The Mafia And His Obsession: Part 1 by Lylah James

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 21

 

 

Valerie

 

I woke up feeling sated and completely confused. My mind was disoriented, and I laid on my back for several minutes, just trying to calm my breathing.

My eyes stayed closed. I refused to open them and face whatever was waiting for me early in the morning.

My shame.

Another secret.

I pressed my legs together and felt a lone tear run down my cheek. The spot between my thighs was sticky and drenched with pleasure I shouldn’t have felt, yet here I laid, on my bed, filled with an all-consuming, forbidden feeling.

I squeezed my eyes at the reminder, my dream still replaying in my head over and over again. It felt so real. I had been so sure it was real.

His touch—his lips kissing me, his fingers caressing my skin, they all felt so real. As if he were right here touching me. Holding me. Making love to me.

It’s okay. It’s a dream, myshka. Just a beautiful dream.

I had confused my fantasy with reality. How can this be anything other than a dream?

Something so beautiful and as surreal as this couldn’t be anything but a dream.

My eyes fluttered open, and I placed a palm over my racing heart, feeling each desperate, lonely thud. I have lived a cruel fate for a long time, so Viktor making love to me was something I could only dream of.

Rolling over to my side, I cuddled closer into my pillows. The sun was shining into my room, basking it with a beautiful morning glow. I stared at the landscape, wishing for so many things that didn’t belong to me.

But no matter how much I wished upon a star, I continued living the life I was never meant to live.

I continued living as Valentin Solonik’s wife. It was my identity now.

At the thought, my hand came up to swipe the wet trail that my tear left. In a matter of days, Viktor had made me weak in the most dangerous way.

He made my heart and body weak.

With only a word and a fleeting touch, Viktor had me under his thumb, controlling me every way he wanted, even when he wasn’t here.

Not even Valentin had that type of power over me. The only reason my husband was able to control me was by using my family as my weakness.

Their safety was compromised, and in order to keep them safe and breathing, I sacrificed myself. I handed myself over on a silver platter to the devil and told him it was okay to do whatever he wanted with me.

As long as my family was safe.

I was the debt my family couldn’t pay.

I was the unwilling collateral until I became willing.

Years ago, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get weak. Ever. No matter what Valentin did to me, I would stand up on my two feet and repeat the day again.

But the moment my gaze met Viktor’s, everything changed. Whatever resolve I had and the wall I had built around me, it came crumbling down until nothing was left but dust and the disaster in its wake.

One look was enough to make my heart beat just a little faster.

Viktor has weaved his way into my unwelcome heart, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remove him.

He was just as deadly as the Devil, if not worse.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw movement in my room. I startled into a sitting position while holding a comforter to my heaving chest. In my fright, I saw a woman standing by my bed, holding a tray in her hand.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for Igor. He was the one who always brought me my food. Nobody else was allowed in the room, except on Valentin’s command.

An unsettling feeling made its way in my heart, and my breathing became labored. A woman in my room, holding my food—this wasn’t a usual occurrence.

What’s happening? my mind screamed.

I panicked as my gaze met the woman’s surprisingly kind eyes. She looked in her mid 40s, her black hair pinned over her head in a bun. Her chocolate skin appeared smooth. When she smiled, it made her look younger.

She walked closer and placed the tray on my night stand. I watched her lips, waiting for her to speak.

“Kons—” she started but then paused. My eyebrows furrowed as I waited again.

“I mean Mr. Viktor told me to bring your breakfast,” she finally said. “My name is Sarah. From now on, I will be the one serving you. He said Igor is currently…unavailable.”

That made no sense. Who was Viktor to command Igor? Only Valentin commanded his men.

Worry seeped into my pores. Was Igor okay? Was Viktor okay?

Viktor hadn’t come to visit me last night. In my mind, I had created a fantasy where he would visit me and we would talk for hours. Just us. Just our moment. Our secret.

But now, I was left reeling at the sudden change in my everyday routine. What a laughable thought. I sounded almost like a dog—actually, dogs were treated better.

I stared at the tray and then nodded silently; after all, she would only get my silence.

Her feet shuffled near my bed as her weight moved from one leg to the other. I waited, and she waited too, or maybe she was speaking?

But I didn’t lift my head to find out. After a few seconds, she moved away from the bed, and I tracked her feet as she walked out of my room. The door closed behind her, and I sagged against my pillows.

The food smelled good, teasing me to try it, but I couldn’t get this unsettling feeling off my chest. My eyes closed, and I let my mind wander, overthinking and causing myself more stress. Even though I was shackled into this room, it had been both my hell and sanctuary. During the days Valentin didn’t visit me, I found it peaceful here. I had learned to accept my fate.

But Viktor’s appearance had changed everything. My normal routine. My thoughts. I was no longer filled with emptiness. It was strange and I still didn’t know how to feel about it—this—him. Us.

My thoughts scrambled and then came to a screeching halt.

I shivered and then stilled. A gaze fell on my skin, caressing me slowly, silently. I could feel it. Someone was in my room.

I was almost scared to open my eyes, to face this intruder. Was it Valentin?

I forced myself not to move, but the seconds dragged, and I felt…warmth. The air felt more heavy, intense.

Whenever Valentin was in my room, I knew the feeling—the sterile coldness that came with him. But this time, it was different.

The person who was watching me…it wasn’t Valentin.

My eyes snapped open, and I met his gaze. Viktor’s.

He sat in the couch, in the corner of my room, not too far from my bed. He leaned back comfortably, his left ankle crossed on top of his right knee. Viktor had ditched his black suit jacket. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His tattoos—so very beautiful—adorned and curled around his arms. They were mesmerizing.

My gaze followed every inch of him. He was a big man, tall and muscular. Not overly, but he made my couch look dainty. The room was huge, yet his presence crowded me.

And the way Viktor was staring at me right now, he made me feel small.

When he finally caught my eyes again, he raised a questioning eyebrow. I sat forward in my bed, my legs hanging off at the edge.

He nodded toward the drawer where I kept his—and now my—pen and the notepad. Reaching inside the indicated drawer, I took them out and placed them on my lap. My pen whispered over the paper quickly as I wrote down my questions.

 

What are you doing here?

 

I showed him the paper, and then he shrugged nonchalantly. Viktor didn’t reply. Instead his eyes moved to the tray of food. He looked back at me expectantly. I knew that look.

It was a command without words.

 

I am not very hungry.

 

He refused to acknowledge the words written on the paper. Instead, his lips flattened in a straight line. Viktor gave me a hard look and uttered a single word. “Eat.”

His arms were crossed over his chest as he waited for me to do as he demanded.

I sighed in response, knowing it was pointless to argue. I wouldn’t win this fight. But strangely, instead of feeling weak and helpless, my heart fluttered in a weird way.

Did he care that I had enough to eat, that my belly was full and I was healthy?

Valentin usually didn’t care if I had food or not. He never checked up on me. If I starved or not…

I picked up the freshly baked croissant. I ignored the scrambled eggs, bacon, and bowl of fruits while taking a small bite into my croissant. Chocolate. The flavor hit me hard, and I closed my eyes. I loved chocolate. It was melted into the croissant, sweet and savory.

I took another quick bite and chewed enthusiastically. This was my favorite.

But my chewing paused and my whole body stilled when the bed moved. That heavy presence of Viktor was now much closer, really close. His warmth spread over my skin, sinking into my pores and making me breathe harder. I tingled, and my stomach danced and fluttered.

I opened my eyes and turned to face him. He sat beside me, close but not touching. My lips were suddenly dry. I moistened them with my tongue and Viktor’s eyes followed the movement.

He brought his hand up, and the urge to shrink away hit me hard. His dark gaze stopped me. The intensity had me trapped. His thumb brushed against the corner of my lips. “You had a little bit of chocolate there,” he said in explanation before pulling his hand away.

I nodded silently.

“Eat,” he pushed again.

I finished my croissant in a few bites. He never took his eyes off me, watching me eat, taking each bite, with rapt attention. I forced myself not to fidget, but it was so hard. My eyes fell on my lap as I finished my eggs too. I took a long breath, trying to settle my wild thumping heart. I exhaled, and I felt him inhale. We were a symphony, a dancing tune and a matching rhythm.

He watched me as I ate each bite slowly. Maybe I worried that he would leave after I finished eating. I dragged our moments, and we sat there in silence, drowning in each other.

I felt a tug on my head and noticed that Viktor had a lock of my blonde hair wrapped around his index finger. He gave it a slight tug again, bringing my attention back to him. So demanding.

Looking up, I focused on his face. He smiled, satisfied that my eyes were on him again.

My lips twitched, a small smile threatening to make its appearance. He had that effect on me.

“You have beautiful hair,” he finally said. Crimson heat rose up my neck and my face. The corner of his lips tilted up when he noticed my redness. “My fingers have been itching to touch, feel it. So silky and so smooth.”

Bringing the lock of hair to his nose, he inhaled my scent. And then he smiled. “It reminds me of sunshine.”

I was completely ensnared by Viktor.

Still holding my hair in his hand, he nodded toward my tray again. “Finish your breakfast.”

I did as I was told. I didn’t have the strength to argue, and honestly, I didn’t want to say no.

Taking a few slow bites of my bacon, I watched Viktor from the corner of my eyes as he continued to play with my hair.

He tugged, and I brought my eyes to his lips again, knowing it was his indication that he wanted to speak.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

My breath froze, and my heart stuttered. Flashes of last night appeared in front of me. Viktor touching me…kissing me…caressing me between my legs.

Oh God.

I was even redder now, blushing, and just a complete shy mess.

He smirked as if he could read my thoughts, but I knew that was impossible.

It was an innocent question, yet…it was everything but innocent in my head. I licked my lips again and then gave him a sharp, quick nod.

His chest moved as he chuckled. “I didn’t sleep that well. I was rather…frustrated,” he offered.

I shrugged, not understanding his meaning. His smile widened, and I saw a teasing glint in his dark eyes.

I finished the rest of my breakfast in silence. When I pushed my empty tray away, Viktor released my hair. I felt the loss deep in my marrow.

I watched as he stood up in front of me, reaching inside the pocket of his black slacks. He took something out. Pushing his hand out to me, he opened his fist. In the middle of his palm was a small paper origami. It was white and orange. Beautiful.

Looking up at him in surprise, I waited for his explanation. “Take it. It’s yours.”

My lips parted with a silent gasp. He took my clenched fist in his other hand and forced my fingers open before placing the origami into my palm.

I held the fragile little thing. It was delicate and easily crushable. Scrambling for my paper and pen, I quickly wrote my words.

 

You made this? For me?

 

Viktor nodded. “Yes. I made it. For you.”

A gift. Viktor gave me another gift. First his pen, and now this.

 

What is it?

 

It appeared to be a bird, but I wasn’t sure.

“It’s a swan.”

A paper swan. Oh, how beautiful. I couldn’t help but smile.

His words knocked my breath away before reviving me again. “It reminds me of you. Elegant and sweet. Beautiful. Graceful. An unspoken poetry.”

Oh God. My eyes stung, but I blinked the tears away.

 

Do swans make dreams comes true?

 

He looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. Viktor never took his eyes off me. “Maybe they do.”

 

What does this mean? You giving me this…?

 

He cocked his head to the side, as if he wasn’t sure himself. “Maybe a symbol of friendship?”

I wondered if Viktor realized what he was doing to my heart…to me. Hope made its way in my chest, but then it shriveled just as fast as it bloomed.

 

We can’t be friends.

 

He was so quick with his reply. “You’re right. We can’t.”

His words hit me, the arrows sinking deep into my heart, wounding me. I almost missed his tiny smirk, but it was gone so quickly, I believed it was just my imagination.

Looking down at the origami still resting in the middle of my palm, I pushed it toward Viktor. I couldn’t keep this.

Instead, he folded my fingers over the paper swan. His hand wrapped around mine, and he kept the delicate little thing safe in my fist.

“No. You can keep it. Who knows…maybe it will catch your nightmares and turn them into a beautiful dream.”

I swallowed, feeling emotional and a little lost. My lips formed my silent words. Thank you.

Viktor let my hand go, and I held the paper swan closer to my chest. My gaze dropped from his, and I stared at my lap.

He stood there for a brief moment before he walked away. I tracked his movement as he left my room. Viktor had disappeared just as silently as he had come in. Now that he was gone, I wondered if this was a fantasy too, or did it really happen? Was Viktor really here…or was this another dream?

I opened my palm and saw the paper swan. No, this was real. He was here. He gave me a gift, a beautiful, thoughtful gift. My fingers feathered over the orange wing and then the little white head. It felt smooth under my exploring touch. Giving the swan a final look, I placed it in the drawer with my pen and notepad. Safe and treasured.

Minutes probably turned into hours, and I finally got off my bed. The stickiness between my thighs was partially dry now but still served as a reminder.

My dream. Viktor and I. Us. Together. His sweet exploring touch.

Even after years of unwanted touches from men, I have welcomed a stranger’s—Viktor’s—touch. I had craved it, and the dream left me wanting more.

I was almost ashamed to admit that I had liked it. I had enjoyed it without the effects of drugs that my husband pumped in my veins to make me feel the forced pleasure brought by him.

No drugs were needed for me to feel Viktor’s exquisite—forbidden and sinful touch.

A shameful act in my dream—I have sinned, yet I couldn’t seem to mind. When his lips met mine in a featherlight kiss, it was beautiful, and I wanted to bask in this beauty longer.

In the bathroom, I stood under the water spray—washing away any evidence of last night. My chest ached, and I closed my eyes, leaning against the shower wall.

I wanted to go back to sleep, so I could dream of him again. After our moment in my bedroom this morning, I wanted more. So much more.

After cleansing myself, I dressed myself in a similar black dress that I wore most of the time. Long sleeves, high collars, and the hem down to my ankles.

I looked like someone in the early 1900s. Those stay-at-home wives, good enough to only please their husbands and carry their husband’s seeds in their wombs.

Valentin had made me into this person—someone who once had big dreams to someone with…nothing.

I stared at the mirror and imagined the old Valerie.

The one who knew how to laugh. The one who adored and breathed dancing. Someone who belonged on the stage, dancing her heart away to the beautiful rhythmic music.

I had dreams, I had hopes…and then one night, I was stolen away.

I died in the arms of Valentin—and now I was just surviving.

With a final glance at the mirror, I walked away. My room was still empty, no sign of Igor. This time, I chose to shrug away the weird feeling in my chest.

I watched the outside world through my windows, in my room—in my cage. I spent the day knitting, and then I watched the beautiful sunset.

All the time, I was alone. Alone with my thoughts.

Alone with my fantasy—Viktor.

When night fell, leaving only darkness behind, I crawled under my covers and closed my eyes.

And in my dreams, he came for me again. We held each other, his lips pressed against my forehead.

In my dreams—in my fantasyland, he was my husband. And I was his wife.

The dream caused my fragile soul to wail in pain.

 

***

 

I opened my eyes, blinking once, twice, my eyelashes fluttering. My room was still dark, the night lamp the only source of light.

I knew it was still night…the dead dark silent night.

But the reason why my eyes had fluttered opened was because of the warmth beside me. A warmth that had seeped into my pores and made me feel warm inside and out.

My vision still clouded with sleep finally adjusted into the darkness to see…him.

Viktor, the man who haunted my dream beautifully, lay on his side. He was facing me, his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful, and his face was smooth with no worry lines.

Viktor was a beautiful, exotic man. Beautiful with a rough, hard look that he always wore. There was no mistaking that he was a bad man—not really a hero.

But I liked this villain, because in my dreams, he was my hero.

My eyes traveled down his body. He was under the covers with me, so close to me. He must have put the suit away because he was only wearing a crisp white shirt, which was left unbuttoned on top.

My gaze moved back to his face, and I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t stop looking.

And I couldn’t help but touch him—feel him.

My hand came up, hovering over his face but not touching him yet. My heart thudded, and finally my fingers feathered over his cheek, feeling his rough stubble under my fingertips.

I smiled, still touching his face oh so gently.

Viktor didn’t flinch. He stayed asleep. My fingers moved from his cheeks to his eyebrows, and then his nose, tracing a downward pattern to his lips. They were soft under my fingertips, and I wondered how they would feel on mine—if we kissed in real life.

Moving closer until our bodies were plastered together, I softly placed my lips on his. Just a brief touch, and then I moved away.

It’s a dream. A beautiful dream that I never want to wake up from.

I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes with a happy sigh.

At least I had this dream.

The next time my eyes opened, I was really awake. No longer in my fantasyland. The bed beside me was cold and empty, just like I knew it would be.

I touched the spot where I had dreamed of Viktor sleeping.

If it weren’t for the words we had shared, it would have been as if he never existed.

As if he was a figment of my imagination.

But I knew it wasn’t. I knew it was real.

Every day, every night, I traced the words he wrote for me.

 

Trust me, silent myshka.

 

I held these words close to my heart, and I waited for him to come to me again. The origami was also never far from my reach. I lost count how many times I held it, traced every edge of the paper swan he created with his hands.

It made me weak and naïve—but for a little while longer, I wanted to believe in this dream.

I got out of bed and followed my day. Sarah brought my food. I never saw Igor. After days of worry, I pushed him at the back of my mind. By the time night had fallen once again, I sat on my bed and faced the door.

I waited for Viktor—just like I did the other times.

My face held little makeup; my hair was brushed neatly. I even made two tiny braids on either side of my temple and tied it at the back. It made me look younger—prettier.

Bringing my knees to my chest, I crossed my arms on them and laid my head there.

I waited…and waited…and waited.

In the silence, I waited for my hero.

I smiled thinking about him.

And then the door opened.

My head snapped up, and my heart leaped. I stopped breathing for a second before my lungs kicked into action again, pumping blood into my veins almost furiously. My breathing accelerated, and my lips twitched with the smile.

After waiting for him, he finally came for me.

The joy I felt was too immense, and I wanted to sob. My heart beat just a little faster, thudding with each beat. I felt…warm.

My eyes stayed on the door, waiting for him to make his appearance.

He did.

He walked inside.

The only difference was…he wasn’t the one I was waiting for.

My tiny smile fell, my heart faltered, and all the warmth I felt drained from my body. I was left feeling cold again.

So cold and empty.

Lost and scared.

Broken.

The door closed behind him, and he locked it. He turned to face me, and my skin crawled. I fought the urge to throw up.

In front of me, instead of Viktor—instead of my dreams becoming a reality—my nightmares became real.

Valentin stood in front of the door, his heated eyes leering at me.

My husband had come back home.