Page 14 of Twisted Obsession
“I’m sorry,moya lyubov’, my love,” Papa said regretfully.
Whatever my papa did, it had to have been bad for him to strike my mama. He was always firm with his word, but not once had he ever struck her or me. This was bad. Really bad.
“You should have never gone against Viktor Antonov,” my mother mewled, while I prayed for her to hold her tongue.
“He was going to take Lara. There was no way I was going to let that happen,” Papa hissed. “Not when I had different plans for her.”
“What about what you agreed to?” Mama reminded him. “Have you forgotten what he would do if you ever betrayed him?”
“I don’t care how much money we owe him or our agreement. He will never marry her.”
“No, no, no! Stop. Go away.”
“My kukolka, I’ve found you. Now it’s time for you to die, just like your father.” Dmitri lifted the hand with the tattoo of a dagger ripping through a skull from top to bottom and pointed at my head.
Bang!
I jolted up from the bed, my screams of terror filling the room. I hadn’t experienced a night terror since Dmitri took me from my apartment. Then again, if I had my risperidone, the memory from three years ago would have remained in the past.
The bedroom door flew open with a concerned expression splashed across Dmitri’s face. It was the first time I had ever seen him show anything other than disgust for me. I pulled the cover up to cover my nearly exposed breasts and stare at him.
“What did I tell you about covering yourself,kukolka?”Dmitri took hold of the blanket and ripped it from my hands.
“You know, I have a name. It’s Lara, notkukolka,” I hissed, ignoring his demand.
“I think I likekukolkabetter. It suits you,” he replied, raking his eyes over my body. “Now, tell me what you were screaming about.”
“It was a nightmare. The nightmare you caused three years ago,” I choked, covering my exposed nipples visible through my see-through bra by crossing my arms over my chest.
“You witnessed what happened at your home.” I wasn’t sure if he was asking me or assuming I was there. “Did you see you mother being killed? Your father?”
“I saw you. You killed my mama. You shot her in the head.” The tears fell and I couldn’t stop them. “Why did you have to kill them?”
Dmitri pushed from the door and moved toward the mattress before lowering his body. His eyes held something other than darkness when he looked at me. “I didn’t kill your mother or father. You are sadly mistaken, Lara.”
“It was you. I saw you kill her. I saw the tattoo on your hand.” I pointed to the hand he had draped over his knee, the same one that held the gun that shot my mom.
He lifted his hand and examined the skull and dagger tattoo on the back of his hand. “This is the emblem of the Bratva brotherhood. Every man loyal to the Antonov Bratva has one. It isn’t only I who wears it.”
He lowered his head to mine, and suddenly his lips were on mine. His tongue delved inside my mouth, making me feel things I shouldn’t for this man—desire, want, need. I moaned against his lips as he deepened the kiss and his tongue danced with mine. It was a kiss I never wanted to end. I whimpered in protest as his lips parted from mine.
Lifting the hand that bore the tattoo, he reached out and stroked it along my cheek. “So innocent. So pure. And all mine.”
“I will never be yours.” I pulled my face away from his touch, moving my body out of his reach.
I thought he would find my actions disrespectful and punish me, but instead he stood and gazed down at my body like a hungry animal. “Rest. Tomorrow will be a big day for you.”
~***~
The rest of the night brought no sleep and when the sun came up, I was still awake. I couldn’t help but think about what Dmitri said about the tattoo on the back of his hand and how all the men of the Bratva brotherhood had one. I still didn’t trust him. He might not have been the one who pulled the trigger, but he had something to do with the deaths of my parents.
The sound of the door being opened grabbed my attention. Marta walked in along with another woman who looked like she belonged on the cover ofCosmopolitan Magazine. Her hair was chocolate brown and cascaded down her back like silk. She wore a dark blue sheath dress and black stiletto heels. Her red lipstick matched the red soles of her Louboutins.
“Good morning,” Marta greeted me. She wasn’t holding a tray like she had every other morning, but instead a sundress, which was folded neatly in her hand. “This is Camile. She will be helping you with your dress this morning. You will be having breakfast with her in the dining room to discuss your wedding with Mr. Dmitri. It is to take place in four weeks.”
“What?” I blurted in disbelieve. “I will never marry that monster.”
“Mr. Antonov thought you might say that. I wished things could have been different.” With a satisfied grin, Marta placed the sundress she was holding on the mattress and opened the door. “Yuri. It’s time.”
