Distrust (Smirnov Bratva Book 1) (5 page)

I lifted my head, her head was hung backward, her face was soft. It was the first time I’d seen a softer side of her. She caught me staring, and her face went back to placid, instantly. She pulled me to her. I managed to get my cock out of my pants, it was hard as fuck, and painfully wanting to be buried deep inside of her. She helped, and smiled up at me once I had my cock out, her legs spread wider again when she moved so I could lie on top of her. I didn’t waste a second, afraid it was all a dream.

Then I was inside her, and she changed her face back to that softer side. Her lips formed a perfect O. Lifting my shirt with her hands, her nails started to dig, and with each thrust, she pushed her nails in harder and harder.

Her mouth came down hard on me when we both came. She bit through my shirt, straight into my skin, I could feel it when she punctured my skin and laughed when I pulled away, removing myself from her. And it was the sweetest fucking melody I’d ever heard.

“Are you planning on staring all night?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. She was still naked, lying on the back of my car like nothing had happened. As if it was the safest place in the world.

If only she knew who she was with.

I tucked my dick back into my pants and lifted her legs so I could sit next to her. The smell of sex filled the car. She held no shame.

“Will I see you again?”

Her eyes closed softly, then she squeezed them hard before they fluttered open. “Do you want to?” she asked.

Nodding my head in reply, because fuck, yes, I did.

“Then yes.”

“What’s your name?”

I just fucked a woman solely because of attraction, and what a fucking attraction to fuck.

“Elina,” she answered, moving one of her feet to run between my pant covered legs. She didn’t ask mine in return. “And you’re Kazier.”

I should have been worried then, I should have thrown her from my car. It was crazy, this thing called lust. How it fucks with your brain, made you not see straight.

She got dressed not long after and opened the door. I thought she was walking around to her side of the car. But a car pulled up behind us, and she got in without a goodbye, leaving me in a car that smelled of sex and with her on my mind.

Chapter 8

Kazier

Present

When I wake, she’s gone. I get my hopes up every time, thinking one day she’ll stay, but she never does. She’s like a ghost, always disappearing.

The knock on the door that originally woke me bangs again. I forget I’m not dressed, and when I pull the door open Freya’s hand flies up to cover her eyes, the other points directly at my cock.

“Put that thing away,” she shrieks at me.

I grab quickly whatever is close—a towel—and wrap it around my waist.

“It’s safe,” I say walking away, back into the guest house. I hear her soft footsteps behind me, following me inside. When I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge and turn around to look at her, I see her eyes are glued to the bed, the very messy bed that smells of sex.

“So, do you love her?” she asks not looking directly at me rather over my shoulder.

“No, at least I don’t think I do.”

She turns now and stares, her nose scrunches up in disgust. “You don’t know if you love her? Is that you just trying to be nice to ease my feelings? Because I wouldn’t bother. You had no qualms about my feelings last night when
you
left with
her
.”

Fuck! I didn’t want to hurt her, but I can hear it in her voice that she’s hurting when she tries not to raise it, but she fails.

“I am being honest, I don’t know what I feel for her. I just know I can’t say no to her.”

Her arms cross over her chest. “So I heard. Don’t worry, I was filled in on your love affair last night. You don’t even know the woman’s last name, yet you’ll drop anyone and anything the moment she calls.”

“Who told you that?” my voice raises. I don’t really need to know who, I already know. Only two people are ever with me when I see Elina, but I do wonder who opened their big fucking mouth.

“Viktor told me. He had no choice, I threaten to split him where he stood with my knife if he didn’t. And if I hear you hurt him for telling me, I’ll offer you the same advice I gave him… I will split you as well. At least then all my problems would be solved.” She huffs, sitting on the free chair near the table. There isn’t much here, it’s small, a small kitchenette, which you can see from the bed and a dining room. It’s open space with no internal doors, apart from the bathroom.

“Did you at least enjoy the party?” I ask, pulling out the chair and sitting across from her. Something hits me in the chest. I look to my lap and see a water bottle resting there, and when I look up to Freya, her eyes are full of anger.

“Did I enjoy it? Tell me you’re joking?”

“Um… okay.”

Her face scrunches up at me. “I’m serious, Catara is evil. I swear she is. People are nosy. And the only saving grace was Viktor!”
That surprises the hell out of me. Viktor doesn’t like people, he hardly has time for us, and I’m family.

“Viktor?” I say surprised.

I see the blush creep up on her cheeks—she likes him. “Yes! He pulled me from the claws of Catara, who insisted on informing me… all night, that my soon to be husband was off fucking another woman. And that’s what I should expect in the future because our marriage
will
be happening.”

What a fucking cunt she is.

I want to slit her throat next time I see her.

“You can thank your friends for me not busting in here and slicing you for that.”

“I’m fucked up. She gets me fucked up.” My head drops, my hands covering my face when she speaks. “I don’t want to tell you not see her again because that’s not who I am. I just want respect, respect when I’m involved. I don’t want to be the woman you married because our fathers made us. I need to be more for this to work.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I don’t want to marry you, Freya. I really don’t. I never want to marry anyone… ever. So don’t think for a second it’s you. I will try. I won’t be such a dick. But you’re going to have to help because I can’t just say no to her. It’s impossible.”

“What does she hold over you?” Her voice is softer now. I think we finally understand each other, in some way.

My hands apply pressure to my brows, even I don’t know the answer to
that
question.

“I don’t even know.”

“Bullshit! The boys told me about her. Think Kazier, what does she hold over you?”

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know. I see a storm in her, I have it in me. But when we’re together, everything falls silent.”

She doesn’t speak as she stares at me with assessing eyes. “You do love her! You just don’t want to admit it, or haven’t realized it yet.”

I shake my head at her.
You can’t love a ghost, it’s impossible.

“I don’t think this is something we should be talking about,” I say standing, walking to the messed up bed from last night. I can still smell her here, everywhere. I drop my towel. I hear Freya curse me, and can’t help but laugh.

She’s a virgin, I’m sure of it. And here I am, showing her everything she probably hasn’t seen before.

“Your father was not happy with you last night,” she says as I pull up my pants.

I tense. Because he cannot know about Elina. To him, she would be a threat. And threats to him only end one way. I start cursing in Russian over and over.

“I covered for you,” she interrupts, and I turn to face her, wondering why she would do that. She sees the question written on my face. “If he’s exactly like my father, which I suspect he is, I knew what the outcome would have been,” she says standing and walking to the front door.

“Thank you, Freya,” I say because I am thankful.

Her hand stops on the door, I see her breathing heavily. I’m mainly thankful that I won’t have to kill him, my father.

“I wouldn’t thank me yet. Your evil step-mother knows… remember?” She pulls the door open and leaves. I watch the door that she just exited, and wonder what I’m going to do about her. Maybe I should kill her?

****

I manage to avoid Catara all day, but the second I step to the front door to leave, her voice stops me. “Your little fiancée covered for you last night.” I can hear the excitement in her voice. She wants something, and I know what she wants straight away. “Though, I do have a meeting with your father tonight and the subject may come up. Whatever shall I say?” I turn to face her and see her finger tapping her chin in contemplation.

I step forward, her hand dropping away from her face, her eyes grow wide with excitement. My hand touches her hip, her way too skinny hip, and I hear her sigh with enthusiasm.

“You think you can keep on fucking with me?” I ask her.

She thinks about it for a second then nods her head.

“You do realize who I am?”

She feels it then, her eyes grow wide and she pales with shock. She tries to push away from me.

I hear the front door open and don’t bother turning, I know who it is.

“I’ve always wondered what a bitches’ insides look like. Have you wondered? I know what the average person’s insides look like. I wonder if yours will be different?”

She again attempts to push back away from me, but the knife is digging into her stomach, scaring her.

“If a peep leaves your mouth, not even my father could stop me.” I push her backward, and she lands on her ass.

I don’t look back as I walk out the door with Anton, slamming it as I leave.

Stupid bitch, I really do want to slice her open, just to teach her a lesson.

Chapter 9

Kazier

Viktor is driving and hasn’t spoken a word to me since we entered the car. Anton keeps talking, like usual, trying to fry the tension that’s building in the car. I’ve had time to cool down, from what Freya said. And whatever anger I have left, I will need for tonight’s meeting with the Bartalotti’s. The Smirnov family—us—have had a long war, battled it out for years against the Bartalotti.

Some say we have no limits. We won’t hesitate to shoot anyone—child, woman, elderly—our values are low, but we are feared.

The Bartalotti are Italians, and the number one priority for them is family—who I happen to love, to torture and kill. And because of that, our families have never gotten along. I remember the grand story my grandfather spoke about them when I was young. All I know is that years ago before I was born, Pitrov Bartalotti, the grandfather of the Bartalotti family, fell in love. He fell in love with a member of my family, Anastasia Smirnov, my grandmother. She was killed, by Pitrov, just after she gave birth to my father. And because of that, a war started.

We’re not innocent, I don’t think we could ever be with how much blood we have on our hands. And they are our choice of torture, even if my grandfather ended up claiming some kind of peace with them after the war between our families, things have heated up again. Their families have started risking more, trying to dabble into our affairs, wanting some business, which only leads to me killing them.

As we pull up to Pitrov’s house, basically a mansion, two guards have guns raised. Our hands are up, showing we’re not carrying. We are! We so fucking are. We’re not stupid enough to walk into a Bartalotti household with no weapons. That would be like a fish bleeding in front of a shark, total stupidity.

Bartollo, Pitrov’s son, opens the door for us. He holds all the cards in the Bartalotti family. His father has retired, or so he says, which you never do from this life. He’s left his son in charge, who will run it until his grandson wants to take over. Pitrov favors his grandson, Maso. He wants him to take over the running of the business. Maso, however, doesn’t want to. He knows the heaviness of this work. It chips away at you, especially their type of business. Maso is one of the worst in his family. He wants to continue doing what he wants to, without the pressure of family interference.

When we enter Pitrov’s house, the three generations stand tall and watch us with steely eyes. They don’t offer us to come in any further than the foyer. Actually, they don’t even want us here to begin with. But since I’m the head of the Smirnov family, it’s me and my cousins they will be dealing with. Maso stands front and center, his broad shoulders tense, I watch in fascination as her lips draw into a thin line. Many times I’ve encountered Maso, and every time he hasn’t come out on the winning side, he hates me the most. His face is hard, a single tattoo he wears proudly adorned on his neck—it’s red, and it reads
death
. Whereas I’m completely covered in ink, and my ink has been given more thought.

“Scum.” The soft icy word whispered in Italian, his hateful look cold.

My body goes rigid, my head drops, my eyes rise up, and my eyebrows pull together. Just before I do something that could get us all killed, Pitrov places his hand on his grandson’s shoulder and pulls him back. Maso is larger than me, he’s around the size of Viktor, so that makes him slower than me, which he realizes from the previous stab wounds I’ve inflicted on him in the past.