A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan

Chapter 16

“Tell me everything about you.”

Miran cracked open an eye and glanced at a glowing, naked Lada huddled underneath the covers next to him. Her bright eyes sparkled as she beamed. He reached a hand and grazed it across her soft cheek.

“Like?” he prompted.

“Everything,” she breathed out.

“Well, my favorite color is white. I was born in Turkey, and I moved to New York when I was thirteen. I lived with Alexei for some time until I moved out. I became a police detective… and the rest is history. I’m pretty ordinary,” he mused.

She smiled. “You’re anything but ordinary.”

Then, she lost the smile, and he took in her reaction. He did this often. He could openly stare at her without her calling him out. She was facially very expressive. She pouted when she was stubborn. Her eyebrows furrowed down toward the slope of her small nose when she was confused. Frowning when she was lost in thought.

“So,” she began casually, distracting his focus.

He knew her next question would be anything but casual.

“Dahlia…” Miran’s lip twitched. There it was. “What does she mean to you? You’re very protective of her.”

He smirked. “You sound jealous.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and averted her eyes. “Yeah…” she whispered, “I’m jealous of every woman who’s been close to you.”

His heart skipped a beat.

“You never really clarified what she is to you.”

“But I did,” he countered. “I’ve said she’s my family, that means she’s a part of my soul.” He was quiet before he turned his face to the ceiling and stared. “I found her at a bad time in her life. Someone hurt her,” he mentioned without revealing too much. “She moved in with me. Sometimes a bond is too great to give it a name… but let’s just say, I’ve looked after her since she was a child.”

“That’s it?” she asked, surprised.

He chuckled. “Yes. When people don’t understand a relationship, they make assumptions. It’s funny, Vlad once assumed the same thing.”

“Well, I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who felt possessive,” she chirped. “How many women have you been with?”

He didn’t answer as he turned to look at her.

Lada’s cheeks burned before she huffed out, “I mean… I haven’t been with anyone besides you.” Her face lifted in a beautiful smile. “If I had more experience, I wouldn’t… maybe, feel… jealous,” she said the word like it was poisonous, and he grinned, “But I can’t help but want to know your past.”

“I’ve never had a serious relationship. Didn’t have the time or feel the need,” he answered, “Casual worked for me,” then he cheekily added, “Just safe words exchanged.”

Her porcelain skin turned pink. Reaching out a hand, he removed the blanket from her tits and eyed his handiwork. Sex bruises. Bitemarks. Fuck, if only she could see herself through his eyes… Speaking of bruises, his own back was throbbing in pain. He hadn’t examined how much she’d scratched him. Lada shifted in the bed, rising, as she wrapped the blanket around her body, taking the covers off him.

His eyes flew to her pretty face.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

His voice was full of control and dominance as he spoke.

Her lips formed the perfect surprised expression.

“Oh, you want to… do it again?” she asked with hesitation.

He smirked. He did, but his eyes crawled over her sore body. The discomfort was still in between her legs. Just looking at her alone gave him a boner.

“Drop the blanket.”

Her teeth dug into the fullness of her bottom lip.

Frowning, she clasped it harder against her chest even though her eyes twinkled with desire.

“Drop. The. Blanket.”

Now, she was chewing on her cheek as she thought long and hard. After a few seconds, she dropped the blanket, and his eyes took her nude form again.

“You’re very demanding,” she accused.

He arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? You like it though.”

She scrunched up her pretty features and glared instead.

“I don’t think you’ve eaten dinner, have you?” he asked, noticing her stomach.

She only shook her head. “I was going to but….” She grinned. “I got distracted.”

Miran hid a smile and he reached up, grabbing her waist, and pulling her down on him again. She yelped when her chest landed sideways on his. Her sweet breath hit his face, and he nipped her chin. Her lower lip quivered, and he leaned up to bite it. She squirmed again.

“Get dressed.”

Her eyes glanced up.

“I think you have enough experience to dress now.”

Her face flamed red. “I already know how to dress,” she admitted.

He chuckled. “Yes, you do.”

She lost her smile and accused, “You were playing with me then!”

He leaned up and tweaked her nose.

“You started it,” he answered.

“Now you sound like a five-year-old, and you call me a child.”

He didn’t reply, and his gaze dropped down. Maybe she forgot that she hung braless above him, and her tits were in his face. She was even perfect up close. He reached up and brushed a finger against her pink, little nub that was hardening.

She let out a tiny moan.

“Intay tow-biz, Ana neek.”

“Was that Turkish or Arabic?”

“Arabic,” he replied.

She arched an eyebrow. “What does it mean?” When he didn’t reply, she accused, “You called me a bad name!”

He hid a smile as he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You bend over, I… fuck.” She turned scarlet red, and her hand clamped to her mouth. “Now go eat.”

After dropping her hand, she asked, “How many languages do you speak?”

“Russian from my mother’s side and Turkish and Arabic from my father’s,” he replied, flicking her nose.

She squirmed against him and with a delighted sigh, she turned away from him. He watched in fascination as she used her hands and feet to feel for her clothes. Grazing a hand through his beard, he admired the back view as she dressed.

“Which way is the door?” she asked.

“It’s to your right, straight.”

She ended up hitting the bed a couple of times, and he jumped upright. As if she sensed him rising, she said, “I got it.”

He smirked at her little flair of independence.

His thoughts ran wild shortly after she successfully exited his room.

He didn’t want to bring her into his life. He thought she was naïve and childish, but then she began playing those little games with him, making him chase her. A primal, possessive need always overwhelmed him when she came into his presence.

Perhaps, it was because she was blind.

Perhaps, it was because she was scarred.

Or maybe it was because she was always meant to be his.

He wanted to shelter her away from the darkness of the world, but he didn’t know how to keep her away from the darkness that churned his soul.

❖

They fell into a daily routine over the week.

Every day he worked hard and every night… he worked even harder.

Lada had shifted into his room.

The muscles on his neck restrained, perspiration breaking out on his forehead. He needed relief badly. He bared his teeth, the animal in him coming out. She continued rhythmic and measured movements below him.

She was rosy and swollen from being banged too many times today.

He left for the prison the next morning and continued his routines with Enzo Vitalli twice a week, but so far, the former Don still had confessed nothing. Enzo was a hard-headed bastard whose mouth was permanently shut. A court hearing was scheduled soon, and Miran was running out of time.

Holding in a deep sigh, he entered the interrogation room.

His eyes landed on the former Don’s face before it dropped to his bruised, burned neck. The same neck that was slowly recovering for the past month. Miran had stopped boiling that area. He didn’t want Enzo hospitalized and out of his sight. With frustration building up inside him, he took a seat across Enzo.

Enzo Vitalli lifted his face slowly, and his tired eyes met Miran’s.

The former Don looked aged overnight, but the marks on his skin made him look more resilient and tougher. Miran gave him credit for holding out for so long.

“If you’re here for a confession, you’re still not getting it,” Enzo said slowly. Then, his dimmed eyes turned amused. “Because I’m not guilty.”

He only stared stonily. “I’m done with you.”

Enzo tilted his head.

“I’ll stop the boilings.”

Enzo raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Why the change of heart?”

“I’m transferring you to a different prison,” Miran replied.

Enzo smirked and his eyes lit up.

“I didn’t peg you for the type to give up.”

Miran shook his head slowly and rose to his feet, his tall frame hovering over the table. “I have signed the paperwork. You will be transferred from this prison to Chicago next week. You will be killed in an encounter in the middle of the night. No witnesses but my cops. Case closed.”

Enzo lost the amusement on his face and stared coldly at the badge on Miran’s belt before lifting his head.

“You play dirty for a cop.”

Miran kept eye contact with him.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I do.”

“You will kill a bound, handcuffed, unarmed man?” Enzo questioned curiously.

Miran took a step toward the door and glanced over his head.

Maybe it was fucked up, but now his soul was pushing him to an ultimatum.

“I hurt people, I torture, I punish… but do you know what’s the difference between you and me? I don’t harm innocent people.I have a code but you….” Miran smiled bitterly. “You are wicked and vile. You have no code, and you are too dangerous to live. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you never see the light of day again. Your end is here.”

And with that, he slammed the door on Enzo Vitalli’s face forever.

Curtly nodding to the correctional officers in the prison, he headed outside. His footsteps were heavy and frantic as they darted around searching for the trackers. He wanted to take a half-day off and return to Lada. He glanced toward the fence of the prison, but the two SUVs were not there.

Strange.

His phone beeped at an incoming text from one of the cops at the safehouse.

Ayla hasn’t shown up for work in two days.

Alert, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously in the parking lot, looking around his surroundings. There wasn’t anyone around besides a young black-haired woman, holding a stroller.

Maybe a visitor.

He unlocked the car door, and his phone rang. Pulling the handle, he answered the phone simultaneously, “Chief.”

“Hello Miran,” a deep voice said on the other line.

He paused and glanced at the caller ID.

Vlad.

“You’re back in town with Dahlia,” Miran spoke.

“Yes, we came to visit mamochka, but we’re leaving soon again.”

“Sounds like you’re her new favorite son now.”

Vlad sounded amused as he spoke, “Maybe.”

“What made you call me today?”

“Well,” Vlad began, “Mamochka wanted to have dinner… with the two of us. She requested I invite you. I told her to do it herself, but she has refused and has denied me any dinners with her unless I bring you too.”

Miran almost dropped the phone.

“You can stand my face around you?”

“You do have half my DNA.”

He hid a smile. “So, you’re inviting me for dinner?”

Vlad scoffed on the other line, “Don’t make this more painful than it has to be.”

“I will try, but it’s not safe for me to be around our mother.”

Vlad was silent, then he spoke after a beat. “Yes, I’ve heard about your little stunt. I guess kidnapping runs in our history too.”

Miran rolled his eyes, but a tiny smile broke through his face.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it from his ear and glanced at the screen.

Alexander.

He held the phone to his ear again. “Zander is on the line.” Without waiting for a response, he switched to the other line, “Yes, Brother?”

“Where the fuck are you?’

Miran narrowed his eyes. “Hello to you too.”

“I’m serious, Mir!” He frowned. He’d never heard Alexander’s voice all gritty and panicky before. Doors were being slammed in the background. “Where are you?”

He paused for a second. This wasn’t just his cousin. It was the Pakhan of the Bratva.

“I’m working,” he replied after a beat revealing nothing.

“There’s going to be an attack,” Alexander gritted.

Miran’s back tensed in alert, automatically reaching for his gun clipped to the side of his belt.

“Remove your hand from your gun.”

A low voice warned from behind before jamming a heavy object into his back as the body leaned in close. A sharp scent wafted to his nose.

Miran froze, and he glanced to his left without seeing the perpetrator. He pulled his phone away from his ear and clicked on the MERGE button on impulse, connecting the two calls. He didn’t know why he did it, but Vlad was on the other line, and some part of him wanted to inform him of his situation.

“I said, remove your hand otherwise I will shoot.”

Miran lifted his hand and held it in the air.

“What’s going on?” Vlad’s voice came on.

“Vlad, what the… Mir, you okay?” Alexander chimed in.

“You do know this is a prison, right?” Miran stated calmly, “There are cameras in the parking lot.” When the person didn’t reply he asked, “Who are you?”

The perpetrator jammed the pistol tighter against his back.

Miran’s eyes fell on the exit. “At the door, there is security. You cannot leave here with a gun pointing at me. They will put you down the second they see you.”

“Mir—” Alexander’s voice came but the person behind him reached for his hand, grabbed the phone, and ended the call.

“Enter the car slowly,” the voice said before opening the back door of his car. The gun was pressed to the back of his head now. “Hands in the air where I can see them.”

“Alright,” he replied calmly as he entered the car with the person right behind him. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, and cold eyes met his.

Black outfit. Sleek ponytail. Straight nose. Porcelain skin. Russian.

Female.

“Who are you?” Miran asked. “The Brotherhood doesn’t have women soldiers.” They were called The Bratva Brotherhood for obvious reasons. Only men were initiated. A female moll was unheard of in the mob, and they rarely existed.

It was the same woman from the parking lot with the stroller.

The young woman still pointed a gun to the side of his head. “They upgraded. Now drive. Both hands on the steering wheel where I can see them.”

Miran’s jaw ticked as his eyes glanced at the security. They didn’t screen for weapons until people entered the prison’s check-in area. She was outside. It was daring and… ballsy.

“And how do you think you’re going to get past them?”

He dropped both of his hands to the steering wheel. He had a dagger in his shoe, but he couldn’t reach for it right now. Carefully avoiding staring at the dashboard, he put the car on drive. He hid a spare gun there. He just needed to distract her to reach for it.

“You will do as I order, otherwise Lada Sokolovawill be harmed.”

His fist clenched, and his gaze scorched into hers.

“80-731 Pine Street, correct?”

He gritted his teeth so his jaw wouldn’t drop.

How the fuck did they know? He was always careful about losing the trackers. Did they have her already?

The woman gave a knowing look as his eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.

“She’s unharmed… for now. I will lower the gun when we reach the exit, and you will keep your mouth shut,” she ordered. “If you try to give any kind of hint to the security, you should know, I am wearing a wire. Our conversation is being listened to. You turn me in, then Lada’s death is on your conscious.”

Now, it wasn’t a good idea to think about the gun in his dashboard. Lada was in danger. He nodded slowly and drove to the exit. The men at the security saluted him, and he nodded at them before the gate was open.

“Where are we going?” he asked after they exited the prison.

“Straight,” she clipped.

He made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror again. She looked young, maybe in her early twenties.

“You work for Alexander?”

“I’m Bratva,” she replied curtly. “But I work mainly under another ruling member of the Brotherhood and… Sasha occasionally. Pakhan doesn’t believe women can be fighters.”

Her voice was monotone as she spoke, and something didn’t sit right with him about her.

Miran arched an eyebrow as he silently drove.

“Zander doesn’t approve of this.”

She frowned. “I get direct orders from Sasha.”

“And he believes women can be fighters?” Miran scoffed.

“I’m trained as the Brotherhood’s weapon.” He waited for more information. “And it worked, didn’t it? You looked past me because I seemed harmless.”

He drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. His lips twitched in appreciation. It was smart. He’d known the Bratva would secretly attack, but he didn’t know they would bring a woman in. It was a strategy he would have used too.

“You had a stroller,” he pointed out.

“There was nothing in it.”

Well-played.

He met her eyes again.

“You would be more welcomed in another field.”

Her lip twitched. “Are you trying to recruit me, Chief? And turn left here.”

He only shrugged and turned left. “What’s your name? I’m familiar with the Bratva members. I’ve never heard of you.”

She only arched an eyebrow.

“And you think I’m a fool to tell you my name?”

He changed tactics. “What’s your position?”

“Again, I am not telling you. Turn right.”

Her steady eyes met his.

This was a dangerous woman.

Smart. Brave. Lethal.

He would have been proud if she wasn’t a criminal.

When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Where are we going?”

“Keep in the right lane. Two streets down, you make a left.”

“You won’t be able to get away with my death.”

“I’m not the one who’s going to kill you,” she replied shortly. “Sasha will decide.”

Now, Miran remained quiet, and he only listened whenever she gave him directions.

“Stop here.”

He pressed his foot down on the brake and glanced up at the black metal gated building. It looked more like a dungeon in a deserted area. No houses were around.

“Step out of the car with your hands in the air.”

Miran nodded and stepped outside. She followed behind him and jerked her head to move forward. She was shoulder to shoulder with him now. Tall and thin. With his hands still in the air, he observed his surroundings. Two men stood outside the house, and they fully searched him, taking the dagger that hid in his ankle.

As he entered, dim yellow lights hit him.

He was led into an empty room with a single wooden chair.

A man in a suit stood in the middle of the room.

Muddy brown eyes met his.

Sasha Petrov.

“I’ll take my leave,” the woman said.

“I have a new assignment for you. You will find out the details,” Sasha replied.

She only nodded curtly before she left without a backward glance. Two armed men replaced her, each pointing a gun at Miran. His eyes still followed the door, at her.

“She’s brave, isn’t she?” Sasha’s voice cut in his thoughts.

His head jerked back in place.

“I didn’t know Bratva initiate women.”

Sasha smirked. “She’s our deadliest assassin.”

Miran was surprised. Assassin?

Sasha limped toward him. “We meet again, you thief.”

Miran raised an eyebrow, and his eyes fell on Sasha’s legs.

“I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

Sasha’s nostrils flared, and he swung his arm. Miran blocked it, but as soon as he did, a gun jammed into his temple.

“Don’t,” one of the men warned.

Miran stilled, and he dropped his arm. Sasha continued to punch him. Miran gritted his teeth when his head jerked back. Then, Sasha kicked him right in the knee. He bit his tongue to stop himself from roaring. His eyes flew to Sasha again.

“Lada is mine,” Sasha seethed out, “And tonight, I make her mine forever.”

Over my fucking dead body.

Miran’s eyes flashed, and with a low grunt, he grabbed Sasha’s collar.

“No, she is not.”

A barrel of a gun slammed down on Miran’s head full force, and he fell on his knees, seeing stars. A trickle of metallic blood rolled down his temple. His vision blurred, and his dizzy mind wasn’t focusing. He reached up to wipe the sticky blood, and Sasha leaned down to punch him in his bruising jaw again. Sasha grasped the back of Miran’s thick hair, jerking his head back. His scalp burned, and he gritted his teeth as he met Sasha’s haughty stare.

“I have her father’s blessing.”

Miran’s heart dropped to his throat.

“My men here will beat you purple and blue, then when I’ll bring Lada here, and I will claim her right here while you watch.”

Sasha gave a twisted smile, and Miran’s blood ran cold. He reached out quickly and pulled Sasha’s foot down. Sasha fell clumsily on the cold, granite floor. Sasha’s men kicked Miran on the back, and he rolled onto his sides. He tried to rise on his feet, but they punched him in the head, the same sensitive spot the barrel had hit him. Blood trickled down from the oozing wound, falling into his eyes. Breathing hard, he wiped the sticky substance from his face in rushed movements, smearing it, and ended up coating his skin. He touched the aching wound on his head and winced at the burn. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t recognize Sasha’s features anymore.

“Look at you on your knees and at my mercy now, Chief.”

“Fair right,” he murmured with a hint of sarcasm. “How did you know where she was?”

He hoped to stall him in case he passed out.

He needed more time.

Sasha’s laughter chortled in the air as he stared down at him.

“Chris Walker.”

He paused, touching his wound, and glanced up in surprise.

“My men were tracking you that day.”

Miran stayed still as he rested a hand on the floor, breathing hard. That was a careless mistake. He’d gone after Walker when he was still being watched. He rose on one foot but stayed down.

“They thought you were hiding Lada in that house. Imagine their surprise when they saw a barely breathing bloody man with his hand butchered off.”

He stared at the ground, still thinking.

“I didn’t expect that from you, Chief. You might as well have killed him too… because my men did.”

Miran’s head jerked up. “I called an ambulance for him.”

Sasha chuckled again. “Oh, they came, but he was dead already. He told me about the safehouse where you were hiding Lada right before he died. From there, I tracked Lada down… Ayla, huh?”

She’d known about the location in the woods since she’d been working for him for years. She was trustable. Fuck.

“Ayla told me everything right before I drilled bullets into her brain.”

He shut his eyes, mourning her loss before slowly opening them again.

“I must leave now, but I will see you again.”

Sasha’s footsteps retreated from him. Miran lunged out a hand across the floor to grab his foot, but one man stomped on it. He grunted, but he still held onto Sasha’s foot.

“Get him off,” Sasha gritted out.

Miran’s hand was stomped on over and over again. Each time they did, his hand throbbed even more. His eyes watered, and he sucked the air in sharply, still refusing to let go. Crackling of his bones filled the air, and he grunted at the soreness. His vision was slowly clearing. He narrowed his eyes, and with his broken hand, he pulled on Sasha’s foot from underneath him. Sasha landed on his back, and Miran lunged, grabbing his throat, choking him. His hand throbbed and strained to choke the life out of Sasha.

Vivid images of emerald eyes and a bright smile forced him to keep holding on. Sasha’s face was turning purple underneath him as he tried to shove him off.

Miran’s head was hit again, his grip loosened, and his mind became light-headed. He rolled over on his back, clutching the back of his head.

It didn’t take much longer for his vision to black out.