Sasha: Chapter 20

A heavy knock sounded at the door.

I sighed.

I wasn’t in the mood for company. Exhaustion pulled on my bones. My father’s funeral wasn’t particularly sad nor upsetting but the knowledge that the wedding with Killian would be set freaked me out a bit.

Fully expecting my brother at the door, I went to open it with a big, fake smile on my face. Alessio had a strange notion of privacy. He expected everyone to knock and never enter his space without permission. I suspected it had something to do with the shit our father put him through.

Six months had gone by since New York City. My father was dead. Good riddance! The fucker was cruel and destroyed so many lives. I hoped he burned in hell for all eternity.

Sasha Nikolaev would be dead. For making me waste four years on a promise. A stupid goddamn promise.

Another knock. Heavier this time.

Steeling my spine, I pulled the door open, my eyes widened and my breath cut short. Sasha stood in front of me, his gaze filled with something dark and dangerous. It lowered, traveling over my body. I was in my black leggings and red sweater while he wore a white, dress shirt, dark blue tie, and gray suit pants.

My survival instinct kicked in and I tried to shut the door on him. His big hand pressed against the door, keeping it open.

“Get out,” I hissed.

He grinned. He was handsome. In a predatory kind of way. He was hot. In a psychotic kind of way. And his smile, it was the unhinged kind of smile that promised hell.

“I don’t think so, kotyonok.” The nerve of this man. “You owe me something.”

I glared at him.

“The only thing I owe you is a broken nose.” I attempted again to shove the door closed. His foot blocked it. “My brother will kill you.” My voice shook from anger or something else, I wasn’t certain.

“Both of us know, your brother is busy banging your friend right now.”

I shook my head despite the fact I knew he was right. “I’ll scream. His men will kill you.”

He took a step forward, I took a step back. “We both know they won’t kill me. But I might kill them.”

See, this was what happened when you played with fire. You got burnt. Or in this case, you end up on Sasha Nikolaev’s radar. Which was probably worse.

He took another step forward and I mirrored one backwards. He shut the door, his eyes hot enough to set my skin on fire.

“You and I need to talk. About your choice of a husband.” His tone was dark, almost threatening.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I breathed.

His gaze flashed with something sardonic. Threatening. Unhinged. “There’s plenty to talk about. We can start with a promise you made.”

I swallowed. “That promise is null and void.”

I was so goddamn stupid to make that promise to him.

A dark chuckle vibrated through the room. Ominous and threatening. “Only if you want death on your hands,” he whispered, darkness lacing his voice as he continued stalking towards me. I couldn’t decide who the threat was aimed at. Me or someone else.

My back hit the bedroom wall.

“Do you want to have another man’s blood on your hands?” he asked.

“Only yours,” I rasped, proving I had no brain.

He pressed his hands against the wall on either side of me.

“I’ll bleed for you.” The rasp of his voice brought goosebumps to my skin as a shiver rolled down my spine. His lips skimmed up my neck. “I’ll kill for you.” I sucked in a breath as he bit the sensitive skin where my neck and jaw met. “But nobody else will have you.”

I shivered.

“I’ve waited seven years. You’re mine.” He pressed his mouth against my ear.

‘No, I’ve waited for seven years,’ I claimed with a conviction that was quickly waning. ‘You were strutting around the world with an Olympic figure skater while I waited. I waited and you never came back. Well, the wait is over for me. I chose someone else.”

“Are you jealous?” It didn’t escape me that he ignored my jab at him. Instead, he dared to ask me if I was jealous.

“Each time I turned on the television, it was a smack in my face,” I spat out, a tinge of bitterness ringing in my voice. “I don’t need that shit, and I certainly don’t need you and your broken promises.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about with Wynter,” he growled.

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I told him. “Because I’m marrying someone else.”

A growl sounded between us. “Who is he?” He demanded to know, a hint of threat weaving in the darkness of his voice. I pressed my lips together. There was no way in hell I’d give him Killian’s name.

My breathing was erratic. My heart hammered hard, threatening to crack my ribs.

“It’s none of your business.”

The words would be more convincing if my lips weren’t parted and my body wasn’t rubbing against his. He smelled so good. Too good. Too tempting. His body heat ignited every inch of me and my heartbeat throbbed between my legs.

“All of it is my business.”

Desire hazed my vision as I watched him through half-lidded eyes. He was just as I remembered him. Built like a brick wall with an appearance of a gentleman but every single inch of him was savage. He moved with the grace of a panther and the viciousness of a bear. He reeked of ruthlessness and danger. It was in the shadows that lurked in his eyes and in the way the black ink decorated his fingers. But most of all, it was in the way he watched me. I held his gaze, but with each second that ticked, the stakes became higher. It was like a game of Russian roulette. The irony wasn’t lost on me as I stared at the Russian before me.

My breathing was erratic, as his hands slid down my waist, my hips, skimming the outsides of my thighs. Heat sizzled in my veins, tightening in my breasts

But then I remembered the last time I saw him and instantly all the heat evaporated.

I’d be nobody’s play thing.

He raised two fingers and pressed them against my lips.

“Suck.”

My body and my reason battled. I wanted to drown in a pool of lust with him but my reason demanded retribution. I wanted him to feel bitterness like I had. Every piece of information I found on Sasha and Wynter Flemming iced my veins and my heart.

I drew his fingers into my mouth and I waited for the right moment. His gaze darkened and satisfaction filled his expression. I stared at his beautiful face. The nose ring and the thin scar on the bottom of his lip made him appear even more brutal, but none of it compared to those eyes. The eyes that could freeze and melt ice, depending on his mood.

Before I’d fall under his spell, I bit into his fingers with all my strength.

“What the fuck–”

I reached for the knife I always kept on me and pointed it at his neck. Just the way he taught me. Surprise flashed in his gaze and then his eyes narrowed.

“Well look at that,” I purred. “The student mastered the teacher.”

He didn’t look upset. If anything, he seemed impressed.

“You going to stab me, kotyonok?” Pressing the blade against his skin, I nicked his skin and watched blood trickle down his inked skin. “Little girls shouldn’t play with knives,” he drawled.

A viscous grin appeared on my face. “Good thing, I’m not a little girl.”

He didn’t look scared at all. His mistake.

“You’re going to kill me, kotyonok?” he mused. “Better not delay, because I’m taking you home.”

I couldn’t stab him in the heart. Nor slice his throat. Something about hurting him didn’t sit well with me, but he wouldn’t be telling me what to do either.

So I kicked him in his balls with all my strength. He hunched over and I slid past him, bolting out the door.