Page 17 of Marked (Russian Sinners 1)

Nikolai coughed uncomfortably and I could have sworn he stifled a laugh. But I didn’t want to look away from Dimitry. It was important we come to terms.

“Follow me,” he turned around and continued down the stairs. “We don’t want to keep the doctor waiting.”

I literally just raised a white flag and he all but threw it away.

“Barbaric asshole,” I muttered to myself as I went by Nikolai and Sergei, careful not to touch either one of them.

“He’ll come around,” Nikolai spoke low and my eyes snapped to him.

What did that mean?

Chapter Seven

Dimitry

Five months around Anastasia Manciatti was a bad deal. I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to it. It had been less than a day and I already wanted to drag her into a room like some barbaric asshole, just like she called me, and keep her there until I got my fill.

Talk about fucked up priorities!

I was a cold bastard who kept tight reins on my emotions. I didn’t get involved with people and didn’t negotiate with anyone. Not even a beautiful woman who managed to get my cock hard just by looking at me.

When she came out of the bedroom, wearing her snug yoga pants and that shirt that enhanced her eyes, my cock instantly stirred. I knew I was being an asshole towards her, but it was better to keep my distance from her. And for her to keep her distance from me.

She was smart and persistent. I knew she wouldn’t give up questioning my brothers and my reasoning for saving her nor our connection to Boris until she satisfied her curiosity.

She showed backbone and stood up to me, which was more than even my men did. She was strong and sure of herself. She was the type of a woman who would be soft but also wouldn’t take any shit. Even after two weeks in captivity and being beaten black and blue, she held her ground.

Maybe we won’t get on each other’s nerves.

Her words echoed in my head. She was every bit of a princess that Sergei called her, although I wasn’t quite sure it was in a bad way. You could tell by the way she carried herself, she was used to being treated like royalty and getting her way. No wonder, her whole family was in high-level political positions, wealth being a part of their heritage. She was born in silk, while I was born on the streets in rags.

Unlike her, Nikolai, Sergei, and I were scum of scum. We grew up in an orphanage, abandoned by the ones who should have taken care of us. We tied the knot of brotherhood and nothing stood in our way while we grew from the slums to penthouses. But at the core of it all, we were still those slum rats, rejected by everyone. People in her social circles spat at people like us; they truly believed they were better than us and above reproach. The way they turned away from facts involving one of their own killing Nikolai’s sister was the perfect example. While our billions made them put up with us, they’d never tie themselves in public with someone like us. They defended their own and stomped over the rest of the society. Those people were a special breed for sure.

Still, despite our obvious incompatibility, I still wanted my fill of her. Maybe just one tumble would be enough to get her out of my system.

Don’t they say you always want what you can’t have?

I stopped abruptly, noting the doctor waited for us in front of his office and Anastasia ran into the back of me again. I twisted slightly and saw her take a step back, an iPhone in her hand.

“Shit, sorry… again,” she muttered.

“What is that?” I bellowed at her and her green eyes flashed at me with fear at first and then with anger. I was aware it was unnecessarily crude but my temper flared around her.

“An iPhone,” despite the anger in her eyes, she replied calmly.

“Where did you get it?”

“My dad had it for me in the bag,” she replied, and I swore she rolled her eyes. In her battered state, she still had energy to roll her eyes at me. “Don’t worry, it’s safe.”

I extended my hand and waited for her to place the device on my hand. She understood exactly what I was asking for but she chose to play.

Her eyes darted to my hand and then back to my face. “What?”

“Give me the damn phone,” I gritted through my teeth.

“Or what?”

Oh, she wants to play.

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