Alexandr's Cherished Submissive (8 page)

Every time she smiled at him, that warmth grew more intense. It was a feeling that he could easily become addicted to, but he didn’t like the loss of control over his normally carefully guarded emotions. He didn’t know if it was her youth or her innocence, or both, but he found he genuinely liked her. She had a quick sense of humor and was bright. A pleasure to talk with. Damn, being here was making him think things about her he knew better than to even consider. Time to leave before he gave in to the forbidden temptation.

She was the kind of woman a man would be happy waking up next to for the rest of his life.

Alarmed by the direction of his thoughts, he set the glass down with a sigh. “I must go.”

She stared at him, frowning slightly, her lower lip sticking out in a pout that he wanted to kiss so badly his cock ached. “Okay…”

Without another word, he went to her door, but her hand caught his shoulder. Right away, he stopped—her delicate touch was stronger than titanium. Then he slowly turned to face her. At the sight of the worry in her eyes, his gut clenched.

“Did I say something to offend you?”

“No.” She gave him a disbelieving look, and there was no mistaking he’d hurt her feelings in some way so he tried to smooth it over. “It just occurred to me my men are in my apartment drinking as well and no doubt causing trouble. I need to go before they destroy.”

Her giggle raced along his spine. “Yeah, you better get back.”

The need to touch her swamped him, and he was helpless against his instincts around her. Looking into her eyes, he let the darkness he kept hidden from her rise to the surface. Her mouth parted, and she let out a soft breath, totally captured by his gaze and the desire he was having a hard time suppressing. He couldn’t believe that at first he’d thought her merely pretty. Up close, her beauty captivated him. Women in his country would spend fortunes on plastic surgery trying to attain the perfection of her delicate, facial features, and her hair was the most gorgeous color he’d ever seen. Add to that her beautiful, tilted blue eyes, and she could slay a man with a glance.

All these emotions mixed with the sexual charge warming him, making it stronger until his cock ached. He’d meant to make a point and show Jessica how easily he could seduce her. Instead, he was the one who had a racing heart. Curving his hand behind her neck, he tugged her closer until less than a half-inch separated their bodies. The heat built between them as their gazes locked, drawn closer like iron filings to a magnet. Soon, she was pressed against him from breast to hip, and he wanted to fuck her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. She smelled so good, felt so good, and his heart cried out in protest at the thought of releasing her.

It took everything he had, but somehow he found the strength to let her go and take a step back, hoping she didn’t see the tremors going through him. “I would have you, and it would be the most amazing experience of my life—perfection, but it is not right time.”

A little bit of panic cleared the lust from her gaze, and she almost reached for him before lacing her hands behind her back and lifting her small, pointed chin. “Alex, I know that you’re used to women offering to have your babies, but although you are attractive, you’re also correct. We are not meant to be.”

He wanted to scream at her that she was wrong and the potential for what they could have together was everything he wanted but couldn’t have. “Yes.”

A smile curved her lips, and she visibly relaxed. “But we can still be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, you know, friends. If you’re going to be around a lot, I’d rather things be comfortable between us.”

The misery in his heart lightened as he clung to that idea, desperate to have some reason to spend time with her. “Yes, I would like to be friends.”

“Strictly platonic friends.”

“Of course.”

Walking him to her door, she held her hand out. “Thanks for stopping by, friend.”

He took it, but instead of shaking, he gave her knuckles a soft kiss, brushing his goatee against her creamy skin and taking her fresh scent in deep. “Thank you for good hospitality, friend.”

When he left, she still hadn’t responded, but she was cradling the hand he’d kissed to her chest with a stunned look. They would be friends, just friends, and he would treat her as nothing more than a client. Surely he was strong enough to resist the innocent charms of a girl who was still learning how to be a woman.

Two weeks later, Alex had realized the futility of trying to see Jessica as nothing more than a client. His resolve to leave her alone had been quickly replaced by his need to see her as often as he could. Which wasn’t as often as he’d like. In between learning forgery from Peter and dealing with
Bratva
issues, he’d been busy. In an effort to get his desires under control, he’d been to a local BDSM dungeon a couple times and had relieved himself with some willing and beautiful submissives, but none of them quenched the fire for Jessica that steadily grew inside of him.

Though it shamed him to admit it, when he was in his apartment in Dublin, he’d listen for her door opening into the communal hallway and dash for his, pretending to be leaving at the same time. He’d forgotten his jacket a couple times, and she’d given him odd looks, but made small talk with him. Every time he did see her, his obsession with her grew. Her enchanting blue eyes held more depth and wisdom than most grown women, yet she wasn’t bitter. The world was a bright, exciting place for Jessica, an adventure, and he loved watching her experience it while he guarded her.

To say she brought out his protective instincts was like saying water was wet. He was obsessed with keeping her safe, something that had proven difficult. Not because of any outright attacks on her, but because Jessica liked to wander and didn’t pay any attention to her surroundings, ignorant of the headaches she was creating for her bodyguards. A couple times, she’d been in real danger, but she never knew it. Luka, Oleg, and Maks were quick to neutralize any threat, but they’d told him Jessica seemed to attract trouble through no fault of her own because she believed the best in people. It never seemed to occur to her that someone would want to hurt her, and that made her very vulnerable to men who liked to prey on the innocent.

Alex had been with her more than once when she walked blindly into situations and places she had no business being, like stopping in a bar owned by rival Irish mafia family, the O’Doyles, before he could stop her. The blood feud between Peter’s people and the O’Doyles went back centuries, but when Jessica walked up to the bar, fearless in her ignorance, and asked for directions, Alex had been a heartbeat away from reaching for his gun and shooting his way out.

Oblivious of the tension her presence was causing in the pub, she’d complimented the bartender on the huge stained glass window behind him and had asked him about it. The young O’Doyle man working at the bar stared at her then answered her questions about the stained glass that used to be in a church. The bartender had given Alex a baffled look, plainly thrown off by Jessica’s friendliness, but Alex merely shrugged. By the time she left, the bartender was telling her about other spots in Dublin and where she could find more historical buildings that might interest her with a genuine smile.

Things like that happened all the time around his girl. She needed someone to protect her, someone to fight off the wolves that would be drawn to her. More than one predator had tried to apprehend Jessica when Alex and his men trailed behind her, attempting to give her some semblance of privacy as she took in the world around her. It was not safe for a woman to walk alone in certain parts of Dublin, and poor Luka had come home repeatedly with scraped up knuckles, shaking his head and regaling Alex about another night spent guarding the fairy princess who seemed to float her way through the world in a fragile bubble of ignorant bliss.

If she wasn’t so damn sweet and adorable, he’d have strangled her by now.

When Alex mentioned his men didn’t speak English as well as she did, she immediately volunteered to tutor them any way she could. She’d embraced the role eagerly, spending a great deal of her free time with the men, talking and hanging out with them until she became a part of their lives. To Alex’s amusement, Oleg, his mentor and a man he thought of as a surrogate uncle, and Maks, Alex’s right-hand man and fellow assassin, had grown rather fond of Jessica during those talks. She was very open and told them much about her life, all of which they repeated to Alex. He was sure all of his men knew his interest in Jessica went far beyond a professional one, but so far, none of them had said anything.

Alex wandered into the pub, knowing Jessica was there. Maks had said Jessica was withdrawn and quiet, not her usual self at all. He was worried about her, but she pretended nothing was wrong. It bothered Alex more than he cared to admit that someone or something might have hurt her, but he’d been tied up with one of Peter’s men all day learning how to forge passports.

Now it was late, and the bar was closing, but no one paid him any mind. It wasn’t unusual to see him here when Jessica was working, and when he spotted her sitting in a booth at the back of the large room, he was glad he had come instead of Maks. Dressed in a tight navy shirt and worn jeans, she looked tired, almost ill, and the luster was gone from her gaze. She had an open bottle of vodka in front of her and a shot glass.

Without asking, he grabbed the bottle from her hands and slid into the booth next to her. A slow jazz melody was playing low, and the atmosphere was relaxed. Unfortunately, his girl was not. Tension radiated from her, and when he touched her, she was as stiff as stone. When her lower lip trembled he clenched his hands into fists. Something, or someone had hurt her, badly, and he had to tamp down on the urge to order her to tell him who had done this to her so he could go end their life.

Her voice came out thick as she continued to stare at the shot glass she was toying with. “Hello, friend.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he took a long drink before handing the bottle back to her. If there was one thing he understood, it was the need to drown emotion in alcohol. Sometimes it was the only way life seemed bearable. The thought of Jessica feeling that way hurt him inside, in a place in his soul he’d never felt before.

“Hello, friend.” He brushed her hair back, revealing a few tear tracks. “Why are you sad? Has someone upset you?”

She took in a deep, watery breath and let it out slowly. “No. I’m sorry. You might not want to hang out with me right now. I’m afraid I won’t be very good company.”

“Jessica,” he said in a soothing tone that made her turn her wounded gaze in his direction. “What is wrong?”

Her lower lip trembled, and she blinked back tears. “It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death. Well, my adoptive mom. My birth mother died not long after I was born. But I’ve heard so many good things about her from Peter that I feel like I know her. Makes me wish more than ever she’d stuck around long enough for me to remember how it felt to hug her.”

It took a great deal of effort for Alex to hide his emotional reaction to her words. Having lost not just his mother but the stepmother he’d loved as well to mafia violence gave him an insight into her pain that made his chest hurt. He hated the thought of her suffering, but didn’t know how to make it any better.

“I am sorry for your loss. How long ago?”

“Two years.” She gave a watery sigh and glanced over at him. The blue of her irises glowed like neon because of her red, swollen eyes. “I was hoping this year would be better, but it’s not.”

Without thought, he pulled her into his embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin. She fit against him perfectly, her body molding to his as if they’d found solace in each other’s arms for years. She felt divine and his entire body lit up at her touch.

Her breath came out in a shuddering sigh. “You smell good.”

He smiled against the top of her head. “I glad you approve.”

Jessica nodded, her arms wrapping around his waist as she wiggled closer. Taking the silent hint, he gently pulled her into his arms until she was cradled on his lap. Holding her like this made him realize how tiny she was. He’d look like a dark beast rutting on a fairy princess if they ever had sex.

No, no thinking about that right now.

Unable to reply, he merely nodded. Realizing the pub was almost empty except for the cleaning people who were watching them curiously, he brushed her hair back again. “Come, is time to go home.”

“Yeah, home,” she said in a wistful voice.

Their trip back to their apartment was silent, her gait a little unsteady from the alcohol, and he missed her normal, happy chatter.

When they reached the hallway separating their apartments, she looked up at him. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Will you come up to the roof with me?”

“Why?”

“I have something I have to do, and I’d rather not be alone while I do it, if that’s okay with you.”

He needed to take the wounded look out of her eyes. “Anything you need, Jessica, I will do.”

Her voice thickened as she whispered, “Thanks. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

When she came out into the hallway, he frowned at the sight of a big, white, helium-filled balloon with what appeared to be a bunch of writing on it in black marker.

“What is that?”

She flushed, closed her door, and started toward the stairway at the end of the hall that led to the roof. “It’s…well, it’s a way of grieving.”

“I do not understand.”

As they made their way up the stairs, she explained. “My friend told me about this, and the idea kinda stuck with me. Her younger brother died of cancer, and every year on the anniversary of his death, she writes him a letter on a balloon then sets it free. She said it was her way of communicating with him. At first, I thought it was kind of a silly idea, but like I said, the more I thought about it the more sense it made. So...I...uh went and got a balloon today and wrote a letter on it to my mom. When something hurts this bad, you’ll do anything to relieve the agony, even send up a balloon with the hopes of it reaching heaven.”