His Wicked Heart

Chapter Thirty-Two

noctivagant
(v.) to wander at night

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PRESENT

GENEVIEVE

Days with Aleksandr are always hectic, unexpected, and thrilling.

Just like last week when he flew us to St. Petersburg on a very unannounced surprise date. He had his own way of doing everything, which is what I found out in the recent days of spending time with him. Not that I mind, but sometimes he's really... edgy.

It was undoubtedly clear that my relationship with him now is nothing familiar to how it was before. I've entirely become a part of this man's life as much as he became a part of mine.

There was still an uncertain part of me that lurked inside, though, and I had no power to stop it when nobody gave me any certainty about my relationship with him.

Where are we going from this?

"You're distracted, baby." A calm voice brought me back from my thoughts. Turning my head slightly, I met the pair of emerald green eyes I've been eagerly waiting for.

Aleksandr's body stood right behind me, close enough for me to feel his warmth. Unlike always, the man smelled of whiskey only; the exotic scent of cigarettes didn't come from his breath, which made me smile internally.

I never expected him to keep his word.

One of his hands pulled me closer, my body pressing against his. "What's wrong?" He whispered, and I realized that I'd been simply looking at him for the past five minutes without uttering a single word, which probably confused him.

"It's nothing. I was just thinking, that's all," I finally said, giving him a tight smile. He raised an eyebrow in return, indicating his curiosity about my thoughts.

But there wasn't a way I could share them with him because my thoughts were messed up enough to be unexplainable.

"I see," He said, deciding not to push for an answer. "Are you enjoying it?" I only nodded in response, leaning myself lean more against him.

We were both present at Vittoria's Venue for the gathering celebrating the collaboration between the Nikolayevs and the Sokolovs. The most influential Bratva members from across Russia and Europe had gathered here, their presence exuding a palpable sense of power and darkness that enveloped the entire club, casting a murky atmosphere.

Vicious blood flowed through the veins of each of the people present here. They were the rulers of the underworld, and their vices were worse than the venom of a cobra itself.

Music played in the background, and some of the attendees danced to its rhythm, while others engaged in gossip.

Contrary to the intensity that radiated off the atmosphere, Aleksandr's composure was more reserved than what I expected, as if he were prepared for any threat, any danger that could occur tonight.

He strongly refused to bring me here tonight at first, but I wanted to come. I'd rather not think of how I managed to convince him to let me tag along with him, especially when I still felt him inside me, and stood inches away from his sensual body parts. I'll have to keep myself in very great control.

I reached for Aleksandr's hand that still held me by my waist and took his palm in mine. I compared the size of our hands.

"You're bored," he grumbled from behind like a matter-of-factly. I had no other choice but to agree, because he was right. "I'll admit, rich people are boring," I pointed out, earning a chuckle from him.