Redemption (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 4) (7 page)

It feels like hours later when I find my release, letting myself go, but only after I made her scream my name. My tip feels like it expands to twice the size as I release my seed deep inside of her, loving the way she moans my name as she feels every drop.

I pull out of her and go to the bathroom. Grabbing a wash cloth, I clean her up. Dumping the cloth in the wash basket, I turn to see her sleeping, her hair fanned out on the pillow next to mine. She has a peaceful look on her face. Right here, in this moment, is heaven. The feeling claws up at me again; I want her to be mine, I want the love that I know she can offer. I push it down. I can’t get too attached because once she sees I’m no good for her she will leave. The thought turns my mood sour. I turn away from her. Putting on my boxers, I head over to my desk, knowing I shouldn’t. I can’t help it. I need to forget about the pain. I need to stay detached. And the only way I can do that right now is by getting my fix. The laptop on the desk is calling me. I open it and type in my password, watching with rapt attention as the machine comes to life.

I open up the internet and go to one of the many betting sites that I have accounts with. I add credit to the account and start to make my little bets, trying my hardest just to bet small, not wanting to go overboard. See, I can control what I gamble.

The hours pass and it’s the same conclusion as always: I kept adding to the balance and lost it all. This is the time when I feel dejected and worthless. If I can’t beat a computer, how the hell am I going to manage in real life?

I’m supposed to return the money back to him this week, and I was counting on brushing up on my skills before I go into the Poker match tomorrow night.

I slam the lid shut and quickly look back to the bed to make sure Emma is still sleeping. Burying my head in my hands, I sit and reflect a little on the fuck up that is my life.

I crawl into bed and pull her close to me. If this is the only time I get to have her in my bed, content and happy, then I’m going to make the most of it.

Chapter Seven

Emma

I feel the heat encase my body. My head is pounding.  His strong arm is wrapped tightly around me. I relax and smile into my pillow, wanting nothing more than to stay in his embrace.

I pull myself up and walk to the bathroom. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I look like shit; last night’s make-up smeared on my face, my hair all over the place in a knotted mess. I walk over to the shower and turn it on, jumping back a little when I feel the first spirt of cold water hit my arm. Within minutes the shower screen has misted over. Opening the door, I step inside and lean back against the cool wall, allowing the warm spray to flow over my weary body.

I stand under the spray for God knows how long, letting the heat seep into my tired muscles. Don’t get me wrong, I love what Alek does to my body, the ache is delicious. I grab his shower gel from the shower rack and pour some onto my hand. It has that distinct smell of Alek as it lathers up all over my body, and I get lost in the memories that the soap evokes.

I step out and wrap myself in the fluffy towel that’s on the warmer. Now I must find something to wear. Alek is still sleeping on the bed. He looks so peaceful I don’t really want to wake him. It’s Saturday and neither of us have anywhere else to be.

I take out one of his t-shirts from the drawer and pull it over my head. I don’t see the point of putting dirty clothes back on. I tiptoe over to his side of the bed and lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. His hand wraps around me and pulls me down onto the bed.

“And where do you think you’re going, Em? I’ve not had my fill of you yet,” he whispers into my ear. I playfully smack at his chest pretending to struggle free, but I can’t stop giggling. He looks down at my face and smiles before placing sweet kisses on my neck.

“So, what do you want to do today? We have the whole day to ourselves?” he asks. I see a darkness in his eyes for just a second, but it passes as quickly as it came.

“I think I want to go home. Would you be able to take me?” I know that it’s something I have to do. I don’t want my parents suffering anymore not knowing whether I’m dead or alive. I need to go home and face the music.

“Are you sure you’re ready, Emma? You don’t have to rush, but if it’s what you want then yes, I will take you. We can spend the day in London and crash at the penthouse.”

I nod my head, scared that if I speak right now then I will crack, like the emotional wreck I am.

“Go and get ready. We need to set off to make it to the city in time. I will meet you downstairs in half an hour.”

See, that’s what I like about Alek. He doesn’t avoid the subject or try to talk me out of it. He’s supporting my choice to do this, and he’s staying with me every step of the way no matter how much I want to crumble.

“Thank you,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips before extracting myself from his bed and slipping out of the room.

Closing the bedroom door behind me, I walk over to the wardrobe. Scanning everything inside, I notice that nothing seems good enough to wear. I’m not the same person I was before all of this happened. I was a spoilt brat, an entitled bitch who thought the world owed me a favour. But I soon came crashing down to earth with a bump. I love my parents; they have never shown me anything but love, but it was
my
attitude that was off kilter, not theirs.

I settle for the pale pink cashmere jumper and a pair of dark wash skinny jeans. I match the outfit with a smart pair of heels. I blow-dry my hair then straighten it, leaving my wavy locks to fall around my shoulders. I apply a little bit of eyeliner and mascara before finishing off with some gloss on my lips. 

I’m done. I exit my room and go downstairs to meet Alek. I see him stood at the bottom, wearing a blue polo shirt teamed with dark denim jeans. The sight before me turns my insides to mush. His keys and wallet are in his hands and his hair is perfectly styled. His sunglasses are tucked in the front of his polo.

“You ready, Em? Sure you want to do this?” he asks me, his voice full of concern.

“Yes, let me just grab my bag and we can go,” I respond as I go to the cloakroom to get my jacket and bag.

On our way to the garage, he clicks the alarm fob on his keys and the silver Mercedes bleeps at the side of me. I jump a little before reaching out to open the door. Sliding onto the passenger seat, I look across as he shuts his door and starts the vehicle. I can feel the vibrations from the engine and I shiver, not really sure if it’s from the car or the anticipation of what’s to come.

The drive into London only takes about an hour, and we chat idly about anything and everything, but try to stay away from the elephant in the car, so to speak. I give him directions to my parents’ house. He follows them with ease.

Pulling up to the driveway, I see that nothing has changed; the manicured lawns that run either side of the driveway, the granite steps that lead up to the bright white door, the bay windows that are dressed to perfection, and the red brickwork of the old Victorian detached house still looks like it was built yesterday.

I spy the cars inside the open garage. Then I see my little baby still sat there. The one they bought me the day I passed my driving test. Feelings of guilt threaten to spill out; I love that nothing’s changed, but at the same time I hate that my parents have been stuck in the past, unable to move on.

The car stops outside of the front door. Alek turns the engine off and looks at me. My heart is racing a mile a minute.

“You ready? Do you want me to come in with you?” he says.

“Please,” I whisper into the air of the car.

I open the car door and get out. My legs are shaking with nerves. What are they going to say when they see me? It has been too long. I should have come sooner. I shouldn’t have waited. I should have come home when I first returned from Russia. But then I wouldn’t have met Alekzander. I wouldn’t have become the person I am right now.

I feel his arm on mine, holding me up. Well that’s how it feels, because if he wasn’t here in this moment I think I would be on the floor.

I take an unsteady step, gripping tighter onto Alek, silently thanking him for his support.

Walking up the steps, I gently knock on the door. Ironic, isn’t it? Never in my life have I felt like I have to knock on my own parents’ door.

I wait for what feels like an age for someone to come. When he answers the door my heart stops at the sight of my father.

“Emma? Is it really you? Jayne, come here quickly,” he shouts to my mother. Silent tears fill his eyes. I have never seen my father cry.

“Hi, Daddy,” is all I say. I’m lucky I manage to get that out. My throat is so tight with emotion right now. I hear the rushing footsteps of my mother running across the wooden floor.  She stops beside my father and I see the look on her face — shock.

“Emma,” she breathes. “Oh my baby girl.” With that, she collapses to the floor in tears. I break away from Alek and bolt inside, dropping to the floor to get to my mum. I feel her arms surround me, holding me. The tears break from my eyes and I let them fall, my breaths shuddering as she holds me tightly. She’s terrified that I will disappear again. I feel another pair of arms encompass me and I know my father is now on the floor, embracing us both. 

We sit in the hallway crying over lost time, crying in relief. My father pulls away first. I try to break away from my mum, but she just holds me tighter.

“And you are?” my father asks Alek. Oh shit, I didn’t even think about that.

“I’m Alekzander Volkov, sir, your daughter’s partner.”

I start coughing when I hear his response. I finally manage to get up and stand beside Alek before my father can deck him.

“Partner? Oh hell no. Are you the guy who took our baby girl? Get the fuck away from her right now! Jayne, call the police.”

I’ve never, ever, heard my father speak like this. I turn my attention to Alek and if looks could kill, my father would be dead!

“Daddy, no. Alek is one of the people that saved me and, yes, he is my boyfriend. Shall we go inside and talk about this? I don’t want the neighbours hearing.” I know damn well there isn’t a house that could hear us talking, but it’s just what my father needs to hear right now. He is a stickler for people not knowing his business.

We follow him inside the house and go straight through to the living room. Even this room hasn’t changed; the duck-egg blue walls, the glass units, the cream leather couch. This was the nicest room in the house. I used to love nothing more than curling up on the couch reading the latest Mina Carter book, getting lost in the world of make-believe.

Sitting opposite my mum and dad, Alek automatically wraps his arm around me, pulling me close to him. In this moment, I’m not sure if he’s doing it to score points, or if it’s genuine affection.

“Look, Dad, I need to explain what happened, where I was and how I got away, but its not a pretty story. That’s the main reason I didn’t come home. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

My mother is still sniffling into her tissue, my father’s eyes haven’t left Alek since he became aware of him, and Alek has a smug grin on his face that I just want to knock off. So yeah, all in all I would say this is fan-fucking-tastic.

“Look, Emma, nothing you could say or do would ever make us hate you. You’re our daughter and no matter what we will always love you. Did the police find you and rescue you?” my mother asks me. I shake my head knowing that I need to start at the beginning.

“You know how it happened, but you don’t know where I went. I was taken by this god awful man. He took me to Russia and made me do unspeakable things for his clients. He broke me in, made sure I would obey whatever he wanted me to do, or have them do to me. For months this went on and I thought all hope was lost. Then one day I saw Malc and Vlad. They charged into the room I was in and shot the guy who was on top of me. Vlad carried me out and blew the place up. They brought me back to the UK and Damien had me checked over from head to toe. I’ve been with them ever since.  Alek is Damien’s brother. They have given me shelter and food, medical care and clothes. But most of all they have given me hope and time.”

I don’t give them any other details; I don’t want my mother to pass out, or my father to demand vengeance for his wronged little girl. At the end of the day that fucker will never be able to get to me again. From now on, the only person I want protecting me is Alek.

“Why didn’t you call to tell us you were ok? Your mother and I have been going out of our minds with worry, thinking that you had been killed, that we would never see you again.” My father’s rage is climbing slowly, I can see it in the redness of his face, but before I have time to reply, Alek cuts me off.

“She didn’t want to call because she was recovering from a serious trauma. She needed to focus on getting herself well again. Whilst trying to deal with what had happened to her, she didn’t need your demands added to that process as well. She had all the support she could ever need, but only from people who genuinely cared about her.”

Well fuck me, he’s just about summed it up completely. The only other reason I can think to add to that is guilt. How am I supposed to tell them that I enjoyed some of it, even though it makes me feel dirty and cheap? That the guilt eats me up daily. Every time Alek looks at me, I’m thinking that all he sees is a whore who can get him off, then he discards her like trash. Out with the old and in with the new. I don’t voice my concerns.

“He’s right. I did feel like that for a long time. But I’m stronger now. I’m still receiving support, so I know how to deal with it. The panic attacks aren’t half as bad as before. Alek and his family have really done a lot for me. I owe them everything, Mum, because without them I wouldn’t be here. I would probably be in a ditch somewhere just waiting to be found.”

They need to understand that it was me stopping myself coming home. I thought that once I was back to myself, I would never have to think about what happened ever again, then I wouldn’t have to tell my parents.

“So does this mean you’re staying home?” my father asks.

“No, Daddy. I have a new life now, a home, a job, family and friends, but I can’t let you carry on living with the uncertainty any longer.” I’m honest with them, that’s all I can be. I just hope its enough for them to understand and accept.

I see the hope fade from his eyes. Seeing my father look weak and ashamed is not something I’m used to.