A Lock Of Death by Beena Khan

3

I jumped up, alert, but Dimitri remained calm and glanced over his shoulder.

The young man at the doorway—maybe in his late twenties —with short black hair styled behind his head stared at me.

He wore a black suit as he approached us, and his beady eyes fell on me. He was too clean like he took a lot more time in his appearance than me. I guess, he was attractive, but my heart didn’t jump up when it had seen him.

It didn’t react the way it reacted to… my thought trailed off before landing on Mr. Brooding.

The man had called him Dima.

It must be his nickname in the Underworld.

Dimitri Nikolaev’s gaze focused on the man.

I returned my attention to the new visitor before glancing at my orange nails. Jerking my head up, I hoped he had looked away from me by now, but the man’s eyes remained on my face.

A sense of dread ran through my spine. I didn’t like his stare at all. His cunning eyes took a long look at my face and even a longer look on my breasts. If I didn’t know any better, he must have fucked me inside his mind a few times already.

“Boris Fedorov,” the man drawled as he neared me.

My heart fell out of my chest when I realized this was my owner. Out of all people, I was stuck with a boring Boris.

Is he mafia too?

“I used to live in the states, but I moved to Mexico. I’m the CEO of one of the largest real estate companies,” he continued.

Well, that answered my unspoken question.

He wasn’t mafia, just some rich guy.

“You must have heard me.”

I stayed silent because I had no clue who this man was. If he thought being rich was supposed to impress me, I didn’t care. He didn’t interest me at all, especially not the way he was checking me out like how I could best serve his needs.

My eyes fell on his silk white wrinkle-free shirt. I wanted to smear it with yellow. Averting my eyes, they landed on Dimitri’s black shirt. Well, at least I liked that color. Now white was a color I didn’t like. I’d painted everything that was white in my room. I liked color, and white was so plain and empty.

Virginal. Soft. Too pure. And I was anything but that.

“You could have polished her up a little more. She’s covered in paint,” Boris complained, staring at Dimitri.

Dimitri crossed his arms over his chest and just stared.

I narrowed my eyes at Boris.

“I like painting,” I countered.

“And she’s mouthy?” the man drawled.

I gave a tight-lipped smile.

Play nice.

Pakhan’s warning played in my mind.

“She will be clean of the paint when I bring her.”

That sounded awfully like a promise coming from Dimitri.

“Her hair is flawless though,” the man’s eyes filled with wicked delight, “So long like a fairytale princess come true. I thought I could see what she looks like underneath her clothes. I need to inspect the merchandise. I don’t want scars.”

My fists clenched by my side, and I wanted to smack him across the face. Gritting my teeth, I shot him a glare.

“She doesn’t have any,” Dimitri countered.

How would he know? Maybe he just assumed.

“Have you seen her nude?” Boris questioned with a smirk.

Dimitri fell silent before his pondering gaze rested on me.

“I have the right to check the merchandise.”

Dimitri returned his gaze to Boris before he curtly nodded.

What? My eyes went to Dimitri, but his expression never changed. He looked bored as if he would be anywhere but here.

My insides shriveled up and died inside. I tried not to be bruised that I’d expected him to defend me. He didn’t care about me, and he only did his job. I was a nuisance to him.

Boris looked me dead in the eye.

“Razdevatsa. Strip,” he commanded.

Dimitri kept his eyes trained on Boris.

A tingly feeling crawled over my body. I could refuse, but what good that would be? Dimitri’s violent hands were fast. He could slap me for disobeying, and Boris would join him and slap me too and put me in my place.

I sighed silently, but I held up my head high as I grilled at the man. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me.

It was just stripping… right? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d taken off my clothes on demand. I did it before as a whore.

Nothing came out innocent out of that life.

My world had been filled with sex, drugs, violence, men, and other women. My body had been used, abused, and fucked in every way possible. I had more experience than many men, and that wasn’t something positive because it was all meaningless sex. I never belonged to a single man my entire life because I’d belonged to all. I had zero attachments to the men… and the women I’d slept with before.

I wasn’t attracted to women, but I’d faked it. People had wanted to involve others and I’d obliged. Three years later, I became celibate, and I didn’t miss sex at all.

I focused on the man in front of me, trying not to breathe heavily. I didn’t want to give Boris the upper hand.

Relaxing my jaw, I placed my still creamy paintbrush on the table beside my wet color palette. I hoped this spectacle would be over soon, so I could return to my painting.

I reached for the hem of my golden dress and pulled it over my skin. The cool, air conditioning and the breeze that still filtered from the night outside caressed my bare skin. I was in the comfort of my own home, and I didn’t wear a bra.

Had Dimitri noticed before? Had Boris noticed before?

A warning would have been nicer. I could have changed into one before Boris came in… or Dimitri.

I only stood there in my gold panties. I had an unhealthy obsession with warm colors. I could never feel the real ones against my skin, so I clung to the artificial ones.

Speaking of Mr. Brooding, he still hadn’t looked at me even once. He still stared at Boris. Now, Boris wasn’t that handsome that he deserved his attention so much.

Why wouldn’t he look at me?

I glanced at Boris whose pupils had dilated immensely that they almost resembled black, and he stiffened inside his pants.

Oh God, that couldn’t be good. It was strange, flash a boob, and you could make an organ without any bones so hard.

An uneasy shudder ran through my body as his crawling eyes leered over my body, taking every single piece of my flesh in. The chilly air rubbed against my soft nipples, and they hardened, puckering in the air. I hoped Boris didn’t think it was because of him. Goosebumps spread out across my skin. It wasn’t like the winter chill, bringing a shiver to my flesh, but more of a welcome coolness of an autumn breeze.

Hopefully, he was satisfied with the way I looked. I was scar free… to the visible eye. No one could see the scars deep inside my soul. I placed my hands on my hips and arched an eyebrow at Boring Boris, challenging him.

Inside, my soul trembled, but I would never let anyone see that. If I was a normal girl I would’ve been crying already, but there was nothing sane about me or the way I’d lived.

“Take off your panties too,” Boris ordered, his voice came too husky for my liking.

I winced internally and tried not to sigh. With hopelessness sinking in my heart, I bent forward, and I knew I flashed a lot of brown flesh. I pulled down my panties and dropped them on the carpet floor beneath me. I stood up straight, and I tried not to cross my arms over my breasts.

I would be confident.

I wouldn’t let him see weakness.

“Turn around,” his orders kept coming.

I did what I was told and turned around, giving him a show. As I turned, I focused on the walls around me. I exhaled slowly, calming my maddening, thudding heart.

My movements were deliberately slow as I took my time, focusing on the sunshine around me.

My artwork greeted me. It made me smile.

A sense of tranquility washed over me, and Boris’ voice faded in the background. It was short-lived because I turned around to face him again. My chest rose up and down with my erratic breathing. I eyed his bulge again, and it looked like it was ready to burst out of his pants. If I had an ax, I would chop it off.

“Unbraid your hair. I want to see it.”

I held back a glare. Goddamn.

Shithead was full of demands.

“It takes me an hour to braid my hair every day.”

I liked French braids, they made me feel feminine and pretty.

My hair needed to be braided though. If they hung loose, they were caught under me when I sat or even the toilet seat. If I wasn’t careful, they touched the toilet water too. Occasionally I would put my hair in a bun too, but it grew too thick on my head like a looming mountain, and it hurt my scalp. Ponytails were too tight. Nope. I would never wear my hair in a ponytail.

I met Boris’ narrowed eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck. Show it to me,” he commanded.

A cold gust ran against my skin, and I glanced at the balcony doors. The night grew windier. I prayed he would collapse on the floor and fall to his death.

I peeked a glance at Dimitri.

He still didn’t look at me. He wasn’t watching the show I put on, but he didn’t step in and help me either. Why would he, though? I meant nothing to him.

Pressing my lips together, I reached up and pulled my hair tie off. With trembling hands, I unbraided. I kept my gaze trained on the carpet, and I didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

They both could rot in hell.

I stumbled over my fingers, and I hoped Boring Boris didn’t notice. Silence fell over us, and the only sounds that came were from outside. I closed my eyes shut and focused on the wind.

If I listened hard enough, I could hear its musical beats flutter against my skin. A pulsing ache throbbed against my eyes as I forced myself to swallow.

Thunder rumbled outside, a promise of the roaring rain that would come. Lightning burst from the sky outside, and I realized I needed to close the balcony doors before the rain streamed inside. They banged against the wall, but I still had my eyes shut. It was music to my ears, even though silence screamed inside my mind, and I hated every second of it.

Each command that I’d been given felt more like a chore. I didn’t know how long it took for me to finish, maybe minutes, but I knew each minute had passed in agony. When I finished unbraiding, it was like a lifetime had passed. I shoved the hair behind me and with a heated breath, I snapped open my eyes.

My new owner’s hungry eyes never once moved away from my face, and Dimitri’s gaze focused on the balcony doors that kept clashing against the wall with every draft of wind and thunder. I hoped the storm would drown us all today and change my fate permanently.

I stood nude with my wavy locks unbound. They hung in loose curls around me, thicker with the aftermaths of the braid like a lioness tempting to roar out. I hoped he didn’t provoke that untamed side of me.

“Such silky, long hair,” Boris appraised. “I need to touch it.”

Dread filled my soul as his footsteps headed toward me with his grabby hand reaching out for my locks.

I stepped back, but I had nowhere to go but the wall behind me. Luckily, I hadn’t painted the bottom wall today and only the top. Still, I was caged against it. I closed my eyes, trying to find solace in the dark. The rain poured thicker, and with every lightning, my body jumped involuntarily.

Instead of a hand, a large body pressed against me.

I snapped open my eyes, but I couldn’t see anything.

Blackness covered me.

I stared at the familiar black shirt in front of me.

Dimitri stood in front of me with his back pressed against me. Against my face and breasts. I was pressed against a two-hundred-something pound of muscle and steel.

I tried to look for his face, but he faced Boris.

He shielded me.

I hadn’t expected this mobster to cover me after he’d let this man devour me with his eyes. My head didn’t even reach his shoulders. He could almost be as tall as the skyscraper we were inside, at least from this angle.

His crisp and clean scent wavered under my nose.

I’d expected him to smell darker and woodsier, but he smelled like a fresh breeze of air. He blended in with the wind. A tiny smile peeked out from my lips before I replaced it with a frown when I realized I still stood nude. My nipples rubbed against him, and I hoped he couldn’t feel them.

Boris only chuckled even though I couldn’t see him.

Why was that manic laughing?

“You’re not her savior, Dima,” Boris chided.

I sucked in a sharp breath, and I hoped Dimitri didn’t feel that. I’m sure he must have. My cold arms hung limply around my sides. I wasn’t sure what to do with them.

I bit down on my lower lip as I reached up and placed them against his back, between my head. I sighed in relief when his warmness trickled into me. His body grew rigid, and I wondered if I should remove my hands.

He still pressed against me, and he didn’t bother to move at all, even though my bullet-like nipples pressed harder against him. Why were they getting harder? His warm body covered me from Boris’ creeping ugly stare and the breeze outside.

They shouldn’t be getting harder…

“I am. I’m here to take her away from this tower,” Boris continued. And to lock her up in mine.

I could just hear the unspoken words in his fucked up mind with a savior complex, and I disliked him even more. If he really thought I needed saving, he would take me away and give me my freedom. Who was he to assume I needed saving, anyway?

I didn’t live in hell but a large penthouse, away from people, and I was protected under my Boss’ rule. I could roam outside at night for deliveries. I wondered if it was too late to call Pakhan and refuse. I was still lost in thought when Dimitri spoke.

“You’ve inspected her, and you can touch her once the transaction is completed.”

His masculine voice was gruff and confident as he spoke. It remained calm even though I could hear the edge behind it. It rumbled and it vibrated from his chest. I felt every second of it, and my heartbeat sped up.

I almost wanted to shove Dimitri for what he’d just said, though but I liked being hidden from Boris’ eye-fucking eyes.

“You know the rules,” Dimitri continued, “Both parties have to complete their end of the promise. Ours is still pending.”

The last word almost knocked me to the floor. I wanted to see Boris’ fuming face now. Maybe he didn’t like Dimitri’s business talk. He was stupid if he didn’t hear the threat in his voice. Things pending could always be canceled.

Boris stayed silent, and I wondered if he would shoot Dimitri. I peeked out an eye behind Dimitri’s back and glanced at Boris’ ticking face. My insides felt pleased. Boris caught me looking, and I cowered, hiding from his view.

“You’ve seen her, and she has no marks.”

My pulse jittered under my veins.

Had Dimitri seen me too? When?

His eyes were anywhere but on me the entire time.

I chewed on the inside of my lip, thinking hard.

Maybe he’d seen me when he came to block me from Boris.

Boris was silent before he deeply sighed.

“I have two more things left to do before I leave.”

Was he serious? What else could he possibly want?

“Tomorrow,” Dimitri said dismissively.

My trembling heart ascended into the sky at his single-word answer, but then it crashed with the rush.

It filled with dread once again. Boring Boris was going to return. I had to see his face one more time then… Well, I’d have to see him permanently once I started living with him. Hopefully, he had a heart attack and died before that.

“Once she’s with you, then you could break her in.”

My heart dropped and the back of my eye throbbed as water pulsated beneath. How could he sound so calm about selling me?

I wanted to kick him. I didn’t want to cry right now, but it had stung. He still covered me, but it didn’t make him a better person. I tried not to sniffle because I didn’t want him to hear me at all. My head sagged, and I rested my forehead against the asshole’s back, against the man who planned on delivering me.

“Fine, but I will return tomorrow for my pet.”

Pet? Dimitri remained silent. Maybe he nodded at Boring Boris. The other man’s footsteps retreated from us before he slammed the door behind him, the sound rang in my eardrums even after he left. Boy, he was pissed as hell. I hoped he didn’t plan on taking it out on me tomorrow.

Would Dimitri come too?

For some reason, I wanted him to return.

I didn’t want to be alone.

My heart jumped to my throat at the roar of lightning outside. The door still clanged against the wall the entire time.

Still peeking at the white sparkle in the air, my fingers edged closer into his shirt, sinking deeper, clutching it tighter with every thunder bolt. His body tensed and I paused. My skin flushed after realizing what I’d been doing. I dropped my arms to my sides like a scolded child, and I sucked on my lower lip.

I dug holes into his back, but then, he turned around, still pressed against me. I shivered when his moving, cotton shirt rubbed against me, my nipples pebbled again.

I wish they would stop already.

He didn’t wear satin or silk.

Cotton. It was… normal, almost humbling for someone of his status and wealth. I knew the Bratva organization was loaded with billions. The Nikolaev Men could afford a penthouse in a skyscraper for me. Imagine how they lived themselves.

My leader had given me a privilege over the other mules. A lavish lifestyle. I’d never tried to take it to heart or in my mind though because it couldn’t change the fact that these rich belongings weren’t truly mine. I was just a tenant, one who paid my dues in other ways besides cash and sex.

Shaking off my thoughts, I glanced up, puzzled as I met Blue.

Those phantom deep eyes were ocean-strong, the blue of mountain lakes, the blue of every sky—the blue I longed to see outside. That blue fixated on me. The golden eye-rings surrounding his iris were like a blaring new sun. The sun was in his eyes. Up close, I could see every pore and every shadow on his face. He just stared at me for a few seconds. He was an impossible man to read with his gaze dry.

I didn’t see any heat in them even though I stood nude.

I wasn’t saying I had a banging body, but it was nice enough to draw attention, but he didn’t look at me the way Boring Boris had. Did boobs not fascinate him?

When I was in high school, boys acted like it was the greatest thing ever when the girls wore tight shirts, and they caught a glimpse of cleavage. It didn’t seem to consume him, overtake him, and I didn’t know why. Maybe he was gay.

A tremble shuddered through my body. He wasn’t turned on… or could he control that?

Even though I was exposed, I still felt sheltered somehow by his cocoon. I should be afraid, very afraid of him. A mysterious stranger I’d never met before and now alone in this home with me. He could easily overpower me and take me against the wall… but he didn’t. Maybe because I wasn’t his for taking.

I belonged to another man now.

I didn’t think even that could stop him.

He didn’t seem to give two flying fucks about Boris.

The storm raged on, and my eyes fell on the damp curtains soaring with the wind. Lowering my gaze, I noticed the soaked carpet of the balcony entrance that would soon smell like a wet cat. I focused my gaze on Dimitri who never once removed his eyes from me. They stayed on my face the entire time, never descending. I wish he didn’t look at me like that.

I was afraid of what he might find in my eyes.

Eyes were the windows of the soul, but my windows were closed. In this storm, the shadows of us swirled around us as if they could be inverted to gleam in dark times.

It was just us now.

He took three steps back, maybe turning to leave.

His eyes lowered to my body, and my fists curled up by my sides, wanting to cover up from his view, but I didn’t lift them.

My shock never recovered because his eyes studied my long neck before trailing my collarbones that jutted out of my light brown skin. His Russian fair skin was so different from my own.

White to brown.

Everywhere he looked, my skin flushed. It wasn’t the kind of creepy stare that Boring Boris had given me. Dimitri just looked, like he was inspecting me, as if really seeing me for the first time.

I didn’t know why he hadn’t looked when I took off my dress. Was he looking now because Boris wasn’t here? It wasn’t fair though because I couldn’t see him naked.

Stumped, my mouth almost dropped open.

I couldn’t believe I thought of that.

His gaze lowered to my full breasts, and they grew heavier under him. Every inch of me, he could see, inspect, and dissect. I knew that they were a handful and appealing, but what was on his mind? His head moved with his gaze following my soft stomach. His stare narrowed on my sparkly belly button piercing. I followed those eyes as they moved to my lower limbs toward the bare triangle between my legs.

I wasn’t allowed sharp objects like razors, but Madame Gospel had given me wax to take care of my needs.

Had he hardened like Boris too? Too afraid to look at his pants, I kept my eyes trained on his face.

His eyes lifted after a moment to look into mine. I didn’t see any arousal in them, but the clear blue in them had darkened.

My throat ran dry, and I wondered, if any second, he would reach out and touch me. As if on cue, his hand stretched out and his rough finger landed on the underside of my breast. It was barely a two second touch, but a bolt of electricity ran through my body before he pulled his hand back.

“You’re scarred.”

Startled, I glanced down, but I couldn’t see what he meant with my breasts in the way. Maybe he spoke about the little white scar I had been given as a gift from the past that was noticeable up close. My heart filled with hope, and my eyes brightened that this was my escape from the deal.

Dimitri noticed and he shook his head. “He won’t care.” His voice dropped low, getting gruffer. I pressed my lips together in disappointment. “Even if you had a hundred scars on your body, he won’t let you go because you have a face like that.”

My heartbeat thudded, and I was afraid he’d heard it.

His eyes left my face before he moved toward me. I held in my breath and my heart sank. My wobbling legs shook under me, and I almost lost my balance.

Would he touch…

I never finished that thought because he reached for the color palette near me.

Dazed, I followed his movement, wondering what he was up to. Would he break it? I didn’t know what he would punish me for. Would it be for bad-mouthing Boring Boris?

I reached up a frantic hand to snatch it from him, but he narrowed his eyes as he glanced at my face and stopped me. So much command and authority laid in that gaze of his. He didn’t even have to speak to hold people’s attention.

Swallowing thickly, I dropped my hand back to my side, waiting for his next move. I glanced anxiously at the color palette he held, my painting tool, my life in his hand. It meant the world to me, and I didn’t want him to destroy it. He bent down and picked up my paintbrush from the floor with his long, pale inky filled fingers. My eyes fell on the thin tentacles of a red and black hourglass tattoo on the back of his hand.

The Spider.

Curious, I stared as he dipped the paintbrush into my color palette. I almost wanted to laugh.

Would he paint the wall… with me?

It sounded too startling to even imagine that happening. I doubted this man even had a hobby besides killing. My heart dropped that he just might smear paint on my painted walls, ruining my artwork.

My eyes pleaded with him, and my lower lip trembled at the heartbreak that was coming. I hoped he wouldn’t. An ache pulsated behind my eyes, and they watered again.

His gaze met mine as he lifted the red-dipped paintbrush and he reached for the wall behind me. Dread filled my soul, and my shoulders sagged. He would ruin my work. I looked away. I was smart enough to know he could easily overpower me if I attacked him. That would only piss him off. He was too big for me to take on. I held in a breath before I released it.

My eyes became dimmer by the second. A surprised gasp left my mouth when the creamy paint brushed against my skin with every stroke. I jerked my head up, open-mouthed as I stared at him. He held my gaze the entire time as he smeared the cold tint on my heated body, his hands moving up and down on the skin below my neck and above my breasts.

Dimitri Nikolaev was painting me…

No one had ever painted me before.

I stared at the enigmatic man with my lungs deflating and inflating with every stroke.

When he finished, he stepped back and placed the color palette and paintbrush back on the table. He stared into my eyes again before he turned his back to me.

My burning gaze bore holes into his shirt, but he never once turned around. He opened the door and left it wide open. I exhaled a breath when the front door closed behind him too.

Dimitri Nikolaev had vanished.

I glanced down at my body, expecting a blob of paint, but my eyes fell on the alphabets. Narrowing my gaze, I tried to read what it said, but it was upside down. Without changing into my clothes again, I moved toward the bathroom.

I glanced at the door he’d just left through, half-expecting him to return. Scratching the back of my head, puzzled and disorientated, I walked on wobbling footsteps.

The door to the balcony still clanged and rainwater had drenched that carpet area. I paused and changed direction. My dry feet sank into the plush soaked carpet and I cringed. I pulled the doors together, but the gust of winds were too strong.

Grinding my teeth together, the rainwater drenched me until my newly painted skin melted off. I glanced down at the seven lines of thin paint that had trailed down my breasts.

A shudder ran through my veins as I forcefully closed the doors. With a sigh, I rested my glistening forehead against the curtains before heading to the bathroom again.

I switched on the light as I entered and stared into the mirror. My confused gaze haunted me before it lowered to the word imprinted on my skin, on the skin below my neck, just above my chest. Still readable even though a little smeared with the red droplets that looked like an erupted lava.

An unfamiliar Russian word glared at me.

Tilting my head, I pondered in thought.

What did that mean?

Moya.