Fractured (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 3) (6 page)

“I can taste your milk, fuck.” I look up to him thinking that he doesn’t like it and try to pull away from him, but he grips my hips and ever so slowly pushes into me. I hiss at the slight burn, I can feel his ring graze the walls of my channel and the sensation is divine. Oh God, I have missed this. He pulls back slowly and waits a second before agonisingly thrusting back in. My hands wrap around his back and I use my nails to sink into his skin, I don’t care if it hurts, he is torturing my body. With every thrust and roll of hips I can feel the impending climax itching to break free from my body, my toes curl with each deeper thrust. He pushes back in and pauses then rolls his hips around so that the piercing catches my g-spot and I scream as it sends me over the edge. His speed increases that little bit and he loses his control and thrusts in deeper, sending himself into oblivion.

He relaxes on top of my body for a fraction of a second before he rolls off and pulls me into him. That feeling of being safe and secure wrapped in his arms washes over me and I drift off to sleep. But before I lose myself completely to rest I whisper the words I have been longing to say to him: “I love you, Malcolm.” It’s enough. It does not need any more explanation as it is true and he knows I do.

“I love you too. Camilla, you are…” I don’t hear the rest as sleep takes me.

Alekzander.

Everywhere I go I see them – the nameless faces that haunt my life. That fear of always looking over your shoulder, I thought that fear would disappear when I came to the UK with Damien.

The house that I currently reside in is a far cry from where I come from; the small apartment that fits me and my mother and not much else. The plain old furniture is cosy and suits me and my mum. We did have a better life before he died –when we had his money coming in to support us.

The house was a little better, I went to school, everything I wanted was paid for. I rebelled at the idea of my father. I never met him, apparently he had another family that was better than us, he did not want me, the feeling of rejection has always been there. Why am I not good enough? Does he love me? Were we just a charity case to him? A dirty little secret that he had to keep quiet?

I miss the cold air that filters around Moscow like a blanket. When you are born and raised with the cold you get used to it, this warmer air is setting me off kilter. But I can’t go back. Faith is warm and kind and has welcomed me in with open arms. Their daughter, Anya, is beautiful and always manages to make me smile, even when I feel all this weight on my shoulders. I am safe; they can’t touch me here. I just hope they leave my mother alone. I don’t think I will cope if they go after my mum, she doesn’t know the half of it. She just thinks I have gone off the rails a little, drinking, having sex and a little gambling every now and then. Little does she know. I owe a lot of money and I am at the point where staying in Russia would have been fatal, they will stop at nothing to get to me. That’s why I fled, hoping to bury the situation, for a while at least.

Sat in the kitchen, at the huge oak table, little Anya is in her baby chair and Faith is trying to feed her some mushy crap. It looks more like mulch than food. I glance up through the bi-fold doors and I look at how truly green and tranquil the garden really is. Anything to try and distract from the guilt that is pulling me under. I try to claw it back but it still seeps in, it’s like poison, once it’s there it spreads quickly until you get the antidote. I thought this would be the fix but clearly it’s not; it has just added more to the poison now I am putting Damien, Faith and baby Anya at risk as well. 

“Are you ok, Alekzander?” Faith’s voice drifts through my haze and I look to her, quickly realising that I was lost in thought. Wondering what she wants I quickly try to get an answer out that seems real, anything to not reveal what is truly plaguing me.

“Yes, sorry. I was just thinking about my mother.” There, that is a little bit of what I was thinking, a half-truth has to be better than a full on lie.

“It must be hard being over here without her.” She is nothing but sincere in her words. Her eyes are soft and warm but you can see the depth of more in them, not about me but of a past that haunts her.

“Yes, it is but there’s nothing I can do about it. I have to be here.” I quickly stand, leaving no more room for idol chitchat; taking my cup I place it in the sink. I walk to my bedroom as quickly as I can, needing to be by myself for a little while. Closing the door behind me, clicking the lock into place, to make sure that I won’t be disturbed for the rest of the night. I pull out my laptop and open it up, waiting for the damn thing to load up, the old machine is so slow. I don’t really need to buy a new one, the only thing I use it for is the gambling sites. Who would have thought that there is a whole world of it out there, everything from poker, blackjack and roulette all on a screen in front of you? It is great when you want to stay hidden from the world. It will never beat the feeling of being in a real casino, the women that throw themselves at you when you are winning, the alcohol that flows down your throat as you wait for you hand to be dealt, the way your breathing hitches as you wait for the last card on the river to see if it will make you or break you. I seem to be broken more than I win but it’s the rush that comes with it. Looking into a player’s eyes to see if you can find their tell, to try and figure out if they are telling the truth or bluffing. But alas, I can’t do that now so I sit behind a screen watching the cards being drawn electronically, instead of face to face. Damn, another loss. I keep betting one more chip, thinking this will be the hand that turns everything around, but no it’s not. I have spent £1000 in the last hour; I need to slow down or I will blow all the money I brought over here with me. Slamming the laptop lid shut, I throw it down on the bed in temper. I get up and start pacing the room, would one more bet really hurt? I question myself. Surely not, I could win it all back with one more bet. Just one.

I carry on pacing not wanting to give in to the temptation, but I know I will. No matter how many times I try not to give in I always will; I am addict. That’s what I do, I strive to take the thrill of the gamble, the high you get from winning, it’s that high that you get that keeps you coming back for more. You’re blind to everything around you: the people you love, your work, friends and life itself, everything becomes a blurred existence to the addiction. You don’t realise the consequences of your actions until it’s too late. That’s what happened in Russia. People I owed to realised that I was not going to be paying back what I owed. So it was time to make me pay up or end me. That’s when I found myself getting out of there as quickly as I could, but until mother suggested I go to Damien I had not figured out how I was going to do that. When she said I had to go I played up to the sulking she would expect from me, but on the inside I was relieved that I had found a way to escape the shit I found myself in.

I go to the bathroom to take a shower, anything to distract me from the craving of picking that laptop back up. It is not as if I can go to a gamblers anonymous meeting, it is simply not done in our family. You never admit you have a problem, it’s weak. The bathroom in this place is out of this world: the granite tiles that glisten in the light, the corner shower is big enough to fit three people inside it, the row of jets up the wall do make for a pleasing wake up call. The bath is huge. It has a roll top with claw feet and the taps are on the side, that is something I had never seen until I got here.

Under the spray I feel the craving start to lessen a little, my shoulders sag a little, I stand just letting the pulsing water beat down against my skin. I pick up the shower gel and lather myself up, quickly washing. I stand there a few more minutes to rinse off. Making sure I have washed all the soap from my hair and body. I dry myself and throw on some jeans and a plain t-shirt. Heading back downstairs I can’t let temptation get the better of me. They can’t know where to find me. I can’t put Damien, Faith or baby Anya at risk because I can’t stop gambling.

I come to halt when I see Damien and Faith talking heatedly in the kitchen. Not wanting to pry I move myself away and head into the living room. I see little Anya on the floor on her mat, her little legs kicking at the toys that are dangling down, cooing to herself. I place myself down on the floor at the side of her and just look at her, she does take your breath away. Stunning is how I would describe her. She is her father’s double: the inky black hair pretty much like my own, except hers curls at the nape of the neck and her caramel eyes, those are Damien’s eyes even down to the shape. “Hello little Anya,” I say to her in the softest voice I can manage. She must like it as she coos that little bit louder, as if telling me to continue speaking to her. So I do, I don’t care if I sound silly; here I am talking to my niece in the silliest baby voice I can muster, all in the hopes that she keeps gracing me with those beautiful smiles.  I am not sure how much time passes before she starts to cry a little. I am not really sure what to do… Do I go get Faith? Is she hungry? Or does she need her bum changed? As I deliberate she gets more upset because she is being ignored so I do what my mind is screaming at me to do, I reach over and pick her up into my arms and cradle her close. She goes silent instantly at the gentle rocking motion in my arms. She must like it as the next time I look down she is asleep in my arms. I see what love and trust is right then, in that defining moment when a child places everything they have in you. I feel my heart start to open again knowing that she feels this for me, letting me soothe her and feeling safe enough to fall asleep while I do it. I look over the other side of the living room and see Damien at the door with a smile on his face.

“It’s nice to see you try to be a part of the family, Alek. I know it has been hard on you coming here to a new country and with a family that you did not truly know, but it makes me happy to see you like this with my daughter.” His voice is deep like mine but he has hardly any trace of his Russian accent in his voice. I suppose when you grow up with only two people around you that speak Russian it must be hard to pick up the tone, but he speaks fluent Russian. It’s just funny to hear it spoken with an English accent.

“Thank you for taking me in, Damien. I know you did not have to, as you really don’t owe me or my mother anything, you don’t even know us.” I realise it’s true. I may be using this as an escape but I really do have a half brother that has done so much for me, welcoming me with open arms, his family being there for me even though they don’t know me, trusting me in their house with their daughter. And if they knew the real depth of my problems they would not have me here. They would ship me back off to Russia because I know one thing about Damien, he puts Faith and Anya before anything in this whole world. They are his glue and if anything ever happened to them he would wreak havoc on the world to avenge them.

“I am trying to make amends for that, Alek. Until a few months ago I never knew you existed, it has been hard. But that fault is not yours, that is our father’s and he is no longer with us so I can’t kill him all over again, as much as I would like to. You are welcome in this home and in my family. You are blood, Alek, enough said.” His words hit right on the head. He has never shown any hatred to me, it is all aimed at our father. I know Damien killed him but I don’t know the details why, he said that is down to his mum, Lily, to tell me if she thinks I am ever going to be privy to that information. I have only met her once and she cried as soon as she saw me. She said I looked a lot like him and it hurt her to look at me. Faith took me into the kitchen and told me not to worry about it and that she would come around soon, that it was all a big shock for her.

“Thank you.” It’s all that needs to be said. He comes across to where I am sat on the floor, takes the baby from my arms and strolls out of the living room with her. I feel alone again now, not having the comfort of that little one in my arms, her light breathing against my chest. You never realise how pure something is until you experience it first hand and I could get used to holding that little girl in my arms all day, I won’t risk anything happening to her or Faith. If it did the Russians would be the least of my worries. Damien would be.

I see the late supper placed on the kitchen table. The cook in this place is magnificent; everything is cooked to perfection. Taking my seat at the table I look up and notice that Faith does not seem her bright and chirpy self – the smile that graces her face seems to be a little forced.

“Are you ok, Faith?” I ask her, not really expecting a reply.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just my arrogant husband keeping everything close to his chest again.” Her reply was everything that a worried wife would sound like, a line creasing her face, a sullen tone out of her mouth, I cannot help myself from carrying on asking because it seems like she wants to get more off her chest.

“I am sure he will tell you what is going on if the need arises.” I know my words are an empty gesture to try and make her feel a little better.

“Secrets almost destroyed us once and I won’t go through it again. He needs to tell me where he sent Malc but he won’t, and if it concerns Cami then I need to know. She is my best friend, it’s like she just vanished and the only person who seems to have contact with her is Malc.” I have heard her talk about Cami even though I have never met her. Faith said she went through hell and was suffering but that’s all she said. I seem to get the feeling that Faith feels helpless where Cami is concerned; that she has been pushed out in favour of Malc.

“I am sure it will all work out, Faith.” I tuck into my food and relish everything on my plate. It has been a long evening, what with Anya and now trying to ease Faith’s sadness. But on the other hand, I have not wanted to reach for the laptop since my time with little Anya.

Back in my room I pick up my phone and dial my mother’s phone hoping that I will be able to speak to her. After four rings the phone answers and I hear that sweet voice on the other end. Relief floods me that she seems ok, her bright and bubbly self.