I smile and close the distance between us, grabbing the front of his jacket as I push up on tiptoes. “No?” I press my chilled lips to his. “How about now?”

  He cocks a brow. “No. You’re freezing.” He tugs me closer, wrapping both arms around me. He’s wearing a thin jacket and a wool hat, that’s it. No gloves, no scarf.

  “How are you not cold?”

  He smirks. “Russia is much colder than this.”

  I shiver just thinking about it. I’m used to long, hot summers and mild winters. Sunshine and ocean winds and the scent of orange and lemon groves. I realize what Sasha has given up for me, to be with me.

  “Do you miss it?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “Russia, here, your home, the cold, your family…”

  He sweeps a strand of hair back beneath my hat. “Malyshka, you are my home, and you are my family.”

  My heart hiccups pathetically. “Una must miss you.”

  “Una has her own life. I didn’t know how to live outside The Elite. And then…I didn’t know how to live outside of her. I was a part of her life, but I didn’t have my own. I never wanted my own. Until you.” His eyes go distant. “I miss her as any brother would miss a sister, but I’d never come back here. Our life is…”

  “Good?”

  A tiny smile breaks through that hard exterior. “Better than good. Now, you ice skate. I’m going to walk the perimeter—”

  “No.” I snatch his hand and drag him toward the rink. “You are not. You’re skating with me.”

  “I do not indulge in such things.” He switches from a romantic to an icy soldier in a heartbeat.

  I don’t know why he argues with me. I always win.

  I expect him to be wobbly, legs in every direction, but of course, he’s perfectly balanced, graceful even, if I ignore the scowl on his face. He holds my hand, keeping me upright when my legs waver.

  “Smile, Sasha. Embrace a touch of normal.”

  “This is normal?”

  “Yes, look around you.”

  His scowl only deepens. “I don’t like normal.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine, five more minutes and we’ll go back to your sister’s house of psychopaths.”

  By the time we reach the Hamptons house, it’s getting dark. Snow clings to the once-green lawns, and the house sits amongst the winter wonderland like an image from a postcard. The driveway is crowded with cars, and as we step through the front door, I realize why. Even from here, I can hear the laughter and chatter coming from farther inside. This house feels so familiar to me, almost as much as my own home. I follow Sasha until he pauses in the living room doorway.

  As soon as he steps inside, Una’s attention is on him. She doesn’t smile, that would be too warm and mushy, of course. But she does push to her feet and cross the room to him.

  “Sasha.”

  “Una.”

  The man standing before me now is not the one I’ve come to know. It’s as though in her presence, he must remain everything he once was. There are two versions of him.

  The room is full of people. Gio, Jackson, Tommy, Nero, Dante, Una, and a man and woman I don’t recognize.

  Nero pours a glass of liquor and hands it to me, but I pass it to Sasha before going back for another. “You have him drinking?” Nero asks with a grin.

  I shrug. “I’m a bad influence.”

  “Oh no,” Jackson joins in, clapping his hands together on a laugh. “You’re a great influence.”

  Tommy stands up from his place on the sofa and pulls me into a hug. “I missed you,” he says.

  He then sits on the arm, giving me his seat. On the sofa to my left is a huge man, tattooed from head to foot. At first glance, he looks terrifying. He’s practically bursting out of his shirt, the buttons straining against enormous muscles. And cradled in his huge arms, is a child, a baby. He looks so at odds and yet fiercely protective. Next to him is a blond woman, so beautiful, she looks like a doll. Golden hair spills around her face in waves. Cornflower-blue eyes meet mine, and a small smile touches her lips. There’s a kindness to her, a softness, and yet her features are familiar.

  Nero places a new glass in my hand. “This is Rafael and Anna D’Cruze.” He points at the woman. “Una’s sister.” Now that he’s said it, I can see the similarities: the hard, perfect cut of her cheekbones, and though their eyes aren’t the same color, they’re both unusual. My mind catches on the name, D’Cruze. Rafael. “And their daughter Violet. This is Adelina Ricci.”

  The huge man smiles. “Ah, so this is the little girl causing all the trouble.” His accent is noticeable, though not thick. Spanish.

  “No more than you do,” Sasha grumbles from his position next to the fireplace. His back is to the wall where he can see the door, windows, and everyone in the room. Old habits die hard.

  “And you can endure him?” Rafael points at Sasha, a mocking smirk on his lips. “That is a feat.”

  “Rafael D’Cruze. The man who has stolen one of my customers,” I say with a smile.

  His eyes narrow on a smirk. “Fighting talk, pequeno. Though, as I recall, I was asked to take said customer as a favor.” He shrugs. “Favors demand payment.”

  His wife places a hand on his arm before taking the baby from him. “No business. We came here to spend Christmas with family.” She offers me an apologetic smile.

  “Speaking of business, who wants to play poker?” Nero’s gaze lands on Rafael, then Jackson, Gio, Tommy, and finally, Sasha.

  I place my drink down. “I’ll play.”

  Several sets of eyes land on me. “You sure about that?” Jackson asks, and I know he’s trying to bait me.

  I smile as I stand. “Afraid I’ll clean you out? You better have deep pockets.”

  He necks his drink. “Oh, you’re on.”

  We leave the room, and Nero, Gio, Jackson, Rafael, and I end up sitting at the dining room table. Sasha lingers to the side, and Tommy has wandered off. Anna and Una are somewhere, Una having voiced her distaste for “irrational gambling.”

  Stacks of chips sit in front of me, and Nero starts. We play a few hands, and I observe, just like I was taught. Allow them to think you’re weak. On the ninth game, I get a good hand. Jackson and Gio fold quickly, leaving just Nero and Rafael in the game. All three of us sit, determined, unwilling to fold.

  “How about a little wager,” I say casually, my eyes on my cards.

  “I’m listening,” Nero says.

  I lift my gaze, zeroing in on Rafael, then flicking to Nero. I have to involve him, given it’s the three of us left. “Whoever wins gets to keep Rosco Awega as a customer.” The customer Rafael stole from me because we stole him from Enrique. I am now the Bianchi mafia.

  Nero smiles, Rafael laughs. “I like her,” he says.

  “Business over poker, what could go wrong?” Sasha mumbles from his place in the corner. This isn’t just business, though. In this underground world we all find ourselves in, strength is respected. And respect is even harder to earn as a woman.

  One by one, we drop our cards. Nero drops a flush, and it figures, he won’t be overly concerned about winning a customer he doesn’t have and never did. Rafael puts four of a kind on the table, a smug smile on his face. I place my cards face up.

  “Straight flush. Pleasure doing business with you, Rafael.”

  The huge man sits back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he looks me up and down. “Please, my friends call me Rafe.”

  Nero claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t take it too hard, my friend. I once played with her father. The old man could hustle the best.”

  “The warning would have been great,” Rafe mumbles, and the guys all laugh.

  “Okay, now, no more business,” I say.

  “No more business.” Nero gets up goes to the sideboard.

  Opening a draw, he removes a silver tray. On it are several cigars and a cutter. Everyone picks up one. Nero offers me one, and I shake my head. They all light them, and the smell of the cigar smoke has a wave of nostalgia washing over me. It reminds me of my father. In a moment of weakness, a lump forms in my throat, and my chest gets tight.

  I push to my feet. “Excuse me.” I offer them a fake smile, hurrying from the room.

  The scent of the smoke clings to me. I just need some air, so I make my way through the house, grabbing my coat and hat, and pulling boots on before I slip out the front door. The gardens surround the entire house, a carpet of untouched white. Light spills through the windows, hitting the snow and making it glitter like thousands of tiny diamonds. It crunches beneath my feet as I make my way out to the back of the house. At the end of the garden is a fence, and in the distance, Manhattan sits, a bright jewel on the horizon. I close my eyes, embracing the utter silence that only comes with the snow. It’s as though the entire world is holding its breath, waiting to thaw.

  I hear footsteps behind me. I turn my head, a smile already on my lips as I expect to see Sasha. Instead, I find Una. A black coat clings to her tiny frame, a fur-lined hood almost covering her face. The snow illuminates her pale skin in the darkness. She looks…almost ethereal.

  “Una?”

  She doesn’t say anything, simply comes to stand beside me, her gaze trained on the scattering of stars in the night sky.

  “Thank you for inviting us here,” I say awkwardly. Truthfully, she scares me, and I never know what to say to her.

  “I wanted to speak with you,” she says. That’s never good, so I hold my breath, waiting. “I never thought Sasha would love anyone,” she starts.

  “He loves you.”

  “In a way, yes, but it is not the way he loves you.” She turns and looks at me, and reticently, I meet her intimidating gaze. “You broke him once.”

  “I never—”

  She holds her hand up. “I do not care for your problems, Adelina Ricci. Sasha is my brother in all but blood. In a world where it is hard to love or trust anyone, I have always loved him in our own way, and trusted him with my life. Many times. My methods may seem ruthless to you, but I would die for him. Break him again, and I will come for you.”

  “You don’t have to do the sister thing. I have no intention of leaving him. Ever.” I scuff my boot in the snow. “I know you don’t like me.”

  When I look up, her eyes sweep over me. “I respect you.” From her, that feels like a glowing commendation, although I don’t know what to say. “Welcome to the family.” She turns and walks away, just like that.

  I watch her until she rounds the corner of the house, disappearing from sight. I turn my attention back to the city in the distance. I came out here to clear my head, and now I’m not sure if I’m more confused or less. My breath fogs in front of my face, and the chilled air makes me shiver, but there’s something revitalizing about it.

  Warm breath washes over my neck, and I smile as lips caress below my ear.

  “How do you do that?” I whisper.

  “Do what?”

  “Approach without making a sound.”

  “Practice.”

  I turn to face Sasha, and he trails his knuckles down my cheek, eyes dropping to my lips. He seems so at one with his surroundings, a prince in a kingdom of ice. His hair, his eyes, his skin. He could almost be frozen.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asks.

  “Just clearing my head. Those guys are intense.” I jerk my thumb back toward the house.

  “They are. What did Una want?” he asks.

  “To warn me.”

  He cocks a brow. “Of what?”

  “Not to break your heart.”

  He cups my cheek, his hand surprisingly warm. “Well, you may be the only person in this world who could hurt me, malyshka.”

  I wrap my icy fingers around his wrist, holding him to me. “I’ll never leave you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  His lips brush mine. “I’m not.”

  “So sure of yourself,” I tease.

  “No, just sure of us.” He pushes his hand in his pocket. “I have a gift for you.”

  I frown as he produces a tiny box. My heart skips before he opens it. Inside is a ring made of two strands of silver and gold that criss-cross over each other before forming a knot on the top.

  “You’ve had a lifetime’s worth of meaningless proposals.” Waiting on his next words, I hold my breath. “This isn’t that. But take it as a promise of my devotion.” He slides it onto my finger, and I stare at the simple metal. It’s so Sasha. It’s perfect.

  I grab his face and brush my lips over his, inhaling his fogged breath. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  Our story is not pretty, but neither is life. I still have enemies, bigger and badder ones than Enrique Bianchi.

  I know there will be more battles to come, but I’m not alone. I have my monster. Always.

  Thank you so much for reading Adelina and Sasha’s story.

  If you’d like to read Nero and Una’s bloody love story, and get more of Sasha’s back story, KILL ME is available HERE.

  If you’d like to find out more about Ronan Cole and his cartel princess, BAD is available HERE.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading. Not every woman wants the conventional hero, and the perfect love story. So for that, I thank you, because no one would want to read my books otherwise!

  Behind every book is a team of people who helped bring it to life. There are so many people to thank for helping me with Loathe Me.

  Kerry Fletcher. Girl, you put up with so much. You’re like, part PA, part mother and part super hero. I love you!

  Danielle Dickson, thank you for your patience in designing my covers. I love this one.

  Stephie thank you for your vigilant editing.

  Stevie... I love you, whore.

  There are so many blogs and individuals who have helped me along the way and you are all hugely appreciated.

  There are so, so many people who have helped me, and you know who you are.

  I hope I haven’t missed anyone. Just know that anyone who has ever written a review, posted a teaser, or read any of my books...Thank you. Your ongoing support means the world.

  About the Author

  Sign up to LP Lovell’s newsletter and stay up to date: Join the Mailing List here.

  Lauren Lovell is a ginger from England. She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and apologise for afterwards. Her main goal in life is to make readers mildly disgusted and uncomfortably aroused at the same time.

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lplovellauthor

  Twitter: @Authorlplovell

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7850247.LP_Lovell

 

 

  LP Lovell, Love Me (Touch of Death Book 3)

 

 

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