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Fury soon ignites my rage, seeing she’s alone. Why is the Bratva princess outside, unprotected?
Suffocating emotions I’ve pushed out of my mind, fire back, and I’m not in control of myself. My pace quickens along the paving stones my family paid for. I don’t need to jog, my long legs get me wherever I need to go in a hurry. Plus, when I run, I’m told I look like a freight train. I always wonder if smoke comes out of my ears.
It takesa lotfor me to run. Nothing is that important for me to look like a maniac and draw unnecessary attention to myself.
I halt when Katya turns around and springs from the bench.
“Oh!” she cries out, her sweet voice hitting me in the chest.
With no one around, she looks achingly forbidden. That’s why I can’t shake this craving I have for her. It’s right in the fucking Book of Genesis! I breathe easier, realizing what’s captured me.
Just because I figured out why the fuck I’m so fascinated with her doesn’t mean it’s not eating me alive. Knowledge is supposed to be power. Basking in her eyes, I’m the most powerless I’ve ever felt in my life.
Sign… It’s a sign.
What makes you weak should be avoided.
“Where is your guard?” I bark.
She clasps her fingers in front of her narrow, trim torso. “I don’t have a guard. Just a driver. He’s probably getting gas. I came outside, and he was gone.”
Seriously? She doesn’t have a fucking guard?
“Does he do that a lot? Leave you alone?” My harsh voice makes her blink.
“Um, sometimes. Why? What’s the problem?” She rocks back and forth on her heels.
I dial my shit back. Up close, the difference in my size compared to hers alarms me even more. “You’re a Bratva princess. You shouldn’t ever be alone in public.”
She bellows a laugh that can bring me to my knees. “Princess. That’s a good one.” Staring at me under her lashes, she adds, “What are you doing out here?”
“I saw you in the church,” I say, keeping my voice even. “You shouldn’t spy on a man like me.”
“I was lighting a candle for mymaman.” Her delicate shoulders slump. “I wasn’t spying on you.”
I stalk toward her, testing her. To my surprise, she doesn’t run away. “Good thing. I don’t like people watching me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Katya smiles, and my axis shifts. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your prayers.” She folds her arms softly, no sign of tension in her body.
“Why are you praying at St. Agatha’s? Aren’t you Russian Orthodox?” I recall seeing her with her father at the church where he begs for atonement.
“No.” She snorts, and it sends jolts of lust through me. “I’m Catholic, like you. French, actually. Well, half. My mother was French.”
“Is that so?” I heard her mother was Koslov’s whore, but I won’t disrespect her by bringing that up.
Christ, this girl is young. At thirty-eight, everyone seems younger these days. And shorter compared to my six-six height.
“Yulia, Papa’s housekeeper, used to bring me here.” She lowers her head and discreetly crosses herself. “Before she…died.”
I heard Koslov shot his housekeeper after Stasia disappeared. For someone who murders for a living, even I despisedthatmove. The handful of guards he executed? That’s the cost and filthy side of this life. I had to kill a guard once and beat the ever-loving shit out of another one. It’s not fun.
“I don’t come to masses.” I find myself wanting to talk to Katya and keep listening to that angelic voice. “Not anymore. I don’t need to hear sermons and songs. And I don’t subscribe to talking to Jesus through saints. I come here to talk directly to him.”
“Jesus or God?” she asks, with a sweet curiosity.
I shove my rosary deeper into my pocket. Getting back to my novena will have to wait. “Jesus. He’s God’s messenger.”
“Hmmm. I got the feeling in my studies that they’re one.”
