Page 11 of Dark Prince

LORENZO

Sitting on the bed, my naked back leaning back on my pillow with my head against the headboard, I stare at the bottle in my hand. When I grabbed the top-shelf whiskey from Dad’s liquor cabinet, I had every intention of swallowing the contents until I passed out. But here I remain, the black seal still intact forty-five minutes later.

I’m not an alcoholic. Do I have an addiction problem? Sure. Booze just isn’t it. My wife is my kryptonite, both in good terms and bad. At least I can admit it. She, on the other hand, refuses to acknowledge that I’m her weakness or that she even possesses one.

Sasha and my sister are alike in that sense. They are both determined to make sure every man in their vicinity knows there is not one weak bone in their body. In all honesty, it’s the very reason I don’t understand why they hate each other so much. Our cultures may differ in ways, but the lifestyle we grew up in did not. They’re both fighters, independent and opinionated.

Where they differ is that Sienna wanted to be a full-fledge member of our family with equal say, whereas Sasha has never wanted anything to do with hers. For as far back as I can remember, I’ve always sympathized with her on the issue. My father has morals, and although I’m not blind to the bad things he’s done, at his core, his heart has always been in the right place—or so I’ve always believed.

Mischa Nikolayev, my wife’s father, is the opposite of mine. At least in all the ways Sasha has described him over the years. He’s harsh and unforgiving. He expects the impossible. No, he demands the impossible and doesn’t have an ounce of empathy within him.

Tonight was the first time I’ve ever been in the same room as my father-in-law, yet none of those things shone back at me. Not that he spared me a glance. His winter-blue eyes were mostly on his children or my dad. I didn’t witness anything more than annoyance from the Russian American pakhan. When I announced to the whole room that Sasha was my wife, her father didn’t even bat an eyelash. At the time, it didn’t sink in, but now that the chaos is over and I’ve had time to replay what happened, I realize Mischa already knew that I was married to his daughter. There was no ounce of shock on his face, nor my father’s.

They both knew.

But for how long?

And what was with that whole delivery aspect of what took place an hour ago? Sasha being brought here had obviously been planned between my father and hers, but why tonight? Why now?

As my mind turns, the notification sound on my cell phone goes off, jarring me from my confused thoughts. There are cameras set up all around the exterior of Dad’s house. When a car pulls into the driveway, I have the security feed set up to notify me immediately. It’s the same setup for the club I own that I’ve yet to tell my wife about. Of course, if she acted like a real wife, that wouldn’t be an issue. I was the one ready to tell the world we’d eloped, only to wake up the next morning to an empty bed and a missing bride. I was her dirty little secret.

Snatching my phone off the nightstand, I click on the application and pull up the footage. It’s a car I don’t recognize, but that’s all I can see since he parked at the end of the driveway instead of pulling all the way forward. The chime on the door alerts me that an exterior door opened, and that’s when it dawns on me that the driver is likely an Uber. If I had to place money on it, Sasha is the one that opened the door.

Tossing my phone on the bed, I take off, sprinting out of my bedroom and down the stairs. Grabbing the handle on the front door, I twist and wrench it open so hard it’s a wonder the hinges didn’t come off. I’m barefoot and lacking the shirt I was wearing earlier, but it’s summer, so it doesn’t matter. Hell, it wouldn’t matter if it was the middle of February during a winter storm, because I’d still do the same. I’d charge after my wife no matter where she was or the conditions—or the goddamn consequences.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” I bellow from behind her just before I snag her around the waist and haul her body back against mine, loving the feel of her athletic figure. “You’re not going anywhere tonight, wifey.”

“Let go of me, Ren.” The driver’s eyes widen as she attempts to loosen my hold by pushing my forearm off. If she actually wanted to get out of this position, she’s more than capable of making it happen. That’s how I know she doesn’t really want to leave. She likes to be chased, and like a pathetic dog, that’s what I always do.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson by now and just let her go. But I can’t and I won’t—at least not at the given moment. Maybe I’ll wake up one of these days and be done with this bullshit. Tonight is not that night.

Without sparing the Uber driver another glance or bothering to clear up this matter, I lift her feet off the lawn and flip Sasha midair, then move her front to rest over my shoulder while pivoting and walking back to the house.

Once inside, I kick the door closed with my foot and stalk to the stairs, taking them two at a time. She doesn’t fight me the whole trek to my room, but when I toss her onto the bed, her head snaps up and her arctic-blue eyes are fuming with enough venom it’d scare a weaker man. Narrowing her eyes and snarling, she says, “Whatever bullshit your dad is playing at doesn’t concern me. You don’t own me and he sure as hell doesn’t.”

“Well, seeing as it was your old man that handed you over, he must be tired of your smart mouth.” I chuckle even though I’m not the least bit amused. “But I can find plenty of uses for it, snowflake.” I flick my eyes to her bottom lip. She has naturally plump lips that women pay a doctor hundreds for, maybe even thousands, to give them the same cosmetic look that she was born with.

Pushing herself off the bed, she stands up, coming chest to chest with me because I don’t bother stepping back to offer her more space. “I’m leaving,” she grits out, baring her teeth.

“Nah, bitch. You’re not going anywhere.” Where most women would slap me across the face for calling them that particular derogatory term, Sasha’s winter-blue eyes spark to life, heating with lust, and in turn, waking up my cock in the process.

In the blink of an eye, my hand wraps around her delicate throat, my thumb squeezing just enough to make her uncomfortable but still able to breathe. I bend down until my lips hover over hers. I know she is sore from the events of tonight, but the need to be inside her is far too great.

My mouth curves when her hands go to the waistline of my dark-blue jeans, pulling the belt loose, and then she pops the button and glides the zipper down. With one hand around her neck, I jerk her forward, making her lips smash into mine. I dive my tongue inside, kissing her with all that I am, all that I have to offer, hoping that one day it’ll be enough to get her to stay by my side for a lifetime rather than an hour or two here and there.

Sasha’s warm hands dip into the waistband of my boxer briefs and start pushing my clothes down my hips. Running the inside of her calf up my jean-clad leg like she’s playing the sexy seductress—though she often does exactly that—she hooks a heel around the back of my knee and in a quick-as-lightning move, she maneuvers all one hundred and ninety-two pounds of my body, flipping me around to land on my back on top of the bed, with her straddling me.

I expected this.

It’s what we do.

What I didn’t realize was that at some point she stole the pocketknife from inside my pants pocket, flicked the blade open, and by the time I regain my senses the sharp end of the steel pierces my chest, over my heart, digging into the white-ink tattoo of the snowflake I got inked on me six months ago.

I’m that idiot. The one that tattoos his girl’s name permanently on his body for the world to see only for the relationship to come to an end shortly after. Mine may not say Sasha but the nickname I branded her with when we were kids is basically the same thing.

Without acknowledging the pain or the blood that’s likely pooling on my chest, I shove her skintight black and hot pink dress up her thighs to her waist and then yank her panties to the side. Sasha drops, pushing my dick all the way inside her precious pussy—my precious pussy.

How wet she gets and how quick it happens never ceases to amaze me.

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