You guys are absolutely amazing, the story reached 510 votes omg! Here is a chapter early, dont worry I'm still posting another one on Wednesday ET! You guys have been reaching all the vote goals since I posted so I've been updating twice weekly which is amazing! Hope we can keep this up <3

You'll all absolutely love this chapter, trust me;) You'll love Charlie and Zeke and Tatiana are going to have some alone time... ;)

Chapter 11*

Tatiana

It was two weeks since the shooting at the party and one week since her little tryst with Zeke. Thanks to the current situation and circumstances, she was excused from attending the dreaded mafia housewives weekly brunch and she was able to participate more in the family business affairs. Though the Belluchis and the Vasilievs have been closely working on who had attacked both families and shot up the house of Pavel Vasiliev, there has yet to be any new leads.

"Anything yet?" she asked Charlie, their resident hacker. Today, she wore a dark carmine pink chiffon wrap dress with ruffles while Matteo wore his usual suit. She and Matteo had gone to the Vasiliev estate, hoping to see if there had been any developments.

"Nothing... Yet," Charlie said, her eyes zooming across the screen, clicking away at the keyboard in the Vasiliev's security room.

"Honestly, your tech sucks. You should seriously upgrade. I can hardly do anything with this crap," Charlie had said when she first arrived at Pavel Vasiliev's door. A week after the shooting, she went with Matteo to drop off Charlie to inspect their security and how they had been hacked.

Until now, she laughed at the expression Pavel and his children collectively wore when they brought a loud, bubbly persona by the name of Charlie Brooks, an eighteen year old, at his doorstep.

"You must be..." Francesco had been at a loss for words.

"Charlie Brooks, at your service," she had said, shaking his hand while chewing a piece of gum.

"Forgive me, bu I thought Charlie was a guy..." Ivanov said, confused.

Charlie waved him off as she walked into the house as if she owned the place. "Yeah, yeah I get that a lot. Techy hacker, computer codes, being smart. Well, surprise! I'm a girl. It's short for Charlotte by the way, in case you were wondering. Anyway, are you gonna show me to the room where the magic happens or am I gonna have to find it myself?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at one of the most powerful mafia families in the world. Nina, however, shrugged off the initial surprise and took the situation in stride, leading her to the security room and leaving the rest of the family to catch up with them.

That was one of the reasons why Tatiana loved Charlie. She was herself, and wasn't easily intimidated. And it was refreshing to be around such a person when all you've known for as long as you've lived was the masks everyone wore.

"Are you sure she is competent?" Pavel had asked them dubiously, looking at where the eighteen year old disappeared off to. "Not that I don't trust your judgement, I just worry that—what with her being so young..."

"Trust us, she's the best at it we've seen. She actually hacked into our own system a few months back, it's why we recruited her," Matteo said, laughing good-naturedly. Tatiana saw Zeke's handsome face quirk up in a small, amused smile before he caught her staring and she looked away, blushing ever so slightly.

Pavel noded, trusting their judgement. "Would you like a tour of my home?" he asked Matteo.

"I'd love to, thank you." Matteo bowed his head courteously and Pavel led him away into the house. Francesco and Ivanov had already left, talking quietly amongst themselves, leaving her and Zeke alone in the mansion's vestibule.

"You know..." Zeke started to say, approaching her slowly as a tiger would its prey. And he was looking straight at her. "We never got to finish that tour."

"Oh, right..." she said, trailing off. What was wrong with her? She couldn't believe how lame she sounded. She was standing in front of a charming and attractive man and she couldn't say a thing without losing her train of thought. She closed her eyes, frustrated. She needed to focus and not get distracted by his handsome face.

Tatiana opened her eyes and was shocked to see him standing so close to her, so close that she could smell his fresh, rosewood scent. All those times that she had visited the estate in the past two weeks—where she spent time with Zeke, talking over the details of their hideaway, the clearing, quiet moments in rooms where they silently kept each other company or conversed in soft voices hadn't prepared her to be this close to him, a hair's breadth away from each other. She didn't know where the real her went. Normally, she'd make the moves on a handsome guy like him but her usual, confident self was gone, replaced by this shy, demure woman she was around him.

Yes, the woman she was around Patrick was gone, along with any mention and memory of him.

"Shall we?" he asked her, offering his hand. She shook off her initial shock, setting aside her thoughts and took his hand with her own and flashed him a small smile, nodding and he led her out of the room and through the house once again.

***

"This is the North wing," Zeke said as they continued walking around the house.

"I feel like I've been here before," Tatiana murmured, trying to remember why the place felt familiar to her.

"You have," Zeke confirmed before opening a door and showing her into the room. She stepped inside and it hit her suddenly, she was reminded of the room she had woken up from the night of the shooting. Her thoughts had been muddled by pain so she could barely remember the room from two weeks ago but the memories suddenly came rushing back. She was once again in the light room with white walls, a small sitting area by the window and the king sized bed that dominated the room.

"I brought you here to my room to rest before the doctors arrived, you were almost passed out from the pain and the amount of blood you lost," he said quietly, as if it physically pained him to talk about it.

She turned to him. "I never got to thank you for that," she said, walking up to him and squeezing his hand. "Thank you." She conveyed her sincerity as she looked into his eyes. In them, she saw a storm brewing, unnameable emotions swirling within.

He smiled at her softly. He lifted his other hand and brushed her cheek ever so slightly with his fingers. "If I ever have to do it over, I'd do it again," he whispered.

It was looking into his eyes that she finally found the woman she really was. Determined, beautiful, and confident and as she stared deep into his ocean blue eyes, she couldn't help herself. Maybe it was the moment, the tension that was constantly between them when they were together, or the danger that was looming over their heads, she couldn't stop herself.

She leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

***

It was a soft, chaste kiss. Seconds felt like they turned into hours as they stood still that way. When he didn't respond back, she started to pull back, ashamed and rejected but as she pulled away, he suddenly kissed her back. The chaste kiss was long forgotten as he kissed her with fervor, passion, and need. His hand wound into her hair, bringing her face up closer to his. The other wrapped around her waist and brought her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

It felt like time couldn't catch up with them when lips clashed on lips, tongues battling, a losing battle on her end when he dominated the kiss, exploring her. His lips were demanding, fast and slow, hot then cold, molding to hers perfectly.

She didn't know how long the kiss lasted. It could've been mere minutes or a few hours, she didn't care but all of a sudden, his lips suddenly ripped away from hers.

She was about to protest the loss of contact when his lips began to trail down her jaw, kissing a path down her neck. Gasping for some much needed air, she let him lead them to the edge of his bed. She'd been so consumed by the kiss that she'd forgotten to get up for some air.

The backs of her knees bumped against the hardwood frame, but she didn't pause as she voluntarily dropped onto the soft bedding, pulling him down with her. Her hands wandered, exploring his back. His hand slowly lowered to her waist while the other played with the skin beneath her breast. She nudged his lips away from her collarbone, bending down to capture his mouth, loving the way he tasted.

The kiss was like an explosive, setting off a chain of reactions between them. Desire hazed the room, making her lose her mind with need as she grabbed at his button up, pulling it out of his pants. His cufflinks were the bigger struggle. When she groaned in annoyance, he let out a small laugh, helping her take them off. She took the opportunity to loosen the ties of her wrap dress.

The dress fell away like an opening robe, exposing a line down her collarbone to her midriff, revealing her bra and her low-waisted panties.

He paused, staring down at her, one arm caging her against the bed, the other gripping her hips. She followed his gaze to the bandage covering her wound not far from where his fingers circled small caresses into her skin.

Time slowed as they looked at each other, breathing hard. "Are you sure?" he questioned, searching her eyes. "If we keep going..." he choked out. "I don't think I can stop." The tendons in his arms stood out from the strain, the need.

She raised herself on her forearms, making her dress open wider. The widening expanse of exposed skin caught his attention before she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, bringing their faces closer together. "Yes, I'm sure."

And she didn't give the chance to think twice when she turned them both over and straddled his hips, tracing the curve of his cupid's bow with her lips and grinding down on him through the denim fabric of his jeans. His fingers moved quickly, unhooking the latch on her bra before letting it fall away, along with her dress. Her breasts fell heavily, aching from the lack of support until his hands were there, kneading and massaging them.

His lips moved down from her mouth, trailing a path down her chest before he reached his destination and suckled on her breast. "Zeke," she whimpered, letting out a low moan as she raised her fingers to the strands of his hair, pulling and pressing him closer while he licked a path between her breasts, giving them equal amounts of attention whether it be with his hands or his tongue.

It was challenging undoing the button of his jeans with his head in the way, but she managed. His hands slid up her sides, making her shiver from the sudden warmth, before tracing a path down her back, resting on the edge of her panties before delving underneath. Zeke swore in a string of Russian when he encountered her wetness. "Shit, you're wet."

She sucked in a breath from the sudden movement, swallowing down a moan at hearing his husky, sex-addled voice. Though his palms were warm as they kneaded her crotch, his fingers were cold from the leaving winter as they played with her folds. He swallowed her cries of pleasure when he slid two fingers into her, flipping her over onto her back and pressing her to the covers. His fingers curled within her, massaging her inner walls and coaxing another moan out of her, making her legs go rigid.

Her hands coasted over his tapered waist as she kicked the waistband of his jeans down his hips. He took over then, shoving them off and lowering his head down to her navel, licking a trail following her panties, pulling them down until he reached his destination. With each section of newly exposed flesh, he left small kisses, teasing her. She panted, watching him stare at her before he bent down and licked a trail bottom to top. She moaned, bowing off the bed as he licked along her slit, occasionally going up for air and kissing down her thighs, taking extra care around her bandages, before diving back down.

It was a storm of tongues and pleasure and whenever his teeth would scrape over her sensitive flesh, he'd give her a small reprieve and gently blow cool air to her heated skin. When he repeated the process again and lingered at her thighs, she moaned in frustration. "Stop teasing me," she begged as she pulled on his hair, craving the friction and slide that she knew would make her burst once they were joined.

Zeke glanced up at her, nipping her thigh in reproach before lifting himself up onto his forearms on either side of her. He hovered, and asked, "Are you on the pill?"

She bit her lip. "Yes," she said as he aligned himself to her core.

"Good," he said, then he thrust into her in one fluid motion. They stilled as he slid to the hilt.

A deep groan came from his lips. "Fuck," he said and a bolt of white-hot pleasure ravaged through her when he slowly slid out and rammed back in. "Is this okay?'"

Tatiana swallowed the knot in her throat. "Yes. God, yes," she moaned, grabbing at his hips and encouraging him. With each thrust, she met him with one of her own, hips moving of their own accord.

She swallowed her loud moans as he thrusted into her at another angle, hitting her deeper. They were in his father's house—anyone could hear them.

It didn't take them long to find their rhythm and they were pounding against each other, vying for their release. Skin slapped against skin as moans and grunts filtered through the room. She raised her forearm to her mouth, biting down when the pleasure became too much as he pounded into that spot within her that incited wave upon wave of pleasure that raced from her core up to her spine.

His thrusts slowed then and before she knew it, a hand was gripping her arm away from her mouth, trapping it to the bed. "Don't," he grunted. "I want to hear you." And though his words sparked another fire within her, she refused as she bit down on her lips, refusing to let out a sound. This only made him more frustrated, taking it out on her with even more powerful thrusts as he flipped them over. He sat up against the headboard, leaning towards her face as he gripped her hips and brought her down the same moment he thrusted upwards.

The pleasure felt doubled in this position, making a moan slip past her teeth-marked lips as she involuntarily clenched around him. He grunted from the movement, pulling on her hair as he tilted her head back, exposing her neck and attacking it with his teeth and tongue.

She was getting close, and she knew Zeke could tell by the way her moans and whimpers had turned up. It amazed her—how their bodies spoke for each other, no words needing to be uttered. It was almost like each movement was a response to the other, a synchronized dance meant to mesh and meld to each other beautifully. He pressed his lips to her, shoving his tongue into her as he brought her down on him faster. Her fists clenched around the headboard, tightening as each thrust brought her closer and closer to that peak.

And she knew he was getting close too as his thrusts became shorter and sloppier, craving for release. She panted, breathing hard, hoping they'd reach that end together when she felt his fingers coast lower between them, and press against her bundle of nerves.

Then she fell. Her body felt like it was breaking apart and being built back up together as wave upon wave of pleasure threatened to keep her on the edge. She gasped, clenching around him as he kept going, his grip on her hips getting tighter as he chased his release until finally, she felt him as he came inside her.

They stilled as she remained sat on top of him, their bodies connected as one. He breathed hard, staring down between them to where they were joined as she swallowed the knot in her throat at the sheer rightness of what they'd done. She'd never felt so at peace in that moment as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.

A few moments passed before either of them spoke. If someone was to walk in at that moment, there'd be no question about what they'd done—from the rumpled sheets to the sex-hazed air—there was no doubt.

The evidence of what they'd done trickled out of her as he lifted her off of him. "Fuck," Zeke cursed, breathing hard. He ran a hand through his sex-rumpled hair as he leaned against the headboard away from her.

Her breathing reflected his as she paused. "What's wrong?" she asked him, lips swollen and body heavy with post-orgasmic bliss. Had she done something wrong? Was it not good for him?

"I can't do this." He breathed hard, avoiding her gaze.

"What?" she asked, confused, dropping her arms away from him.

He looked directly into her eyes—shame and grief plain as day in their depths. "I'm engaged."

Translations

mon ange - my angel (French)

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