My Love Forgive

My Love Forgive

Published by DelSin Publishing, LLC 2014

Copyright © 2014 Anna Antonia

All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from DelSin Publishing, LLC. DelSin Publishing, LLC and the author assume no liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by:

DelSin Publishing, LLC

www.delsinpublishing.com

Cover Credits: Konrad Bak

Cover Design: CGM Web Designs

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More Anna

About Anna

I wasn’t supposed to be this reckless. Or this stupid.

I fell in love with a man who showed me who he was in broken bits and pieces but I didn’t have the foresight to arrange them in the correct order. I merely shuffled them around to create an image pleasing to me.

His emotional distance was a towering wall to climb. His rare crumbs of love were something to nourish myself as I worked ever-harder to encourage him to give me more.

His lust, however, was something else entirely.

He gave me all I wanted of his body and more. Vulgar, profane, tender, and extreme, I never felt more alive than when I was under his full control. Nerve endings coming exquisitely sensitive with each kiss of his lips and strike of his hand, I fell hard under his spell.

I thought all I’d ever want in life was him, so much so I wept at the very idea of losing him. I thought I understood him. I thought I knew the kind of man he was, all that he was capable of being. But I was wrong.

Now I was going to pay the price for believing the lion could ever lay down with the lamb and not devour her whole.

There’d be no escaping him, no way of convincing him to let me go.

The beautiful captor that held me, the one I fell deeply, obsessively in love with, was determined to break me, to make me accept the new circumstances of our life.

People like us were supposed to safe, sane, and all the rest, yes?

No.

Not even close.

I have done something to her that can’t be undone. I have locked her in a cage of my choosing regardless of how much she cried to be freed.

I wouldn’t change it, even if I could.

I am ruthless even on my best days, but when a threat came along to disrupt my place in the world—I was a beast that could not be reasoned with.

That could not be tamed.

I eliminated every obstacle with the brutal efficiency of my ancestors, until I had total control once again. Only then did I cage off the beast, lure him to sleep until I had to call upon him once more.

That was my life. One face to the acceptable, moral,
legal
world and another to the shadowy,
real
world beneath it.

Much has been sacrificed on my behalf so I could maintain the illusion of a trustworthy and productive member of society. And no matter how I may have strained at my shackles in private, I kept them publically because I did my blood-kin proud. I was all they could never be.

Respectable. Accepted. Powerful without threat of prison and murder.

In a moment of maddened genius nearly thirty years ago, I was exiled from my homeland and brought to this country. Everything of who I really was had been systematically erased so that I could blend into my adopted land.

No tattoos to mar my perfect flesh, no accent to transfigure my “Ws” to “Vs”, and an Ivy League education to ensure my entrance into the financial districts. I was an upright, decent man. But the blood never forgot and neither did I.

I wasn’t solely this nice gentleman I pretended to be.

I have amassed a 21
^st
century empire fit for a 21
^st
century new aristocrat. I have a pristine reputation in this country as a man who worked above board, who regularly visited his vast companies and secretly worked under a less glamorous title to get an honest snapshot of each holding.

My corporate filings were always clean. My charity work was beyond reproach. My holdings could withstand intensive scrutiny and never betray a dirty dime.

I was living a truth and a lie at the same time.

Although I wasn’t allowed to risk my clean life, I helped the ones across the ocean whenever I could. I engineered proprietary systems to do many legal things, but whose secret, primary purpose was to funnel money that piggybacked off of legitimate wire transfers but never left a digital imprint. I developed disposable tracers that ensured shipments never got sidetracked or ‘lost’ into the hands of others seeking to siphon off my family’s growing power.

The Konstantinovs. They were my family and I could never claim them as such.

The world knew Grigor Konstantinov had only one son, my younger brother Leon Konstantinov. No one outside of the immediate family knew about Damian and that was the way it was going to stay.

Exile was the greatest gift my father could ever have given me in memory of my mother, the innocent American girl who fell in love with a mobster and was assassinated by a rival faction when she was nine months pregnant with me.

I came to life in a shower of blood out of a woman I’d never know but would always love. In the midst of vengeance killings, a perfect sleeper cell couple with secret ties to the Konstantinovs was found for me. Two days after my poor mother was buried, I was on a plane to a Moscow orphanage where the first of my fabricated past came into being.

It could never be exposed that I was
not
an ordinary Russian orphan adopted by a well-to-do family in the States, so careful pains were ensured that our rare reunions would go undetected. The older and wealthier I became, the easier it would’ve become to forget my true position to the Konstantinovs. I believed it was even expected.

I never forgot nor would I
ever
forget in thought or instinct.

Even so, it has been difficult to keep this balance between two worlds, light and dark, but I had done it since I was small boy. I would continue to do so until I drew my last breath.

In this, I was unwavering. I would do whatever it took, fair and unfair, legal and illegal, to keep that which I have taken—family, money, power, and especially love.

Risa Kelly had no idea who I really was—the money, my position, or where I came from—but she would learn for I was never going to give her up.

She was mine and what was mine I kept.

No matter what.

The fateful night when Damian showed Risa his other side and broke her heart in the process…

I especially adored looking into his eyes—one silvery gray and the other amber gold. I adored the rare smile he flashed my way after I pleased him through deed and action. I adored the silver frames of his lenses he wore at night to read, feeling they lent his already beautiful face an added layer of sophistication. I adored the simple elegance of his clothing and the fastidious nature in everything he did.

I even adored his name.

Damian Black. It was a nice name. An odd, lovely mixture of uncommon beauty and common mediocrity.

The name fit very well in my mouth; stimulating tongue, throat, and teeth. Much like the feel of his shaft did when he shoved it down deeper, always deeper than I thought I could take.

“You can do better than that, Risa.”

His voice—reserved, distant, yet gentle in its rebuke—stimulated me as well. It took the place of a thousand, thoughtless, normal interactions and reactions between lovers. Hugs, kisses, light pats on the knee all precluded by how mild Damian’s voice became as it whispered against my mouth, breast, or thigh.

In a twisted fashion, our exchanges depended on me. How pleased or displeased he was with me hinged on how honest or dishonest I was with him.

It was undoubtedly strange, this love of mine, but I wouldn’t change anything about it.

Well, I wouldn’t change most things about it. Some things definitely. Those things didn’t bear thinking about at the moment, not unless I wanted to sink in melancholy.

Damian’s fingertips brushed across my cheek, drawing my undivided attention back to him. I didn’t doubt he sensed my thoughts had drifted. Damian was always so attuned to me. Nothing I did seemed to escape his attention. If only I was half as observant as him I’d be the best Account Executive in all of the land.

I forced my throat to open, to accept him, even while involuntary tears channeled down into my dark hair. I gagged, an awful retching sound that belied the sublime nature of my position. Legs folded beneath me, hands fisted over thighs, back arched high, and head tilted back, I looked…well, I was sure I looked much like I gagged.

Awfully pained.

But like most things, the way things appeared were not at all how they seemed.

I was beyond enamored of Damian and everything he did to me and with me. I loved the way he spoke to me, softly with the depth of his thoughts contained with each carefully enunciated syllable. I loved the way he touched my lips with one finger when he wished me to be quiet. I loved the way his thighs felt against my stomach when he laid me across them as punishment for some misdeed I committed.

In fact, I may have loved that the most.

My gaze skittered up from natural ebb and flow of his thick shaft as it thrust with smooth cadence into my stretched mouth. My attention jumped from his muscled stomach, past the sleek flesh of his chest, over the full lips, and settled onto his eyes.

I went breathless. My heart suffered a jolt of agony as I allowed the full rush of my feelings for him to overwhelm me.

Damian…Damian…I love you so much.

Lost in a rush of my feelings, I smiled around him. How could I have ever suspected how much my life was about to change when I first heard his name?

One Month Earlier

“So, Risa, have you seen the new IT Director?”

“Hmm? No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, he’s just your type. Very cute and obviously very, very smart.”

The files in my hand lost all appeal. I turned my attention fully on Julie from Accounting. “Really?”

“Yep. He started on Monday.”

“How do you know?”

Julie lifted her eyebrows in reply.

“Payroll. Gotcha.”

“I got a good look at him when he turned in his W-4s. Guess what Box Three says?”

“Married, but withhold at a higher Single rate?”

“No, dummy. He put an ‘X’ right there on Single. I even asked him to make sure. Do you know what he said?”

“What?” I tried to control the flutter of excitement coiling in my belly. We hadn’t had many new hires recently, much less any that would have Julie sharing their existence with me.

Please be cute.

“‘That’s what I marked.’”

“What?”

“Exactly. He said it like he couldn’t understand why I was even asking him.”

“Oh, he’s snotty!” I declared with a mournful whine, fantasies shredded like last month’s leads.