Page 32 of Crowned

The bar for my libido is pretty low. It wasn’t until I came face to face with Elyah that I felt the first stirrings of interest in a man. I find myself staring into space remembering the soft way he used to say, “Good morning, Lilia,” in his thick accent while gazing into my eyes. Every time I opened the front door to him, I wanted to reach out and touch him. Cup his neck. Feel the muscles of his shoulders. His belly. Watch him inhale roughly as I slide my hand down over the front of his trousers and feel the thick outline of his cock. Those brief weeks when Elyah was kissing me and touching me were filled with nervous energy and frustration so intense that I thought I might explode if he didn’t make me his, but that was nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. What I wouldn’t give to feel his heavy body on mine while my hands splay over his tattooed chest, aching and ready for him to thrust his thick cock—

Lilia.No.

I sit up straighter, pull my coat tighter around me in the freezing air, and take a mouthful of stone-cold coffee. I don’t want that man. I don’t want any men.

And yet not even two minutes pass before I’m staring again at the men in the street, my restless eyes moving over their bodies, hands, and faces. Some of them are handsome. Some have large, powerful bodies and beautiful eyes that sweep over me with interest. A handful of men have approached me in the past few months, picking up on the need I seem to be broadcasting with a fifty-foot aerial.This woman needs to be fucked. I shake my head at each one because I don’t dare get involved with another man when my trust in their kind is at an all-time low. I tell myself that’s the reason, but the truth is much darker.

None of these men arethem.

If it were merely Elyah I lusted after, I could understand and forgive my body. Once, he was gentle with me. He held me like I was the most precious thing in the world. But it’s not just Elyah. I recall the rough way that Kirill stripped me and screwed me in the jet with a whimper. I shouldn’t have enjoyed that at the time, but it just felt so good to be bad with him.

I even relive the moment Konstantin shoved me to the floor after screwing me, gripping my jaw in his hand and growling,“When I’m finished with you, wait for your orders. Don’t take fucking liberties.”I don’t recall it with revulsion. I recall it with a hot lick of desire. In my fantasy, I run my tongue over my top lip and whisper, “Yes, ser.” His ferocious expression softens, and he slowly thrusts his thumb into my mouth for me to suck. All the while, Kirill and Elyah are watching me, dying to take their turns. I want all their hands on me at once as they lick, suck, bite, fuck.

Thrusting my coffee cup away from me, I get to my feet. I’m due at the restaurant for my shift, so I walk away quickly, trying to put that lurid, dangerous fantasy behind me.

The lunch shift is busy, and I lose myself in the work of taking orders and carrying steaming plates to tables. My section is full of fall tourists who have come to see the beautiful city of Prague under crisp blue skies and occasional showers. They have all the time in the world to order courses of food and bottles of peppery red wine. I’m carrying yet another armload of dirty dishes back into the kitchen when the new kitchenhand, a boy of seventeen and very little life experience, blunders into me while talking to the chef over his shoulder. I trip over his ankle and all the dishes go flying across the kitchen. I start to fall, and the floor rushes up, hard, and unforgiving.

The baby.

I grab my belly and cry out, putting a hand and leg out to protect the baby. Horrible images flash through my brain. Being hit by a drunk driver as I try to cross the street. Someone stealing my baby from its stroller because I’m trying to juggle ten things at once. Being so sleep-deprived as a single mother that I make a terrible mistake and hurt us. I’m all alone with this baby. Not just now, but always. There’s no one to catch me when I fall.

I fall hard, and my palm and knee hit the tiles. I stay where I am for a moment, breathing hard while terror pounds through my veins. I’m fine. The baby’s fine.

So why do I feel like I’m dangling over a precipice?

I grimace and sit up, wincing as the floor grinds against my bruised knee.

“Lilia! Are you all right? Jakub, watch where you are going.” The chef, Pavel, puts his hand under my arm and helps me to my feet. I decided to use my real first name at the restaurant because it’s so hard adjusting to a fake one, but no one knows my real last name.

My hand is still clamped over my stomach, and it’s outlined through my apron. I must look like I’ve seen a ghost as Pavel looks from my belly to my face and asks, “You’re pregnant?”

I wasn’t ready to tell anyone, and this is not the moment. I start to shake my head to vehemently deny it. “I’m—”

Pavel breaks into a smile. “But that’s wonderful. When are you due? Is it a boy or a girl? Who is the father?”

Every one of his questions hit me like a bullet. “Five and a half months. And I don’t know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl.” I pretend not to hear the question about the father.

Pavel beams at me. “You want it to be a surprise? Old-fashioned. I like it.”

So “old-fashioned.” No scans. No doctors. Not even a midwife and a birthing plan. Panic grips me anew at how unprepared I am, and the chef gazes at me in concern.

“You are not in trouble, are you? Where is the father?”

I gaze up into Pavel’s friendly, lined face. Someone worrying about me. Someone being concerned over me. I didn’t know how much I was craving it until this moment, and tears well in my eyes.

I swipe quickly at my lashes and take a quick breath. “I…left him behind. He’s not a good man.”

Pavel’s face creases with worry and he reaches out to touch my arm.

“I want to keep working here,” I say quickly. “I’m fine. I just tripped, that’s all. I’ve got plenty of time before I’m due.” The longer I can resist dipping into my sixteenth of the diamond money, the more secure I’ll feel.

“Of course. My wife worked up until she was seven and a half months pregnant with all our children. But you must slow down if you are too tired. It’s not good for you or the baby. Jakub, clean this up,” he adds, pointing at all the dishes the kitchenhand made me drop. The boy gets to work with a brush and pan.

I give Pavel a quick smile, adjusting my apron so my belly doesn’t show too much, and head back into the restaurant. I have a new table, but one of the waitresses is handing a menu to the solitary male diner for me, so I have a few minutes to check on the others. A young couple wants more glasses of beer, and on my way to tell the bartender, I sweep past my new table.

A large hand catches hold of my wrist and a Russian-accented voice says, “Lilia? What the hell?”

6

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