Blackness Within (26 page)

I’m in the dress that Roman laid out for me to wear, a pretty jersey charcoal dress that clings to every curve down to my wrists and calves. I’m completely covered, not even cleavage showing with the slash neck. I look sexy though. The hint of what lies beneath the material is suggestive and alluring. The slit that runs high up the back adds to that.

Since it’s day, I left my make-up light and my hair in a low bun at the base of my neck. Roman, as every other day, is in a black suit. Today he’s wearing a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar allowing the dragon a better view of the world.

We’re in the back of a limo with Igor riding shotgun, two SUVs of men ahead of us and another two following us. Roman’s been working on his smart phone since he got out of the shower, only speaking to me in order to direct me.

He’s tense. His body is radiating that cold granite feeling he gets when he’s preparing for the worst. Sweet Roman is gone. I’m not the point of contention, yet I want to calm him. I’m getting sicker by the day. I realize this and I can’t stop my hand from tentatively resting on his thigh.

Roman’s flying fingers halt instantly at the contact. He moves his smart phone to the side and peers down at my hand, shifting his gaze all the way up my arm until he reaches my face. The impassive features that stare at me are worrying. I leave my hand and give him a reassuring squeeze followed by a sweet smile. Then I get bold, breaking eye contact first and swing my gaze out the window, with my hand remaining on his powerful leg.

Then he snorts. Snorts. It’s almost a laugh. My gaze is immediately back on his and I find a mischievous smile playing on his lips. I beam at him in return. God I really do crave the sweet Roman.

Our moment is broken when the limo glides to a stop in front of an old Italian restaurant. The basic red brick building is unremarkable, but the tattered white painted sign hanging above the awning is anything but. Carmine’s is known for the illegal activity that runs through it. A mob restaurant. I’m with a drug kingpin so I’m not surprised, but I am uneasy.

This is the first time we’ve left the warehouse. I had a brief moment where I thought this could be the moment I get away. Then my brain kicked in gear and I realized how foolish that idea is. Twenty or so men plus Igor would catch me before these Louboutins get scuffed. I need to just accept the fact that this is my life for the foreseeable future. If I keep torturing myself with hope, I’ll never make it.

Igor pulls the door open and offers me his hand. I take it and climb to my feet, careful of the ice frosting the cracked sidewalk. Roman rises from limo looking more ominous than I’ve ever seen him. I’m in heels and it’s as though he looms taller than when I’m barefoot. His shoulders seem to have expanded to twice their normal size. The dragon even looks to be standing prouder as it peers at me from beneath Roman’s chin. I’m fucking terrified.

Roman walks past me as if I’m a stranger so I remain on the sidewalk. The SUVs of his armed men filter in the restaurant behind him, all brandishing guns of some sort.

I have no clue what I’m supposed to do in this moment. I want to test the running abilities of these expensive shoes. As the last of the Bratva disappears, I breathe deeply.

I’m alone. The limo driver just pulled away from the curb and Igor led the charge behind Roman. I could go.

“Run,” I encourage myself.

My feet stay rooted. My heart thunders in my chest. My eyes dart around the empty street for the trap.

“Run,” I plead with my body to move.

I can’t.

I don’t have Junior.

I have nowhere to go.

I’m still alone in the world only this time there’s no Blake or Sully to come rescue me.

And now I’m thinking about Sully and Blake, which I swore I wouldn’t do anymore. When I think about them, I lose focus. Without focus at every turn, Roman will shock me and force a mistake. A mistake like running right now.

“Natasha,” Roman’s voice scares the shit out of me.

I scream with a start and jolt with surprise. My heels do me no favors and I begin to fall to the icy ground. Before I completely wipe out, Roman’s muscled arms wrap around my body. I cling to his jacket as I slip and slide, attempting to right my feet beneath me.

When I finally steady myself, I peer up into Roman’s face to see impending punishment marring his features.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“What are you doing, Natasha?” he snarls bending into my face.

“Waiting,” I respond honestly.

“If you’re trying to figure out which direction to run, I would go east,” he says coolly.

Did he hear me talking to myself?

“I’m not dressed for a run,” I try to divert.

“What are you doing?” he persists, squeezing me tighter.

“I didn’t know what to do. You walked by me and then the men left. I was waiting for some direction.”

“You’re at my side always, Natasha. I don’t need to direct that. And I certainly don’t need to leave a meeting to come chase you down,” he admonishes me.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter before removing myself from his arms only to envelope myself in my own.

Good thing I didn’t run. I wouldn’t have made it two blocks before Roman came out. My brain is foolish and my body has this game down pat. I don’t know why I keep pushing. Sully. My brain wants his hands…his touch…No! Fuck no! I’m not going there. He’s gone and I’m here.

Roman walks away from me again and this time I dutifully follow in his wake, careful not to slip. As we enter the low-ceilinged entryway, I see only one table with men sitting at it. Men that look almost as scary as Roman…almost. The gun brigade is massive, lining every wall of the small restaurant. What the hell is going on? I’m the only woman in here and that knowledge does nothing to ease my nerves.

As we arrive at the head of the rectangle six-person table covered with a red and white checked tablecloth, I shrug off my trench coat. Before my fingers are through the arms, a young man in a waiter uniform is helping me and then carefully folding it over his forearm.

“Thank you,” I say kindly.

He doesn’t respond other than to look beyond me at Roman, then scurries away. I turn back to the table to find there’s an empty chair being held out for me by Roman. I settle myself in quickly, keeping my eyes on the wine glass in front of me.

There’s a man to my left and Roman takes the head of the table to my right. Across the table are two other men. I don’t look at them. I don’t speak. I’m barely breathing. I feel like bait in a barrel of piranhas.

“Gentlemen, this is my friend, Natasha Reynolds. I thought it was important for you to meet her,” Roman says.

His friend? That classification boils my blood instantly. I’m not his damn friend. I’m his…I don’t know what. But I’m surely not his friend!

I slowly lift my gaze and lock it with Roman’s. He’s going to do something to me. I can see it in the twitch of his jaw and the squint of his midnight eyes as he regards me impassively.

“Natasha, I’d like you to educate the men at this table. They need to understand what lies ahead if they continue to make mistakes,” Roman states plainly.

“Of course, Roman,” I reply quietly.

This is really bad.

“Convince them,” he dictates and my pulse skyrockets as bile rises to the back of my throat.

I’m now a whore. I knew when he kissed me like that this morning it was to show me my place. Now I’m in the situation I feared awaited me. Three men Roman wants me to perform sexually with. I can’t do this. He’ll have to kill me. There’s no way I’m doing what he just asked and that will amount to a death sentence. Sweet Roman is long gone and the evil dragon is all that remains.

“Natasha,” Roman growls.

I’ve been staring through him since he made his demand and I’m not planning on moving. Even my traitorous body is stock-still. Then I look into his eyes and I see it. This is yet another fucking test. Will I offer strangers my body because he’s insinuated that’s what he wants? Damn him!

I slide my chair back before sinking to my knees and crawling beneath the table. The floor is hard and cold beneath me. Damn him! I settle between Roman’s thick thighs and run my hands up his legs, stopping at his belt buckle. I unlatch it before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

I take a deep breath and then I thread my hand into his boxer briefs to find him completely limp. Great…even more effort to pass my test. This is just my work now. That’s how I have to look at it. I’m debased and humiliated. I’m not even certain I’m alive anymore at this point. Is this a life?

I’m not happy. I’m not fulfilled. I’m not proud. I’m not content. I’m not loved. I’m not taken care of. I’m nothing. I’m a shell. I’m losing more than my power. I’m losing Natasha.

Just as I’m about to pull Roman’s flaccid dick from his pants, his dragon fingers clamp firmly around my wrist. Before I can register what’s happening, I’m being hauled from beneath the table and deposited in Roman’s open-fly lap.

Instinctively, my arms wrap around his shoulders and I bury my head in the dragon’s face on Roman’s neck. He doesn’t hold me close. Actually, he doesn’t hold me at all. His massive forearms rest on the chair’s arms. He’s cold and unresponsive. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, so I wait.

“As you can see, Natasha is willing to do anything that’s requested of her. She’s mine. I can and will do anything with her as I please. Your wives, your daughters, your sisters or any other women you care for will be Natasha if you defy me again. I will take your families and pick them apart bit by bit. I’ll eliminate all of the men and then dismantle the women. I’ll crush them and then mold them into whores like Natasha here,” Roman explains.

I wince and tremble as he speaks. I can’t stop the reaction. I’m terrified, pissed, hurt and confused. I’m so tired of being confused. This is what I should be to Roman…a whore. The sweet he shows me is to manage me. At the end of the day, I’m a tool in a garden shed the size of France for him to wield when necessary.

I’m nothing.

Natasha

After Roman humiliated me and apparently made his point to the men at the table, I was dismissed. I hurried from the table to be met by the same young man that had taken my coat earlier. He slid it back on my arms and then turned a sad pained face at me before yet again scurrying away.

The driver of a black sedan is waiting for me as I exit. He pulls the backdoor open just long enough to settle me in before climbing behind the wheel to drive me back to my prison. I can’t do this. No way. I have to get away from Roman. I’d rather take my own life than give it to him. I really have been in a deep state of denial. I’m worse than my mother at this point. Somewhere in my twisted brain I truly believed Roman wanted me and would only hurt me if I disobeyed him. Yes…that’s sick. I know that, but I found comfort in it.

Igor drops into the passenger seat and we’re off. This is it. I’m doing this. Goodbye world. Goodbye baby Junior that I only knew a few days and still miss every second. Goodbye mom. You did your best and I love you for that. Goodbye Blake. I did this for you. Be the man I know you can be. Goodbye Sully. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in your arms and fight for the good I feel on my lips with every breath I inhale.

Goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Igor turns to look at me as I lunge at the driver, yanking at his face and the wheel. Igor yells and grabs at me, but I’ve caught the driver off guard and the wheel is in my control. I pull as hard to the left as I can; fighting the two men off me with my free arm and both legs. When the car careens through the barricade, I welcome the free fall before we plunge into the icy racing water of the Missouri River.

My head cracks against the window and my vision gets hazy, the blackness within me engulfing the last of the light. As the world goes dim and the frigid water pulls the car beneath the surface, I see his face. He’s pleading with me to wake up and take his hand.

I smile and shake my head no before saying, “Goodbye, Sully.”

O’Sullivan

“Come on, fatty. Keep up,” I chide as my feet crunch along the asphalt.

“Fuck you, Sully,” Kid grumbles and then sprints past me. Insults are the best way to motivate her…always have been.