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I pictured Nadja, the fall of her long black hair, her porcelain skin. I remembered her lips had been so pink, the shade of bubblegum. They’d tasted just as fucking sweet too. They’d always swell when I kissed her. And then there were her eyes, so green they were like cut emeralds. I swore I could look into them and see my fucking future. And it always led me to her.
And when she told me she didn’t want anyone else in her life, that I was the only man she would ever love, I didn’t hold back my possessive, obsessive side.
Fuck, I was getting hard as I thought about that last night I’d been with her, the first and only time I’d been inside her, claimed her. Then again, getting aroused wasn’t a surprise where she was concerned. I just had to picture Nadja’s face and I was sporting a damn lead pipe between my thighs.
God, I missed her. I wanted her back. But it was clear I wasn’t destined to be happy.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I could jerk one off right now thinking about her, imagining how tight and wet she’d been for me all those years ago. It would feel good, really fucking good to come with the image of her in my mind, but after it was all said and done, that ache in my chest would just intensify. It always did. So I punished myself, didn’t touch my dick, didn’t get off. I wanted to. I wanted to really fucking badly. But denying myself made me feel stronger.
I’d been denying myself the pleasure of having a woman for five years. She’d been the last woman I’d been intimate with, because no one else compared to Nadja. No female ever would.
Maybe one day our paths would cross once more. Or maybe I needed to get off my ass and try to find her again, search high and low until she was mine. Damn the consequences.
It wasn’t like I had anything else worthy in my life. It wasn’t like she didn’t consume my thoughts every fucking second of every fucking day.
She was my life. She always had been, and she always would be, even if I never saw her again.
I thought I reached a dead end all those years ago, and knew it was my reality when her father told me I’d never see her again, and if I didn’t let her go, I’d be six feet under the ground. That despair had thrown me into a darkness I didn’t think I’d climb back out of.
Because I hadn’t wanted to climb out of it.
And even if I knew trying to find her was a lost cause, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do right now; it wasn’t like I didn’t obsess about her every damn second of every damn day.
Being alone had that effect.
Falling in love had that effect.
I’d find Nadja, no matter how long it took, no matter who I had to tear down to make that a reality.
I’d probably die in the process by her father’s hands, but I didn’t care. If I could just see her once more, it would be all worth it.
She’d be mine, because life wasn’t worth shit without her in it.
5
Nadja
I couldn’t breathe, this heaviness on my chest. Then again, I’d been feeling it for the last five years, after my father took me away from Frankie, away from a life I desperately wanted. He’d carted me off to Russia, to be locked away in a prison.
His prison.
No outside communication. No friends. No phone calls.
Nothing.
Five years of crying myself to sleep.
Five years of wondering if Frankie moved on with his life, if he was even okay. Had my father kept his promise and not hurt him? I had to pray that was the case, because it was the only thing that kept me going, that didn’t have me rebelling and fighting with everything in me.
I stared at myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, the white gown on me form-fitting. Disgust filled me, and I wanted to cry even harder. I wanted to beg to whoever would listen to me to give me a second chance, to stop this arranged marriage.
Since moving back to Russia, my father had been trying to groom me, make me believe and accept that this marriage to Maximillian was something I wanted.
I’d never feel that way, never agree to accept this as my fate. There was a part of me—even if unrealistic—that said one day I’d be with Frankie again.
I would never bend to anyone’s will. My father should have been proud I took after him in that regard.
“Beautiful,” Marina said, but she had this sadness in her voice. She didn’t meet my eyes in the reflection of the mirror as she went around and smoothed out my dress.
