I would be. If only she'd let me.
I leaned closer, kissing her slowly to remind her of everything she stood to walk away from if she left. My hands held her still, and I kept my lips soft as I worshiped her mouth.
It was the kind of kiss that could move mountains. The kind of kiss that changed futures. She sighed into me, her body going pliant as I stole the breath from her lungs and made it mine.
When I finally pulled back, she swayed on her feet. Reaching up a hand to touch her lips, she watched me finish dressing. "Stay here," I said firmly one last time after I'd finished dressing and made my way toward the door of the bedroom.
It killed me to leave her when all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and show her why she was mine.
I had to settle for taking out my rage that it wasn't possible on the asshole who took me away from her.
I made my way into the elevator, jabbing the buttons with furious fingers to take me to the ground floor. Leaving Isa so soon made me wonder how I would ever tolerate being away from her again. Would it always make my skin pulse with the steady awareness that something was missing? Would the fact that mi princesa wasn’t in my arms where she belonged make everything else in my life but her a chore I merely had to complete so I could get back to her?
The elevator doors opened after it finished its descent. I stepped through them, scanning the lobby for the dead eyes that came with being a soul-sucking bastard loyal to a man like Pavel Kuznetsov. For the dead eyes that came with being a man like me.
A murderer. A dealer. A thief.
I found him sitting in a chair by the fireplace, flipping through a magazine absentmindedly as though he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to any of the hotel patrons going about their day in paradise. He sensed me when I stopped in the center of the lobby, his eyes looking up to meet mine. With my mask firmly in place, I gave nothing away as I nodded my head toward the doors that went to the staff areas and the kitchen at the back of the hotel.
I showed him the ultimate disrespect I could to a man in our position. I turned my back on the muscular fucker, pushing through the double doors and claiming the kitchen as my space. "¡Vete!" I ordered, keeping my voice low. Despite the clanking of pots, every eye in the kitchen turned to me, then they quickly made their way out of the kitchens.
The Russian followed, making his way through the crowd of staff escaping the confines of the kitchens. I turned to face him next to one of the stations where someone had been preparing to chop vegetables from the looks of things. He swallowed as he stepped into the empty room, his eyes meeting mine while the stony mask he wore faded in the face of a true opponent.
It was easy for men to pretend bravery when they had connections that gave them very little to fear. Pavel must not have cared for the man much to send him into my hotel against my wishes. "I believe I said I would meet with Pavel after I completed my business in Ibiza," I warned, tapping my fingers against the stainless steel work station thoughtfully.
He puffed up his chest, seeming to reinforce his pathetic attempt at being frightening at the mention of his boss's name. "Pavel is not happy to be put off so you can stick your dick in American pussy," he argued. My fury exploded into full-blown rage at the mention of Isa in such a manner. Even without her name, she was far too good to even exist in his world. "If you're so hard up for a sweet ass, I'm sure Pavel will be happy to sell you someone that suits."
Grabbing the chef's knife off the counter, I held it out and pointed it at him as I took slow, measured steps toward him. He backed up a step, snatching his own knife from next to him as my face morphed into a grin. His uncoordinated lunge for my face was easy to evade with a step to the side as I slammed my free hand down on top of his forearm at the same time I hit him in the face with the hilt of the knife.
Another jab of the knife hilt against the back of his hand loosened his grip on his weapon, and I forced his fingers flat as I shoved it away from his grip. He groaned as I pressed his fingers to lay against the surface, realizing my intent too late and trying to push me off.
With a grunt of annoyance, I stabbed through the back of his hand and into the cutting board beneath, pinning him still. He howled his pain through the kitchen, trying to bend his fingers but finding it impossible with the chef's knife protruding from his flesh.
He'd have one less to worry about soon enough.
I grabbed the knife he'd released, touching the edge of the blade against his pinky finger and pressing down slowly. There wasn't much meat to finger bones when cutting them off, only a little give before the crunch of bone severing vibrated against the knife and it hit the cutting board on the other side.
Slicing his hand open further in his fit to escape, he screamed as blood pumped out of the hole where his finger had once been.
"The next time you so much as mention her, it will be a much larger appendage that I take from you, and I will rip
