Page 22 of Savage Beauty

Sasha fights back a smirk. “Whatever’s the matter,zolotse?”

Bambi is avoiding my eyes, but she knows. All women can distinguish between professional rapport and out-and-out flirting; she knows she overstepped. She doesn’t know how pissed off I am about it, though, and honestly, I’m surprised at myself.

“I—I didn’t mean to create an atmosphere,” Bambi stammers. “If you’d like me to pass you on to a colleague—”

“No,” I snap. “I don’t like it here anyway. Just leave us alone.”

Bambi gives Sasha a beseeching look, and he shrugs in a ‘whaddayagonnado’ way. He’s teasing me, enjoying my anger.

He knows what he did to me last night. Tore down my defenses and made me want him, only to demand even more?

He wanted me to beg for his body. To demean myself. And when I refused, he made me come anyway, leaving me confused and strangely humiliated even as the aftershocks thrummed through my core.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was asleep again, and I was simultaneously relieved and angry. How could he shrug it off so casually? It was the same this morning; we buried the tension under banter, and so far, it’s worked.

But not anymore. It’s as though the morning of trailing around ever more elaborate wedding venues has worn me out in more ways than one. The dreamlike strangeness of it all is retreating like the tide, leaving jagged rocks of reality in its wake.

I want more from Sasha than he’s willing to give. It’s not just about the way he dominates, the obsession, or the control. I want to unravel the layers he keeps hidden beneath his macho exterior. He tries to project the image of an open book, but I can see the walls he’s erected around his heart. Maybe he’s hiding as much from himself as from the rest of the world.

15

Sasha

Iknew I’d push things too far. It wasn’t intentional, but I’ve always been known for going over the edge.

The fawning blonde couldn’t hold my attention for a nanosecond if her life depended on it. She reeked of desperation, too eager to please, too obvious in her intent. I’ve encountered a thousand women like her in the mafia world, churned out by its unforgiving gears.

Strangely enough, she reminds me of Claudia Tosca. That same fragile beauty with an underlying manic edge. Claudia would’ve probably driven me to madness, but at least my heart wouldn’t be at risk like it is now.

In the bratva, a marriage is only as strong as the paper it’s written on, but my thoughts keep drifting back to the vows I made. The promise I uttered, even as I gripped Josie’s wrist. It’s as if some deep, buried part of me is under siege, not by an army, but by one beautiful woman. A woman with fire in her belly and a smile that makes me want to devote my life to her happiness.

I think about last night. Breathing hotly in Josie’s ear, grinding against her, touching her…it was all too real. I knew I wanted her, sure, but something happened to me. Whatever it was is not clear yet, but something changed, and when I woke up this morning, I quickly got the mask back in place. I must keep the upper hand until I can get my head on straight.

It’s not easy. My new wife is sharp-witted and sardonic, and although I’m usually on the receiving end of her jabs, I love it. I was going for wry aloofness, but it dissolved in no time, and I found myself laughing hopelessly at her flirty insults. Despite my attempts to dazzle her with an unlimited budget for our do-over wedding, she remains unimpressed, and I wonder if she’s as distracted as I am.

So why am I deliberately baiting her, pushing her buttons? Maybe it’s because I’m an asshole.

I leave the wedding coordinator standing in the lobby and head for the bar. It takes me a moment to spot Josie, but when I do, my stomach drops.

She’s engaged in conversation with a man I know. Freddy De Silva is a police captain, and his precinct covers where we conduct much of our business. He’s been a valuable friend to our family, keeping low-level troublemakers away from our turf and conveniently looking the other way when we handle things on our own. Not that he hasn’t reaped the benefits; how many cops can afford the latest Rolex?

Freddy puts his arm around Josie’s waist. He leans down to speak into her ear, and she gives a tinkling laugh. She puts her palm on his chest, and he gives her a look I know all too well.

He wants her.That cunt wantsmywife.

My first impulse is to kill him, but should I really commit a murder in broad daylight in a high-profile hotel? Even if we booked their wedding package, I doubt “homicide victim disposal and cover-up” is part of the deal, even without the many witnesses enjoying their cocktails.

I’m beside Josie and Freddy before I realize I’ve moved my feet. I snatch Josie’s hand from Freddy’s chest, clasping it in mine.

“Freddy,” I say, not even trying to keep the sharp edge off of my voice. “You’ve met my wife?”

Freddy looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Sasha. How’s it going?” He extends his hand for a shake, but I ignore it. “You shouldn’t leave a beautiful woman alone. There are all sorts of snakes around here, and money and elegance don’t necessarily make people good.”

“How true,” Josie says pointedly, extracting her hand from mine. “It was lovely to meet you, Freddy. See you around.”

She walks away, but I hang back. Freddy gulps as I draw closer to him—I have at least a fifty-pound weight advantage, and every bit is muscle. If I wanted to mess him up, I could do it without breaking a sweat.

“This is your only warning,” I say. I tuck my hand inside my jacket. “Lay a finger on my wife again, and I’ll end you.”

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