Adrian is here.
That thought isn’t fully implemented in my mind when the reality of what’s happening slams into me.
I don’t even focus on the fact that my throbbing foot is free from Ryan’s shoe.
The view in front of me is more shocking. More demanding of my attention.
Adrian stands behind Ryan, wrapping both of his strong hands around his neck and jaw. His fingers are sure and confident with no show of any hesitation or second thoughts whatsoever. Under the blue light, his eyes are blank, emotionless, just like that day he shot that man in the head as if he were killing a fly.
“What is this?” Ryan struggles back against Adrian, trying to elbow him, but it’s no use. “Do you know who I am—”
His words are cut off when Adrian tightens his hold on his neck and speaks with a neutral Russian accent, “I’d shut up if I were you unless you want your neck snapped in the next second.”
Ryan’s face reddens as he struggles for breath. The wide look in his sleazy eyes is proof enough that he understands what type of clusterfuck he’s gotten himself into. I have no doubt in my mind that Adrian would break his neck or his jaw without a single blink.
As much as I hate Ryan and his behavior, I don’t wish him—or anyone—death. Especially not by the hands of a callous man like Adrian.
Ryan’s eyes meet mine, pleading, imploring. His lips are blue, and his thrashes and attempts to pry Adrian’s hold away are futile. If anything, the more he struggles, the faster his body loses oxygen.
“Adrian…” I whisper, trying to sound normal despite my escalating nerves. “Let him go.”
“It appears he put his hand on you.” Though his tone is calm, matching the blankness in his eyes, his actions are anything but. They’re ruthless with the intention of finishing a life. “In fact, he didn’t only put his hands on you, but also his feet and his cock, which I will cut off and feed to him.”
He hits the back of Ryan’s leg and I gasp as my dance partner falls to his knees in front of me, wheezing as if the air has been knocked out of his lungs.
“We’ll start with breaking the legs first.” Adrian steps on Ryan’s calves and an ugly, haunted sob leaves the dancer’s lips.
I’m wrenched back from my dizzy state as I rush to Adrian and grab his muscled arm, shaking my head frantically. “Don’t do that.”
He doesn’t pay attention to me as he yanks Ryan’s head back using his hands on his face. “He tried to crush your foot just now.”
“I’m not him. Adrian, please. You…you don’t understand what our legs mean to us.”
“The only thing I understand is that he has a strike and needs to be taken care of.”
My stomach churns at those words, taken care of. As in, killed.
I dig my nails into his shirt and pull, knowing full well that my strength doesn’t match up to his, but it’s the only way I can think of to make him release Ryan.
“Don’t…please,” I murmur.
Adrian’s head tilts to the side, meeting my gaze for the first time since he appeared behind Ryan like the Grim Reaper. His face is still expressionless, but a muscle clenches under his stubbled jaw.
“Why are you defending him after what he did to you?”
“I’m not defending him. I just don’t want to be the reason behind someone losing their career.”
“He was ready to endanger yours.”
“I told you, I’m not him.” I pause before adding in a low voice, “Or you.”
Adrian doesn’t comment on that, keeping his merciless hold on Ryan, as if he plans to break his leg and snap his neck at the same time.
“Please…” I pull on his arm. I have no clue why I think I’d have any type of effect on Adrian when he made it blatantly clear that he’s the one who calls the shots, but a part of me wants to believe that I can make a difference.
That I can prevent killing a dancer’s legs.
Playing my last card, I rise on my tiptoes and press a kiss to Adrian’s jaw. It’s supposed to be a gesture to lower his guard, but I end up being the one with my guard down.
All the emotions I’ve experienced since I first met him rush to the surface. The frustration, the unknown, and the damn longing that I don’t want to admit to.
All those feelings have been there, biding their time, waiting for this exact moment when my mouth meets his skin. My lips quiver for a second too long before I pull back, my heart hammering so loud, I’m almost sure he hears it.
Adrian’s hold loosens from around Ryan’s neck and my dance partner uses the chance to try and scurry away, but his leg is still trapped underneath Adrian’s leather shoes.
“P-please…” It’s Ryan who’s begging now, tears shining in his eyes as he struggles for air while trying to pull his leg from underneath Adrian.
The devil from both my dreams and nightmares levels Ryan with a harsh glare. A shiver zips down my spine, even though it’s not directed at me.
He could kill with that look alone.
“This is your first and final strike.” Adrian digs the sole of his shoe into Ryan’s calf, making him cry out. “Touch her again and I’ll make sure you’re paralyzed for life.”
Ryan nods rapidly, frantically. I’m sure he can see the black halo surrounding Adrian like a second skin. Or maybe I’m the only one who can see his unmodified nature.
“Fuck off.” Adrian removes his foot and kicks the back of his thigh. Something for which Ryan sobs out loud as he struggles to his feet.
He faces us while heading to the stairs as if expecting Adrian to come at him from behind again, knowing this time, he’ll make good on his promise.
I steal a look at the ballerina couple who were making out when I first got here, but there’s not one soul in sight. I inhale, not realizing I stopped breathing. While I usually don’t care, the last thing I want or need is to be associated with a mobster.
“Don’t defend another scum like him in front of me again.”
My attention flits back to Adrian. My fingers are still digging in his shirt, and my heart continues to beat in and out of sync as if I’m still watching the scene with Ryan play out in front of me.
“Do you understand?”
I shake my head, taking a deep breath to gather my thoughts before releasing him. “You don’t get to treat people as if they’re disposable garbage.”
“That’s exactly what he was.” He takes my hand in his and I shudder when he raises it to his mouth and nibbles on my pinkie the slightest bit. The gesture is possessive and shoots straight between my legs. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m okay.”
“Don’t say that again.”
“That I’m okay?”
“That word doesn’t suit you. It’s juvenile, when you’re anything but.” He watches me, his eyes running over my body in a full sweep as if he’s checking to see if I’ve grown something since the last time he saw me. “Are you all right?”
I nod, completely baffled by his caring nature. Witnessing him kill once and almost repeating it again tonight has allowed me a front row seat of this brutal personality that terrifies me to the core, so to see him act concerned is giving me whiplash.
“How is your foot? Try moving it.”
I rotate it slowly and release a breath when I realize most of the pain is gone. “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure or are you trying to stop me from catching up to that fucker and paralyzing him?”
“It’s really fine.” I scowl. “And stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Threatening other people’s lives and dreams. You’re like a true villain.”
His lips twitch in rare amusement. “You thought I was a fake villain?”
“If I did, you’ve completely proved me wrong.”
“I’m happy to do so.” He’s still gripping my fingers near his mouth, sending tiny sparks down my spine with each word against them. “If anyone touches you again, I’ll make sure it’s their last time to touch anyone.”
I shudder, and I’m not sure if it’s because of his words or his hold on my hand—or both.
All I’m sure about is that this man is a lot more dangerous than I thought.
“How will you know?”
“Know what?”
“That someone has touched me. Are you going to stalk me?”
He raises a brow.
“Right. You’re doing it already or you wouldn’t have found me here.” I pull my hand from his with more force than needed.
Adrian grabs it again, his hold not brutal but firm enough to crush my fingers against each other.
“That’s the second and final time you pull away from me.”
“People don’t like to touch their stalkers.”
“Is that what you believe, Lenochka? That I’m your stalker?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. Stalkers are cowards who are afraid to get close. Do you see me watching from the shadows?”
“You were. If Ryan hadn’t done what he did, would you have come out or would you have disappeared into thin air like that day?”
“Do I hear hurt, Lia? Were you disappointed that I left?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. I can see it in the depths of those beautiful eyes. I can sense it in every shiver of your body. And you know what else your reaction tells me?”
I shake my head, not wanting to listen to him psychoanalyze me. I hate that he’s so observant of my every move and that nothing escapes him. Not even the little things that I’m not aware of.
His voice lowers with a dark, seductive undertone. “It tells me that you were disappointed I left that day. You wanted more, didn’t you? You wanted me to tear into that tight cunt of yours and fuck you into the mattress until my cum covered your every pore while you screamed my name.”
My thighs clench and the familiar sensation of falling into a deep hole grips me. I can feel myself disintegrating, being caught in his web all over again.
Lifting my chin, I gather whatever’s left of my dignity. “I would never let you touch me if it were up to me.”
“That’s why it’s not up to you.”
“I hate you.”
He nods as if he’s suspected that all along. “Understandable. I’d hate me, too, if I were you.”
“Don’t you feel even a sliver of remorse?”
“You desperately want that to be a yes, don’t you? But you already answered your own question when you labeled me a villain. Tell me, Lenochka. Do villains feel remorse?”
I purse my lips. I know what he’s playing at. He wants to make this about me. Since I already picked a name for him, I shouldn’t be surprised by his actions. If anything, I need to expect them and act accordingly. But if he thought he’d get a lamb, that’s far from reality.
Adrian grips my chin and lifts it up with two fingers, forcing me to gaze into his merciless eyes. “Answer my question. Do they?”
“No.”
“Correct.”
“But that doesn’t give you free access into someone else’s life to wreak havoc as you please. To come in as you see fit and get out when it suits you.”
“That’s exactly what the lack of remorse gives me, Lenochka. The freedom to do what I want without feeling that little thing called guilt.”
He really is a monster. There’s no other word to describe the man within. When you’re dealing with someone without any moral compass, it’s impossible to beat him.
But I’m already caught in his trap and I’m more than certain that he won’t let me go. If I fight, he’ll subdue me, and considering his sadistic nature, he’ll probably enjoy it, too.
If I flee, he’ll follow.
To have any chance of winning, I need to start speaking his language. To take as much as I can from him as insurance for myself.
Sucking in a breath, I resist the urge to pull my hand from his and put distance between us, because the more he touches me, the deeper I’m caught in his web and the harder those marionette strings dig into my neck.
“If you get bored of me, will you let me go?” I ask with a calm I don’t feel.
“Probably.”
Okay. I can work with that. His type usually gets bored easily.
They’re thrilled by the chase, the hunt, and the ability to track someone. Catching their prey is only a reward, and once they do, all the fun is over.
I’m not going to play hard to get. I’m not going to let him follow me around, heightening his need to chase. If I want to get rid of him, I need to pretend I’m playing into his hands.
I need to become so boring, that he’ll leave and never return.
But instead of being obvious about it, I whisper, “Tell me something.”
“Something?”
“Anything about you that the world doesn’t know.”
He seems to consider that for a second as he drops his hand from my chin. “Why?”
“Because I want to know you as you wanted to know me.” And I need as much information on him as possible to figure out how to deal with him.
“What makes you think I want you to know me?”
“Isn’t that how these things work?”
“These things?” he repeats with an edge of mockery.
“You know.”
“I don’t know.”
“Just you and me.”
“Just you and me. I like that.”
My head lifts at the satisfaction in his tone. He really does sound like he likes it, but why?
A rare gleam passes over his ashen gaze as he nibbles on my pinkie again. “If I tell you, do I get something in return?”
A shudder goes through me and I hesitate.
“I don’t tell things about myself without getting something in return, Lia.”
“Okay.”
“What did I say about that word?”
“I can’t just get rid of it.”
“You will learn to. In time. Or there will be consequences.”
I stare up at him, my mouth agape. “What type of consequences?”
“You’ll see.”
“Ok—I mean, fine. So?”
“So what?”
“You said you want something. What is it?”
“I’ll let you know later.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “Why don’t you tell me now?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
Ugh. This asshole.
Before I can allow my tongue to curse him and possibly ruin any chance of getting what I want, he says, “I was born outside of marriage. My mother was my father’s mistress before she killed my stepmother and married him.”
My lips part, not only at the load of information, but also at the apathetic way he says it. As if it’s normal, everyday life.
Is he really a sociopath?
“But how…?” I sound as bemused as I feel.
“You asked for one thing, Lia.” He pulls me to his side. “Now, it’s my turn.”
Tendrils of both anticipation and fear coil inside me as I murmur, “Your turn…for what?”
“You’ll find out once we’re in your apartment.”
