CHAPTER 60
CHRISTIAN ‘VICIOUS’ VOLKOV.
Gone like the wind.
Left her belongings as well.
I should be fuming mad; I should be hunting her down with the intent to stop this cat-and-mouse game that has grown weary on my part and her part as well.
But I know why she left.
Quite frankly I can picture every teensy thought that ran in her mind as she whisked away into the night with a sleeping Millie like she was Houdini herself.
And as I sit here, smirk on my face, mannerism and decorum painting my skin, deep down my body yearns.
Hunt her down.
Corner her into a dark little corner and punish her.
Spanking her won’t do.
Not this time around.
Touching her wasn’t going to be a thing but the nurse’s taste is still locked in my memory. And she tasted like the forbidden apple dripped in all things tempting.
The woman in front of me clears her throat and I stare at her remembering where I am and what this is.
A date.
A means to know each other well ahead of the upcoming nuptials.
“Sicily is different from Chicago, I’m sure. You must miss it a lot.”
She spikes conversation and the atmosphere itself is as bland as the pasta sitting in front of me on my plate.
Still, I entertain her. She’s to be Mrs. Vitello Volkov soon anyway.
Her eyes glean with anticipation as she awaits my answers. I take a sip of the prosecco wishing it was scotch instead.
“I don’t.”
She pushes a few locks of hair from her face, her cleavage clearly meant to show me she was game if I asked for said game.
And here lies the problem.
I’m so damned by Alexia Green that the thought of kissing another woman or fucking another woman leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
Her disappointment is clear, so I engage her with a question for the sake of appearances.
“What did you want in a husband, principessa? You must have dreamt of some swooning prince charming before you got forced to marry me, right?”
Her eyes stare up at me and they are the wrong shade.
Not blue.
But brown.
Not defiant.
But submissive.
“You”, she breathes, her chest puffing and huffing, “I’ve always wanted you as my husband.”
God bless her poor little soul.
“Yeah? I’m the prince charming you’ve always dreamed of?”
“I didn’t want a prince charming and you are no prince charming Christian so yes I’ve dreamed of this day since forever.”
“This is a marriage of convenience you know that. It won’t end with me hanging around your thumb and head over heels with you, Athena.”
“I know.”
“And you still settle for less?”
“You are to be the head of the Cosa Nostra, I wouldn’t call that less.”
“Ah, power. You get power when you marry me.”
“No. No. You misunderstand me. Being a leader takes a toll on someone. I heard how my father nearly lost himself under pressure and my mother was always there, supporting him, being–.”
“An anchor for him”, I finish her statement.
“Yes, an anchor. You might not fall head over heels for me but I will be there whenever you need me, I’ll be your anchor.”
Same word but uttered from different lips and that’s what makes this marriage a bigger sham than any sham in history.
“I already have an anchor, Athena. An obstinate anchor but she’s there.”
“Christian-“, she grows agitated.
The emotion is clear on her features and in the way she holds her fork. Like she wants to maim me with it.
“You are a mere business transaction, a mere means to the end. You understand the ropes, you know how this works. You are the means to my throne and you know it so for my sake and your…feelings’ sake let go of the fairy tale and welcome to the real world.
I’m not your prince charming. You don’t need to set up dates and hire paparazzi to show anyone we are more than what the marriage certificate states.”
I figured out the paparazzi were here, the minute the man with the wide-rimmed glasses a few chairs from us read the menu upside down, and there was the woman who’d barely touched her salmon, let’s not forget the waiter who poured us the prosecco like he hadn’t a clue what he was doing.
“We can be more than that.”
She suggests.
“I can’t give you what you want, principessa.”
“You can if you just try, you can!”
And here she is.
The little girl I met years ago, the princess, the spoilt brat, the last heir to Allagra and Alessandro Pallis’ fortune.
Bathed in wealth, lived in her pink castle getting everything her heart desired.
I wasn’t looking down on her. She was a rich heiress and she wore it like armor.
Unfortunately for her heart, she wasn’t my kind of woman.
“This date is over.”
“Stay, please.”
I put my napkin on the table.
My phone burns hot in my pants. I saw the text messages a few minutes ago, that the nurse and my Millie were gone.
Took another minute to read Jett’s litany of texts of him apologizing for not keeping a watch on them.
A few more minutes seated here and I wanted to applaud the blonde minx for escaping. A blind woman really can escape from a fortified mansion lined with everything the best security has to offer.
“We’ve talked, we’ve cleared things. There’s nothing left to do here unless…this whole thing is a distraction.”
Her eyes go wide but she masks it with a sweet face no fucker would suspect.
“I just wanted time with you that’s all.”
Time to get me away from my mansion?
Time to get me away from my nurse?
I see a pattern. I smell something fishy and it sure as hell isn’t the salmon in this restaurant.
“You’ll have as much time as you want with me on our wedding night, principessa. Drive home safely.”
***
“Roll the tapes”, I bark.
Jett pushes a button, and the CCTV cameras angled in the little nurse’s room play the clips from the last minute when I rolled into her bed and she kicked me out.
We skip over a few clips to where a woman and a familiar head of hair walk into the room.
Athena Pallis strides into my mansion, her room with confidence.
I wasn’t here by then because I was nursing a hangover far away from the bane of my existence.
“We had no clue she visited, boss”, Jett interrupts.
“I was in the kitchen that time preparing breakfast for Lexy”, Jett’s woman aka Brenda aka the woman I saw last night while I was drunk, sneaking into Jett’s room speaks too.
She paid one of my guards to cover for her. How scheming for a goody two shoes meant to be the princessa of Sicily.
“Up the volume”, I order.
Jett presses another button and Alexia’s voice splices the air.
“Is that a threat, your royal cuntness?”
Sassy, pissed, yeah that’s her.
“Play back a few seconds before this.”
The tape starts.
I watched it five times and maybe more.
Alexia Green, gotta hand it to her bravery, settles for less in the name of trying to escape from me.
Athena Pallis? The woman’s got bigger scheming balls than I gave her.
Which begs the question, how far is Athena Pallis willing to go to ensure our marriage happens?
What skeletons do you have in your closet, principessa?