You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) (15 page)

Dahlia Fury 

N
oah goes out into the street to help Molly bring in two rails of clothes on wheels and three cardboard boxes full of shoes, belts and handbags. For nearly two hours Molly stays with me while I try on all the stuff. I learn a lot from her.

She encourages me into styles and shapes and colors that I have spent a lifetime saying no to. She puts me in stripes and matches it with polka dots. She teams orange with red and green with blue. She has even brought me that racy red miniskirt I saw at the back of the van to be worn with knee-high, black wedge boots.

Talking of shoes I suddenly find I have ten fabulous pairs to add to my collection. There are ankle cuff pumps, ink blue leather boots, ballerina flats in geranium-pink glitter material; slip-on calf-skin sneakers, leopard print loafers, white lace-up sandals; pearlescent snakeskin, caged, peep-toe sandals; and strappy leather and raffia sling back platforms. Then Molly reaches into the cardboard box for the last item. With a great sense of drama she opens the shoebox while her hands are inside the cardboard box and slowly lifts her pièce de résistance dangling from her fingers into sight.

‘Oh. My. God!’ I shriek, my hands flying to my cheeks.

It’s a pair of black crystal mesh stiletto Jimmy Choos. Not even in my wildest dreams have I ever dreamt of owning Jimmy Choos!

She puts them on the floor in front of me. ‘These are from their private stock. I only got them because I know someone who knows someone.’

I pick a shoe up and kiss it. ‘It’s so gorgeous. Was it very expensive?’ I whisper.

‘Could have paid off my mortgage with it,’ she whispers back, smiling.

‘Well, I might need you to get me another pair.’

‘One size smaller?’

‘Exactly,’ I agree with a grin that threatens to split my face.

‘Can I become your best friend too?’ she jokes.

‘Honey, I’ll demote my sister to best friend status and you can take her place.’

We giggle like little girls.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uLI6BnVh6w

After Molly leaves I dress in a black fitted satin mini dress with a high halter neck, illusion-netting diamond cut-out front, and a low scoop back. I wear sheer black thigh-high stockings with lace elastic tops, and my brand new Jimmy Choos. My hair is loose and full of waves, my eyes are extra smoky, and my lips scarlet. Then I slip into a glamorous hooded cream coat with faux fur trim and silky lining.  The feel of the silky lining on my bare arms makes a shiver go through me.

Downstairs Noah raises his eyebrows but makes no comment. I’m used to it by now. He escorts me outside, opens the car door, and I slip in.  Before he closes it he says suddenly, ‘The boss will like your outfit.’

Before I can thank him, he’s closed the door and gone to sit in the front passenger seat. The Matrix is actually in the same building as Uncle Ho. There is a queue of people to the side of the building and they seem to be entering the club from a different place. The driver parks outside the restaurant entrance, Noah jumps out, opens the door for me, and escorts me towards the door. Yuri stands near it smoking a cigarette. He nods at us and says something to Noah in Russian.

Noah answers and we get into the lift. He presses the necessary buttons and stands quietly with his hands clasped in front of him until we reach our destination, one floor below the restaurant. The doors open to a bustling kitchen. We walk through it, go through a swinging door, and enter the club.

The club is very dark and futuristic. The walls are black with downward flowing digital green rain-like graphics featured in the Matrix movie series. We skirt the edges of a dance floor with a similar green code flashing under it and get to a sectioned off area marked VIP.

I see Zane sitting at a round black banquette. His legs are spread wide and he looks relaxed and totally in control of his environment. No matter how much I don’t want it to, my heart does a little excited flip at the sight of him. He is on the phone. He raises a finger and Noah makes a stopping gesture with his palm to me. We wait until he gets off the phone and I am seething with resentment before Noah tells me to move forward. I do, until I’m standing in front of Zane.

‘There you are,’ I say coldly.

In the darkness of that club Zane’s eyes glow as they move down my body. He slides his arms along the back of the banquette and says, ‘Take off your coat.’

I shrug out of my coat casually as if I wanted to and was not responding to his instruction. He smiles, slow, sexy, possessive, admiring, tigerish.

‘Have a seat,’ he invites, tipping his head slightly to the right of him. I sit where he has indicated.

‘Want a White Russian?’ he asks, brushing his finger on the bare skin of my back.

I feel goose pimples rise up on my skin. Here our worlds meet. Always. ‘No, thanks. I think I had my fill of White Russian yesterday,’ I say coldly.

His eyes flash. ‘So what’ll it be today?’

‘Perhaps a cosmopolitan.’

He makes a quick fan-like gesture with his fingers and a black clad waiter with a round silver tray materializes before us.

‘Same again and one cosmopolitan,’ he says to him before turning to me. ‘I heard you spent the afternoon bribing my staff.’

‘I wasn’t bribing them. I was showing my appreciation for their services,’ I explain serenely.

He smiles. ‘How strange. When I start buying people expensive presents it’s always deemed as bribery and corruption.’

‘Well, not knowing all the facts I can’t comment on your situation.’ My tone is even and nonchalant. If I can just keep this up.

‘I’ve increased the limit on your card by the way.’

My eyebrows rise. ‘Does this mean every time I spend more you’re just going to keep increasing my limit?’

‘When it gets outrageous I’ll let you know.’

‘What do you consider outrageous?’

‘Get there and I’ll tell you.’

‘No, seriously. I’ve never been someone’s sex toy before so I have no idea what would be considered going over the top. What’s a sex toy worth in today’s market?’

He has been indulgent and amused until now. Now, I see a tightening of his lips. ‘You should learn to quit while you’re ahead, rybka,’ he advises.

‘
Rybka
? You keep calling me that. What does it mean?’

He lets his hand brush my nape. His fingers are warm and distracting. ‘It’s a Russian endearment. It means little fish.’

I crinkle my nose. ‘Calling someone a smelly old fish is an endearment in Russia?’

‘I said little fish. Not dead fish.’

Our drinks arrive and he lifts his glass. ‘To my
rybka,
’ he says.

‘Hang on one second.’ I take out my phone and Google Russian translations. I find the word I am looking for, put my phone down, and raise my glass. ‘To my
zaika
,’ I say.

He half grins. ‘That means bunny.’

‘I know,’ I say coolly. ‘It was a toss up between bunny and little mouse.’

‘In that case I will wear my endearment with pride.’

I take a sip of my drink. Nice cosmo. Just then a souped up, club version of Elle King’s
Ex’s & Oh’s
comes on. I put my glass down and look at him. ‘I
love
this song. Do you want to dance?’

‘I don’t dance,’ he says staring at me, his body language watchful.

‘Oh, that’s a shame.’

‘Why?’

I shrug. ‘Because it’s fun.’

I’m so involved in my conversation with him I don’t notice the couple who are standing next to us until Zane lifts his head and smiles. I look up at a stunningly beautiful couple. The man is without doubt the most handsome man I have ever seen. He looks like he’s a three dimensional photo of one of those impossibly good looking models after they’ve been through a three hour make-up session and been airbrushed for another three hours. As for the woman, she is exotically and extraordinarily beautiful, with blue-black hair and very pale skin. Her eyes are enormous and as green as grass.

Zane stands up and shakes the man’s hand and, to my great surprise, introduces them to me. The man’s name is Shane. Apparently he owns a club nearby called Eden.  The woman is his wife and her name is Snow.

Shane sits down next to Zane, but his wife excuses herself to go to the Ladies.

‘You know what. I’ll join you,’ I say jumping up.

She smiles warmly at me and though we walk together we don’t try to talk until we get to the girl’s room.  The music is so loud there’s no way we can hear each other talk.  Once we’ve both used the facilities, we meet in front of the mirrors.

‘I love your dress,’ she tells me, stroking her lips with a lip gloss wand.

‘Thank you. I love everything about you.’

She smiles and puts the top back on her lip gloss. ‘So you’re American?’

‘Yup. That’s me. American. That’s not a British accent you’ve got going there.’

‘I’m half Indian,’ she explains, putting her lip gloss back into her purse and shutting it.

‘Um … how long have you known Zane?’ I know I sound desperate, but honestly I might never get another chance to speak to anyone else who knows Zane.

Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. She knows I’m fishing for information. ‘Not long.’

‘I see.’ Looks like she’s not going to play ball.

Then she changes her mind and turns to look at me. ‘However, my husband has known him for a lot longer, and once when we were going through a very bad period he told me the only person I must turn to if anything ever happened to him was Zane. That I could completely trust him. Even with my life.’

My eyes widen. ‘He said that?’

‘Mmmm … and my husband is not given to exaggeration. Now. Shall we go back and see what the men have got up to while the cats were away?’

I grin. ‘Yeah. Let’s do that.’

But as soon as we get out of the Ladies we find her cat is waiting outside.

‘Sorry, Dahlia,’ he says. ‘Something’s come up and I’m afraid we have to leave.’

‘We must do dinner soon,’ Snow says.

‘Yes, that would be nice,’ I say, but I know it will most likely never happen.

I make my way back to the VIP lounge and see one of those stunningly beautiful ten feet tall creatures that Stella told me Zane usually hooks up with almost lying on my cat’s lap. One of her long legs is slowly rubbing against his and she is staring into his eyes. I stand there frozen. 

As if in slow motion, Zane turns his face away from hers and looks directly into my eyes. His expression is still. His eyes are veiled.  Casually he pats the empty seat next to him. He wants me to share him with this Amazonian woman?

It’s just a test, Dahlia. He just wants to see how you’ll react
.

Fucking sick bastard. I’ll show him how I react.

I force myself to smile sweetly before I turn around and walk away from them. I have money in my purse. I’ll take a taxi to Stella’s, and he can have that woman tonight. Actually, he can have her for the rest of the month. I’ll move out tomorrow. I am so angry my blood is bubbling and my heart is racing.

A hand curls around my upper arm.

‘You’re not going, are you, babe? You haven’t danced with me yet.’

I look up at the owner of the hand. He’s just one of those creeps who hangs around the dance floors of clubs making nuisances of themselves. Ordinarily, I would have brushed him off and not even politely, but it occurred to me that fuck it, I should have a dance. I deserve a dance. I haven’t had a dance since I hooked up with the Russian monster.

‘Yeah, I’ll dance with you,’ I say, and watch his eyes light up like twinkling fairy lights.

He pulls me towards the dance floor and immediately starts gyrating close to me. It hits me instantly that this has not been one of my better ideas. The guy is just such a creep his idea of a dance is to keep bumping into me and grabbing my buttocks in the guise of a dance move.

   It happens so fast it’s like one moment I’m dancing with a hairy octopus and the next the octopus is lying flat on his back, out stone cold, on the green rain flashing floor. The women around me are screaming, and the crowd has parted like a scene from Moses. There is only Zane and me. Everything else is just noise and shapes. He stands there looking at me, looking like he is carved out of ice, his face motionless and completely expressionless.