Chapter 4 Inexplicable

Nicklaus Mikhail

I can feel her heartbeat, I can smell fear mingling with the smell of excitement, I may be missing the last shred of lucidity I have from holding this unknown woman in my arms in front of my house. Not the mansion I bought for Mikaela, but my house from which I grew and keep, Dimitri still lives here, I spend more time in this place than in any other. I should be giving answers to the capos about my wife's death, but I left it all to my brother to deal with while I'm doing God knows what with this woman.

I end up running my nose through the strands of dark hair slowly descending to the small lobe without any earring watching the hairs that shiver as I keep the firm grip around the thin waist.

- Apparently you are the well of folly. - The need to provoke it speaks louder.

The distance enough to aim the confusion inside your eyes, the shade of pink that rises through your neck making your cheeks blush deliver your innocence. I feel like breaking it, giving it a world much worse than that salon full of snobby women.

- Sorry.

I observe the way she lowers her gaze totally obedient; I feel the beast screaming and unlike the traditional desire to see her responding in a disobedient way, somehow inexplicable I want the worst of this girl. And there's definitely nothing I want that can be denied. I move my left hand to move in front of me, her gaze rises and she watches the entrance of rocks worked among the lions that represent my family within the mafia.

Heavy wooden doors soon open, Yves appears in his usual work clothes the gray hair stuck in a bun without any thread out of place, do not even need to address him a word, the woman who raised me understands very well that he should not say anything.

I put my hand on the back of the girl who jumps forward I end up biting the inner part of the cheek not to open a smile, I guide her through the corridor to the door that is near the stairs. Your gaze goes to the stairs, I take your lack of attention to unlock the office door. When I finish step the right hand by her waist pulling making her back bump against my chest, the air escapes through the red lips the nervous gesture to bite the lower lip returns, I feel like tasting.

But I can control the impulse pushing her into the office closing the door, I leave her standing in the middle of the place and walk to the shelf taking the box with the first aid material leaving beside me on the wooden table. I remove the suit and the tie, starting to unbutton each of the buttons of the social shirt her look meets mine, again the girl returns to the same empty expression. No wish, no surprise. I release the air forcefully, following her movements as she walks towards me the clothes too big hiding the small body, the rebellious strands swaying and the cold gaze that begins to focus inside the box.

- No need to prepare anesthesia. - I speak abruptly attracting your attention.

- All right.

What kind of woman is she?

The small hands find the gloves and soon after she has the suture ready, the cotton with alcohol burns the bruised flesh of the wound in the left arm. Meeting with her gaze seeking some kind of silent confirmation, the next instant she starts the points. It is a kind of pain that I am already used to, in fact I often do it myself.

So why am I hiring you to do this?

It's a bitter taste that goes up to my mouth when I realize I want to see this girl again, yes, I want to see her unresponsive again as I kill someone right in front of you. Women often scream before the demon I carry, the fear of death often corrupts even the strongest of men. Somehow inexplicable attracted my attention, above all the animalistic attention I carry, her heart-shaped lips closed in a thin, firm line while staying focused.

It's been a long time. I don't really even remember if ever this darkness was drawn directly to someone. In the places that I usually attend, fear prevails before my entrance into the room. I want to understand what drives you, but I want to destroy that innocence that you still carry inside you.

- Nicklaus.

I come out of these thoughts with attention being drawn to the door of the office, angry snitch looking at Dimitri, writing down mentally from locking up the next time, his curious gaze falls on the woman next to me raising her eyebrow. But he dares not speak anything but approaches.

- I finished. - I hear his voice firm but low.

I find her gaze getting even more hallucinated by not knowing how to decipher the feelings that pass for her, so, when I've always been so good at reading people's reactions.

- Wait outside. - Command..

She moves her head and quickly leaves the room, slams her fingers against the wood still looking at the door, lift the body, then fill the glass with vodka. Falling against the leather chair behind the table, Dimitri who was leaning against the bookshelf settles sitting in the chair in front of me. The dark strands longer than mine and the clean face without a beard, our features are similar in the same way they are similar to that of our parent.

I can read in the wrinkle that forms in the middle of his forehead the curiosity that I also have about my intentions with that girl, but it is not something I will admit to him, much less pronounce out loud. So I keep the silence as usual waiting for the idiot to pronounce first, which seems to take forever while unbuttoning the suit and crossing his legs pulling one of my cigars and lighting it.

- I did not know that with age you would need help for a suture. - Sarcasm runs down your hoarse voice from the smoke.

I observe the movement of his trachea tempted once again to get rid of the only family left, for some reason even with all the stupidity of Dimitri still keep it. I roll my eyes taking the rest of the alcohol.

- I actually need help finding out why I'm still keeping you alive.

He opens a smile, but does not answer, I believe it is also because he does not know the answer. I beat my fingers against the wood again getting impatient with its delay, swallowing and releasing the smoke up in a calculated slowness, the bastard likes to irritate me.

- The council understood the reason for Mikaela's death. - He approaches hitting the cigar against the ashtray.

- But?

- You're too old, Nicklaus, not every man in the Bratva is as old as we are.

- They called me old for keeping me alive, what a pity for those bastards, they'll have to put up with me a lot more. - Snitch lifting his body to refill the glass.

My brother sits still, I pour him a glass and push it across the table as I sit down again.

- The point is that you need an heir and to have you need a wife.

I slam the glass on the table with force tearing the glass glass against my fingers, feeling the shrapnel penetrating the flesh, causing blood to drain and stain the table. The fury eroding every bit of my mind in a deadly quickness, drawing all my attention to the small shape that opens the door appearing like a ghost, her eyes following the trail of blood.

- Maybe you already have the solution of your problems brother.

The bastard speaks and stands up opening a smile to the little woman, making every part of me tremble with hatred when she opens a simple smile of response to him. One minute Dimitri is walking out the door, the next I'm holding her tightly against the same door using a bloody hand against her neck. His strong breath only draws the demon out, the desire to play with the prey is maddening.

- Did you like my little brother? - I ask.

I observe the greenish stain on his eye, the quick blink and the lack of words.

- Answer. - Roar furious.

Her little hands find my wrist the heat radiating from her arm and the madness as fiery as anything else.

- Shouldn't I? - Your voice comes out quietly and I finally feel your fear.

- No.

- Why?

I bring our faces even closer, leaving my breath close enough to her, our gaze caught in the other.

- You are mine.

I decree without waiting for him to respond and attack his mouth finally feeling the taste of soft lips.