Page 14 of Claimed By Desire

“No, you didn’t.” He takes a deep breath and visibly calms himself. “But now you’re home, and you will be useful, Natalya. I gave you a long leash. I let you remain in Paris where you were safe and asked nothing of you. I paid for your life there, and now you will do your duty.”

I tilt my chin up. “You want me to marry the Italian.”

“No, girl, thepakhanand I want you to marry the Italian. This is how we build alliances. This is how we become more powerful than we were before. By marrying him, you make a better world for everyone.”

I nearly laugh at that. A better world? Who is this man kidding? I’d be binding two crime families together and meshing their business prospects tightly together, but that’s not abetter world.

“I could run away again,” I say, blurting it out at him.

He barely reacts. “You could, but this time I’ll drag you back.”

“I’m sure Alex would be good at that.” I don’t even know why I mention him, but his name tumbles out before I can stop myself.

“Yes, Natalya, Alexwouldbe good at it, because he knows how to obey orders. He knows how to do the hard thing for the greater good of the family. Unlikeyou.” Dad stares at me with contempt. “You will marry the Italian in three weeks’ time. You will be a good wife to him, provide him with children, and make a decent life for yourself. You will do this without complaint, or so help me God, I will drag you through the fucking mud and make sure you do it myself. Do you understand me?”

I wish I didn’t. Life would be easier if I could float along blindly accepting everything my father tells me to do.

If only I could be more like Alex.

But what he’s telling me is this: I amcurrency, and I will accept my place in the world.

We both know I got lucky with Paris. If thepakhanhad wanted Dad to bring me home, they would’ve caught me and dragged me back within days of landing in France. Circumstances were what they were, and I stole an entire year of loneliness and depression in a foreign city with only a piano for company.

I’m back to reality now.

“I understand,” I say as the grim truth becomes startlingly clear.

There’s no escape this time.

Chapter 5

Alexander

Natalya sits quietly in the back seat of my BMW as Lev talks on and on about some new watches that came in through the shop.

“Best fucking fakes I’ve ever seen,” he says, singing their praises. “I couldn’t believe it. Even my top Rolex guy said he couldn’t tell until he got up close and really inspected the movement. We’re gonna sell them at fucking retail.”

“That’s good,” Nat says, only half listening.

“Seriously, the watch business has been booming lately. We got the legit stuff too, but you know how the margins are on those fucking things. We buy for five grand, sell for five-point-five. Not a bad profit, but still. Slim as fuck. Diamonds and jewelry are better, but that’s been slow these days.”

“Why don’t you just steal your inventory?” Natalya asks and I glance at her in the rearview, surprised she’d say it out loud. There’s a cheeky gleam in her eyes though. We’re alone in the care, and this vehicle is inspected for bugs every week, but still, that’s not the sort of thing we’re supposed to say openly.

Lev laughs though. She’s obviously kidding around, and Lev launches into some probably-exaggerated story about how he ended up with a whole crate full of shady Pateks after a deal with some Puerto Ricans went very, very wrong.

I haven’t seen much of Natalya in the last week ever since bringing her back from Paris. It’s been a good week: I’ve buried myself in work and haven’t let myself think too much about that night we spent together and the horrible morning after.

More than once though, I’ve caught myself humming that song. The first one she was playing when I was standing out in the hall. The music that drew me into her apartment. I stop myself like I’m waking up from a deep sleep in the middle of the night, but it leaves me disturbed and itching for hours afterward.

Why can’t I get her music out of my head?

It’s haunting me. Even being this close to her now, I can hear it. That lonely, desperately sad song.

I park out front of a decent Italian place deep in South Philly, not too far from the stadiums. I get out and hold the door for Natalya as she climbs onto the sidewalk. I catch a glimpse of one perfect leg and remember how it felt to have her wrapped around me, her sweat on my tongue, her body stuck to mine. She looks at me as she gets out, and her fingers briefly brush mine.

A thrill runs down my spine. But she hurries past me.

She looks beautiful in a conservative black dress, probably something her father picked out or at least approved ahead of time. Lev offers her his arm, and they enter the restaurant together.

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