Sinful Addiction

L

RUSLAN VETROV

"I need a favor." I spoke low into the phone to Dante. The man groaned harshly and then proceeded to yawn over the phone, the sound of his deep sigh like he had just woken up. And I was the object of that disturbance. "Late night?"

"Just a little kidnapping here and there. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

My voice lowered considerably harsher than before. "Need a fucking favor, Moretti. I'm calling in the damn favor I did by giving you the name you needed."

"Name what you need."

"I need you to use your fucking computer skills, and break into the Cassano's database. I need some pictures." I could hardly keep the irritation from appearing beneath my voice. All I could see was red when Elena told me what happened. I wanted to hunt down every man in that fucking house and place a goddamn bullet to their heads.

Somehow in the middle of it all, I went from wanting to kill the Italian girl to killing for her.

I managed to hide my level of savageness beneath a pretty face. No one ever got past the intimidating look I guarded, and my face was my virtue. I knew it but a five-feet-eleven Italian girl made me feel something I couldn't put into words.

Love. Obsession. Desire. Craving. I ached for her. Every inch of that woman was mine. Her breath. Her mind. And her body was definitely mine.

And to find out another man had gotten into her body without her permission, a fucking goddamn rapist, I was going to hunt every single one of them down, skin him with my bare hands and fucking make sure he hated the day he was brought into this world.

But first I was going to play the long game.

No one was better at that shit than me. After all I played it for years before Elena ever knew who I was.

"Vetrov?" Moretti's low voice filled the phone. I shook back to reality. "Still want those pictures?"

"Yes but I need them censored." There was no way in fucking hell I would allow Elena's privacy to be violated like that. Frankly I would have rather wanted to break into the damn database myself, but my computer skills were limited when it came to shit like that.

Dante Moretti was the best at that. He was known for being a thief, but nonetheless a guy who was always honest. He didn't give a damn what anyone thought, and it made the Bratva respect him. A damn good criminal who never failed to remind me how terrible I was at coding.

He laughed darkly. "First time for everything."

"Get me the damn pictures. You have twenty-four hours," I spoke into the phone.

"Done."

I didn't say anything else before I hung up, and the line went dead.

I inhaled a deep breath trying to control my nerves but whenever I thought about the way she panicked when I was inside her, my heart clenched. Something tightened inside my chest like a rope unraveling. At first I thought it was only a small crush, but I had a taste, and I wasn't one for sharing.

This wasn't for fun anymore. I was slightly addicted.

A few minutes passed and I basked in the silence I had grew comfortable with. The sound of men talking in the near distance, the deafening screams of the ones brave enough to taunt the darkness. And they eventually all laid dead in a war-torn field, death pooling out of their eyes.