Keep(Romanian Mob Chronicles 1)(11)

“It wasn’t worth it,” I replied.

“But pussy is worth fucking with our business?”

I clenched my fists tighter.

“You talk too fucking much, Sorin,” I said sharply.

He froze, his expression flashing an apology before his features turned down into a frown. “Sorry, brother.”

Then he left as well, probably in search of more drinks and women to pick up his celebration where it had left off. And when Priest returned, I simply shook my head, not the least bit surprised he was here. He regarded me with sharp black eyes, ones that practically demanded an explanation.

“That doesn’t work on me,” I said on a deep, tired sigh.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Vasile,” he said as he sat next to me. “Rock the boat and you’ll get splashed by the waves.”





Seven





Fawn



* * *



His place—I assumed it was an apartment, maybe a town house, but there didn’t seem to be any neighbors around—had been quiet, still, and I feared I might go mad from the whirling thoughts buzzing through my brain. Was it insane to stay with him, more insane than trying to avoid David? Was I really so weak I needed to hide behind a stranger? At least I knew the answer to that question was a resounding yes, and I wasn’t ashamed, not really. The risk of David finding me was too great; I’d stay as long as Vasile let me.

That realization gave me peace, and somehow I had managed to sleep. The comfort of knowing David wasn’t here, wouldn’t burst in yelling about some slight or another while I slept allowed me to rest, really rest, more than I had since the day I’d met him all those years ago.

I woke slowly, my mind coming to wakefulness piece by piece, not immediately snapping into thought about how I would evade punishment. After stretching languorously, I walked toward the bathroom, the solitude and quiet of this place welcome now and not something that made me fearful. That would change when he came home.

“Vasile Petran.”

Though I was alone, I said his name out loud, let the foreign sounds roll across my tongue. My pronunciation wasn’t quite right, and I couldn’t make my voice mimic the smooth way the name had fallen from his lips, but I smiled anyway at the little sizzle of warmth that lighted through me when I said it.

Feeling surprisingly buoyant, I stared at myself in the mirror. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, but even I could see the difference in myself. I looked unburdened. For the first time in years, I could breathe. And all because of Vasile.

I looked around the nice but spartan bathroom and found thick black towels folded neatly. I grabbed one, stepped into the shower, and as the ice-cold and then steaming-hot water blasted me, I scrubbed myself. Wiped the remnants of makeup from my face. Shampooed my hair, uncaring I’d have no way to tame the mass of twisted curls once it dried. Washed every inch of my sienna-colored skin until it was raw and deep red under brown, unconcerned with the abrasions, not if it meant eliminating every trace of David.

A cliché, ridiculous even, but after I finished, I felt as if I was almost Fawn again and not whatever zombie David had constructed.

Of course, the newly emerged Fawn did not have anything to wear, something I didn’t consider until I stood naked in the middle of his bathroom floor. With barely a glance at the black dress, I dismissed it immediately. Never again would anything of David’s touch me.

I stepped into the main living area, more than halfway hoping a fully stocked closet would materialize. When that didn’t happen, I turned my gaze to the drawer from which Vasile had taken the T-shirt. I walked toward it slowly, unsure what to do. I didn’t want to intrude or snoop. There was no way I would ever cross a man like him, but even more, I didn’t want to betray his kindness with invasion.

Still…as nice as his towels were, they weren’t quite cutting it and left a thigh, hip, and breast mostly uncovered. It probably wasn’t a problem for him. I bet the towels fit around his trim waist with ease, but I had no such luck. I chuckled at the thought and then headed to the dresser. Without looking too closely, I groped at the garments and pulled out another black T-shirt and a pair of underwear.

I threw on both garments quickly, worried the tight squeeze of the underwear on my hips would call attention to my ass, that the thin material of the T-shirt would put more emphasis on my unrestrained breasts. But then I shrugged and laughed again when my breasts moved. My curves didn’t need attention called to them, so what I wore wouldn’t make a difference. This would have to do, though I didn’t dare look in the mirror.

Moments later, there was a firm knock at the door and then the click of the lock. I stood in the middle of the floor, feet bare, dressed in his underwear and waited. Vasile didn’t strike me as a person who knocked, especially not in his own home, but I appreciated it, found that something so simple bolstered my belief that maybe, possibly, at least for a little while, I’d be safe here.