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Anastasia Lenkov wants to live a normal life as a nurse after escaping her old, brutal life. But her past keeps catching up with her. She is on the run from the Russian mafia, because her father, the boss, will n...
TW: Sexual harassment, torture & mention of sexual assault(attempted rape)
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'Wind' was the first word that came to my mind as I stepped off the plane, Antonio close behind me. Slowly I walked down the stairs that would lead me to the safe ground.
I watched as a man dressed in a suit at the bottom of the stairs held out his hand to help me down the last few steps. My heeled shoes clicked on the metal material of the stairs and a long white summer dress fluttered around my legs.
The stubborn Italian who was most likely walking behind me had laid it down for me before we left and told me I looked beautiful in the dress and to put it on if I wanted to.
And now here I am - in Tula. Dressed in this very dress.
It was even warm in the middle of the year, although a bit windy.
I reached out my hand and laid it in the glove-covered hand of the man. He closed it around mine and helped me down until my feet touched the ground. Immediately after, he gently released my hand and looked behind me, his head tilted respectfully in the direction of the man trailing me.
Antonio was silent. All the time on the plane he was busy reading a book. A reinforcing factor for his quietness was that we were alone on the plane, which made me wonder where all the others were. Not even Raffaele, Luca or Thomas were here.
The Italian behind me also stepped down on the ground next to me, book in his right hand. I don't know what kind of book it was, but what I do know is that he had been studying it the whole flight. It seemed to be interesting.
I felt his hand wrap around my waist and he pulled me toward him so that I was pressed against his side. I stroked with my right thumb over my left palm.
"You're nervous." He whispered close to my ear before lightly scraping past my earlobe with his teeth.
I pulled my head away from him, but the hand at my waist prevented me from backing away from him. He chuckled low. I was indeed nervous - my hands had been shaking slightly since we landed here.
"No." I muttered.
He stopped, consequently I came to a stop as well. The Italian raised an eyebrow and looked down at me, "Why are you nervous?" His voice was kept low, genuinely concerned.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see people loading up the jeep with our luggage.
I exhaled deeply and blinked up at him. I felt his other hand, clutching the book just as his other hand slid to the small of my back, pressing me to him in an embrace.
My palms rested on his chest before I spoke, "I haven't been here in a while. I'm on the wanted list. People are looking for me, Tony. Important people. Now that I'm here they'll do anything to get to me. That could handicap our whole mission."
