Russian Tattoos Obsession by Kat Shehata

Author:Kat Shehata [Shehata, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B018RVC5YM
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2016-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

Houseguest

I sank into the tub and corralled the bubbles to shield my nakedness. How could I face Boris? He warned me not to rat him out to Vladimir, but there was no way I could shake off the assault and act like everything was okay. Everything was not okay.

After I cleaned up, I hopped to the bedroom, dressed in fresh clothes, and strapped on the air cast left out for me on the bed. Still in shock, I sat on the floor, crossed my legs, and practiced an Ujjayi breathing technique I’d learned in yoga to calm my nerves. I had to stop shaking; I was stuck there. I had no choice.

Dad wouldn’t be home with the family for three more days. In that time, I had to play it cool and hopefully things would go back to the way they were before I had been violated.

I willed myself to open the bedroom door and make my way to the kitchen, but I didn’t have enough energy to pick myself up off the ground. I felt like every muscle in my body had been removed, and what was left was a fleshy pile of shlyukha matter. I curled myself up into a ball on the floor, breathing as deeply as I could manage between gasps to fuel my body with oxygen. Someone knocked on the door.

“How is my poor, injured girl?” Vladimir knelt beside me and rubbed my back.

“I’m fine. Just trying to get my blood flowing.” My voice cracked.

He sat next to me on the floor, cradled me in his arms, and rocked me gently to calm me down. If Vladimir had been home when we got back, he would’ve protected me. Absolutely.

“What can I do, angel?” He kissed my cheek and stroked my hair. He hadn’t been affectionate with me since our special moment in my bedroom. I melted on his chest and welcomed his soothing embrace. In his arms, no one could hurt me—not even Boris.

“You’re light as a feather. Let’s get you some nourishment.” Vladimir helped me to my feet and guided me into the kitchen. Instead of eating at the bar, we sat at the breakfast nook by the balcony to watch the snow fall. I picked at the butter-laden potatoes, zucchini in cream sauce, and pickled beets loaded on my plate while Boris lurked around the kitchen, probably to make sure I wasn’t going to nark on him. Since the boss wasn’t crazy eyed, I doubted he had knowledge of the Leonardo stuff or what Boris had ordered that dirty old man to do to me.

If my instincts were correct, Boris had given Vladimir a revised version of The Incident to protect himself. When he came to my house he’d said, “I take my eye off you for one hour.” Hence, the big guy screwed up.

Vladimir eyed my plate. I choked down a few bites to stay off the emotional wreck radar, but I was traumatized and freaked out about sleeping at the house.

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