Pakhan's Rose Read online

  Blinking a few times in surprise, I blurted, “What does that mean?” Oh, my God, he showed up out of the blue when I looked like shit in my sweatpants, T-shirt, and a messy bun, and the only thing I cared to ask was the meaning of the word? Glancing behind his back, I noticed Dad’s car with Lorenzo holding the door for me, while another black car waited for Dominic, with Vitya in charge. He waved at me, and stupidly, I waved back.

  “Beautiful.”

  Huh? “Excuse me?”

  “The translation of the word. It means beautiful.”

  My cheeks heated as a blush spread over me. Despite the confusion, I felt my stomach flutter at the idea of him complimenting me like that. He was as freaking handsome as ever, with his hair loose over his shoulders. I barely restrained myself from tugging on it and bringing his mouth closer to mine to—

  Earth to Rosa!

  He grinned, and I quickly added, “I don’t need problems with my dad. Just leave.” A group of girls passed by us, giggling loudly as they scanned Dominic’s body, one of them winking cockily at him. Since his blank face gave no reaction to them, they went on their merry way with disappointed expressions. “Don’t hold back on my account,” I advised spitefully, and he raised his brow, right before satisfaction shone in his eyes.

  Okay, my being exhausted equaled stupid things. Any second now, he would think—

  “Jealous?”

  Yeah, exactly that. “No, I don’t care.” Before he could say anything else, I repeated annoyingly, “Dom, just go. A fight with my dad is not on my agenda for tonight.”

  Instead of doing what I asked, he extended his hand at me with a pink box wrapped in a red ribbon. “It’s for you.” He removed the heavy bag from my shoulder. “I handled stuff with your dad.”

  Staring at him stupidly, I asked, “Handled what exactly?”

  “He allowed me to woo you.”

  “Woo me?” Again, an amused smile, and why wouldn't he be amused, considering I acted like a damn parrot!

  “Date you, in other words.”

  “I know what woo means. It’s just not in the hands of my dad to decide it,” I snapped. “So—”

  He wrapped his arm around my waist, squishing me to his chest as he held my eyes with his intense stare. “One date, Rosa. Give me that, and if you are not interested, I’ll stop wooing you.”

  As much as my body sang “Hallelujah” when he was close, like how my freaking nipples puckered against my bra, I wasn't so sure about this whole dating thing.

  But what the hell.

  “Okay, fine,” I gave in, because who wouldn’t?

  “Tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up at seven.” Placing one hand on my hip, as the other one was still occupied with gift I had yet to unwrap, I said, “What if I have classes?”

  “You don’t.”

  I didn’t, but how did he know? “And you are so sure, because…?”

  “I checked your schedule online.”

  “You did what?” I shouted, but he just shrugged.

  “Seemed easier, the date required planning.” Then unexpectedly, he caressed my cheek with his bruised knuckles, and murmured, “Until then, krasavica.” With that, he gave a chin lift to Lorenzo, put the bag inside my car, and left me standing there like a freaking idiot.

  What the hell was going on here? This guy barely reminded me of the possessive beast from our every other encounter.

  “Just what is your game, Dominic?” I whispered, but even with my doubts, I couldn't deny the happiness blossoming inside me from the fact he hadn't given up.

  Once he was out of view, I tore the ribbon away, opened the lid of the box, and my eyes widened at the beautiful emerald earrings reminding me of teardrops. Similar to the ones Angelina Jolie wore for the Oscar ceremony in 2009.

  Dominic Konstantinov sure knew how to give one hell of a gift.

  Dominic

  As the car slowly drove in the New York traffic, I had time to admire the city’s beauty. Tall buildings, constantly busy streets, people wearing all kinds of clothes, and in all this, accepting whatever the fuck they wanted. Strangely enough, New York represented freedom and energy, making you always move forward, and it could swallow you whole if you didn't get with the program.

  “Amazing. She’ll love the present.” Michael assured me from the front seat, while Vitya drove the vehicle. He turned to me, steaming coffee in his right hand as his left held tight to his man. “See? You can act like a normal man around her.” Vitya chuckled.

  Michael frowned and raised his eyes to me. “What’s so funny about it?”

  Ignoring the question, I closed my eyes and rested the side of my head on the window as lights flickered on the streets.

  Dating Rosa was for her.

  However, the minute dating wouldn't be sufficient, or she decided to end it? She’d be fucking kidnapped to Russia and married to me.

  Brutal? Yes.

  But she was mine.

  Mine and nobody else’s.

  Man with the dragon tattoo

  Smashing the bottle of whiskey against the wall, I breathed heavily, my eyes searching for other things to destroy. With a shout of displeasure, I threw all the toiletries on the nightstand on the floor. A female cry penetrated the haze of anger surrounding me.

  Bianca, beaten up and bruised, tried to become invisible in the darkest corner of the room. Her blonde hair was sticky from the blood pouring from her wound, which she got from me slamming my belt buckle against her head. She trembled, because the air conditioner was running on high.

  Hot. I always felt fucking hot, to the point of my clothes sticking to my sweaty skin even in winter. “Shut up!”

  She jumped, pressing her fist over her mouth like it fucking helped with the sounds. “Please,” she begged, as she shook with sobs. “Stop hurting me.” Reaching her side in a few short steps, I grabbed her hair painfully. One more groan of pain erupted from her.

  “Next time, you think before instructing me on how to behave.” Slapping her cheek hard, I added, “I saw how you looked at him.”

  She wrapped her hands around her knees. “No, I didn’t. Please don’t hurt him.”

  Tilting my head back, I laughed bitterly. “Why? You wish to fuck him?” Her neck probably burned from the leather of the belt as I squeezed her, almost choking her on her own saliva. Her wrists and ankles were bloody from the cuts, and finally, my favorite, knife wounds all over her legs, stomach, and back.

  Too bad this time I really didn't have time to fuck her again.

  Don and Dominic had a truce. The pakhan surprised me, but their victory wouldn't last for long.

  Don Giovanni would pay for how he treated me all those years. And the pakhan would for the humiliation he inflicted on me years ago.

  I just had to be smarter this time.

  The smell of a pasta sauce, bolognese I suspected, penetrated my nostrils, and instant hunger overtook me.

  Slowly opening my eyes, I was blinded by the bright sunlight coming through the open door. The room appeared quite blurry. The soft sound of the birds chirping floated on the light breeze that brought relief to my heated skin. My mouth was so dry I was barely able to croak, “Water.” Since my head was turned to the side to hide from the light, the only thing I heard was someone dropping a pan lid, liquid pouring into a glass, then a few short, heavy steps, and the cup was near my lips as I welcomed the cooling sensation and hydration my body cried out for. “Slowly,” said the same soft, male voice from the other times I woke up, and then he took the cup away and a cold cloth swept over my face, removing the traces of sweat. “Hungry,” I replied, because my stomach grumbled to the point of something unbearable forming in my throat.

  “I will give you soup.” I was too weak to nod, so he left my side as I breathed through the pain, only now registering in my mind I probably should have been scared of this man and that I was at his mercy. But I wasn’t. Somehow, without knowing his name or even having a good look at his face or my surroundings, I felt safe.


  For now.

  “Hurts.” My whisper was so low I was afraid he wouldn't hear, but he did.

  “Eat, and then you will sleep again.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and after he’d adjusted the pillow behind me and scooted me up a bit, which sent a jolt of pain to my ribs, he pressed a delicious-smelling spoon of something to my mouth.

  But probably everything in this situation would have smelled heavenly to me.

  As my taste buds enjoyed the last of the minestrone soup, the vegetables almost melting in my mouth and not hurting my throat as I swallowed, sleepiness overtook me, and then my eyes closed of their own accord, even though my mouth still chewed slightly.

  The man lay me back on the bed, changed the sweat-soaked blankets, and I fell asleep to the door shutting loudly as the room darkened again.

  Rosa

  “Frankie, it’s not funny.”

  She kept giggling as we moved through her warehouse in the middle of the night. She turned on the lights one by one, as my eyes took in the beauty she had created a few years ago.

  The warehouse and design studio was located in Brooklyn, in one of the nicer neighborhoods. Connor had breathed down her neck about safety. Her place had five different rooms. Frankie and her assistant’s office walls were painted white, while the table, chair, round fluffy carpet, lamps, and laptop cover were all in shades of red. The second office had several desks for her staff of fifteen. The third space was a glass see-through room with a huge oval table for meetings. The fourth was a break room, so it had coffeemakers, microwaves, food, and other miscellaneous kitchen necessities.

  And finally, the fifth one, with various cupboards, shelves, and boxes, was where the finished creations lay.

  Frankie’s heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as she frantically searched for something.

  “Can I help you?”

  Giving me a side-glance, she murmured, “No, thanks.”

  Folding my arms, I said, “I do have a sense of style, you know.”

  She giggled, and then responded, “Right. Is that why you are going to classes in gym clothes?”

  “Hey, they’re comfortable,” I replied defensively, and she shrugged.

  “Seems stupid to me. You basically had no life all those years, and now, quite frankly, you look like shit. Take care of yourself, girl.” Her tight green dress hugged her perfectly, as she clipped her blonde hair up. “Okay. So this date. Do you need him to… what?”

  Frowning, I picked up a magazine she had lying around. “What do you mean?”

  “Is he supposed to lose his head and get hard, or get scared and run away from you? What’s the agenda?”

  “Well…” Shit, why was I blushing?

  “I got this,” she replied, opening up the huge closet on both sides as her finger slid from dress to dress on the hangers. There had to be thousands of those in there. Occasionally, she’d ask questions. “Dinner, or something else? What’s your shoe size? Hmm… perfect, but not your color. Too big of an ass, no offense. It’s a compliment, actually, for this dress.” My head spun from all this, so I plopped onto the lonely chair in the left corner and let her do her magic.

  This whole date on short notice required desperate measures, and who better to ask for a dress than Frankie? She lived and breathed fashion. Once she’d earned her bachelor’s degree in it, she opened up her own design studio with a loan from the bank. As she explained, she needed to do it on her own, even if she failed. However, she slowly gained popularity and was about to receive her biggest project, a collaboration with a lingerie brand. So far, her brand existed only online.

  “Finally!” she squealed, snapping me out of my thoughts as she took out a dress covered in a black garment bag. “Perfect for you, girl!” Standing, I tugged on the zipper, but she slapped my hand lightly. “No, no. Open it tomorrow.”

  “Why?” I wondered suspiciously. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her purse and motioned for me to follow her to the coffeemaker. “‘Cause I want you to. You can do that for me, right? After you showed up here on short notice?”

  Guilt took root in the pit of my stomach. She was already asleep when I spontaneously called her about my problem when I couldn't stop worrying about it. “Fine.”

  She put something inside the round coffee thing, placed two cups under the machine, and it buzzed loudly, making the hot drinks.

  “Tea would have been better.”

  She wiggled her nose in distaste. “God, no. I’m preparing decaf anyway. I have an important business meeting at noon and need to rest.”

  At that moment, I noticed her rather tense stance and the way she kept frowning. “Oh, my God, the deal for the collaboration? Why didn't you tell me before? I would have let you sleep.” She waved my words away, picked up the steaming cups, and sat opposite me.

  “The dress is an important part of the look, darling.” She took a sip, moaned, clearly enjoying the taste of caramel and milk in her mouth, then continued, “So… he’s a hunk, huh?” Despite knowing she had no interest in him whatsoever, the green-eyed monster started to grow in me, and I wanted to shout that he was mine. Who was the caveman now? Studying my expression, she grinned so bright I thought her white teeth would blind me. “Jealous, huh? No, seriously though, you like the guy. Why are you making such a big deal of it?”

  Resting my chin on my hands, I exhaled heavily. “Because it’s not normal.”

  She crooked her neck to the side. “What?”

  “This need to be with him and the desire I feel when I’m near him. No other guy ever did it for me. Plus, all his possessive tendencies… normal people don’t do this.”

  She was silent for a moment, and then, “Girl, you were never near guys generally. How can you even know what normal is, for that matter? Just enjoy it while it lasts. Explore it, if you heart desires it.”

  “He promised to let me go, if I wish.” She raised her brows in surprise, as her lips sipped coffee. “I believe him.”

  “Okay, then.” Somehow, I thought she evaded my last comment. “So just buckle up and enjoy the ride, babe.”

  “And if it doesn't work out?”

  She shrugged. “Then run, because he will hunt you down.” She laughed at her own joke, and although I joined her, I couldn't help but worry her words held truth.

  And part of me, the unexplainable part, was thrilled at the idea this man would never let me go.

  How freaking confusing was it?

  Dominic

  “My hands are tied here, Pakhan,” Dima explained, scattering all kinds of paperwork on the bar in my penthouse in New York as I had my morning tea. I purchased the apartment a few years back, on my last visit to New York. It gave me a perfect view of the Empire State Building, and the height gave me a sense of power just gazing at the city. The thing wasn't even fully furnished. A white couch sat on the black marble floor. I had a kitchen and bar, three empty bedrooms, and one—mine—with a mattress, candles, and painting equipment.

  What the fuck else did I need here anyway? Once I got together with Rosa, she could decorate it the way she wished. Or buy something else. I didn't give a shit where we lived, as long as she stayed by my side.

  “Not good enough. Radmir has to be out of prison by the end of the year. Find a loophole.”

  Dima gritted his teeth. “And how do you think I’ll accomplish that, Dom? He fucking killed a man! In this country, there is nothing that can save him from this!”

  I restrained myself from hitting him right in his pretty face. As much as the information pissed me off, I couldn't help but agree.

  Radmir had no chance back then, and Vasya did nothing to bring him back to Moscow so he could serve his sentence there. We had a fighting chance, but Vasya just wouldn't listen to reason.

  “Dima, I don’t care. Fix it.”

  He placed his hands on the bar top while he stared at me. “Facts. The whole truth. What the fuck happened back then? I cannot defend him if he doesn't want to cooperate with me.”

  �
�I have no information about it either.”

  He cursed, “That fucker is the toughest nut to crack.”

  Tapping with case folder on the wood, I ordered once again. “End of the year, Dima.”

  Sighing, he nodded, scooped up all the documents, and with a chin lift exited the apartment, leaving me to enjoy this beautiful morning alone.

  I padded softly to my sunroom, grabbing a brush in the process. My hands itched to color the blank canvas. Opening the window so the breeze would dry my painting more naturally, I dipped the brush in water then yellow paint, and recreated the image of New York in the twenties. I loved the vintage era, the great fucking Gatsby.

  Art was the one beautiful, exceptional thing that could calm me down in this world of chaos. The sounds of brushes or pencils touching the canvases, the smell of dry paints, and aching muscles from all the hours of hard work soothed me as nothing else could.

  And finally, moments free of anything but the feeling of creating something beautiful.

  But then another image in my head assaulted me. Long, silky, dusky hair spread on black satin sheets as her eyes widened when my cock entered her tight heat.

  Rosa, my Rosalinda.

  After four hours, my exhausted body fell onto the mattress as I closed my eyes anticipating tonight. I would have an opportunity to display my woman to an entire world and stake my claim.

  Sleep during the day didn't have nightmares after all.

  No vile voices of Richard or Alfred.

  No feeling like a piece of trash with no rules to live.

  Nothing.

  Man with the dragon tattoo

  So the pakhan wanted his sovietnik back in Russia, so he could inflict revenge on the people who wronged him.

  A sinister smile spread across my mouth as I picked up the phone to call one of my men in the Texas prison.

  Radmir Abdulabekov wouldn't survive another dawn.

  And I would make sure all traces lead to Cosa Nostra.

  My head rested on the pillow as my eyes scanned the room until Quinn would show up from his afternoon stroll in the woods.