Page 42 of His Cursed Heart

His eyes are sparkling and his little smirk is all over his face.

Be still my fucking heart.

A hoarse voice makes us look at the person who

decided to intervene.

The big, tall Russian leader is looking at us with a blank face. His eyes are black and his skin is a beautiful brown. His beard is thick and the gold necklaces are making him look like a king.

Makhim Romanov.

My Papa's nemesis.

"Congratulation." His thick Russian accent is making my skin shiver.

"Thank you." I say with a blank face.

His eyes move to Vincent who is squeezing my legs again.

Makhim lowers on his knees and whispers to Vincent.

"Khochesh' rasserdit' ottsa?" I try to stay calm when his words are out.

An angry Hanibal isn't what Vincent needs.

But before I can protest, Vincent's eyes grow and nods multiple times as he goes with Makhim.

"I got him." I hear Venus's scream as she runs after the two troublemakers.

Under his dark leader aura, Makhim loves kids. His wife died during a shooting, protecting her only son, and he never remarried.

I try to move Keaton's hand off my middle, but I'm suddenly lift in the air by some of Keaton's allies.

They take me in the middle of the ring and put me in a white chair, while Keaton comes near me.

A microphone screech is heard, and then the voice of the blond who is going to put me in the grave is heard loudly in the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we love traditions, don't we?" All men whistle. "Then I guess you know what moment is it." And then applause is numbing my ears.

What moment?

I see Keaton taking his jacket off, remaining in a black shirt. He comes in front of me and kneels, rolling up his sleeves.

Angry and swollen veins are possessing his arms and a weird ache is pulsing right in my pussy.

What the fuck is going on?

Keaton starts lifting my dress and I hiss, covering his hands with mine.

"Do you want to die?" I ask him with a raised eyebrow.

"Between your legs? Tempting." And he continues to lift my dress.

My legs are uncovered and a series of whistles are making my skin shiver. I try to block the memory and balance my breathing.

"If you whistle again at my wife's legs, I'll cut your tongues off and feed them to dogs." And everyone stops.

The moment he sees the end of the garter, Keaton slowly leans over my legs, burring his head in my lap.

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