Page 9 of Scarred (Russian Sinners 2)

Shoving all those thoughts aside, I focused on now. I had to find my brother. He was the only good part of my family. He wanted nothing to do with my father and cut all his ties with the family except for me. He couldn’t forgive our mother for not saving me; and he hated Dad’s guts for selling us out. Not to mention the beatings he so generously gave to his wife and children.

So Oliver joined the military and had been fighting a war in the Middle East. That’s why I was surprised to hear my brother was here, of all the places. None of us cared for gambling, knowing that was the way our father accumulated his debt.

Glances were thrown my way and I purposely ignored them.

It didn’t matter. I was here for one purpose and one purpose only. I wanted to find my brother before he did something stupid. I couldn’t handle paying for another debt on top of my father’s.

Praying my brother wasn’t following my father’s footsteps, I scanned the room. There was greed on everyone’s faces, either for the women around them or for the money they were most likely not going to win.

It was too damn dark in here, and my sunglasses weren’t helping at all as I desperately searched to spot him. But taking them off wasn’t an option. My bruised cheek would be on full display or someone could recognize me.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a side door open as a waitress left the room where gentlemen sat around a black jack table. That’s when I spotted my brother, his red hair reflected under the dim light of the dark room.

How do I get in there?

There was a hulk of a guard in front of the door and it shut within a few seconds of the waitress leaving. I glanced around trying to come up with an idea when a drunk man started grabbing on one of the waitresses. That got the hulk’s attention and he went to save the waitress. As I watched him go to her rescue, I hurriedly walked into the dimmed room. The room was quiet with the exception of occasional chips being tossed on the table and the cards being shuffled. Ignoring it all, I walked straight for my brother, his red hair a dead giveaway.

Just as I got to the table, I heard my brother’s voice mutter out a string of curses and I desperately looked around to see what caused them. I reached out my hand and laid it on his shoulder. His head whipped around.

“What happened, Oliver?” My heart was beating wildly although I wasn’t sure why. I was worried the hulk of a guard was going to grab me and throw me out.

I could see shock on his face. I was the last person he expected to see here.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, standing up. He tried to keep his words low and block the view of me with his body.

I glanced around the table and there were only five men seated at the round table. They were all staring hard at their cards, with the exception of one. A man with light tanned skin, coal black hair, and eyes that saw everything.

He wasn’t beautiful in a classic way, but something about him captured me. The dangerous vibe and power rippled off him in waves. There was a strong sense of authority in his demeanor. He sat casually against his chair, his eyes on me and my brother. Sitting at the head of the table, he gave the impression all the men, including my brother, that sat at this table were his pawns. Even in his seated position, I could see the dark, expensive suit fit him like a glove, covering the evidence of a well-muscled body, and the scar that ran across his cheek only accentuated the air of danger that lingered around him.

I couldn’t imagine how big he was if he stood up. And his face. God it was a face made to be painted. He may not have been the normal standard of good looks, but there was something alluring about him. I swore I felt electric currents on my fingertips, wanting to feel his face so I could paint him.

Attraction.

I had never felt such attraction before. Before Malcome, I dated a few boys here and there. We fooled around but I never found much pleasure in it so I never took it to the final step. It was something I didn’t want to rush or go all the way with a wrong person. But then Malcome happened and I dreaded going all the way. I dreaded for him to be my first but also lost all will for sex.

But this man in front of me… he was something entirely different. Despite the fact that danger rippled off him, he was so enticing, I couldn’t look away. The corner of his lips turned up into a smooth, sexy smile and I drew in my breath. There was something about this man, and I wasn’t sure whether I should run from him or towards him. My eyes went back to his lips of their own will, imagining all the sinful things he could do with them.

Do men have beautiful lips?I never saw one with such kissable lips before, but this one had images crossing my mind that made me deliciously quiver on the inside. It was a novelty reaction for me. I was sure the experiences with my fiancé had permanently removed any possibilities of desire capabilities.

His lips looked soft and sinful. I couldn’t quite tell the color of his eyes through my dark sunglasses, but they stared at me. My reaction to this man was terrifying, but in a completely different way… was that good or bad, I wasn’t entirely sure.

He was probably watching me because I looked ridiculous in my Chanel dress, prancing around a casino wearing my black fedora and dark sunglasses.

“Olivia,” my brother’s voice forced my attention back to him.

“I came to take you home,” I spoke softly hoping nobody could hear our conversation but the room was so eerily quiet, I had no doubt they heard each syllable we spoke.

“Olivia,” he gritted between his teeth, glancing around the table. “Go home.”

He was agitated but I didn’t care. He shouldn’t be doing this and he knew it. We both did. He was trying to help but places like this only brought on more problems. There was no saving grace coming in this form.

“No,” I told him stubbornly. I might not have much control over the rest of my life, but this part I could control, and I wouldn’t allow him to go down this road. “Not without you.”

“How will you be paying, Mr. Fray?” The dealer’s voice had both of our heads turning.

“Paying for what?” I asked even though I was scared to hear the answer.

“Mr. Fray lost the hand,” he replied to me. I glanced at my brother’s hand and saw it was still there, attached to him. Then I mentally facepalmed myself. He probably meant my brother lost the round.

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