Dead inside temporary bl.., p.15
Dead Inside (Temporary Bliss #1), page 15
I notice the past tense and look the other way, but then I rub his arm slowly. So that must be where he got those bruises. I’m just glad it’s not worse.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m tense and I haven’t slept and you’re asking me all of these stupid questions,” he mumbles and for the first time, he sounds like an annoyed child. I almost laugh, instead I tug him closer, suddenly wanting to give him some comfort. He leans in and puts his left arm on my back.
“Can I ask who it was? I mean, is it people from the organization, or something else?”
He ponders again, staring down at me. “It’s someone we were supposed to do business with. They were sent by Temnota.”
I can’t help but smile at that. I punch him lightly. “Hey, look at you, you’ve actually told me something.”
He lets out a nervous chuckle. I narrow down my eyes and become more serious, even though his embrace pierces through my numbness and makes me feel fuzzy. “Temnota is the other criminal organization, right? Those people that came after me? The ones that Stefan’s dealing with?”
He nods and summarizes a couple of things for me. When he’s done, things feel just as foggy as they were in the beginning. Maybe even more so. It’s just a gang war and nobody knows on which side other people might be. They’re striving for control, fighting one another, murdering each other, with no regard to whom might be caught in the middle. Assassinations. Retaliations. Arson.
Raymond’s faction, Roza Bratva, while it also is a military organization, they approach things with an entrepreneurial mindset. They prefer handling things in a more diplomatic way and conduct actual businesses, which surprisingly enough, are legal for the most part and comply with the laws. Drugs are also involved, and obviously prostitution, but for them, those are underground dealings which take a secondary place. The most important thing is that they’re businessmen. Without wanting, I think Raymond just gave himself away. He implied, more or less, that he’s the owner of numerous hotels and businesses. Which explains his general attire and attitude overall, if I think about it. Temnota, on the other hand, by the way he explained it, are a bunch of savages and cold-blooded murderers. There’s nothing good about them. They’re just soaked in mud, drugs and prostitution, racketeering, blackmailing and god knows what. And they’re fighting to get the upper hand. Murder is their thing and they’ve got only one purpose. To win more territory.
From Raymond’s words, I gather that despite the connections Roza has and the somewhat fragile control they’ve got over the police, Temnota’s presence and their interference is bad for them in general. Even if they could reach some agreement of sorts, their way of doing business and the overall violence would draw the wrong type of attention. And this instability that affects the gang at the moment also affects the city. It’s only a matter of time until the situation blows out of proportions.
“You do understand now why I need to get to whoever is behind Stefan? Because if we don’t stop them quickly, there will be an all-out war and there’ll be casualties.”
I nod slightly. My fist tightens until my knuckles turn white, and I avoid his gaze. He’s on his sixth glass of whiskey but doesn’t seem drunk at all. He’s mostly relaxed and tipsy, definitely more laid-back than when I first arrived. He speaks in Romanian sometimes, to make sure I understand exactly what he means, even though he takes his time fishing for the right words. His accent is funny but he is quite fluent when he speaks my native language. It makes me question a bunch of things about him. Whenever I require an explanation, he does his best to explain things to me in a comprehensive manner. He reverts to English without even realizing, but despite that he doesn’t come across as condescending, nor does he treat me like an idiot. The subtle authority he emanates doesn’t come from arrogance, but rather from something ingrained deep in his character. Education. Upbringing. Life experience. All combined together.
“Do you know anything about an orphanage he owns?” he asks, taking another sip from the glass. He’s stretched on his left side on the bed, supporting himself on his elbow, tie gone, shirt unbuttoned down to his abdomen, the Roza visible on his chest. I want to lean forward, run my fingers over it, but I look up at his question, meeting his frown with one of my own.
“I… know he’s taking care of some kids. He has some house or whatever out of town and buys them food and such. Why?”
He grows attentive and nods. “Do you have a precise location of the place?”
“Not exactly. I’ve never actually been there with him. Why?” I insist. Suspicion creeps in my bones. Why would that be of any interest to him?
He nods again, thoughtful. “That might be useful. Is there any way you can find out where he keeps them?”
“Perhaps. But I don’t want those children hurt, Raymond. If you plan to hurt them, I’m not helping you.”
He puts the glass on the nightstand, then he shifts on his knees, placing both his hands on my face, leaning forward. “Alex. I don’t know what he told you about them, but I have reasons to believe he’s planning to sell those kids.”
“I doubt it, he… he always chooses adults or…”
“You told me you have been in this shit for how long? Four years? That made you, what, fifteen?” He sounds truly angry and bothered at this point. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol in him that makes him like this, but there’s a part of me that likes his concern.
I flinch and shake my head. “But those are little kids. Younger than fifteen, maybe under ten. He wouldn’t. Not this young. No.” I refuse to let go of the only thing that might’ve been good about Stefan. Whenever he speaks of the orphans, his eyes light up. He really loves helping others and he does his best, even in his own fucked up way. I am aware that I would have been on the street now if not for him. He’s not entirely evil. He cares. I know he does. He just doesn’t know how to express it. The fact he’s been an orphan himself makes him even more invested in those kids. He did struggle to take care of Rafa. He did. When he realized he couldn’t, he let someone else do it. He’s not all evil, I know that. I’ve seen the good in him. But… but… he can’t. He couldn’t possibly sell those kids. Raymond is wrong.
“Do you know why Iordan fled to the cops? Because his girlfriend’s child, the one he killed Boria for, was taken by Stefan with the promise of offering him a better life. Yet they knew that isn’t true. And I know too. And you know it as well, since you’ve lived through it yourself and he pushed you into prostitution.” There’s a heat in his voice, which makes me watch him wide-eyed, almost gaping, absorbing every single word he tells me.
“I don’t think he pushed me into it,” I lower my eyes and feel the anger settling in. I grab his hands, shaking my head.
“Then what did he do?” he insists, not letting go of me.
“We just needed the money. My parents kicked me out. I had nowhere to go. I had no one.”
“He was with you at the time?” he asks harshly.
I nod.
“And he had the club already?”
I nod again. The fact he owned a club at such a young age was one of the things that had drawn me even more to him. I had no idea how he’d managed it, but it had become apparent in time that the things he’d been involved in since very young had made it possible.
“Do you know the amount of money he makes on a regular night? What more could he possibly need? Have you any idea how much he demanded for you before finding out who I am?”
I shake my head, his stare burning into me.
“Five hundred euros. And that’s only for you. How many people have you fucked? Will you do the math?”
“It’s not like you people plan to give those kids a better life,” I blurt, daring him, even though he’s piercing me with his gaze and it’s quite uncomfortable at this point. He makes me feel small and stupid and I don’t want that.
“I don’t traffic children, Alex.”
“No, but you traffic people. What difference does it make? None.”
“We only work with people who have an interest for it.”
“Then, why are you supporting Stefan? He threatens, blackmails and forces people into this. He even kills them, for fuck’s sake. If they want to flee, they show up in dumpbins weeks later,” I almost spit the words, strengthening my hold on him. Christ, why am I so angry?
“We’re not like that,” his answer is curt, resigned in a way. Does he mean the Roza is not like that or himself in particular? Why is he doing this, then?
“I wouldn’t send you back to that lunatic if I didn’t have a good enough reason. And I can’t trust Iordan at this point.” My eyes snap up to him, showered in confusion and incredulity, as his thumbs brush against my face, eyes falling on my lips, a hint of lust and desire flickering in them.
“But you trust me? Why?” I whisper.
It’s either that, or he just tries to manipulate me and compared to Stefan, he’s better at it. His lips purse and I squeeze my fingers on his wrist. “You seem like a good child.”
I scoff and punch him playfully, making him let go of me and flop back onto the bed, chuckling. “Don’t fucking patronize me.”
He gives me a long stare and I can’t help but revel in the iciness of his eyes. My fingers find his and I straddle him. He lets his hands wander on my sides and waist, stopping on my thighs.
“So, you want me to just hang around him, or what?” I mumble, staring down into his eyes, tracing his jaw with a finger.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, shifting a bit underneath me. I remove a wandering strand from his forehead, letting my fingers run through his hair, an odd warmth spreading through me with every touch of him.
“And how am I supposed to fool him? I can’t really play the distressed lover role, he’ll know something’s wrong,” I point out, tilting my head a bit, looking at his features from a different perspective. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe him. Even with dark spots underneath his eyes, bruises on his face and half drunk, he emanates something that pulls me towards him like a magnet. Seeing him unguarded like this, so different from earlier, puts him into a different light, showing a different side of him; softer, warmer.
“Pretend we’ve been torturing you. I don’t know, tell him I’m mad or something.”
“Would that be a lie?” I tease, and he cocks his eyebrow. “Fine. Chill!” I sneak my fingers beneath his shirt, enjoying the feel of his skin, contouring his tattoos with my index. “Raymond?”
“Hm?”
“If you trust me, why won’t you tell me about yourself?”
He takes a deep breath, then sits on the edge of the bed, with me in his lap. I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands roam free on my shoulders. He looks up at me, licking his lips. His eyes gleam with the alcohol. “What do you want to know?”
“How old are you? And if you give me that bullshit answer again…” I warn him with a stern look.
“Thirty-two,” he says, focusing on my mouth.
“Wow.”
“Don’t,” he warns, but I notice a hint of playfulness in his tone.
“You’re old,” I chuckle.
We stare long at one another, the sight of a smile shadowing his lips. I can’t help myself, so I lean over and trap his mouth in a kiss. Raymond snugs me closer, holding my nape with his hand, his long fingers burning against my skin. I push him on the bed. We kiss for a bit, then he pulls off my sweater along with my tee. I unbutton his shirt completely. In an instant, he rolls on top of me. I gasp in surprise; it ends up in a chuckle, muffled by his lips. His entire face lights up when he smiles. That nicely styled hair of his is now spiking in all directions. Those striking blue eyes are half-closed from arousal and alcohol. And that stubble grazes my skin. He looks younger when he’s all messed up like this. And there’s something about this view, him on top of me, a dumb boyish smile on his face, it brings a warmth I can’t explain in my chest. I can’t get enough of his lips. I have no clue how, but I knew since that night he held me on the terrace that I’d do whatever he asks of me. I knew since he mentioned Stefan earlier that I’d go back and find out whatever he needs to know. I know I’d say ‘yes’ to sleeping with him, but not because I have to. There’s just something in my brain that wants to do this for him. Not in the way I did it for Denis and it’s disturbing me on a deeper level.
As he touches me, I touch him back. I don’t know when the both of us end up in our underwear, grinding against one another. I want to repay him for that blowjob, but as I start removing his boxers, he yanks my hands up and leans in for a kiss.
“I’m tired,” he says, his voice a gruff. He removes some strands of hair from my face and shoves them back. I frown at that. I don’t get it. I can feel him stone hard against me.
“You don’t want to fuck?”
“No.”
“Wow,” I whisper, and he gifts me with another one of those smiles. “Why not?”
“Don’t have the energy for it.”
“I can suck you off, that’s not a problem. Just lie down and let me…”
Raymond presses his fingers on my lips, shutting me up. The only accomplishment is that he makes me even more confused. “You don’t want to fuck me?” I ask somewhat guarded, moving his hand out of the way. I don’t get why he’d reject me all of a sudden. He clearly wants it. He’s ready for it. I don’t believe him one second when he tells me he’s tired.
“Of course I want to fuck you,” he snickers, kissing my cheek. “Not now, though.” He rubs his thumb along my jaw, studying my face. “When I wake up, however…” he whispers, the onset of a smile curving the corners of his mouth. I realize he means it and my insecurity is washed away by the implication of his words. Jesus. What’s wrong with me? One moment I bitch about clients and wish I’d be left alone, the other I’m worrying he might reject me. It applies only to him, though. I’d want to be left alone by the others any other time.
“I don’t get that a lot, you know,” I say in the same low tone he’d used.
“Pity,” he chuckles again, pecks my lips, then shifts away from me, struggling with the covers. He tugs my arm so I can lay down on his chest. I snuggle next to him. Soon, I listen to his breath evening out and I quickly follow.
Chapter 18
I leave school. I am walking down the road, my backpack dangling on my shoulder, my mind in a million places. I wish I could say I am peaceful, but I am not. I am anxious. I try to play tough, but this entire situation is getting to me. Raymond. Stefan. Everything else. There’s so much that could go wrong. I’m not gonna lie, Stefan terrifies the crap out of me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find out whatever Raymond needs. I don’t even know if I can bear being next to Stefan. I don’t even know what I’m doing. Or what’s actually going on.
I am filled with so much dread that I wake up in panic sometimes. But at the same time, there’s this other thing nagging at me. I’m sure, like one hundred percent certain, that Stefan’s sick. And while I am aware of that and also happy I haven’t heard from him since Iordan approached me, at the same time I feel hollow. It’s like I’m lost.
I mean, he tried to reach me a couple of times from unknown numbers, but after I’ve kept rejecting his calls, he gave up. I haven’t seen him since they took him that morning. I am not looking forward to it either. I’m just… I’m wondering what he’s up to. Did he already find someone else to replace me with? Did I mean so little to him? Why couldn’t he just fight for me and attempt to change his ways, like he’d claimed so many times? Why couldn’t he just be… you know, normal. I mean, it’s alright to fight in a couple, I think. Or, at least, that’s what I imagine. Not daily though. And not getting beaten out of thin air. And then being told you’re the one who provoked it. True, the last time, I might’ve provoked him, but… that wasn’t an excuse for what he did to me, was it? Did I truly deserve it? Maybe. What about when he broke my ribs? Did I deserve it then? Going batshit crazy over the fact I don’t like something, then escalating the issue until it takes proportions and turns into a maelstrom… is that normal? And for fuck’s sake, I hate Stefan with all of my guts, then why the fuck do I feel like missing him anyways? Perhaps because he’s all I’ve ever known? Because he was my home and now I ended up sleeping at friends – and who knows how long Denis will be able to accommodate me. Because he took me in when my own parents threw me into the streets at fifteen? He gave me a home, a roof above my head and this is how I repay him? Maybe because I know Raymond’s not a valid option. That it won’t ever happen. I miss him. Yet I’m not sure whom I miss most.
No. Fuck it. I can’t allow myself to fall into that thinking pattern. Stefan’s not normal. He’s bonkers. Batshit crazy with a bloody twist and a spoon of vanilla and cherries on top because fuck you, that’s why. I’ve never even raised my hand at him. Yes, I tried to defend myself by pushing him away, but for fuck’s sake, I’d never hit him deliberately. I miss the way he held me at night. Then I remember the way Raymond was holding me a couple of nights ago on the terrace, how gentle he was at the hotel, how he treated me and how we made…
I snap out of it. Back to walking. That’s easier. Something I know how to do properly. I cross the street towards University Square. The place is always crowded and filled with all sorts of people. All year long, tech fairs, concerts and random gatherings take place here. By the looks of it, a tech fare is now in full development. Hybrid cars litter half of the Square, while the other is taken by massive tents with dedicated stalls.
I see him in the distance. I don’t recognize him at first. He’s… different. He wears a black suit, white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, his coat on his arm, a briefcase in the other, a hat over his head. He looks impeccable. And fuckin’ hot. He’s surrounded by people. They are next to the fair entrance. He’s talking to them, absorbed by the conversation. My god, but he looks handsome. His groomed beard shades his upper lip and chin. That only makes him look more mysterious.
My heart stutters. I can’t help but stare at him while I get closer. He throws a short glance my way, his eyes returning fast to the people he’s talking to, but then he turns his head and stares at me, finally recognizing me. He touches his chin, then smiles, shifting his head back towards the person he was talking to, nodding to the conversation. My face is burning. My heart beating faster. I’m a bit lightheaded. I don’t understand what’s going on. I wish I could go to him, but I remember what he said to me that first night. If I ever see him in public, I don’t know him. And it’s not like we’ve done much talking lately. After I’ve left the hotel that night, I’ve barely heard from him.
