Page 73 of Scarred (Russian Sinners 2)

She was so incredibly strong. It took an incredibly resilient and amazing person to endure such torture and not allow darkness to swallow you. But she thought herself weak; she was ashamed and blamed herself. It was all over those drawings. Just thinking back to those images, intense rage instantly boiled in my veins. I wanted to tear Malcome limb by fucking limb and his screams would be the sweetest melody.

Malcome Schmidt would regret the day he was born once I got my hands on him. And so would her father. I meant what I told Olivia. I intended to kill Malcome and her father. She didn’t respond when I made that promise, but there wasn’t any fear in her eyes either. In my book, her father was just as guilty as Malcome. It was his job to protect his daughter, not to hand her over to a monster like that.

All my protectiveness and ruthlessness amplified when it came to this woman. She became everything to me. With her, it felt like she knew how truly ruthless I could be and she didn’t mind it. She had a glimpse of the true me and she still wanted me.

Her walls slowly melted away leaving just the two of us to enjoy each other. Despite her softness, she had fire in her. Regardless of the cruelty she experienced, she preserved the core piece of her… her inner beauty.

After dinner, I had to leave her and Tasha to go handle business. There was another man found asking around town about a red-haired woman in my house. There was no doubt he was inquiring about Olivia. It was the same story as with the other scumbag we caught. He said Vlad hired him. No amount of torture had the damn man talking, which told me he knew nothing more than the fact he was hired to watch Olivia. He never heard of Malcome, and I was sure he was speaking the truth. He had no clue who Malcome Schmidt was.

The question was what did Vlad want with Olivia.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Olivia

Iwoke up with Nikolai’s arms wrapped around me and my head on his chest. His heartbeat was strong, and for a moment, I remained still, listening to its steady beat. Dreams plagued me last night too but through the fog of my dreams Nikolai’s voice pulled me out. The scent that was so distinctly Nikolai enveloped me through my nightmare and erased those dark images. I was certain my restless dreams woke him up and a pang of regret hit me that I kept him awake.

For the moment, I enjoyed this cocoon he created around me. Images of last night with him swirled in my mind, creating amazing pictures. I needed to put them on canvas.

Gently, I wiggled out of his arms, careful not to wake him.

“Hmmm, where are you going?” he asked in a sleepy voice, never opening his eyes. So much for being careful. This man slept with one eye open, always on alert.

“Painting.” I leaned over his body and pressed my lips against him. “I might squeeze in a run around the property too.”

“Stay in bed with me.” Gosh, that sounded tempting, but for the first time in a long time, I felt the urge to paint. For the last six months, I forced myself to sketch, just to keep form. But right now I actually felt the urge to do it. I learned long ago that when I felt this urge to just go with it. It did miracles for my mind.

“I really want to but I need this,” I murmured against his lips. He opened his eyes and our gazes locked. Then he nodded as if he understood what painting would do to me.

“I’ll go with you,” he went to get up and I pressed him back onto the pillows.

“No,” I hoped my voice was firm. “You stay and get some sleep. I kept you up.”

He chuckled. “No, you didn’t. I usually sleep four hours a night, five tops. I got more than that last night.”

“But-” I tried to convince him it wasn’t necessary but he cut me off.

“But nothing. I’ll go with you. You can ignore me and do your thing. I’ll sit on the terrace and wait for you.”

I knew there was no changing his mind so I resigned myself to it, and we both quickly got dressed. Andrey was in his usual spot, and I caught his surprised look as soon as he saw Nikolai and I descending the stairs; me in my jogging clothes and Nikolai in jeans with a simple white t-shirt.

“Going for your morning jog?” he asked, quickly hiding his surprise.

I smiled. “Actually, not yet. Some painting and then if I’m up for it, a quick jog.”

“Good,” he replied with a light smile. “Painting must be better than jogging.” Then he turned his attention to Nikolai.

“You are not going to paint and run too, are you?” he asked Nikolai in an incredulous voice.

“What are you trying to say, Andrey?” Nikolai asked him gruffly. “That I can’t paint or jog?”

“Yeah, you can paint,” Andrey retorted back sarcastically. “Like a toddler. I saw your drawings of the property and where you wanted security cameras. The location for each camera was spot on, the drawing not so much.”

I stifled a chuckle, the image of Nikolai’s drawing flashing in my mind.

“Fine,” Nikolai answered grumbling, pretending to be insulted. “I won’t paint or run this time. I’ll sit on the terrace and watch my woman.”

I almost tripped at that proclamation and would have fallen if Nikolai wouldn’t have grabbed my forearm.

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