It's been some minutes now, not a word uttered by either one of us. It weighs in the room like a thick fog. I watch as his jaw ticks, and his fingers twirl on one of his rings. I can almost see the cogs in his head turning. He's making sure to put extra thought into what he will say next. He twirls his rings because it helps him think, he doesn't seem nervous. His presence is weirdly imposing and threatening at the same time. He finally breaks the ice. The twirling and the ticking stop, a dark look casts over his face.
"We both know that wasn't a terrorist attack."He then inches closer. For some reason the air in the room suddenly got thicker, it's much harder to breathe. Composure, I must maintain composure.Deciding on playing the role of the oblivious damsel I reply."I'm not following Mr Valkov."He rests a hand on my shoulder, my skin burns from the contact. His fingers start to trace my collarbone, branding my skin as they move. He cranes his head, the warmth of his breath sends shivers down my spine. Feeling myself getting drunk on his scent, I clear my throat in a pathetic attempt to clear his scent from it. I hate how he's breaking my composure, I'm sure he's very much aware of it. His fingers halt their movement resting on the flap of my gown. I feel the burn of his stare on my skin. He pushes the flap aside exposing my bare shoulder. Meanwhile my fingers wrestle with the hem of my gown. I suppress the urge to yank his fingers off my skin. He senses this because he smirks. His fingers tap my skin, daring me to yank them. It's a game, a game to see if I'll fold, a game to see if I'll crack under the pressure. He purses his lips, then lazily turns his head to face me. Our faces are so close that I can see the faintest details on his face, like a small set of freckles on one of his cheeks. It's weird how he only has freckles on one cheek. This detail triggers something in me and my heart skips a beat. His freckles remind me of someone. Someone I buried at the back of my mind. I remove my gaze from his freckles and his annoyingly handsome face, I focus on the glass beside me. He clicks his tongue and steps away from me. He stands in the corner. " So someone tried to kill you?" I ask."Or you." He replies casually. The way he casually said that, as if he was telling a kid that dinner was ready. The way I react is even more scary, I too casually swallow the information he just fed me like I'm the kid who had been waiting for dinner.I loosen the tight hold my fingers had on the hem of my dress, I stare at the wrinkled state of it. Returning my gaze back on him, I exhale through pursed lips and reply with a dumb question."Why would anyone try to kill me?" Not just anyone would want to kill me, but those people would. Those people whose names I buried in the back of my mind, whose faces I scratched out from my memory, those people who haunt me in my nightmares. But no one knows that, not anyone in my present, to them I'm just a regular person who wouldn't even hurt a fly, a regular person with no hit on their back. The way this man is looking at me makes my facade wilt. It's like he can see through the window of my present to my past. He looks at me like he knows I'm anything but this person laying in this bed.I hate that, I really hate that. I hate that he ruins my composure, that he makes me live my past like it's my present. Just in these few hours of knowing him."I think you know the answer to that question."His words weigh heavily. "No I don't, Mr Valkov, I have no way of knowing the answer to that question. Unlike you who enjoys living your life on the edge pissing people off, I have a normal life that doesn't make me ask myself such questions."It wasn't always this way, my life wasn't always normal. He starts to slowly pace around the room, admiring the plain walls like they are covered in expensive art. This pisses me off, the way he just shoves questions down my throat, the way he's so calm. His existence triggers and pisses me off."Maybe the sword and shield tattoo on your back might answer your questions."He spares me a quick knowing glance before returning his gaze back on the walls. I feel more cracks form in my composure. The more he talks the more cracks form. The tattoo, he recognizes the tattoo.I let out a laugh. " A tattoo? Let's not make jokes Mr Valkov, how would a tattoo give me answers?"I continue playing the role of the oblivious damsel in distress. He lets out a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair."Why Lana, is a smart person like you acting so dumb ?" I lean back in my bed and stare at the ceiling, my body feels so heavy."Those secrets you try so hard to hide are haunting you in daylight Lana."His words hit me like blows to the stomach, each one robbing me of breath. Also the way he says my name, sends weird chills through my body."I'm not liking the assumptions you're making about me Mr Valkov," I lean forward and stare at his wide, strong back. "I'm sure you're mixing me up with someone else, I'd appreciate it if you stopped, you've overstayed your visit too, maybe you need to be escorted?" I know he feels my glare.The threat lingers in the air. He doesn't seem fazed by it. He turns around and stares at me intently."Maybe I have the wrong person however," he pauses and retrieves a small manilla from his jacket. "If you could look at this and tell me what you just said with indifference,I'll take your word for it." He adds.I say nothing, he gently places the envelope on my lap."I hope you'll recover all your strength and energy Lana, you'll need it."He struts out the room leaving his bitter words hanging in the air, dread fills up my body. I reach for the envelope, with sweaty and shaky fingers I open it.My heart drops at what I find inside.I take a sip of my soda that has been marinating on the table for the last ten minutes, its ice has long dissolved into the drink making it more watery than I need it to be. I check the time on my watch, he'll be here soon. It's not too late to cancel and bolt, I've been running my whole life anyway. I shove down the thoughts of doubt to the back of my head. That's what got me into this situation anyway, running. Plus where would I go where he wouldn't find me?Feeling my nerves almost get the better of me, I order something much stronger. Whiskey always does the job. A few minutes later I'm chugging down my whiskey, I gulp down half of its contents leaving my throat stinging and a bitter aftertaste. My eyes water and my nostrils feels as though there's a bonfire being hosted in them. I however, feel myself relax a little, I lean back into my chair, my nose is immediately assaulted by a familiar coconut and vanilla scent. My eyes meet his the minute I look besides me, I nearly knock
It's been two weeks since I last saw Roman. It's not that I want to see him,then again maybe I do. It just makes me anxious, you know. Just a month ago I was nearly killed and just two weeks ago I made a deal with the devil who wouldn't be anxious. Time is ticking. I need to deal with my past quickly before it deals with me. But of course he's taking his sweet time, it's not like he has a deadline to meet. I've been pulling out my hair and eating my toenails stressed shitless. If they won't kill me then my stress will. That's why I've been standing outside one of his many office buildings for the last thirty minutes. It took me two days to narrow down which of the many buildings in the country he'd make an appearance. It took me an hour of calling annoying receptionists in a pathetic effort to book an appointment. I don't know how many times I've heard "He's unavailable" or "He's a busy man". I'm one breakdown away from bombing all the gaddamn offices.Maybe I should turn up at his u
I brushed off yesterday's pathetic attempt on crashing Roman's meeting. Next time I'll break into his house.I walk into my office inhaling the wonderful raspberry aroma filling the area. It always soothes me, I make my way past my staff, nodding and accepting greetings. Working will get my mind off things. My assistant Annie eventually catches me and we walk in sync. "Morning Miss Michaels." I almost burst out laughing. Micheals is the fake surname I adopted years ago, the one that gave me a fresh start. I'm beginning to think it has no value anymore I mean otherwise I wouldn't have been discovered right?Annie takes my coat and hands me coffee. "Should I bring the same flavoured donuts for your guests as well or maybe I should confirm with them?"I stop in my tracks and glance at my watch. It's six thirty I'm not supposed to have any clients until ten. "Why didn't you mention that before Annie?"She looks away flustered. "Well they told me you were expecting them so assumed you al
I can only hear gunshots and the heavy thumps of corpses hitting the ground around me. Both my brain and my stomach are throbbing with excruciating pain. I'm curled up like a foetus, anxiously trying to protect my body from the flurry of bullets flying by. The bullets seem to go forever before stopping. I pull my head free of my arms and sneak a peek. My nose is assaulted by a familiar intoxicating scent, I don't need to look up to know who's standing in front of me. I sit up ignoring the protest of my body oozing with pain. Roman eyes me intently, his gaze sweeping over my body. He extends a hand, I immediately grab on to it and he hoists me up gently. He struts over to his car. Roman's made men gather my pursuers' bodies and toss them in cars. They'll all dead. A honk startles me out of my thoughts. Roman catches my attention."Aren't you going to get in the car?"I make my way to the car and step in immediately feeling the warmth of the heater. I sink into his plush leather seats
We're at Roman's penthouse, my temporary home for the next few months. On our way up I was addressed as Mrs Valkov at least fifty times, it still tastes foreign on my tongue. I don't think I'll ever get used to it. I've spent the last ten years using a fake surname. Now I have another, crazy. Does that mean I have to change my documents now? I'm overthinking this. I snap out of thoughts and focus on my surroundings. It's a very gorgeous penthouse with the best view. We passed by so many floors on our way up, Roman says his men occupy some of the floors and the other floors are for recreational purposes. I make a mental note to explore the rest of the floors later. I'm introduced to his staff, Elena who handles housekeeping and Chef Ranov who does the cooking."So what do you people do for fun? Target practice on dead bodies maybe?""Would you like to be the subject of today's practice?"I purse my lips. "So how do we handle commuting? I'm sure your work has an awkward schedule anywa
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about the engagement lunch. I've been rummaging through my closet for an appropriate outfit. I mean what do you wear to your engagement party with a Don? I suddenly feel homesick, if things had been different I'd be surrounded by my cousins and annoying aunts in Italy. They'd be helping me get dressed up whilst gossiping about their neighbours. Unfortunately things weren't different, I'd always been destined to be alienated, secluded, all alone. I wish Val was alive, at least we'd have been together, secluded together.The life I lived was a lonely one. It's not like I even had a choice. Ofcourse I had friends but they only knew Lana Michaels, the goofy,crazy Lana Micheals with a perfect life. They didn't know Lana Morelli, the one who had killed and stolen for survival, the black sheep of her family who was harbouring intense bitterness and anger toward them. Lana Morelli who hated that her life was pathetic, the daughter of a monster. Lana Mor
These people are vultures. I know their type, I've dealt with their type. The type of people that tear you down from flesh to bone. People with critical eyes and big noses from which they look down on people. Stuck up rich people. I have the strong urge to shoot everyone in the room. As his doting wife to be I have my arm snaked around his showing our engagement rings for the camera. I have the fakest smile on my face. Roman leans towards me. I feel his hot breath fanning against my neck. "Ne khodi v les yesli boish'sya volkov." He whispers into my ear. What does that mean? Why is he speaking Russian to me when I don't even understand it? It sounds good though, him speaking Russian sounds really good. Curiosity fills me, I want to hear more of Roman speaking Russian. I tilt my head slightly so I'm facing his neck. Aware of the cameras and the crowd watching, I place a kiss near his earlobe. I feel his throat rumble, more like a growl sound. Maybe I'm just imagining it. "What does
The dinner is being hosted by a family restaurant. The second I step out of the car my nose is welcomed by a pleasant mix of aromas dancing in the air. The place is decorated with gorgeous lights and flowers which uplift my mood. The sight of the place alone calms me. As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving. Who would guess that such a cosy family restaurant would host the most dangerous of criminals that roam the streets? Monsters of every kind are hiding behind those closed doors. You wouldn't want to eat with mafia men even if you were on your deathbed, they are the most hazardous kind of people. In the past I used to dine with plenty of them, my papa advertising me like a shiny new toy at the dinner table and those men undressing me with their filthy eyes. Some inappropriately tugged at my dresses under the table. Yep, dining like this definitely brought back bad memories. I doubt any of them would try anything with Roman around, then again you can never be too sure that's wh