His Wicked Heart

Chapter Six

moira
(n.) destiny

●▬▬▬▬๑๑▬▬▬▬●

PRESENT

GENEVIEVE

Aleksandr. He was here, right in front of me, realer than anything, with his strong figure pushing me up against the wall. The familiar scent of cigarettes and whiskey filled the air around me.

My body stilled the moment I found those emerald green eyes peering down at me. Every other thought ceased except the memories of one year ago when this man stole my breath away, quite literally.

His hands rested on the wall on both sides of me, caging me in, his body flush against mine, so very close that I felt as if I was breathing his air.

Fury radiated from his face, nostrils flaring. "Kak ty dumayesh', chto ty delayesh'?" Russian words, laden with anger, were whispered harshly near my ear, making my breath hitch.

His presence left me obscured to reality for a good long time before I remembered what he had done.

He killed a man. In cold blood. Without any remorse.

He's a Bratva.

Fear crawled inside me. But what I could show him now was my anger, the pent-up frustration of two months of having this man following me when he had no right to do so, and for killing a man.

That old man had been an asshole. But that didn't mean that he needed to be killed.

"Chto ya delayu, ne tvoye delo." I snapped, trying to wriggle away from his grip, but I found no strength against him.

"Do you want to become a prostitute?" He asks, venom pouring from his voice. His one hand came up and collared my throat in a loose grip, restraining me from squirming beneath him.

"That's my choice," I gasped the words out, my whole body set on fire from his grip. His brows furrowed, jaw clenched as he tightened his grip around my throat. "Nyet," He snaps at my face, "That's not your choice, dorogaya."

"Let go of me!" My voice came out breathless, feeling defeated and lost. But then Aleksandr's face neared dangerously close to mine. "Nikogda." Never. His slow whisper sent goosebumps awake over my skin, so promising, so rough.

Then he pulled away from me, taking his warmth back with him. And I felt as if I was given a new chance to breathe after an eternity passed.

My chest heaved up and down as I took in his appearance. From his Armani suit to his sweat-covered temple. His raven hair grew over the year, the strands would've touched the blade of his shoulder had they not been tied up in a loose bun. A few of the strands fell over his forehead. The green of his eyes disappeared behind dark hunger as he looked down at me.

"What do you want?" I asked, and his expression turned to something as if I'd just stung him.

"What do I want? What are you doing, Genevieve?" He asks in the back, confusion written over his face. I sigh, feeling a little anxious. "I... I have my own issues." I said.

"And how severe are the issues if they're throwing you into a life you don't want at all?" I glare at him, a sudden feeling of irritation rising and I tried to open my mouth to speak. But before that, his words interrupted, "Look Genevieve, I'm not insulting this profession. Everyone has the right to choose their own profession. I know there are women and men who do like to take control of others' pleasures and desires. But you are not like that. In fact, you definitely look like you're being forced, dorogaya."