My EX's Mafia Twin

5. Accepting reality [Part 1]

5. Accepting reality.

Katarina.

I haven't slept at all when the door opens and an older woman enters. I don't even make an effort to ask her for help, I am aware that it wouldn't do any good. I decide to pick my battles and at the moment there are none that I can win.

I need to regain my strength.

So I remain impassive and obedient. The woman unties me and points out to me in barely understandable Russian the food she has left on one of the room's dressers. And while she picks up the mess Killian and I left behind, I eat in silence, making no effort to communicate with her.

I doubt Demyan sent someone who speaks my language, this woman barely knows Russian and although with effort I understand the language, I never managed to speak it, a fact that always bothered my mother.

With no way to communicate with anyone, I just nod when she points to the bathroom and I think I understand the word shower.

Demyan Ivanov wants me to shower and get ready?

Jumm... that's a battle I can win.

I suspect what he wants me for and if it involves my physique, he'll forcibly have to dress me up.

I wander around the room until it gets dark, the woman brings me dinner and furrows her eyebrows when she sees that I'm still as ragged as before. I eat dinner again in silence and when I finish, I move to the window.

I know I'm in Russia, I don't have to ask to know. And even though my mother is Russian, I never set foot in Russia... until now.

Dropping down to sit on the small balcony by the window, I gather my legs and hug them as I gaze at the scenery before me.

Looking back on my life, I understand the rejection I received from both families.

The Campbells never wanted me because I was not their blood.

The Volkovs never wanted me because I carry the blood of a murderer.

And I guess for the Ivanovs I'm not good enough.

I blink, lay my cheek on one knee and keep looking outward, locked in this golden cage, but the truth is that I was always locked in a cage. My feelings, my emotions, all my feelings, I knew how to cage them in a firm prison until I became an actress of my own life.

And the man who always saw right through me, who I never knew how to act with and who brought out the wild side I always wanted to repress, is right here, pulling the strings like the best puppeteer in the world.

But he forgets something.

Just as he was always the only one who knew how to see through me, I'm the only one who can see through him, how f****d up he's always been inside.

Maybe that's why we dislike each other so much.

Maybe that's why the attraction between us was always a liability.

Maybe that's why the mutual hatred.

He can read me as well as I can read him and that in our minds is just a weakness.

I need to focus, see through that indifference he tries to show and get to his weak spot. Because Killian must have a weak spot, we all do and I need to know what his is.

I close my eyes, thinking.

Right now, I wish I could talk to someone, at least just one person. But I have to accept my fate, the loneliness of my soul. And that no matter how indispensable I am to someone, that doesn't mean they will be to me. I must face this as I have always faced it all my life.

Alone.

I hear the door open and immediately I know it's him.

I almost always feel it when he's in the same room, I feel the dark aura that envelops him and I hate how my skin seems to be in sync with his presence.

A shiver runs through me and I concentrate on looking out the window, ignoring his presence.

"You look like a pauper," he says as dispassionate as ever.

I turn my face more to avoid facing him, feeling my long hair fall down my waist and back, serving as a curtain and hiding most of my body from him.

I jump when I feel his hand push my long tresses away from my back and side, revealing to his view my hunched body. Killian pulls my hand away, which was held to my shoulder for support, takes it from my fingers gently and then lays it in his lap. I watch all this out of the corner of my eye, still not giving him a face.

Killian leans back on his knees, in a pose so casual I want to grab another glass and stab it between the eyes.

"I know you're looking at me," he whispers.

I roll my eyes and with my hand still in his, I turn, facing the window as he begins to dress my wound again. My arm remains outstretched in his direction, but I continue to stare out the window. I have murderous desires. The fact that I can't kill him or hurt him badly only makes me more psychotic.

It's strange, I've never wanted to kill someone.

Only him.

No one has ever made me feel enough, so it's no wonder this deep hatred can only be brought on by Killian Colleman.

Fucking psycho.

He's turning me into a psychopath just like him.

Killian releases my hand and leans closer to me, this time he grabs my hips with strong hands and turns me around, throwing my legs in his direction, my feet landing on his clothed thighs. I sink my thumbs into his skin through the jean fabric, wanting to hurt, but only I hurt myself.

He lifts my foot to his face, making me fall backwards, so my elbows come down and hold the fall.

Fucking asshole.

Killian stares at the sole of my foot, seems satisfied with what he finds and moves on to the other as he says, "They'll heal fast, you didn't hurt yourself too bad."

I throw my leg out and smash my foot into his face... hard.

He leans back, one hand on his nose and I can already see a trickle of blood running down his bearded jaw.

I narrow my eyes at him and turn again, turning my back to him to continue facing away from him.

"I swear to God, Katarina..."

"You don't believe in God."

"I'll need to believe in something in order to deal with you."

"f**k you."

I hear him snort and we both remain silent for long seconds, until the sly son of a b***h slips one arm under my knees, the other under my back and lifts me up, walking straight for the bathroom.

"Put me down!"

He lowers me down, sitting on the empty Jacuzzi. In one nimble movement, he climbs on top of me, one knee on either side of my hips and his hands catch my outstretched wrists on the ceramic of the huge tub.

I throw my head back, glaring at him angrily.

"Do I need to tie you up again, Katarina?"

"Shall I cut off your d**k?"

"Then tie you up it is."

And the motherfucker pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and so surprised am I by his action, that when I snap out of my daze, I'm already firmly cuffed, my arms outstretched while he's still on top of me.

"Killian..." I whisper through my teeth, the sound coming out of me more like a hiss.

His eyes drop to my mouth and he blinks slowly before meeting my eyes again.

"Do you want to die?"

I look away, ignoring his question.

"Your father..." he starts.

"Demyan" I correct.

"Your father gave strict orders for you to bathe and be dressed shortly, be thankful he went out for a meeting, you don't want to know what a man of his kind does when he's disobeyed."

"A man of your own ilk, you mean?"

A dark smile stretches his lips.

"No, honey," he denies, "I'm worse than him."

"Asshole."

"But he's in charge now, so if you don't want to piss off the boss, just f*****g obey, Katarina. Don't make things harder than they already are."

"I'll never make it easy for you."

"Then you'll suffer more."