Page 38 of Depraved Royals
“I didn’t have time to decide,” he says. “It just happened. But you look fucking gorgeous like that.”
I move off the red carpet and sit in an armchair, closing my eyes while I recover.
Kal turns away from me for a second, and it’s enough.
Hands on my head, thumbs boring into my temples, gripping my skull like a vice. I’m being dragged forwards, my neck jangling with pain, and I fall off the chair onto my knees. The hands holding me prevent me from moving any further.
A stranger is pushing his cock toward my mouth.
He smells of jock sweat and cheap cologne, and I clamp my mouth shut, trying to grab his wrists and push his hands off me. He lets go of my head and grabs a handful of my hair with one hand. With the other, he pinches my nose, holding my nostrils closed.
It’s all happening so quickly. I twist my body, trying to free myself, but it’s no use.
“Open your mouth, your fuckin’ whore,” the man snarls.
Kal fills the room with a primal roar of rage. He’s behind my attacker, wrapping his arm around his neck. The man squawks in shock and lets go of me, and I scurry backward along the floor, crashing into the table.
Kal has the man in a chokehold, pushing him in front of him. He’s a foot taller than my attacker, and the man can’t get any purchase, his toes barely touching the floor. Kal spits curses in his ear as he shoves him along.
“You fucking filthy bastard fucking cunt…”
They are heading out onto the balcony.
No one moves or tries to intervene. There’s an air of passive acceptance like this is natural justice. The way of things.
Kal won’t do it. He’s just scaring him. He’s—
A firm shove between the shoulder blades, and the man topples over the rail, disappearing from view. Kal stands there as though he’s taking in the view.
There’s a sickening crunch, and outside, someone screams.
Kal turns around and walks back inside, closing the balcony door. He picks me up and holds me tightly to him as we head for the door.
“Time to go,” he says. The pain is audible in his voice. “I’m sorry,milaya. I’m so sorry.”
* * *
Some of the rooms are given over for aftercare. They’re much like any deluxe hotel room, with good bathrooms and spa facilities.
I sit on the edge of the bed in silence. Kal palms my neck, tilting my head gently.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he says. “I don’t thinkIdid anything, but that fucking pig—”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m not hurt, and nothing really happened.”
Kal’s eyes darken. “I said you’d be safe with me,” he says. “I never saw something like that happen before. If I thought someone would assault you, I’d never have brought you here.”
He looks stricken with guilt, his eyes searching mine, and I feel something stir. A possibility that never occurred to me before.
Kal is typical Bratva. Possessive, arrogant, commanding. But maybe he isn’t a total asshole after all.
Most of the time, he’s relaxed, cynical, and sardonic. Qualities I actually appreciate, despite his tendency to tease me.
But Kal has absolutely no chill regarding me and my safety. He just completely fucked up that man and he neither knows nor cares whether he’s dead. He doesn’t give a shit about the consequences. Instead, he’s here by my side, concerned only with me.
It doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating me. Instead, I feel cherished, even adored, and it’s unexpected.
I’ve never wanted the mafia life to swallow me. No good will come of it. But Kal Antonov is the man who left his twisted family behind and came to us begging for a chance. And so far, he hasn’t put a foot wrong.