One-2
1995 Words
Reaching for the cell, I look at the screen, and what I see is like a bittersweet kiss from hell.
A photo of Ella is before me, but she looks different. She looks…happy. A radiant smile graces those beautiful ruby lips, lips I kissed and cherished time and time again. Her face is glowing. It could be because her makeup complements her complexion, but it’s not that.
Her hair is twisted into an elaborate bun and secured with a jeweled clip. Wearing a blue cocktail gown, she looks absolutely stunning.
Clenching the cell in my hand, I focus my attention on the man whose arm she’s on—Frank Macrillo. He wears a tuxedo and a smug grin as he bends low, no doubt whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
She is merely playing a role, I reason with myself, but upon closer examination of this picture, I see that no, that smile, her grace, they’re genuine. Nothing about this photo would indicate she’s there against her own will.
I’ve been out for three days, and that’s all it took for her to slip back into her role of doting fiancée.
“At least she’s alive,” I say after what feels like several minutes of silence, tossing the phone back to Saint.
“Yes, this is true. But you need to get better so you can move into your new house. We have much to discuss.”
Arching a brow, I look at Pavel in confusion.
“Santo emailed through the paperwork. The million-dollar mansion which once belonged to Denka Orlov is now yours. With Serg dead, the world is looking for a leader…and that leader is you.”
This was what I wanted. I fought so hard for my old life to be returned to me, but none of it matters without Ella.
Why does she look happy? She’s not that good of an actress. Her happiness isn’t staged. She’s pleased to be on the arm of Frank once again. And what about Santo? Is she pleased to be with him?
“I’m going to kill them…kill them all,” I growl with murderous rage.
“I know you will, but we need a plan. Going up against Santo is unlike anything we’ve done before. The Italian mafia is a whole different demographic. And let’s not forget about Raul.”
“They bleed just like everyone else,” I spit, uninterested in Pavel’s voice of reason.
“Before this happens, you need allies and money, and you need your reputation back. For this to work, you’ll need to be the Aleksei Popov people remembered. You cannot be weak. If you show any weakness, it’ll be exploited. Just as it’s been in the past. You need for it to be believable.”
Saint leans forward. “In other words, you need to be the ruthless son of a b***h you once were before you found your conscience. Can you do that?”
I’m worlds apart from who I once was, but they’re right. Santo and Raul are the enemies—powerful enemies—and if I don’t kill them, they’ll kill me. It’s survival of the fittest.
I thought I once ruled with an iron fist, but that was nothing compared to now. Back then, I had nothing worth fighting for, but now, everything is at stake. I’ll be callous and calculated because that’s what the people expect of the kingpin of Russia, which is who I am now.
With fire burning through my veins, I nod. “Yes. That will not be a problem. You do realize for that to happen, I’ll need to return to my old habits?”
Saint’s jaw clenches. “I know.”
I understand his reservations, for a leader must have a flock, and there is only one sensible choice. A woman who has been broken before.
Willow.
“I do not want Willow to be subjected to this,” I say, meaning every word. “But she can reassure the others. I will not punish them. They can have their own areas of the house. They’re merely for show.”
The rocking chair sways backward and forward violently as Saint rises abruptly. “She’s the only one who can make this decision. I won’t decide for her.”
We both know what she’ll decide.
“I’ll do it.” Willow stands in the doorway with a fresh jug of water in her hands. She’s clearly overheard what we just said.
Saint turns to her, his eyes pained. He knows what this means. She’ll be on “display” whenever we’re needed to showcase our social standing. The thought turns my stomach.
“It’ll only be until we get Ella back,” I assure both her and Saint. But that doesn’t change a thing.
Willow will be expected to act as a submissive, and Saint will have to allow it for this to work.
“Santo is unaware of our past,” I state, “which means he won’t know he’s being played.”
“But your old inner circle does know of your past,” Pavel says, reminding me that we have to tread with caution.
They know of Willow and my affection for her, which is dangerous. If they sense a hint of betrayal, it’ll end badly for us all.
“They know of my affection for both Saint and Willow,” I affirm, thinking this over. “They also know I can be very convincing when I want to be.”
Saint scoffs, crossing his arms. “You mean, they know how people seem to fall at your feet, regardless of knowing your past?”
“That too,” I reply, trying not to sound conceited. “We can play the angle that I needed my righthand man back after regaining my throne. And you two are a…package deal?”
I focus my attention on Willow. “This will mean they’ll believe Saint and I are…sharing you.”
“Like one big happy f*****g family,” Saint snaps, his anger palpable.
“However, if this makes either of you uncomfortable, I’ll devise another plan. You’ve already done so much.”
“Yes, this makes me very uncomfortable,” Saint sneers, his fists bunched by his side.
“It’s all make-believe, Saint,” Willow says softly, but I can read her apprehension.
She’s seen what these people are capable of. They won’t be satisfied until she’s shown complete submission because they believe she’s the reason my empire crumbled to the ground.
So to welcome her back into my world would mean she’ll need to show repentance for what she’s done.
They are aware of my fondness for Saint because he was envied amongst my peers for his strength and loyalty. They won’t question his return. But Willow will be a different story.
“What do you think, Pavel?”
Pavel seems to ponder on my question. “This will only work if everyone is on board. Who cares what they say? With you as leader once again, you can have whoever you want by your side. And in your bed. Figuratively speaking, of course,” he adds when Saint turns a vicious shade of red.
“Ella is there against her will,” Willow says, which pleases me. I don’t want to believe another version of events, regardless of what the picture depicts. “And all I can think about is when you were held prisoner, Saint. I can’t leave Ella there because what if there was no one to save you?”
She looks at Saint and only Saint because even though Willow is a strong, independent woman, if Saint was strongly opposed to the idea, she’d back down. And I respect them both for it.
“It’s only until we can get her out of there,” she reasons, working her bottom lip.
“And what will we need to sacrifice in the meantime?” Saint counters, eyes poignant.
Willow averts her gaze.
This is too much. I should have never asked. I’ll think of another way.
“How bad do I look?” I ask, changing the pace.
“Like s**t,” Saint counters with a smirk. He seems pleased with the fact.
“Will I scare Irina?”
His smirk soon disappears.
“She’s been in here watching over you,” Willow reveals. “She doesn’t speak much, does she?”
I shake my head, remembering the vile claims Serg made. “Can you ask her to come in here please? If she’s afraid—”
“She won’t be,” Willow interrupts. “She’s tough.”
That she is.
Willow passes the jug of water to Saint, and a moment of confusion, fear, and love passes between them.
I realize how fortunate I am to have them in my life. They owe me nothing, yet here they are, willing to help me yet again. Not many would understand the relationship we have—I still don’t—but we have an unbreakable bond. It shouldn’t make sense, but it does. And each of us has a love-hate relationship with the fact.
We don’t want to gravitate to one another, but we do.
“I know,” I reply with a heartfelt smile.
Willow leaves the room, so I slowly make my way back into bed, pulling the covers over me. I lean against the headboard, catching my breath because this simple action was enough to leave me winded.
Saint places the jug on the nightstand, refusing to look at me. He hates what I’ve proposed, and I don’t blame him. I hate it too.
I wish I could live my life in solitude without needing to impress others, but that’s not how Russia works. I’m expected to act a certain way, and I refuse to be beaten by anyone ever again. I can’t live a simple life. I tried. I was born a leader, and deep down, I feel most at home in the darkness.
If I were content being the “good guy,” I would swap this lifestyle in a heartbeat. But this is who I am. This is where I belong.
Drugs, extortion, and other depravities are going to exist with or without me. As I see it, it may as well be with me because at least I hold some scruples.
Willow reappears, holding Irina’s hand.
The moment I see her, I forget everything. She looks so small. Has she always been this thin? She chews the corner of her mouth, eyes glued to the floor.
Is she frightened of me?
“цветочек, I’ve missed you.” I speak in Russian. I suddenly don’t know what to say next.
I’ve put her in harm’s way, so she has every right to fear or even hate me.
Willow smiles down at her. “Did you want to say hello to Aleksei?”
Irina lifts her shoulders in a half shrug.
My heart breaks to see her reject me this way. But I’ve betrayed her and quite possibly, added to the childhood trauma she already suffered.
“Not to worry. I just wanted to see you to make sure you’re okay.” I won’t force her, but when she lifts her eyes to meet mine, I see the true extent of her strength.
“Irina ’kay,” she whispers, wringing her hands in front of her. “Ski ’kay?”
“Ski okay,” I affirm with a nod.
“Ski hurt?” she says, her lower lip trembling.
“No, цветочек. I’m all right. Just a scratch.”
I need to broach this situation tenderly. I won’t ask her now, but I need to know if what Serg said held any merit. However, what I do know is that I will not return her to the orphanage. I will call Mother Superior and ask for her blessing to adopt Irina.
I now have a home. A big home where I can keep her safe.
My lifestyle is far from suitable for a child, but I will try my best to be a good role model for her and ensure she has everything she needs.
Opening my arms, I offer her a choice. She can refuse, but when she lets go of Willow’s hand and runs toward the bed, I understand how deep her love for me is.
She boosts herself onto the mattress, then throws herself into my embrace. I flinch because my broken ribs are still healing, but I don’t let on that she’s holding me so tightly I can scarcely breathe because this is all I want.
“I’ll never let anything happen to you ever again,” I promise, kissing the top of her head. She smells like her again.
As we embrace, I suddenly remember we’re not alone.
Locking eyes with Saint, he appears to be pained, and I understand why. “Fine, we’re in.”
I nod in gratitude, drawing Irina closer to my chest.
Those who made the ones I love suffer are going to pay. I will inflict a lifetime of pain because Aleksei Popov is back…but unlike before, I have so much more worth fighting for.
- Writer
