Sociopath's Revenge (4 page)

Of course, I did neither. On the hill where my ride took me, I discovered that he lived as Dominic and Damian, and enjoyed his fucking life as a rich heir. Learned how our parents had left us money. How he probably didn't have to care for anything.

How easily he replaced me.

Vasya's private investigator had done a good job because probably half of the information was classified. I also got to read about the twins who escaped.

Later that night, I burned the file, although I'd memorized all the names and photos and I locked all the information within my mind.

Until one day two years later, when I woke up feeling as though I was drowning with intense pain in my chest.

That was the day I reached out to Connor and the perception of what I thought I knew changed forever.

Present

I scanned the room one last time to make sure nothing important was left behind: a small closet with clothes, a balcony that allowed me a view of the main side of the house, a king-sized black bed with rumpled sheets, and a modest nightstand with a white bedside lamp, which was the only source of light in the room. I never had the desire to study women or take my time with them; fucking from behind was preferable. The room was reserved strictly for hooking up with women. I would never fucking take anyone to the master wing of headquarters. Those perfumes would have never washed out of my sheets. One reason for carpet on the floor was so the sounds of their clicking heels on the marble wouldn't grate on my nerves. As a result, the room was nicknamed by my men the "hotel room," and everyone knew not to disturb me if I was in it.

Once I was in the dark hallway, lit by moonlight coming from a massive window on my left, I pressed a button on the wall to open the secret passage to my office. The passage had stairs, gray and rusted walls that smelled like yesterday's shit, and sometimes rats. But it allowed me to move to every corner of the big headquarters without being noticed. No one knew about it except the Pakhan of Bratva. He had to know how to protect his people, and more importantly, his family in case danger came home.

No fucking family of my own for me, though, even the concept of it seemed laughable. What the fuck would I do with a wife and kids? No one needed a messed-up monster like me for a father.

Finally, I entered my office and turned on the light. I sat in the chair, leaned back, and pressed a call button for Michael.

Time for business.

A gentle hand touched my forehead, placing a wet cloth on it, as another hand pressed something onto my chest, making me wince. My eyes snapped open despite my lids feeling heavy as bricks. I heard the sound of wood crackling as it gave heat and soft light into the room. At first, my vision was blurry, and I could barely see anything in the dark room, but soon my eyes adjusted. It appeared to be a wood cabin with a few chairs, some blankets, and a wooden table. The smell of chamomile and mint filled the air, and at last, the woman kneeling in front of me came into focus.

Scars.

Somehow, it was the first thing that caught my attention as my eyes roamed over her face. She had high cheekbones, tanned skin, cat-shaped black-as-night eyes, and her hair fell down her back in straight lines. She would have been considered an exceptionally beautiful and exotic woman had it not been for the two long scars that marked her face. One long line, seemingly from a knife, went from her right ear to her full lips, and another line spread across her forehead to her left ear. The scars seemed angry and red. Their location emphasized that whoever did this to her hadn't been kind and had purposely caused her a lot of pain.

Despite not knowing much about her, rage filled me, and I squeezed my fists hard, only to groan when agonizing pain shot through me from the action. Only then, my mind registered bandages on my hands and chest, and most probably head.

"Don't move," she said in hushed voice, which irritated me. But then again any voice that didn't belong to my woman caused this reaction in me.

Sapphire.

Where was she? And why was I in bed with some strange woman tending my wounds?

"My woman," I said, or at least I thought I said it. However, no sound came out, but I knew my lips moved. "My woman," I repeated, but zero reaction came from her and no sound registered in my ears. I understood the second attempt was as unsuccessful as the first.

What the fuck was going on?

I arched my chest up, wanting to fucking sit up and to understand what was going on, only to be pushed back by surprisingly strong hands.

"Lie down. You are weak. You got tangled in the fish net." Then she pressed some kind of weird-smelling cloth on my nose, and in a few seconds, I was out. Only one thought was on my mind.

Where is my woman?

Sapphire

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, holding the sheet tightly to my front and fighting the sobs that threatened to erupt from my chest.

My body was sore in those unused places, and my legs shook a little, but I couldn't sit down. Sitting would make me remember his tight grip or see the marks on my wrists from his restraints, and I didn't want to.

My emotions were all over the place, and I couldn't understand it. Shouldn't I be happy he was alive and here? Shouldn't I long to be in his arms after the lovemaking that for those past five years only occurred in my dreams? Shouldn't I share everything that had happened to me without him, tell him how difficult it was to live in the world where he was considered dead? Why wasn't I doing any of it? Why did my body crave him and his touch, but my heart and soul rejected it?

Taking a deep breath, I let go of the sheet and stepped into a hot shower. The warm water soothed all my sore muscles and created a steamy cloud, closing me off from the outside world. I rested my forehead on the cool tiles and let go of everything.

The tight knot in my chest opened and released quiet sobs. Tears poured down my cheeks and instantly slipped away with the hot water. I'd built a good, peaceful life for my daughter and myself here, and Damian would destroy it. Maybe part of me wept for the woman I'd become in all our years apart and for the crushed dreams I used to have about us.

Why was him being alive making me miserable?

Eventually, the numbness of my body started to ease, and my mind registered how cold the water was. I quickly shut it off, grabbed the nearby white robe, and wrapped it around me, sighing with pleasure at the feel of the fluffy fabric. With my sleeve, I wiped the fog from the mirror and studied my reflection in it. My ebony hair fell down my chest; droplets of water from it dripped onto the floor. Despite the tears and anguish inside me, my skin was flushed; my blue eyes sparkled and seemed uncharacteristically vivid. My lips were red and swollen from all the kissing, making them look fuller than usual. Overall, my reflection showed a woman who was well-fucked just minutes ago. So why the tears?

Confusion, anger, frustration.

Those emotions didn't begin to cover how I felt at the moment. However, the one thing I was certain of was that hiding in the bathroom and wallowing in self-pity wouldn't help anything. Time to put on my big girl panties and face whatever was there.

With a frustrated sigh, I dried my hair with a smaller towel, wrapped it around my head, and taking a deep breath, opened the door. The light from the bathroom and the moonlight shining in the room were the only sources of light that allowed me to locate Damian, fully clothed near the window, gazing at the shore with a wistful expression. Ignoring the pang in my chest and the voice inside me telling me to run into his arms and never let go, I cleared my throat, and his beautiful yet tortured eyes shifted to me.

"We need to talk," I said, surprising even myself with how calm my voice was. He nodded, took a step in my direction, but I raised my hand to stop him. My body was a betraying, two-faced bitch who couldn't think straight in close proximity to Damian. It was best to keep some distance. "Let's go downstairs and have some tea." God, I sounded like some old, English lady from a historical novel. "I just need some distraction from the headache." The excuse was lame and untrue, but it would make him do whatever I asked.

His jaw ticked, his face grim, but he nodded once again and followed me. I stopped by Kristina's room to make sure she was fine. Thankfully, she slept soundly as the puppy kicked his paws, obviously fighting someone in his sleep. Damian's eyes softened at the sight of our daughter, but still he said nothing.

When we entered the kitchen, I gestured for him to sit at the table as I filled the kettle with water. A heavy silence fell over us, the only sounds made by the machine. He was never the talkative one, so it seemed as though even his conversation, his story, was in my hands to start.

I spun around and leaned against the counter, arms folded, my brow raised at him while his gaze focused on me. Nothing new really, his eyes always focused on me when we were in the same room with each other.

"Damian, how about explaining to me how you were alive all these years and never bothered to contact me?" He winced at my accusing tone, but I didn't care. Did he imagine hearts and flowers during our reunion?

"I couldn't find you." I didn't expect to hear those words from him. "I woke up in a cabin near the Hudson River. It took a few months for a healer to fix me with the limited options she had. Once I was finally able to contact Connor, I sought professional help, but it still took a year and a half of rehabilitation.

"Connor wouldn't budge, no matter how hard I tried to learn your location. He refused to jeopardize your safety, as though I would." His hand fisted and he growled furiously. "My appearance was drastically changed, and no one would expect to find you here. S forgot all about you; he never took you as a serious threat to begin with. Finally, about a year ago, Connor disclosed your address and living arrangements." This information told me nothing. It seemed like all Damian did was share bullet points with me instead of telling me his story. Except, I didn't ask for the outline; I asked for the manuscript. The nerve he had after all this time to… wait, he located Kristina and me about a year ago?

"You found us a year ago, and only today showed up? Were you deciding on whether you wanted to meet Kristina and see me?" Sarcasm poured from me. I didn't know why it hurt so much, but it did. One freaking year without any effort to reach out to us! While I still sobbed into my pillow at night like an idiot, mourning his "death." My eyes widened in shock when he stood abruptly from his chair, almost knocking it to the ground, but then catching it in time, probably for Kristina's sake.

"Don't. Just fucking don't," he said dangerously, his face darkening in anger and… pain? "Yes, I left you alone in this mess. Scared and pregnant, you had to make certain decisions and had to live with the knowledge I was dead. I know it hurt you, and I know you're angry. But fucking don't, Sapphire. I had to live with the fact that you were somewhere out there, and I could do nothing but wonder if everything was all right.

"I had to use everything in my power just to get your address. And I had to watch you and our child,
my baby,
for a fucking long year to make sure I didn't endanger your lives. Think how hard it was before snapping and lashing out at me in pain for all this time." He breathed heavily, while we both faced each other. The kettle whistled loudly, signaling it was ready. Instant relief washed over me because I had something to focus on instead of commenting on what he'd said.

I spun around and, with shaking hands, picked up two cups from the cupboard then filled them with mint tea. Taking a deep breath, I was ready to face him again when his hard chest pressed against my back and his hands ended up on either side of my hips, gripping the counter, blocking my exit. His hot breath on my cheek made goose bumps flash through me as my body instantly reacted to his closeness; my nipples hardened, and my core tingled. God, why did my body react so strongly to him? Shouldn't it have dulled after all those years without him? He didn't even look the same!

"Forgive me. Take me back. Please, Sapphire," he whispered, pushing aside the few hair strands from my neck that peeked through the towel and pressing his cool lips against my skin. My eyes closed and a raspy breath left me. His hand traveled up to my breast, and he enclosed it, squeezing gently, but it was enough for a moan to escape my throat. "Leave the stupid tea and come with me upstairs. One time with you is not enough." His other hand cupped my chin and turned it so he could lean down and take my mouth in a passionate and hot, yet soft kiss.