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Cautiously, I do it again, and this time he parts his lips and his tongue flicks out to wet my thumb. His breath is hot, and his gaze darkens. I sense myself being drawn to him, as though our bodies are magnetized. Why the hell am I so powerless around these men?
I remember my promise to myself, that I will give myself over to them if it means they keep me safe.
I’m still sore from my night with Tino. Being so close to Dom gets everything heated up down there again, and I have to resist the urge to press my body against his and let him take me. Will he like to see the red marks on my ass from where Tino hit me with his belt, or will they make him angry? That little perverse part of me is excited to find out which way he’ll go.
Footsteps hammer down the corridor toward us, and I catch my breath and step back, breaking the spell. This isn’t about me and Dom right now, and it certainly isn’t about sex. Kirill might be hurt. Nataniele appears with Tino close behind.
“What the fuck is going on?” Nataniele demands.
He suddenly spots me there, and blinks. “Oh, Mackenzie. Good to see you’re back. You worried your mother.”
His words are cold, and he looks at me as if I am as welcome as fungus, but at least he’s being civil, which after everything that has happened is saying something.
I shrug. I don’t need or want this to be about me right now.
Dom steps forward. “Kirill’s father is here, in his room. He has some thug with him. He thinks Kirill stole money and is threatening to kill him.”
Nataniele’s gaze narrows on his son’s face. He grabs Dom’s jaw and twists it to get a look at the mark. “Did they do this to you?”
Dom nods.
Nataniele’s eyes darken with anger. I clamp my mouth shut, a part of me wanting to point out all the other marks on Dom’s face, and how much worse they are than the ones the Russians gave him, but I know it won’t do any good. Dom is Nataniele’s son, and in Nataniele’s eyes, it gives him the right to do whatever the hell he wants. Having another man lay a hand on his son is a whole other matter, however. He treats his son like his property, which might go some way to explaining Dom’s total disconnect from normal emotions.
“He did this under my roof?”
Dom nods, not meeting his father’s eye. “Yes, sir.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Nataniele turns and storms up the staircase, taking them two at a time. Dom, Tino, and I all exchange a glance, and then we hurry after him. If Kirill is in danger, then we all want to be there with him. He shouldn’t have to face this alone.
Domenic moves cautiously, but he seems all right—physically, anyway. We rush through the building in Nataniele’s footsteps, until we hear shouting. One of the voices is Russian, though I know it’s not Kirill’s. My stomach twists, and I pray he’s going to be okay.
Two large men, one of whom is unmistakably Kirill’s father, are walking down the corridor toward us. He’s shouting at the man who’s a few paces behind him, gesturing with one hand. The second man has a small mahogany box tucked under one arm. Behind them, at the other end of the corridor, is Kirill. I let out a sigh of relief. He’s still alive. For the moment.
The two men spot us and Nataniele approaching and draw to a halt.
“Mr. Stepanov,” Nataniele says, “what do you think you’re doing, coming onto this property without permission and assaulting my students?”
“I do not need your permission, Rossi,” he spits. “You know how much money I pump into this place. I could buy it outright multiple times over.”
Nataniele folds his arms and regards the other man. “As could many of the parents of the students here, but that doesn’t give you right to come into these premises and hit the students, especially not when one of them is my son.” His tone is low and filled with anger, but somehow he manages to keep his cool.
There are very few times I will ever look back and think that I admired Nataniele in any way, but right now, I do. I can see the man who’s built this place, the one who’s had a clearly successful career, no matter how illegal it might be. Kirill’s father is a scary man, but so is Nataniele. It’s like watching two silverback gorillas come face to face, and having no idea which one is going to win.
Stepanov glances over his shoulder at his friend and says something in Russian. The other man replies and gives a shrug.
“I apologize for hitting your son,” Kirill’s father says, refocusing his attention on Nataniele. “My anger got away from me. I hope you can forgive me. As for Kirill, he and I have spoken, and we’ve come to an agreement. It seems he’d prefer to stay here than return to his homeland, so that’s what he’ll be doing…for the moment, anyway. It isn’t the end of this, however. He has stolen a large sum of money from me, and no matter the reasoning behind it, he still must be punished if it’s to be found that I am out of pocket.”
Kirill lingers, his head down, his hands in his pockets. He’s embarrassed and ashamed, and my heart goes out to him. I want to hold him and tell him he’s got us, but I don’t dare interfere. I can’t risk making things worse, and right now, Kirill is still standing, and it appears as though his father is leaving.
Nataniele nods. “As long as it’s understood that I won’t stand for personal issues being taken out on students underneath this roof. If you have a problem with your son, you deal with it on your own time and on your own turf.”
“I understand.”
I glance back at Tino and Dom with a frown. That isn’t exactly what I wanted him to say. Does that mean if Mr. Stepanov decides to take out more of his anger on Kirill, he’ll simply whisk him back to Russia to do so? If Kirill goes back to Russia, will he ever come back to us?
I can’t imagine the Devils existing without Kirill. His absence would remove some essential part of how they fit together. He might like to party and fight, but there’s also a dark intensity underneath all of that. He’d defend the other two until death, I’m sure of it, but he also knows how to bring them out of whatever black hole they might have fallen into.
