You Don't Know Me (The Russian Don 3)

I want to grab her and take her there and then. And damn if it won’t feel good.

I clench my jaw and turn away. There’s a jeering voice in my head. Stay firm, Noah. It’s just one fucking night. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I stare out of the window as the familiar streets rush by. I have done this journey thousands of times, but there is something surreal about this night.

Its name is Tasha Evanoff. Her perfume. Her presence, the creamy whiteness of her soft skin, the innocence in her wide eyes. I am a monster. I can bring her nothing but pain and ruin. Even touching the Princess would be defiling her, and yet, I cannot stop myself.

She is my one weakness. The beloved daughter of the Mafia king is about to become my worst fucking nightmare. I cannot resist her call. I’ve played this out in my fantasies too many times. Just one night. It’s just lust. When the sun comes up it will be over. I won’t chase her. I won’t ruin her life. Just one night.

As the car eats up the miles, every cell in my body heats up, becomes super alert. Like a wolf I can hear her heartbeat, feel the heat coming from her body.

The car comes to a smooth stop. Here we are Noah, you and your fantasy woman. I get out and Viktor rushes to open the door for her. She gets out and looks at me. I thank Viktor and he drives off.

Cold wind drags at her clothes and hair. She hugs herself.

‘My place,’ I say softly.

‘It’s nice,’ she replies without sarcasm. It’s just a six-bedroom Regency town house with high ceilings and tall windows. But modest. Certainly nothing compared to the gold and marble palace she lives in. Russians with money are like Arabs. Flashy. They invest in ostentation.

‘Sure you want to do this?’

She reaches out a hand and, with her thumb and forefinger, picks something from my right cheek. Staring at me she holds it in front of my lips. It is an old Russian superstition: if an eyelash falls out you will receive a gift. My chest feels tight. My mother used to do this to me, take the eyelash, and let me blow it away while making a wish.

I blow. Strands of her blonde hair lift away from her neck.

She blinks. ‘Did you make a wish?’

I nod. How surprised she would be if she knew what I wished for. How surprised I am at my fucking wish. None of the wishes I made when my mother held the eyelash ever came true. There is absolutely no way this one is going to either.

We walk up the steps and I put the key in my door. I close the door and watch her look at her surroundings.

‘Want a drink?’ I offer.

‘If you’ll have one too?’

I walk to the first reception room and switch on the light.

She laughs, a breathless sound. ‘Wow, it’s beautiful.’

I look at the decor as if for the first time. Through her eyes. I never notice it anymore. I follow her eyes as she takes in the pale ice cream colors on the walls, the charcoal grey floor, and the dark silk curtains. There are red velvet cushions on the white fainting couch. She moves deeper into the room to stand on the soft-lilac shag carpet.

‘I never would have imagined you lived in a house like this.’

I shrug casually. This is my house, but it is not a home. I don’t really live here. In fact, I hardly come. Often I crash in the apartment above my restaurant. ‘I didn’t actually decorate it. I hired someone.’

‘Of course, I knew that, but you approved her design.’

‘When I buy a dog I tend not to bark myself.’

She laughs again, but this time it is for real. A lovely sound. It’s the way I thought she might sound. Rich, sexy, and exhilarating. ‘I just expected more black leather and chrome somehow.’ She stops and shrugs. ‘I mean being bratva and all.’

‘I’m not in the brotherhood anymore,’ I say quietly.

She cocks an eyebrow. ‘Oh, since when?’

‘Years,’ I say simply.

‘So you just walked away from it?’ she asks curiously.

‘You never walk away from it. It walks beside you.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Your sins, every one of them, they never leave you, no matter how far you run, or how long you live.’

She stares at me.

‘But you didn’t come here to talk about my sins.’

She doesn’t say anything so I move to the drinks cabinet and pour us each a large measure of cognac. She takes hers from my hand and raises it.

‘To tonight,’ she says.

‘Tonight,’ I reply and we both drink.

To my surprise she knocks it back as fast as me. She is so beautiful she makes my cock weep. I want to tear the clothes off her, but she will need to go home in them before the sun rises again. The thought doesn’t sit well. I already dread having to let her go tomorrow. Once I possess her …