Page 66 of Bleed with Me

Before I reached my secret hideout from the world, meaning the house I bought without my brothers knowing about it, a word I never thought would interest me looped in my mind.

Adoption.

Aryna wouldn’t return to that foster fucker, not under my watch. My aunt Victoria ran an adoption agency, and I’d meet her ASAP to discuss my options. As a single man, getting custody wouldn’t be easy. But money bought almost anything, and my name opened doors most people never even reached.

Wait, a single man? It wasn’t my status anymore. Perhaps the chaos ma vilaine created could be turned into something useful. Marriage would look perfect in the adoption papers.

However, a brief image of my wife, dressed in a leather outfit with a Venetian mask covering her face and a gun on her sexy thigh, made me chuckle. No sane social worker would let a child live with her. Still…

Pondering my options, I parked the car at my property, in front of the dark, modern two-story house. The night and calmness enveloped me as I walked toward the front door and unlocked it. The place didn’t have a security system yet, so Malin couldn’t stalk me through the monitors. And with Sasha visiting his sick mother in New Jersey, I had a terrific opportunity to spend an undisturbed night with my wife.

But how to get her here?

My mind raced with ideas, but none were good enough. She was still ignoring me, and my abilities didn’t lie in stalking people. I should have told Malin everything I knew. He would have already found her. But no, I was too worried for her sexy ass to let her bully me.

A faint smile crossed my face as I threw my jacket, files, and car keys on the massive sofa in the living room. My brain buried the memories of our last meeting at the hotel in the farthest corner of my subconscious, yet in the privacy of my house, I could let it consume me.

Sitting behind the enormous black piano that ruled the place like a quiet monarch, I started to play the piece of classical music that perfectly matched my wife’s energy—

Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. My favorite.

My fingers moved with practiced precision on the keys, the tones bouncing off the walls while the memories flooded my system.

The hotel room.

The dead body of the woman I barely knew.

The gun in the hand of a masked psychopath who opened the secret door into the pleasure I never imagined experiencing.

Closing my eyes, I let the music complement the movie replaying in my mind. My wrists clearly remembered the unforgiving grip of cuffs. A shiver ran through me at the memory of her lips wrapped around my cock. My head tilted back, every cell and nerve in my body buzzing as if I were experiencing it again—the loss of control that momentarily disarmed me.

That feeling was impossible to forget. The moment when the calmness enveloped me, silencing that demonic voice in my head. The split second when the perfectionism disappeared, when my hands didn’t fight with time to save another unfortunate existence. It was fucking liberating to not care for a second and just… let go.

The last tones of Beethoven’s excellent piece filled the space, and I opened my eyes, realizing my forehead was sweaty and my chest heaved. Music and memories completely consumed me. My hands slightly trembled when I lowered the fallboard over the keys and climbed the stairs into my bedroom.

Like a robot, I threw my phone onto the bed and walked into the shower, taking off my clothes only when the hot water utterly soaked them. Thick drops fell on my skin, waking my dazed brain. Rivulets cascaded down my cheeks and shoulders, reminding me of the faint touches of my wife’s lascivious lips. My cock instantly woke up to life. The mere image of her ignited the fire in my bones that consumed my every sane thought.

“Fuck,” I exhaled, unsure if I wished to erase her from my system or go on a hunt to finally find her and make her properly mine.

How the hell did she get under my skin so easily?

For years, I only trusted my brothers and my parents. I kept people away because the betrayal hurt too much. Love destroyed me. Feelings almost took away my sanity and demolished years of hard work. Empathy, so natural for me and my profession, became a tool to eradicate those who fell for my charming personality.

In some ways, I was much worse and much more dangerous than my brothers. People expected them to eliminate their enemies. But me?

In the eyes of the public, I was the voice of reason. The police suspected me of being an accomplice to my brothers’ crimes, but found no evidence. It was only assumptions and unconfirmed suspicions, and when I showed up for an interrogation, they cleared me.

Whenever a problem came up in the organization, people came to me. Not to Malin or Zyon, but to me, because I was approachable. I smiled, said hi, and in between the words, I learned about their loved ones, their weaknesses, and their fears. By the time they realized I wasn’t mediating but deciding their fate, it was already too late. Malin was excellent in his job, but his methods drew attention; mine didn’t.

When I decided to close the door on mafia business and work only as a doctor, Zyon was shocked. He couldn’t imagine it, yet I could. But fuck, how wrong I was.

I missed the late-night torture sessions. Hunts with Malin until the sun woke up and chased away the darkness we loved so much. Those fucked-up activities meant the world to me. They completed my deprived personality and added a thrill to my days. No surgery, no matter how important, could equal the adrenaline rush in my veins when I chased some fucker through the night with a sharp knife ready to cut them to pieces.

Pressing my forehead against the cold shower tiles, I focused on my breathing, trying to force out the fantasy of hunting my wife through the night. Just imagining her fleeing through a dark forest made my cock ache. But I refused to give in to those feelings. I couldn’t allow her to have so much control over me. Fantasizing was one thing, but I had to draw the line somewhere.

She wouldn’t know that you jerked off on the memory of her fucking your ass with a gun, the voice residing in my mind whispered.

“No, but I would,” I grumbled.