Sasha: A Dark Mafia Romance (Belles & Mobsters)
Sasha: Chapter 37

My mouth felt dry, my tongue heavy. My hair stuck to my face and I reached to move it, but couldn’t move. My mind clouded with confusion as I tried to remember when I went to sleep.

Was I married? Did I drink too much at my wedding reception?

I peeled my eyelids open, blinking against the glimpse of light. I shifted to move and a low moan slipped past my lips.

Big hands cupped my cheeks and pale blue eyes sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. The same pale blue eyes.

“You’re awake. Good.”

Sasha’s voice. Jesus, was this a dream? More like a nightmare.

“What– “ I rasped, but my voice faltered. I shifted again, but the sound of shredding material had me jerking into an upright position. My heartbeat trembled when I saw my wedding dress cut right below my knees. “What are you doing?” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I hate the fucking dress.” The indifference in his voice froze my blood. I tensed, then shifted away from him. He didn’t allow me any space between us as he shredded another piece of material from my dress.

To my horror, tears blurred my vision.

“Well, my almost-husband loved it,” I lied. I had no fucking idea if Killian loved it or not. He was hard to get to know.

He discarded a piece of my dress on the car floor and slid off my heels. He reached for a pair of boots and handed them to me.

“Put these on,” he demanded.

“No,” I breathed, my brain still a bit hazy from whatever he shot into me. “Take me back,” I demanded.

He chuckled. Dark and threatening. “I don’t think so. Put these on, or I’ll do it for you.”

I went to move and winced at the pain that shot through me. My muscles tightened.

“Did I get married?” I breathed, my memory hazy.

“What do you think?” he drawled, twisting the knife in his hands. It was stupid, but I wasn’t scared. Maybe the drugs in my system counteracted my reason. Or maybe I was just plain stupid when it came to this man?

I played with the monster and tried to tame it. But a monster couldn’t be tamed. Everyone knew that.

“Are you insane?” I hissed, although my own voice was giving me a headache.

He tossed the knife and it flew through the small space of the vehicle until it landed back in his hands. “Depends who you ask.”

“You couldn’t have figured out a subtle way to kidnap me?” I retorted dryly, thankful that the knife didn’t stab him through his palm. Or even worse, me.

He just shrugged. “It was subtle. Nobody got shot.” This man was a pure psychopath. I couldn’t believe I actually thought him attractive. Ever.

“It was televised, you fucking moron,” I spat back at him. I was so tempted to wring his neck. Senator Ashford’s attendance at the wedding brought in reporters.

His one eyebrow shot up, though he still didn’t look worried. “Oh, was it? Fuck, that’s unfortunate.”

“My brother will murder you,” I growled. “So will Killian.”

He threw back his head and laughed. He actually laughed. Bastard. “I’d like to see either one of them try.” Then his pale gaze locked on me. “Little warning, kotyonok. I won’t spare them if they try. Specially that Irish fucker.”

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw hurt. Conceited bastard.

“If you don’t take me back right now,” I gritted. “I’m going to kill you.”

He flashed me that grin that I used to find so damn sexy. Thrilling and dangerous but also panty-meltingly sexy.

“Careful, kotyonok, or I’ll think you like me.”

“I. Hate. You.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Give me a knife and you’ll see that I do.”

“By the way, I got your present.” I rolled my eyes. Fucking Russian was bouncing from topic to topic, giving me whiplash.

“I didn’t send you a present, moron.”

“That love note was so fucking romantic, I got a hard-on.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I sneered. “I’d never do anything romantic for you. Because, you’re psychotic.”

“The heart. Jason’s heart.” I stilled. “And the message in blood. In Russian nonetheless. Such a fucking turn on.” Okay, that was definitely not my intent. It was supposed to be a warning. “And you wonder why I came for you. You practically begged me. You were speaking my love language.”

I stared at him in shock and my mouth dropped. He thought sending him a human heart and the message in blood stating he’d be next was romantic. He was even more unhinged than I thought. Jesus Christ. And I wanted to sleep with him.

The term psychopath didn’t even scratch the surface on describing Sasha Nikolaev.

Then he tilted his head pensively, as if he was debating something, until he finally spoke, “I’m gonna have to do something as romantic as that.” He grinned as if pleased with himself. “I’m going to give you a heart too.”

I blinked. No fucking way. Someone save me from this Sasha nightmare.

“You could give me yours,” I retorted dryly. “That would make us even. I might even carve my initials in it.”

He grinned as if he thought it was a great idea. “Baby, your initials have been carved into my heart for a long time. But you got it. What my kotyonok wants, she gets. Let me just line up a heart transplant. I’ll find a matching donor.”

My mouth dropped. It fucking dropped. PSYCHO!

First, he actually thought I’d kill a man to send him a message. Moron.

Of course, Jason was well on his way back to the Middle East to serve his next tour. Okay, maybe my joke wasn’t exactly normal, but I didn’t kill him.

Secondly, the thought of killing Sasha Nikolaev, even after what he had done over the last twenty-four hours, was strangely unsettling. Damn him!

“Now put those boots on, or you won’t like what comes next.”

Without another word, I snatched up the boots and slipped them on.

“You could have gotten me some socks, cheapo creepo,” I snapped as I laced them up.

“Not to worry. You’ll have everything you need where we’re going.”

I held his stare and bit my lip. Hard.

There was no sense in arguing with him. Talking with Sasha was like playing Russian roulette and there was no telling who’d win.

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