Page 43 of Twisted Obsession
As reassuring as his words were, I wasn’t his. I belonged to no one, least of all him.
“We are ready to take off, Dmitri,” Stepan’s voice sounded behind us.
Dmitri took hold of my hand and led me to one of the four seats facing each other. After buckling me in, he sat down next to me and fastened his own seatbelt.
I could hear the engines roar and the wheels roll against the tarmac. I wasn’t sure what airstrip we were at, but it wasn’tJFK Airport or LaGuardia. I had no idea where we were. For all I knew, Dmitri probably owned a private airport, too.
Four hours later, I was in Havana, Cuba, in a five-star hotel looking out at the ocean. It was the first time I had ever been here and had I known I was going to be so close to a beach, I would have packed a swimsuit. No matter, because there was a cute little boutique in the lobby. I could just go down there and buy one and charge it to the room. It would serve Dmitri right for not telling me where we were going before we left. Besides, what did he expect me to do, stay in the suite while he was gone for who knew how long?
Yuri sat on the leather sectional, looking at his cell, when I walked back inside the suite. He was my babysitter until Dmitri and Stepan returned.
“I want to go down to the boutique in the lobby to buy a swimsuit.” I told him as I stared down at his burly form.
“I’m not sure Dmitri wants you to leave the room,” he replied, still looking at his cell.
“He never said I couldn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest, defiantly not backing down on this. “You can follow me or not. Your choice.”
Yuri rose from the couch, typing something on his cell. It was probably a text to Dmitri letting him know I wanted to go to the boutique. What a big tattletale.
Not only did I buy a swimsuit, but I also bought the sexiest one they had. I didn’t care that Yuri had texted Dmitri a photo of it and he had warned me not to buy it. It was my body, my choice. There wasn’t much to it other than two triangles to cover my breasts, a triangle to cover my mound, and another tocover my butt cheeks. It was black, very shiny, and held together with two strings that secured the top and two that secured the bottom.
With a sheer cover-up, a pair of flip-flops, some cute sunglasses, sunscreen, and a towel, I was ready to head on down to the pool and sip on one of those tutti-fruitti drinks vacationers always drank. Might as well enjoy myself while I was here.
Finding a perfect place to soak up the sun, I spread my towel across the lounger and slipped out of my cover-up. As I settled in, the waiter brought me a Bahama Mama, which I told him to charge to the room. Taking a sip, my taste buds were in heaven. I thought I might have found my new favorite drink.
Yuri was still watching over me, but I could tell he was uncomfortable having to look at me in the ninety-degree weather while wearing a suit. Even in the shade, I could see the sweat beads rolling down his cheek. The man should at least take off his suit jacket. Maybe it was against the rules.
“Hola, Señorita. Eres una mujer muy hermosa,” a young man, roughly my age, remarked as he gracefully sat down on the lounger beside me.
His appearance was striking, with chiseled features that reminded me of Maxi Iglesias, only younger, with an added layer of muscular definition that hinted at athletic prowess.
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak Spanish,” I replied, my voice tinged with shyness.
“Aw. You are American. I was just telling you how beautiful you are,” he said, reaching over with a confident ease. He gently took hold of my hand, lifting it to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss.
“Thank you,” I murmured, turning my head swiftly to pick up my drink from the side table, hoping to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. Compliments like that were rare for me, and the warmth of his words lingered.
Suddenly, before I could grasp what was unfolding, Dmitri loomed behind the young man, his presence like a thundercloud. With alarming swiftness, Dmitri seized him by the neck, yanking him off the lounger with a forceful tug.
I stared in disbelief as chaos erupted before my eyes. Dmitri, with unrestrained fury, used the poor man as if he were nothing more than a punching bag. The young man's once handsome face was rapidly transforming into a grotesque mask of bruises, swelling like raw, bleeding meat.
“Stop!” I screamed, rushing around my lounger in a desperate attempt to restrain Dmitri from delivering another vicious blow. “Dmitri, stop! You’re going to kill him.”
“He should have never touched what is mine,” Dmitri spat, his voice a low growl, eyes blazing with a fiery wrath.
“Please, just stop,” I begged, tears spilling down my cheeks as panic gripped me.
Dmitri’s gaze shifted to me, and his expression softened, though an intense emotion still burned in his eyes. He released the battered man, letting him slump to the ground, and seized my arm with a grip that was firm yet protective. Snatching the towel from my lounger, he wrapped it around me, shielding my body from the prying eyes of onlookers who had gathered around the scene.
“Dmitri, you’re hurting me,” I cried, wincing as his hold tightened.
“Not a word, Lara,” he hissed, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.
As he led me away, I glanced back at the crowd hovering around the man Dmitri had attacked. It was impossible to discern whether he was still alive or if the life had been beaten out of him. All I could do was cling to a fragile hope that Dmitri hadn’t taken it too far.
When we reached the room, Dmitri had simmered down a bit, but not by much, especially when I let the towel he had draped around me slip to the floor. Yuri’s and Stepan’s eyes fixed upon me with undisguised interest.
“Out!” Dmitri bellowed, his voice laced with contempt as he glared at them.
