed to the side when their use is done. This is not Adrian looking at me but Adrik, the mysterious boy I fell in love with so many years ago.
Adrian's arms wrap around me, and he gently pulls me into his chest. This time I'm not fighting him or the pull between us. I bite my bottom lip fighting to keep the sobs at bay. Fighting to regain control, but it's useless. The trauma of tonight's events just seemed to compound everything that has happened since that fateful night.
“Come on,” he ushers me gently. “Let's get you cleaned up.”
I chuckle as I look down at my soot and grime-covered body. “What?” I tease. “Smoke kink not your thing?”
He flashes me a megawatt smile. “I'm into any kink you're into baby.” He licks his lips. “I'll take you right here, right now, if that's what you want.”
Be still my beating heart.
All the blood in my body rushes to my core.
Dropping the cloth to the floor, Adrian stands pulling me along with him. His hands caress my backside, kneading the flesh before hoisting me into his arms. My legs automatically wrap around his muscled waist. He smells of smoke, sweat, and a hint of sandalwood. It's soothing, and I breathe him in as he carries me into the bathroom. In his arms, I can forget about everything. Every unkind touch. Every mean word.
I know this doesn't mean that he's changed. A tiger can't change its stripes and I don't expect him to. He's always going to be the mafia boss and whatever happened to make him this way isn't just going to disappear overnight. I remember what Svetlana told me. That no matter our rocky start he would treat me with the respect that being his wife deserves. Is that what he is doing now? Is he treating me this way because he suddenly gave me the title of his wife or because he actually cares for me?
What happens when we disagree or when he grows bored of me? Will he seek comfort from someone like Celia again? Will I be made a mockery of? Adrian isn't a good man. He's a killer. A king whose empire is built on blood. Does that mean that he won't be a good husband?
I guess only time will tell.
“What did you find out from the sniper?” I ask. “Did he tell you anything?”
When we reach the bathroom, Adrian deposits me on my feet. The tiled floor is cold against my warmed flesh. He's quiet as he runs the bathwater, his fingers dipping in to ensure that it's not too hot or too cold. For some reason that small move grips at my heart. It's such a simple thing but it brings tears to my eyes.
“Did you know that Ada’s mother was Albanian?” He kneels down in front of me, sliding his fingers along the waistband of my pants. Slowly he draws the fabric down my legs placing a kiss over every bruise and scratch that climbing the lattice caused. Can a heart burst with fullness?
“Not at first,” I admit softly. My eyes are transfixed on his as he continues to remove every scrap of my clothing. “I've been trying to wrap my head around everything. On who would want my family dead or why someone would hire a hitman to take out an entire household worth of people? I was twelve when Ada’s mother died. My father said that she was on her way to pick Ada up from where he'd stashed her, and at the time I was too consumed with my friend's grief to think about what he said.”
Adrian stands. Taking my hand, he helps me into the tub. The water is so high that when I sit some of it sloshes over the edge, but he doesn't seem to mind. The water is warm and inviting. It’s a cocoon of safety around me that washes away the rest of the world until it’s only me and Adrian. Nothing else exists outside of our bubble.
He grabs a washcloth and squeezes a drop of body wash onto it before he begins to clean away the evidence of the night from my body.
“Cora never drove herself anywhere,” I continue after a moment. “She wasn't allowed a license. When I was sorting through anyone and everyone who I thought would take out an entire family, it all came back to her. And then I read the coroner's report. She was stabbed and beaten to where her body was pretty much unrecognizable. And then she had no head. Someone had taken it just like they took my parents' and my grandfather’s.”
“The hitman's name was Luan Osmani,” he informs me. “He was Cora’s brother and a serial killer.”
That information confirms the theory that has been rolling around in my mind.
“I think the body that was found wasn't Cora’s,” I say. “But a body double. Everyone would think it was her because there was no cause for anyone else to be in that room.”
