You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) (16 page)

He holds out his hand.

‘You don’t dance,’ I whisper, shocked by the casual violence.

‘There’s always a first time for everything.’

There is no anger left inside me. Only an inexplicable excitement fizzling through my veins and making me tremble. My voice when I speak is shaky. ‘See, if it was me, I wouldn’t have engineered a captive audience for my first time.’

‘I’m not you,’ he says.

I take his hand. It’s hard, sure and warm, and he twirls me around and catches me expertly.

I gasp in surprise. ‘You lied.’

‘I said I didn’t dance. I didn’t say I couldn’t dance.’

I glance down at the inert man. ‘Do you think he’s all right?’

‘Nah. He’ll always be an asshole,’ he says in my ear.

I laugh. ‘Where did you learn to dance?’

He pulls me so close to his body I feel it throbbing with vitality and masculine energy.

‘We were taught to,’ he says.

‘Who is ‘we’?’

He runs his lips along my jawbone. ‘Curious little thing, aren’t you?’ he murmurs in my hair.

‘Is it a secret?’

Something flashes in his eyes. ‘The door is closed and you don’t have permission to enter.’

‘Who has permission?’

‘No one.’

‘Isn’t it lonely in your golden castle, Zane?’

‘It’s safe. Anyway, why do you want my secrets? You’ll be gone in a month.’

‘Why does it have to end in a month? What if it’s good? Can’t we carry on and find something that suits us both?’

‘That door is closed Dahlia. Just enjoy this moment. That’s all we have. There is nothing beyond this.’

My body trembles with pain. I feel as if I’m standing in a boat that’s slowly sinking. Soon the water will swallow it all.

‘Nothing?’ I hear my voice ask.

‘
Nichego
.’ There is a wistful sadness in his voice.

‘Is that Russian for nothing?’ I ask looking up into his face, searching for that corresponding sign of emotion.

He nods.

I press my face into his chest so that I can’t see his eyes. So that he can’t see mine and see how hurt I am. ‘OK. If we truly have nothing after this then why can’t you tell me your secrets? You have nothing to lose.’

‘Ahhhhh, Little fox. Don’t you know, the king is never killed by his enemies, but by his courtiers? By the people he trusted with his secrets.’

‘You think I would betray you?’

‘I don’t know. What do you think, little one? If someone was pulling out your fingernails one by one can I still trust you?’

I shake my head slowly. ‘Probably not.’

‘I’m glad you were honest. I prefer an honest coward to a lying hero.’

We dance, while a man lies inert on the floor. It is the strangest dance I have ever had. A hushed crowd. His minders looking like they are ready for any kind of action. Then the security guards come and pick up the guy on the floor and couples start moving back to dance.

When we get back to the house, I start to move towards his study and he grasps my wrist in his hands. I look up at him.

‘I have other fantasies of you,’ he says.

‘Like what?’

‘Like having you in my bed.’

He takes me upstairs to his room. It’s just like the rest of the house. Beautiful, faultlessly tasteful, and cold. He undresses me and we have sex for hours.  He makes me come over and over.  Eventually, we both end up on our backs, totally drained.

‘Just give me a minute and I’ll go,’ I whisper.

He turns his head to look at me. ‘I want you to stay.’

Shocked, I stare at him wordlessly.

‘Tell me why you really bought the handbag for Olga?’

I frown. ‘Why do you find it so extraordinary that I bought a handbag for her?’

‘No other woman I know would have done something like that.’

Dahlia Fury

Your naked body should belong only to those

who fall in love with your naked soul.       

                                                   - Charlie Chaplin

T
he next day I meet Stella for lunch at our favorite steakhouse. Noah, who has come along, grins in a very friendly fashion at her. In a way that he has never done with me.

‘How’s it going?’ he asks her.

‘Not bad,’ she replies with a laugh and, going on tip-toes, kisses him soundly on both cheeks.

‘How’s the new masseuse working out?’ she asks with a sly smile.

Noah gives a rough shrug. ‘She’s not as easy on the eyes as you, but no complaints from the boss.’

‘Oh, you big flatterer you,’ she giggles.

They exchange some more small talk then Noah moves and sits a few tables away from us.

I sit down opposite Stella and put the box of shoes on the table, but deliberately put it to one side. I watch her eyes stray towards it. I don’t say anything.

‘Is that for me?’ she asks finally.

‘Yes,’ I say with a grin, and she squeals with delight and pulls it towards her. She opens the lid and, oblivious to all the other diners who turn to stare, screams, ‘Oh my God! Oh my God! They’re so gorgeous.’

I smile to think what her reaction will be when I give her the Jimmy Choos. She takes them out of the box, and kicking off her shoes immediately tries them on.

‘Oh wow!’ she says, standing up. She turns her foot this way and that to admire the shoes. Then she walks up and down the restaurant before coming back to our table and sitting down.

‘Thank you,’ she gushes. ‘They look really expensive though.’

‘Well,’ I say. ‘Remember that personal dresser I told you about. She sources them all from Hong Kong for a fraction of the price you would pay in Britain.’

Her eyes nearly pop out of her face. ‘Did you get the name of her source?’ she gasps.

I grin at her. ‘Do you think I’m stupid? Of course, I did.’

She leans forward. ‘Do they have a website?’

‘Not yet. I think at the moment she’s just doing it on the sly without the tax authorities knowing about it. I’ve got her phone number though.’

‘Well, go on then,’ she says.

I text the number to her phone.

When her phone pings with my message, she says, ‘I miss you a lot, you know, D. Even more than I thought I would.’

‘Me too,’ I say immediately because I do. I really do miss Stella’s warmth and laughter and easy chatter.

She looks at me as if she is about to cry.

‘I’ll be home soon, you’ll see,’ I promise blithely. It never even occurs to me then that I could be wrong. That I might never live with her again. That my life could dive into chaos and total darkness of a kind I could never imagine.

We order our food and she drops her little bombshell.

‘I’m going on a date tomorrow night.’

‘Wow! Who with?’ I ask.

She shrugs. ‘Just some guy. I’m not really that interested, but I figure I’ll have to start somewhere.’

I reach out a hand and squeeze her forearm. ‘I’m proud of you. You told yourself you were going to get over Zane and you went out and started the process.’

‘Yeah,’ she says unenthusiastically.

‘Look, it’s almost certain that this is not the guy for you, but the main thing is you’ve told yourself mentally that you’re available again and that’s like a taxi driver putting his taxi light on. Now someone can flag you.’

She bends her head, chews on her lower lip, then looks up at me pitifully. ‘So how is Zane?’

I want to tell her how sorry I am that it all worked out so bad for her, but I know she doesn’t want to be pitied. Besides, very soon it will be me in her shoes when Zane moves on to his new flavor of the month.

‘He’s all right,’ I say softly.

‘How’s it going between the two of you?’ she asks, in a voice that tells me she desperately wants to know and yet she hates herself for being weak enough to ask.

I decide to be truthful. The last time I didn’t tell her because I thought I was protecting her we nearly fell out. ‘The sex is like nothing I’ve known, really out of this world, but to be honest I don’t know what to think, babe. He kind of blows hot and cold on me. Every time I think we’re making progress he goes and pulls the rug out from under my feet.’

‘Why?’

‘I think it’s because he is determined to keep our arrangement as impersonal as possible.’

She frowns and nods. ‘I see.’

‘Yeah,’ I sigh.

She stares at me incredulously. ‘Oh fuck! You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you?’

I look at her sadly. ‘I can’t help it, Stel. I’m pretending I’m fine, but I’m shit scared of what is going to happen when my month is up. It feels as if I’m in a lift where the cables have snapped and I just can’t stop myself from falling.’

That evening I take a long time over my make-up and hair. Then I zip up my red, high necked, floor-length gown and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is up and I have glamorous drop earrings on. Molly did a fine job.

I do look good.

Zane is taking me to see Yo-Yo Ma live in concert. I don’t know if I will enjoy the performance because I’m not really into classical music. In fact, the only reason I even know Yo-Yo Ma exists is because I once had a pretentious boyfriend who had the Bach Cello Suite No. I Prelude as his phone’s ring tone. At first it seemed boring but after a while I started to like it. 

I come down the stairs and Zane is waiting at the end of them. He is sexy and incredibly handsome in a black tux. His eyes lock on mine and never let go. I reach the second last step and am standing six inches away from him.

‘Every day you grow more and more beautiful,’ he says quietly.

I can feel myself trembling with pleasure even as I quip, ‘I was going to say that.’

He smiles.

‘Actually,’ I confess, ‘I really don’t know much about classical music. In fact, I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy tonight.’

He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘All music is beautiful and good, but classical music alone is food for the soul, Dahlia.’

My eyes widen. There is nothing I can think to say to such a profound statement from a man who takes great pains to reveal as little as possible about himself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWu0j3rUO88

The hall is very grand and lofty, and it is full of men and women dressed to the nines. We follow Noah up curving stairs. Noah opens a door and I enter a balcony box. There are only two chairs in it.

‘Would you like to have a drink before the concert starts?’ Zane asks.

I shake my head and sit down on the seat that Noah is holding out for me.

After we are both seated Noah goes out, presumably to wait outside the door.

I look around curiously. At the people down below, at those in the other balconies, and at the crowd where I would have sat if I had come on my own, the peanut gallery. The stage is empty and the background matt black.

Then a hush falls over the people. The lights dim in the theater and the orchestra pit begins to gently glow.  The musicians are now faintly visible.  Finally, Yo-Yo Ma himself arrives on stage. He is a small, bespectacled, nondescript Japanese man who carries a cello that is almost as big as himself. He bows politely towards the audience. The audience claps enthusiastically and the orchestra stands in reverence.

Yo-Yo Ma takes a seat.

There are a few seconds of silence as the musicians prepare to begin. In that expectant silence the conductor begins to move his hands and the first haunting notes fill the air. I realize immediately that I not only know that piece of music, I actually love it. It is Sayuri’s Theme from the movie,
Memoires of a Geisha
.  I turn to tell Zane that and freeze in surprise.

Zane is leaning forward, his expression rapt as if he is not just listening to the music, but absorbing it in through his very pores.  Feeling it inside him.
Classical music is food for the soul.

I turn back to the stage and try to emulate him. Try to see if I can enjoy this kind of music with that kind of intensity. After a while I realize that indeed classical music does something to me that other music does not. Other music makes me want to move my body, but this kind of music makes my spirit soar. So much so I feel almost high as we leave the concert hall.

Zane takes me to a quiet restaurant. They know him well there and a table in a secluded corner has been reserved for us.

‘That was beautiful,’ I say to Zane.

‘Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ he says, but something about him feels off and distant. The rest of our conversation is equally stilted and strange.

‘Is everything ok?’ I ask.

‘Yes, I’m preoccupied with some work. If you’ve finished we should go,’ he says.

We hardly speak in the car, and when we get back Zane turns to me in the hallway. ‘Go to bed and don’t wait up for me. I’ve a lot of work to catch up on.’

‘OK, goodnight,’ I say.

Before I can even kiss him goodnight he has turned away and is striding towards his study. I go up the stairs feeling dejected and confused. Once upstairs I change into my nightclothes and go down to his bedroom on the first floor. The bedside lamps are on and the maid has turned down the sheets for the night. I go to my side of the bed and lie down and stare at the ceiling. For at least an hour I lie there until eventually, I fall asleep.

I wake up suddenly, feeling cold and uneasy. It must have been a dream, but I cannot remember it. Immediately I turn my head and Zane isn’t there. He never came to bed. 

I sit up and listen to the quiet house. Nothing. I get out of bed, pull my dressing gown around myself and go to the door. I open it and listen. Nothing. I walk down the corridor to the top of the stairs. I stand at the balustrade and look down into the hallway. It is in darkness, but I can hear the faint sounds of music.

My slippers are silent on the marble as I go down the stairs and walk towards the music. It’s coming from the small reception room that no one ever seems to use. The one with the grand piano.

The music is louder now. Someone is playing the piano.

I go closer to the door and put my hand on the handle, but for some bizarre reason I am afraid to open the door. I feel like Bluebeard’s wife. It’s as if there is some great secret hidden behind the door. I snatch my hand away and step back. My hand has found its way to my chest where my heart is beating so fast I can feel it thudding against my ribcage. I don’t have to go in.
You have to Dahlia
.
Everything you want to know is in there.