Sasha & Andriena #1 (Lovers & Sinners) Page 2

  “It’s true. You do look like Cinderella.”

  The scene cut to his mother dancing with Sasha’s stepfather. The full skirt of her dress twirled around her, again making her look like a Disney princess. She was so graceful... unlike her husband. In contrast, he appeared awkward on the dance floor, his bulky body barely keeping up with his wife’s dance moves. He was also brutish-looking, with bushy eyebrows and an overly square-jaw. His mother had said he was an important man in the Russian military, some sort of leader.

  Sasha looked over at him. He was now staring at Sasha’s mother with an annoyed expression. His dark gaze moved to Sasha, making him hide his face behind his mother’s arm, his stepfather scaring him. He hoped the marriage didn’t last long—like the previous ones. Sasha had grown used to men coming and going from their household, some not even bothering to say goodbye. They were there one day, gone the next, as though Sasha had dreamed them.

  His stepfather cleared his throat. “Let’s call it a night, darling,” he said, moving his gaze back to Sasha’s mother.

  “No. I want to spend more time with my children.” She placed a hand on Yuri’s blond head. Sasha’s four-year-old brother was lying asleep on the other side of her, along with their three-year-old sister.

  “For Christ’s sake, it’s almost midnight. Plus, Yuri and Anouska are already asleep.”

  “Sasha’s awake.”

  “And seven years old. He shouldn’t be up so late. I’ll call for a nanny to put them to bed.” He grabbed the phone off the side table.

  “No!” Sasha’s mother barked. “I’m spending time with Sasha now, so leave us be!”

  His stepfather’s big body jolted, his expression surprised, in contrast to Sasha, who didn’t even flinch, his mother prone to severe mood swings.

  “What do you want to do next, baby boy?” she said, turning back to him.

  Before Sasha could reply, his stepfather was in front of them, yanking his mother away from Sasha. He leaned his hard face down to hers. “You do not ignore me, woman. And when I say we’re going to bed, we’re fucking going to bed.”

  She laughed, making him jerk his head back in surprise. “I love rough men,” she breathed out, placing a hand on his massive chest. “It makes things so much more satisfying.” Her full lips pulled up into a wicked grin. “Just let me say goodnight to Sasha, then I’m all yours.”

  He nodded and let go of her arm, looking like he didn’t know how to take her reaction. Then a slow smile formed across his face, his dark eyes twinkling with excitement.

  Sasha’s mother bent down and cupped Sasha’s chin. Placing her mouth next to his ear, she whispered, “Do you remember the man game when you close your eyes and cover your ears?”

  “Da,” he said, having played it once before.

  “Let’s play it now.”

  Nodding, he looked up at his stepfather one last time, happy he’d gotten his wish. “Bye,” he said, covering his ears. He closed his eyes next, knowing he wouldn’t be seeing the man again.

  ***

  A male scream jolted Sasha awake, ripping him out of his dream. He uncovered his ears and opened his less injured eye, finding himself staring at large breasts. Disorientated and confused, he looked up at a sleeping woman’s face, her features vaguely familiar. She had wavy black hair, which was spread out over the mattress, the tangled array framing a heart-shaped face. He had a vague memory of a woman with black hair helping him, but had thought it was a dream. The time since the guards had beaten him had been filled with blurred images and cruel words, intermingled with dreams of his mother and the raven-haired female, giving him a reprieve from his nightmares.

  He adjusted himself below, the woman having aroused his cock. She was wearing nothing but lingerie, her lush curves provoking an unwanted reaction. He shifted away from her, putting space between them. His master had forbidden him from having sex with women, no matter how much he desired them. Guards were meant to be virginal—or what the Black Russian called untouched. Their job was to protect their master as well as giving him a beautiful picture to look at, not to have lives of their own. And if they broke the rules, the consequences were severe.

  Then why did he put me with a woman?

  And with one so gorgeous.

  She looked a few years older than him—mid-twenties at a guess, her olive skin flawless. She was also sweet-looking. He could almost call her cute if it wasn’t for her full, sexy lips, and unnaturally long, black eyelashes. Maybe his master was testing him, seeing if he’d give into temptation again. And when he did, the bastard would punish him—like the last time. He forced down the memories of what he’d had to endure, the punishment so barbaric he’d almost ended his life. He would’ve of done it too if it hadn’t been for his brother. Yet, Yuri was the one who’d died, while he lived on, clocking up a plethora of reasons to choose Hell over the one he was living now.

  The woman reached out for Sasha in her sleep, mumbling in Italian. Her hand landed on his crotch. He swatted it away, startling her awake. Her eyes went to his, making him freeze. They were an intense blue, so beautiful that she could only be from one family.

  The Donatelli—a Sicilian crime family who’d tortured him before an ally had come to his rescue.

  Sasha shot off the bed, horrified he’d taken comfort in the arms of an enemy. “You’re Donatelli,” he spat, feeling nothing but disgust, her beauty meaningless now. Even though the men had done the torture, the woman still had the same eyes, the intense color haunting him.

  “How do you know I’m a Donatelli?” she asked with a thick Italian accent.

  “You have devil eyes.”

  She flinched, his words obviously hurting her. “I’m no longer one of them after my uncle sold me.”

  Sasha’s mind went to his mother, someone who’d sold him. He’d been twelve at the time when she’d put him and his baby brother into a car, kissing them goodbye.

  “Why are you sending us away, Mama?” he’d asked. “Papa thinks we’re gone.”

  She took his face into her hands, a deep sadness filling her pale blue eyes. “It’s the only way to keep you safe, baby boy.”

  “Then, why aren’t you coming with us?”

  “I’m not allowed to set foot in the place you’re going to.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  “Soon.” She placed a kiss on his forehead, letting it linger for a moment, one of her teardrops splashing onto his face. Then she let go, shutting him and his brother in the car, sending them to the Black Palace.

  The Donatelli woman covered her face, sounding like she was crying. He wondered whether her sale was recent, because her pain looked raw. For a brief moment he felt sorry for her, then pushed the feeling aside, the memories of what her family had done to him and his brother wiping away any trace of sympathy. She also needed to toughen up, like he had to when he’d discovered his mother had betrayed him.

  “Tears won’t change a thing,” he said. “It’s a weakness that the Black Russian will exploit. You must dry your eyes if you want to survive in this hellhole.”

  She uncovered her face, her tears watering down the intensity of her eyes. “I don’t want to survive, I want to die,” she said.

  “I can do it for you.”

  She frowned. “Do what?”

  “Kill you.”

  She shot backwards, falling over the side of the bed, her face filled with terror. “Why would you say that?” she yelled, scrambling to her feet, the bed now separating them. “I nursed you, yet you threaten me?”

  He cocked his head to the side, not understanding her reaction, especially since he’d only offered a solution to her problem. “It wasn’t a threat. You said you wanted to die.”

  “I didn’t mean it literally!”

  “It sounded literal to me.” His eyes moved to her breasts as they rose and fell rapidly, the woman’s fear tangible.

  “Stop staring at my breasts!” She wrapped her arms around her chest, as though it could shield
her from his gaze. But he could still see the quiver of her flesh, which he couldn’t deny was arousing him.

  “You’re still staring!” She indicated to his hard-on. “And keep that thing away from me. Also, don’t ever mention killing me again or I’ll kill you.”

  Sasha looked back up. “It’s not my fault you said something you didn’t mean. I took you for your word and offered you a means of escape, but if you truly want to live just say so and I won’t harm you in any way.”

  “I want to live.” She indicated to his groin again. “And keep your cock under control.”

  “I’m hard because I need to relieve myself,” he said, which was a half-truth, because he did need to go. He scanned the room, spotting a bucket in the far corner, which he knew was a makeshift toilet. He went to it, ignoring the aches and pains in his body, even though it was difficult, because he felt like he was bleeding from the inside out. The guards—his so-called friends, had beaten him to the ground, kicking him until he’d coughed up blood. But then again, if they’d gone light on him, they would’ve been beaten too.

  Facing away from the woman, he slipped his cock out and quickly relieved himself, tucking it back in once done. “I’m guessing there’s nothing to wash my hands with,” he said, turning around.

  She pointed to a bottle on the table. “You can use a bit of that.”

  “Is it drinking water?”

  She nodded.

  “Then, I’ll need you to tip some onto my hands so I don’t dirty the bottle.”

  “I’m not going anywhere near you after you threatened my life.”

  “I already told you it was a misunderstanding, so stop being irrational.”

  “I’m not being irrational!” she shouted, looking hysterical. “Normal people don’t offer to kill other people.” Her anger instantly dissolved, a remorseful expression replacing it. “Actually, what do I know of normal? I’m mafia. I’m not normal.” She started massaging her forehead. “And you’re right, I was being irrational, but in my defense, I’m not usually like this. I’ve got a nasty migraine that won’t go away.” Exhaling, she dropped her hands. “Anyway, why were you beaten up?”

  “I defied my master.”

  “Were you a guard? Because you look like one.”

  “I was, but how do I look like one?” He touched his swollen cheek, which was rounded instead of hollowed. “My face is a bloody mess.”

  “I’m sure once it heals you’ll look beautiful like them, plus you have a perfect body.” Her gaze wandered down it.

  He grimaced, not appreciating her double-standards. “You’re a hypocrite.”

  She jerked her head back up. “Why?”

  “You complained about me staring at your body, then you go stare at mine.”

  “I did not stare at your body,” she said, sounding offended. “Anyone can see it’s perfect. And you took my words the wrong way. I was just explaining why you reminded me of the guards.”

  “Then, why did I wake up with you hugging me and my head against your breasts? You also touched my cock. Did you take advantage of me while I was unconscious?”

  “No!” She crossed her arms over her chest again, her indignant demeanor suggesting she wasn’t lying. “I had to use my body to warm you up because the guard refused to give me a blanket. And I asked for your permission.”

  He searched his mind, trying to remember, but couldn’t. Though, he’d probably been in shock at the time, so he could’ve said yes without realizing it.

  She continued, “You should thank me, not make me feel bad, especially since I only did it to help you. And I don’t take advantage of men, they take advantage of me.”

  “Don’t assume you’re the only one who’s been taken advantage of.”

  “I would rather have been beaten up than raped!”

  Sasha didn’t react, what she’d said not a surprise. “I’d rather no one got hurt, but I don’t have a say, because if I did, the Black Russian would be dead and his slaves freed.”

  She exhaled shakily, giving him a curt nod in agreement. An awkward silence followed, making Sasha wish he’d been put in a cell by himself.

  The Donatelli woman started fidgeting, the silence no doubt unnerving her too. “How about I just pour the water over your hands?” She walked over to the table and picked up the bottle, hesitating for a moment, giving him the impression she was reconsidering going near him. But instead of backtracking, she took the final steps.

  She opened the bottle, swearing in Italian as she dropped the cap, her hands shaking badly. She swept it up, muttering, “Hold your hands out.” Once he’d extended them, she poured water over his palms, swearing again as she tipped too much, her shaking having caused it.

  He grabbed the towel off the table. “There’s no need to get upset, it’s just water,” he said, wiping his hands.

  “You don’t understand,” she replied, looking distressed. “This is the first bottle they’ve given me. I shouldn’t have wasted it on washing your hands. It was stupid of me.”

  “It’s not important, you’ll still get milk.”

  “How do you know I get milk?”

  “I worked in this part of the prison when I was a new guard.”

  She grimaced. “I forgot you used to be a robot.”

  “A robot?”

  “It’s what I call the guards. They look too perfect and have no feelings.”

  He frowned at her, not appreciating her words. “They have feelings; they just learn to hide them well, because succumbing to emotions can get you hurt in here,” he said, knowing from personal experience.

  She went quiet for a moment, looking like she was thinking. “Did you treat people as badly as they treat me?” she finally asked.

  “I did my job.”

  “I’m not a job!” Her hand shot to her head, her shout probably having hurt it.

  “You should keep your voice down,” he warned. “Otherwise you might be muzzled.”

  She dropped her hand, her expression shocked. “Did you say muzzled?”

  He nodded. “Slaves in this part of the prison get muzzled if they talk too loudly. Actually, they’re not supposed to talk at all. Only animal sounds are permitted.”

  “Is that why I often hear howling?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s horrible,” she gasped. “They have no right to treat people that way.”

  Anger bubbled up inside of him, her words the trigger, but instead of shouting like she had, he pinned her with a glare. “Then, why does your family have slaves if you think this is so wrong?”

  She blanched. “That’s got nothing to do with me.”

  “Did you used to live in the Donatelli compound?”

  “Sì, I mean yes.”

  “Then, you would’ve lived off the money that your family reaped from their sex slaves.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she said, appearing flustered.

  “I bet it was.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand. The women in my famiglia don’t have a say when it comes business. My youngest sister tried to get my father to shut down the House of Whores, but he laughed her out of the room. We’re treated like second class citizens.”

  “Was your father the last Don?”

  “No, that was my uncle, the one who sold me.” Her expression saddened. “My father was the Don before him.”

  Sasha grimaced, knowing exactly who her father was. “I’m glad that fucking bastard is dead.”

  Her eyes widened. “Watch what you say about him!”

  “I’ll say whatever the hell I like about that monster.”

  “People who live in glasshouses shouldn’t throw stones,” she shot back.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, his understanding of English limited.

  “It means you shouldn’t judge others if you’ve done similar things.”

  He glared at her. “I’ve never raped a person in my life, so don’t you fucking dare say I’m like him.”

 
“My father didn’t rape anyone!”

  “He ordered the capture of people to be raped. Do you think those people in your family whorehouse were there of their own volition? No!” he snapped, not giving her enough time to answer, the woman infuriatingly ignorant. “They were kidnapped and forced into prostituting themselves for your family’s benefit. And if they didn’t do what they were told, they were tortured.”

  She stared at him with wide eyes, her expression shocked. “How do you know this?”

  He breathed out, attempting to get himself under control. “I was captured by your family when they overthrew the D’Angelo house. I saw things I wish I could scrub from my mind, including what went on in the House of Whores. Your family are a bunch of savages, vile creatures who should be wiped from the planet.” He lowered his voice. “And if I ever escape here, I’ll be the one who does it.”

  She took a step back, looking fearful again.

  “I won’t kill you,” he said, thinking the only crime she was guilty of was ignorance. “I’ll only go after the ones who perpetuated the crimes, not blind fools who lived off the gains.”

  Her jaw clenched. “Again, it wasn’t like you’re making it out to be, plus the people who would’ve been responsible are probably all dead. The D’Angelos fought back, destroying my famiglia.”

  “Good.” He smiled, the expression far from friendly. “And I hope they suffered.”

  Her upset gaze shot to the guard behind the window. “Take him away! He’s better now.”

  “Don’t talk to him,” Sasha said. “He’ll either punish or ignore you. Like I said, you’re not human to him, you’re a job. The younger guards are no better than dogs, wanting the approval of their master.”

  Her gaze snapped back to him. “The Black Russian treats them like dogs?”

  “I was obviously speaking metaphorically.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I was basically treated like a dog, told to eat and drink like one. They also made me crawl on my hands and knees. So, it’s not so farfetched that the guards could be treated in a similar manner.”

  “They weren’t treating you like a dog; they would’ve been treating you like a sheep.”