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She held it together until he slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone in a room as cold as a crypt. A crack formed in the impenetrable wall she had put around herself, and she slumped onto the mattress.
Viking Skarsgard.
My love.
My life.
My captor.
CHAPTER 6
VIKING
He shouldn’t have touched her. Especially not since she’d been almost buck naked. Baran had told him how they’d found her in Pedro’s cellar. His eyes flashed, but he had reined his anger in. Why should he care that Pedro had been about to hand her over to his men? She had it coming. That’s what she got for trusting a Morelli. She deserved whatever he had planned for her. Not that it mattered any longer. She was his now, abducted and tucked up nicely, to do with as he pleased. It was the way of their world; you snooze, you lose.
Still, touching her had been a mistake. Just the touch and smell of her skin took him back sixteen years. Even then, all it had taken was one touch, one look, and he would drop everything just to have her. Gone was the reason they were fighting over, and every single working brain cell flew right out the window.
He thought back on how, a few weeks ago, he had seen her again after so many years. Dressed in a nightgown, walking on spiked heels, with a hundred-dollar haircut, and her nails perfectly manicured with not a trace of grease underneath them. There was nothing left of his hazel-eyed girl. The girl that had lived in jeans and sneakers. The girl that used to spend time in his garage, handing him stuff when he was working on his bike. She was much thinner than he remembered, too. No, Elena Morelli was now everything she once hated: a high-end pretty doll, nothing but arm candy for a man.
It was as Kristoff said. Know your weakness, then cut it out like the disease it is. That was exactly what he would do. He was going to amputate her from his life, like a gangrenous limb.
He pushed past Baran, who was hovering in the hallway.
“Fucking gangrene.”
Baran looked up. “Gangrene?”
Great. Now he was talking to himself. He took the stairs until he was outside, and walked into Kristoff’s garden. At the end of the estate, next to the fountain, Vicky sat talking to Katya. Those two had hit it off, though he was informed his daughter kept asking to see him. He’d been avoiding her, as he had an inkling what she wanted to talk about.
Putting Elena in Kristoff’s old wine cellar had seemed the smart thing to do at the time. Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He took the door around the back and walked to the library. Kristoff loved holding meetings there. The room was swept for bugs every morning and had an old-world feeling with the Persian carpet, rows of oak bookshelves, and even a green library lamp on a mahogany desk.
He plopped into a leather chair and took a deep breath. He could still smell her. It was like her hair had its own perfume, making him dizzy. How the hell was that even possible after the days she had spent down there?
Baran followed him in and closed the door. The boy was like his shadow, ever since he saved him from his kidnappers as a teen. So much so, that when his father—one of the biggest dealers in Istanbul—had decided to send someone over to set up their Europe-Asian pipeline, Baran had volunteered to be the liaison. When their deal was made, the kid had stayed, stating he owed Viking a life, and he wasn’t leaving until paying his debt. Ever since, Baran was like a bee to his honey. Those Turks took their vows damn seriously.
“Get Artist here. I want him on Vicky twenty-four seven.”
Baran’s eyes turned hard. “What? You don’t trust me around your daughter?”
“Did I hurt your feelings? You turning into a woman now? I got another job for you. Also, you’re the biggest player around, and a calculating, cold-hearted bastard. If you did or said anything to upset my girl, I might have to kill you.”
The odds of him chopping Art into pieces for doing that was less likely. The guy had a soft spot for women and was still mourning his wife.
A shadow crossed Baran’s eyes. “First of all, I consider Vicky my sister now.”
Viking knew he didn’t say those words lightly. Baran was kidnapped along with his twin sister when they were just kids. They had never found her.
“And second, Artist is showing Sokolov the merchandise and will be back in a few hours.”
Of course, the St. Petersburg Bratva leader had hit their shore. He’d brought his nieces with him who were, in their own way, part of the deal. Being old-fashioned as he was, Sokolov had never married and fathered no children, as was the way with the Bratva.
The dinner was tomorrow. He had to stay focused and keep his eye on the ball. To do that, he had to forget Elena was in that shithole downstairs, shivering from the cold, with no real food. For a second, that didn’t sit right with him. Just for a split-second. She deserved worse.
“So, your job for me?” Baran looked mildly bored like he always did. The kid prided himself on his heritage, claiming one of his ancestors used to be a sultan reigning on three continents. No job was ever hard enough, no mountain too high.
Viking put his hands behind his neck and leaned back. Then he gave Baran a smug smile the kid believed he had dibs on.
“Yeah, it’s a serious op. A big responsibility and shit.”
