Sinful Addiction

II

       
ELENA CASSANO

Broad shoulders. Strong jaw. Emotionless icy blue eyes. Dark brown—almost black hair that grew longer on top and shorter on the sides. Hell wrapped in a heavily rugged mask.

        Long, jagged scar along his hairline that ran from his temple to below his ear. Something dark and feral behind his icy demeanor. The thin layer covering up the fucking abyss that was my heart and soul.

        Vetrov. The Cosa Nostra named him the serpent or gadyuka in Russia. A man I hated since our first encounter. And Jesus Christ, he was a beast even fully clothed. He was just plain massive everywhere. Even his dark suit couldn't hide the massive bulk of his pectorals or much less his biceps.

        Then there was that face. Beautifully handsome in a cruel way.

        Thick, black brows. Short trimmed facial hair. A light stubble covered the lower half of his face. Firm, pouty lips curled with distaste.

        A hint of a long thin scar peeked out of his suit, but it would be years later before I learned the history of the scars on his body. His size alone was intimidating enough for me. His piercing icy-eyed gaze only added to the massive amount of intimidation he seemed to bleed out of his pores.

        I hated the fact that he was such a handsome bastard. Such a good face put to waste.

        "I didn't know he was back in town." Alessio muttered beside me and shot me a sideway glance "Shit. Are you glaring at him?"

        I couldn't care less that I was glaring at Vetrov. Or the fact that my papà called for him. "I did not glare at him. Just saw something I didn't like." I silently murmured to Alessio. "Asshole."

        In less than a spilt second, Vetrov's icy blue eyes slowly snapped to mine, almost like he heard me.

        It was the first time he ever looked at me in broad daylight. He wore a dark glare, a hand filled with busted knuckles that reminded me of bricks slipped out of his pocket as he conversed with my papà.

        His thumb lightly caressing his lower lips in a brooding manner. Like he was thinking of something.

        Two intense icy blue eyes were all I saw, and all that mattered. So damn calm. Cynical, and cold. My pulse quickened in my chest, and I physically tore my eyes away from his.

        "Elena." Papà gestured me over with a snap of his fingers like I was a dog. I paused for a few seconds before he gestured me over after realizing his mistake. That I wasn't one of his soldiers. I was his goddamn daughter.

        Papà placed a hand on my lower back. What was it with men and my back today?

        "This is my daughter, Elena." He introduced to Vetrov, and his fingers tightly dug into my sheer fabric of my dress. Like he was silently demanding me to play nice.

        Papà wasn't an idiot. He had to have known that Vetrov killed Leonardo—my second husband— and didn't care. Or perhaps my papà had other plans for me.

        "We've met." His deep voice said. Icy eyes. Emotionless and filled with the darkness I desperately fled from. Then he smiled. He smiled so brilliantly, burying his gaze into my eyes. And I realized the bastard remembered.

        Papà made a shocked sound. "You have?" Or maybe he didn't know.

        "We have?" I clenched my teeth furiously, bottling the urge to smack Vetrov with my stilettos. He raised a brow and I fed into his act. "Oh! Yes, but honestly I wouldn't really call it a meeting."