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“Things change,” my father sighs.
He stiffens suddenly, and his grip tightens as a shadow falls across our path. The scent of leather mingling with alcohol fills the air, and my pounding heart freezes as if I’ve just been dunked into a bath of ice.
“Am I interrupting?”
I turn slowly, and like some handsome angel, I’m face to face with my godfather, Kristof Lazarov.
4
KRISTOF
“What on earth are you wearing?”
Mara’s subdued screech draws the attention of a few onlookers, but most are quick to look away. My reputation speaks for itself, and I’ve made it clear, more than once, that I don’t care to be stared at. Mara strides toward me, looking beautiful in a silver dress that glitters like a pool of water with every step. I’d tell her as much if she weren’t such a raging bitch.
“Where is Aleksander?” I ask, ignoring her demand and seeking out my boss instead.
Mara’s eyes snap from me to my date and then back again with the intensity of freshly sharpened daggers. My date steps back slightly, tightening her grip on my arm. I do not.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just walked in on? You turn up here, to such an elegant affair, in a bloodied shirt and leather jacket?” Mara’s pale face flushes purple as she tries to keep her voice down and her anger contained in such a public setting. I’m tempted to push her a little further to enjoy watching her explode in front of a crowd, but time spent with her is not why I’m here.
“And you bring some… some—who even are you?” she barks at my date.
“Uh, I’m Melanie. It’s nice to meet?—”
“Careful, Mara, any closer and I’ll think you want a hug. I’d hate for such a dress to be stained by uh…” I glance down at myself. “Blood, sweat, and maybe some gore…?”
Mara’s face flushes so dark you could push her over with a feather with how shocked she looks. I ignore her, instead brushing past her and scanning the party for the person I most want to see. Sadly, she isn’t here, but hope is not lost when I glimpse her briefly through the window overlooking the back gazebo.
I leave Mara to her shock and head through the party toward the garden. People step out of my way without a thought, just a taste of the command I respect from these people. I’ve never shied away from getting my hands dirty or going to extreme lengths to protect those I’m loyal to. Acts like that come with a price and a reputation.
As I approach the gazebo, some of Alena’s conversation with her father reaches my ears. Something about her being selfish? Hard to believe, really. She’s the gentlest person I know. Almost too delicate for a world this harsh.
“Am I interrupting?”
Alena spins to face me and my breath catches slightly in my throat. She’s fucking stunning, and I’m utterly enraptured by her beauty.
Her big brown eyes stare up at me, lined in black with just a hint of sparkle on her lids. Her long blonde hair is coiled on top of her head, with a few stray strands falling loose. I’m almost jealous of how they caress her bare shoulders when she moves. Her petite yet curvy body is wrapped up in a red dress that leaves very little to the filthy imagination, especially with how high it bunches up her thigh.
I can’t look away, no matter how I scold myself.
Standing an entire foot taller than her, for a moment, I’m consumed with the thought of her trapped beneath me, squirming and begging for more as I use her until my cock is fucking raw, her blonde hair like crushed silk in my fist as I take her apart inch by inch. As beautiful as the dress is, I’d rather see her naked and on display, every inch of her available to me.
I swallow those thoughts as Aleksander steps forward and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Kristof, it is good to see you, my friend.”
“Aleksander.” I greet him first as respect demands, but my eyes never leave Alena’s. Her cheeks dust pink and her wide eyes dart from me to Melanie, then down to where Melanie hangs onto the crook of my arm.
“Alena.”
Her eyes dart back to me, and her full, cherry-red lips part. She stares at me the way she always does, too open and honest. I’ve enjoyed it, truth be told, having her follow in my shadow. I wonder if it pleases her in the dark where no one can witness her sin. I find myself hoping so. She pleases me, after all.
“Kristof.”
“Happy Birthday.” I hand over the larger present, and her eyes widen further as she studies the silver paper and black bow.
“Oh, thank you! I wasn’t expecting anything.” She trips over her words, and her delicate fingers fumble over the wrapping, tearing desperately to see the prize inside.
“You look rough.” Aleksander chuckles and draws deeply on the waning cigar in his hand. “Long night?”
