CLARA ROSSI

I might have had a couple of shots of tequila.

I had to. How else was I going to convince myself to play my mom's puppet?

Plus, I couldn't risk my dad firing me from Rebel Ink. Who knew why he invited us.

And obviously, I made sure that the money was sent to charity. It better.

Amidst the applause, Charlotte made her way toward me on stage. We had to take pictures.

My mom tried to make me take some with her friends as well. But I snuck out of there before they could open their mouths to ask.

"By the way, what are you wearing?" Charlotte muttered on our way to her table.

"Feel free to take it off later." I winked.

She tilted her head with a slow and surprised grin. "Are you drunk?"

"Am I? Or are we flirting?"

"Both?"

"Hey, you paid fifty thousand dollars. I better be worth it."

"I know you will be." She looped arms with me, laughing. "Considering I've never been on a date before. So I have nothing to compare it to."

"Get out." I scowled. A supermodel like her? A badass like her? Charlotte?

"Try living with three overprotective mafia men. I'm a twenty-year-old virgin who's probably going to die alone."

"What about—" I was about to say Andrei, but we were already in front of them.

Andrei, Niko and Da—Volkov. Volkov. I refused to acknowledge him by his first name.

It made things too personal.
Last names kept us distant.
Distance kept me safe.

"Thanks for stealing my date, jerk." He complained to Charlotte.

"Sorry not sorry." Charlotte gloated, tugging me closer. "She's mine."

My chest warmed with a fuzzy feeling. I leaned into her—well, swayed, due to the alcohol—but she remained solid.

Not as nice as Volkov. Volkov's body was bigger and stronger and he smelled...so good.

"Keep dreaming." Volkov smirked. "She's my wife, at the end of the day."

"Your fake wife." I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to Charlotte. "Why did you pay fifty thousand dollars for me?"

"Because I didn't want you to be stuck with an old creep?"

I eyed Volkov. "I mean, he's not that old."

Charlotte snickered while Volkov half-heartedly glared at me.

"I don't know, maybe I just wanted some cake," she said.

"Oh, you're getting more than cake tonight, baby."

"Are you drunk?" Volkov furrowed his eyebrows, studying me. Almost as if he was worried.

Why? I wanted to ask. What is this thing between us? Why do you look at me like that? Why do I want you, when I know that you're just using me? When I know this isn't going to end well?

Instead, I asked. "Why did you participate? I thought you weren't going to spend a dime on a cause with my dad's name on it?"

"Changed my mind."

I waited for an elaboration. But he just stared at me, the corners of his gaze softening.

I remembered how he comforted me in the bedroom. Holding me closely, like I was something to cherish. Like he wanted to kiss me.

I looked away at Charlotte. "D-date?"

"Yes, our date. Where are we supposed to go?"

"That way." I pointed at the rose garden, stepping forward to—I stopped, looking at the boys over my shoulder. They were staring after us like lost puppies. "You guys coming?"

Although all of them seemed taken aback by the invitation, my focus was on Volkov.

He put his hands in his pockets. "You sure?"

"I mean, unless you'd rather bond with your in-laws—"

"Lead the way."

"Glad you finally learned who's in charge." I smirked, walking ahead of him with Charlotte beside me. But I could feel his gaze, dark and burning, all over my back.

The path through the maze garden was serene.

With each step, the party noise and music faded in the background. The natural sounds of nature took over. The crickets and owls and little insects. The rustle of the wind through the leaves. The scent of the damp soil and crisp greens.

Soon enough, we reached the end of it and faced an open clearing.

"Whoa..." Charlotte said, taking in the view in front of us.

Whoa, indeed.

"This is my favorite spot in the whole place," I smiled.

It was the moonlit lake, pitch dark with a rippling silver trail. Right next to it, was a long patio table with six chairs. Under an overarching, old oak tree. Dim lanterns swayed from the branches, casting a warm glow on the porcelain plates and glasses. A little page from a fairytale, tucked away where no one could see.

"Not bad for a first date?" I asked Charlotte.

Her smile was broad and sparkling. "Not bad at all. It's so romantic."

"A little too romantic." Volkov frowned.

"Shut up. No, it's not!" Charlotte defended. "You're just jealous."

"Why would you do this for them?" He was referring to my family.

I sighed. "I don't know. My mom wanted to have it inside, under the bright chandeliers and near the kitchen, where people would be warm and comfortable. But this was the only part of the night that I had control over. As silly as it might sound, I was hoping that if I gave people something real. You know, a part of me, then they'd feel safe enough to do the same. Otherwise, what's the point?"

He gazed at me, with an unnerving mystery and I felt stuck. The truth was that I cared what he thought. About me. As much as I didn't want to.

He made me feel too vulnerable, but also...

"Wait up!" Charlotte said to Niko and Andrei as they moseyed toward the table. She slipped out of her wedges and held them in each hand, tip-toeing through the grass.

"You need help?" Volkov stared at my thin, high-heels.

"No way. I'm not risking stepping on something with a heartbeat then having its carcass stuck on me."

His chuckle came out surprised, low and raspy. "Okay. Want me to carry you, then?"

My God. "Why are you being so nice to me, Volkov?"

"What would you like me to do instead? Let you fall on your face and bleed to death?"

"That'd be more fitting, yes."

He rolled his eyes and bent down, reaching his arms toward me. Knocked the breath out of my lungs when I realized what he was—

I'd never—no one had ever done this before.

My arms had no choice but to wrap around his neck, and I was stunned. Nervous from the way he held me like nothing. Against his broad chest. Close to his face. His scent and warmth took control like a drug and I fought against enjoying it, but I couldn't help it.

"Aren't you still recovering?" I asked.

"No."

Well, thank God it was nighttime. Wouldn't want his whole group to see me furiously blushing.

"How ridiculous is my dress, by the way?" I asked to change the topic as he walked through the grass, his breaths falling evenly on my cheek.

"It's not that ridiculous."

"Liar."

His lips curved before he set me down, then sat next to me. Charlotte sat at the head of the table, Niko and Andrei across from me.

And the night began. The most unpredictable, but surprisingly amazing...

If you'd told me that I'd have fun with Volkovs last month, I'd stab you in the eye. Because how crazy was this? To enjoy their company after what they'd done to me? I wasn't supposed to laugh with the people who abducted me and tied me up and locked me in a room. I wasn't supposed to have a crush on the man who forced my hand in marriage.

But I just didn't care.
Not tonight.

And as we breezed through cream puffs and tiramisu and dark chocolate mousse with berries, I listened to their stories and shared my own, and for once, I didn't feel alone around people.

Charlotte was falling off her chair from laughing. "You made Niko punch you so you could blame it on Andrei!"

"You what?" I gaped at Volkov. "What's wrong with you?"

"A lot of things," Andrei said over the rim of his cup.

"Hey, it's not my fault! This toothpick followed my mom around from the moment she brought him over." Volkov, offended, threw his thumb over his shoulder at Andrei. "What was I supposed to do? I didn't trust him."

"How did you two meet?" I had heard that Oksana adopted, but didn't know the full story.

Andrei had always been the coldest towards me out of all of them, but I didn't take it personal.

When Oksana was murdered, Andrei was eighteen. So he must've felt the burden of being everyone's caregiver. Maybe that was the reason he was overprotective and didn't trust easily.

"I ran away from my home at twelve," he said. "Oksana found me on the streets, getting my ass kicked by some homeless jerks. She saved me. Took me in and...the rest is history."

"Why'd you run from home?" I asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Let's just say my dad liked to drink a little too much." He looked at me, smiling a little, a layer of his past glimmering in his eyes. The suffering he had endured and tucked away from everyone.

I nodded, thankful he trusted me enough to show it. "I'm glad you found a family that loves you."

Something flashed over his features. "Me too."

"How about you two?" I drifted my focus to Niko and Charlotte to give him a breather. He seemed like he needed it.

"Oh, our parents were junkies." Charlotte forced her voice to be casual, but the way she kept her gaze on her plate said otherwise. "They fled when I was six. Too much debt. Couldn't pay it off, so...Niko was eight. We knew Daniel from school. When he found out that we were living alone, with nothing to eat and no one to look after us, he told his mom, of course. The little snitch."

"Technically, I just wanted Niko. But I felt bad letting you to die, so..." Volkov winced.

She threw a cream puff at his face. He ducked sideways, bumping against me.

But I was more distracted by his laugh. The way it crinkled the corner of his eyes and slashed his cheeks with lines.

I wondered what he must've been like before my dad ruined everything.

When our bellies were full and the guests were all gone, we snuck into the house. The waitstaff was cleaning the kitchen and my parents were there, monitoring.

Both of them stared at us the entire time we moved past them upstairs, but said nothing.

Unfortunately, the stress that had melted off in the last two hours came back full force. I wished we could drive back to the townhouse, but escaping would only make us look weak.

My eyes bugged out in shock when Charlotte walked into Niko and Andrei's room instead of hers. But I understood why. They felt safer together than leaving her alone.

With a nervous swallow, I let Volkov open the door to my bedroom and stood in the middle as he locked it behind him.

"Well, this should be...fun. I never had a sleepover with a girl without..." Volkov cleared his throat, pausing beside me.

Yup. Both of us were staring at the queen-sized bed.

"Without?" I looked at him.

"You know—"

"Without sex?"

"Exactly. Yup."

"Are you...nervous?"

"Me? Of course, not." He scoffed, then grabbed a pillow and threw it on the floor. "I'll sleep down here, obviously, because I'm a gentleman. You sleep up there. Away from me."

"I thought you don't sleep."

"I don't, but I'll pretend for your sake."

"Yeah, I highly doubt I'm going to sleep tonight with you in the room..."

This was a terrible idea. I looked around, hoping to find anything to save me. More alcohol?

I...I lost my train of thoughts when he began unbuttoning his shirt though.

One by one, not even paying attention to me. He was staring at the book spines on the long shelf above my bed.

I couldn't resist drinking in the sight of his muscles as he shrugged the button-down off.

Standing there, in a black ripped tank top, power emanated from him like an undeniable presence. He reached one hand behind his neck and pulled that off too.

That dark tattoo spiderwebbed over his chest and waist. The brutal damage from the gun shot on the other side. In front of the large window where the moonlight was bleeding through, outlining him and painting him in shadows.

I turned before he caught me ogling. My heart raced so hard, I couldn't slow down my breathing.

"It's too cold," I said.

"Huh?"

"To sleep on the floor. Don't you think it's reckless for a don to get sick?"

"I'll be fine."

"Just sleep on the bed, Volkov. If you dare to even breathe in my direction, it'll be the last thing you do."

I braced myself as he shifted closer, his chuckle thick and mocking. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Was it hot in here? It was hot in here.

"You sure you want me on the bed?" he asked.

I wanted to murder him, to be honest. "Sure, whatever."

"Alright." A quiet groan, or a tired sigh, left his chest as he lowered on the sheets. I dared a look over my shoulder to find him spread on his back, one arm folded behind his head. Staring out the window. God, he occupied the entire length of the bed, from the headboard to the edge.

I moved to change in the bathroom, then paused. "Fuck."

"What?"

Why, God? Why? "I, uh...need your help to get out of this."

"Huh?" He propped on his elbows, causing the subtle definition on his abs to flex. "Out of that dress?"

"Don't make it weird."

"I-I'm not—"

"Don't stutter!"

His laugh was wolfish and flustered and fuck, so hot.

"Wipe that stupid smile off and make yourself useful, would you?"

With that teasing smirk, he stood up and came closer. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

"The magic word?" he added.

I blinked. "Thank you?"

"That's after."

"Please?"

Hm, would you look at that? I could've sworn his pupils darkened.

Even his voice... "Turn around."

With a smirk for having such an affect on him, I did turn. Then shivered from the physical contact when the tip of his fingers touched my neck, moving my hair to one side.

Maybe because it was dark and silent and we were alone. Maybe that's why everything narrowed to that touch. To him. Scrambling my mind with images that made me stupid.

He pinched the zipper and slid it down, exposing my back. Slowly. Too slowly. My eyes fluttered shut as his knuckles grazed my spine. Leaving goosebumps behind. Lower. Lower.

"Taking your time?" I asked.

"No." The smile in his voice said something else.

I couldn't fight my own. "Liar."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I held onto the front of my dress as it loosened. He reached the end of the zipper, inches above my ass. Paused. Still behind me. Close.

"Anything else?" His breath against my ear made me dizzy. I felt his lips against it, his smile. The confident promise in it.

Yes. No. Yes. "You wish."

His hands ghosted over my hips, like he wouldn't dare to touch, but truly wished it. Even his breathing turned gruff, as he brushed his nose against the shell of my ear. Down. Then up.

"Go change," he whispered.

I opened my eyes—

It took an effort not to bolt into the bathroom and slam the door and die—

"Thank you, by the way," he said, catching me off guard.

I paused, glimpsing at him over my shoulder. "For what?"

"For inviting all of us tonight."

"I mean, yeah. I wasn't going to leave you guys alone here. I'm sure you wouldn't feel safe."

"Exactly." He looked at me for a long beat. Not cocky. Not powerful. But broken and grateful and tender. Like he felt understood and seen, and it meant something to him. "Thank you."

A/N
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