He's Strong. He's Hot. He's Foreign. (And He's in the Mafia?)

“Can you be on time tonight Peter?” I asked with quiet desperation, lying back on our bed as Peter walked out of the bathroom, with only a towel around his waist. It had only been one month since I had moved in with Peter and I was already growing weary of him sneaking back into our bedroom at midnight or later when he said he’d be back at ten.

“We’ll see, Janey,” he sighed, taking off his towel and slipping on a pair of boxer shorts, towel-drying his hair.

“What do your tattoos mean?” I asked, studying the spider web on shoulder, the chains across his back, the cathedral pillars on his chest, and the crude stars down his legs that stopped at his knees. I had always thought tattoos were sexy, especially on Peter, but all tattoos had their meanings.

“What? Don’t you like them?” he said, a mischievous smirk on his face. He sat down on the side of the bed, his hands on either side of me, trapping me.

I nodded, trailing my fingers over his chest, tracing the ornate pillars, finding myself lost in their intricate design. He stared at me, a gentle expression on his face, “I love you,” he murmured, gripping my hand that was on his chest.

“I love you too,” I giggled as he leaned in and kissed my neck.

“Mmm…my darashya,” he growled, kissing up my neck and to my lips, kissing me fiercely.

“You’re wet,” I laughed as his damp body pressed up against me, his wet hair dripping into my face.

“I could say likewise,” he murmured, sliding a hand down my stomach, getting dangerously close to my underwear.

“Peter…” I breathed, gripping his hand, “Not now.”

“Don’t tell me we’ll become one of those couples that actually schedules sex,” he chuckled, kissing my ear, pinning my arms above my head with one hand.

“I just wanna talk to you…I’ve been thinking…” I said, my voice growing hoarse as I felt his hand go further down my body.

“Is it really that important, honey?” he purred, reaching back up to hold my cheek in his hand.

I thought for a moment and nodded, ignoring the fact that Peter just had my heart beating a thousand times a second. Peter sighed and turned over, lying down beside me. He outstretched his arm and said, “Come here Janey.”

I gave him a weak smile and snuggled closer to him, allowing Peter to wrap his arm around me and pull me tight against him, “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I feel like I don’t know you,” I mumbled, resting my hand on his chest, over the top of the biggest pillar.

“What are you talking about, Jane? You’re the one who knows me the most,” Peter said, stroking my hair.

“Nuh uh…” I mumbled, digging my head under his shoulder, loving how safe I felt in his embrace, “You know me the most, but it seems like whenever I ask you something, it always seems like you’re evading something.”

“I’ve told you about my life honey,” Peter whispered, his lips against my hair, “You know everything.”

“Then what about these tattoos?” I asked, running my hand down the pillar, tracing it with my finger.

“Russian tradition, my brothers have similar ones,” Peter explained, rubbing my shoulder, “Just because I’m not an open book doesn't mean I’m not willing to tell you things, my darashya, have a little faith.”

“I have all my faith in you, Peter,” I whispered, closing my eyes. Peter chuckled and leaned in, giving me a sweet kiss, “I love you so much it hurts.”

“Mmm…it hurts me more…” I whispered before falling asleep under Peter’s embrace.

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“What’s the bitch’s name again?” I heard a coarse voice with a strong Russian accent ask as soon as I regained consciousness. However, I could not see, speak or move. All I could do was struggle against the bonds that held me.

“Jane, maiden name Xavier,” another, smoother voice responded, “And only twenty one years old.”

“So Peter is cradle-robbing now? And I can see why,” I felt a hand go through my hair, making me scream out against my gag and begin to kick more violently, tears streaming down my face.

“Shut up,” the voice growled. I felt a sharp slap against my cheek, making the chair fall back and hit the floor. My head knocked against the floor with a loud thump, making my ears ring and all of my resistance cease.

“You make sure she stays here, if we don’t have her for bait we have fucking nothing,” the man growled, giving me a sharp kick in my side, making me scream out.
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After the door slammed, I heard footsteps coming towards me and a much gentler hand on my head, removing my gag, making me cough and splutter.

“There…now don’t scream or I’ll have to put it back on,” the smooth voice said. He sounded British.

“Who the fuck are you?” I breathed.

“Well, my dear, my name is Ben, and to be honest, Markov might kill you if you thrash about like that again,” he explained calmly.

“Peter will kill the both of you when he finds me,” I growled, my voice shaking. I could hear him smirk.

“How about you stay still so you don’t have to be lying on the floor?”

I calmed down long enough for him to pick me up off the floor and set my chair back up, “There you are, now do you promise not to have another fit if I take your blindfold off?”

“That depends…how ugly are you?” I spat, making him laugh.

“You’re a charming girl, aren't you?”

Ben removed my blindfold and my settings became visible to me. The room I was in was surprisingly bright, painted a solid cream color with two windows that drowned the room in sunlight. But besides the windows, there was not much else. There was a twin bed with white sheets, a dresser, and a sink with a mirror. I had taken all of this in before looking up at the man standing before me. Nearing his thirties, he was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, his hair slicked back. He looked kind of handsome.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked softly.

“It’s just business, my dear, nothing personal,” he replied simply, “But to tell you the truth, I have no idea where Markov is going with this, while you may offer considerable leverage to the youngest Dombrovski…to the family as a whole, to be honest they’d drop you in a second.”

“You don’t think I already know that?” I muttered, “Peter will come, just wait.”

Ben sighed and stared at me, almost pityingly. Before he could say anything, a huge, husky man with oily hair and a cigarette between his lips barged in, a gun in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

“Miss Dombrovski, would you like to make your phone call?” Markov chuckled, his voice a deep growl.

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Peter’s POV

I leaned against the elevator walls in impatience. Arguing with Father for half the day made it seem so much longer. I hope I hadn't kept Jane waiting too long.

“Jane?” I called out as I walked through the doorway, taking off my jacket and throwing my keys on the table, “I made reservations at that restaurant you liked…Janey?”

It looked as if she hadn't even come home. Her bag was not flung carelessly on the couch as it always was after she had come home. She was not in the kitchen, baking with a vengeance or passed out in our room. Then, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. It was labeled as “unknown”. My heart began to beat faster as I answered, an extreme sense of dread coming over me.

“Hello?”

“Do you love your wife, Peter?” a familiar voice came through the speaker. Markov had her. Viktor had been right.

“Where the fuck is she?” I growled, every muscle in my body tight. This is when the instinct really kicked in. Every time I killed someone I imagined that he was trying to hurt Jane. Now, that feeling was real and it burned inside of me.

“Why don’t you let her tell you herself? She’s been dying to talk to you,” Markov snickered. I heard a sharp yelp in the distance, then shaky breathing through the phone.

“Jane?! Baby is that you?!” I asked, my voice cracking. She sounded so scared.

“Peter…” she stuttered, “I l-love you.”

“I love you too,” I whispered. Tears stung in my eyes and I blinked furiously to keep them back. I had to be strong for her.

I heard Markov’s voice whispering as though his face was right beside hers, making my face curl into a snarl, “Now tell him what we want, sweetheart.”

“They said that they want two million dollars and…and…” Jane began to sob, but was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a hand smacking a face followed by a loud thump. I could have ripped him to shreds.

“You’ve had held the drug cartel in this city for too long, Dombrovski, and me and my associates ain't taking orders from you anymore, so all you have to do is discontinue any business you’re running in this city, and you’ll get your sweetheart back, right?” Markov said, lowering his voice to a deep rumble.

I took a deep breath, composing myself, “My father would never comply with that deal. Jane is just another girl to him, easily disposable. You’re bargain will be worthless to him.”

“Well then you better start persuading, Mr. Dombrovski, because if you don’t stop your business, you’ll soon be without a Mrs.,” Markov purred.

“I will find you, and when I do, I swear to God I will tear you apart like I should have done years ago! My father was stupid to think you could be trusted!” I shouted, feeling myself losing it. My veins were pulsing and all I wanted to do was end this demon’s existence.

“Just think of it this way, every second you waste looking for me, your little girlfriend comes closer and closer to a bullet being shot through that pretty little head of hers,” Markov said. I could just see an evil grin curling around his lips.

I grew silent. Not even a week had gone by since the wedding and now this. It was my fault Jane was in the clutches of my most sadistic rival.

“I will not sleep until I find you and I kill you,” I growled, my jaw set.

There was a small whimper, which was hidden by Markov’s bark of laughter. “Say goodbye to your husband, my dear, this just might be the last time you ever do,” he growled, thoroughly enjoying Jane’s pained sobs, which were breaking my heart.

“Save me,” Jane cried, her breathing hoarse.

“I’m coming to get you, darashya,” I said, “Don’t you worry.”

The last thing I heard was Jane screaming before an abrupt dial tone. I lowered the phone from my ear, breathing heavily, before letting out a scream of pure rage and throwing it against the wall. The last time I had destroyed my Blackberry, Jane had been safe in my arms. And now she was gone.