Page 1 of Thorns of Love
ONE
TATIANA
Push me, moya luna, and I’ll snuff out that pretty blue inferno in your eyes.
The words played on repeat in my mind. Was that a threat? All I had to do was utter a single word to Vasili and the war would be back on.
Except my brother intended to use me as his ‘peace’ offering.
My fingers trembled as I attempted to tug the zipper. I stared at my reflection in the long mirror. I couldn’t recognize myself. My light blonde hair, cascading down my shoulder. My eyes were clear, a turquoise so blue that people sometimes labeled it its own color. The freakish Nikolaev pale blue.
The beautiful dress, the color of palest lilac, swallowed my frame. The dress’s neckline fell off my shoulders, accentuating my collarbone. I was slowly gaining back the weight I had lost over the months since Adrian's death. My curves were slowly filling in, the little life growing inside me still unnoticeable.
Nausea hit me suddenly, it had been coming and going. I clutched my stomach, but I knew all the contents of it were about to come out.
Spinning around, I rushed to the toilet. My dress hung half unzipped, falling off my shoulder as I grabbed the toilet and threw up. Except this time, there were no strong hands stroking my back. Violent heaves wracked my body.
“Tatiana.” My name sounded far away, drowned by the buzzing in my ear and ugly sounds my body made. A hand landed on my back, roaming it with soft strokes. “It’s okay. Just let it all out.”
A painful moan fell from my lips as I sat back on my knees. “I’m not going to make it through Sasha’s wedding,” I whimpered, my stomach feeling queasy.
Although I wasn’t certain whether it was the pregnancy or the thought of Sasha’s and Branka’s reception at The Den of Sin. So many fucking memories there.
It was where Adrian finally caved in. I thought back to that night. It seemed like a different lifetime. A different me.
I caught my reflection in the mirror. A sexy maid costume barely covered the round curves of my ass. Dark black material was stark against the white lace, my long blonde locks making me look like a porn star. Or maybe it was the built-in push up bra that gave me excessive cleavage. My cheeks were flushed, probably the result of the shots we had before even leaving the house.
Shifting my weight back and forth between my feet, I let my gaze travel over the room. My oldest brother had a weird sense of humor. He learned the name Isabella and I assigned our dorm room and decided to name his bar in its honor. The Den of Sin.
“There is Adrian,” Isabella whispered and I followed her gaze. My heart fluttered in my chest. The dark masked man. Sophisticated. All dressed up. James Bond at its best. The suit hugged his muscular body perfectly and not even his ink could ruin his clean cut look.
I wanted to go to him but it didn’t feel right to leave Isabella behind. As if she read my thoughts, she said, “Go ahead. I’ll be around. Text me when you are done, and we can meet by the bar.”
I grinned and rushed to the man of my dreams. I was so damn ready for the repeat of our last rendezvous. Sex, lust, and alcohol saturated the air. I walked through the large room, coming to stand in front of Adrian.
“Mr. Bond,” I greeted him. “What are you drinking?”
“Vesper Martini.”
My lips curved. I wasn’t into James Bond movies but I knew what the fictional man drank. The Vesper. Shaken, not stirred.
“In that case, Mr. Bond, you gonna buy this girl a drink?”
He signaled the waiter and the drink appeared in front of me in no time. The waiter slid it across the bar and I caught it without spilling a drop.
“Impressive,” Adrian commended.
I shrugged. “I'm an impressive kind of girl.”
Those green eyes studied me and I wished he’d discard the mask. It was easier to read him without it. Somewhere along the way, Adrian became hard to read. Distant.
It was a girl’s worst nightmare. Sleep with a man and suddenly, they became cold and distant. Each time I tried to get closer, he put walls up or gave me vague answers. Frustration bubbled up my throat and I quickly swallowed it down, by downing my fancy martini.
I waited for him to say something. Anything.
Then I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I needed to know. I had been hung up on this man for years - fucking years. I was Tatiana Nikolaev damn it. Boys and men chased me all through high school and college. And here I was saving myself for this man who I couldn’t even tell if he wanted me.
“Adrian, if you’re regretting the gazebo, please be honest and say so,” I blurted out. “It’s not right to keep me hanging. I’m an adult,” I rattled. “I can handle rejection. Just say your peace and we’ll both move on.”
