ROSE
A week passed by as Lev unlocked his car, a Maserati that was parked in the underground parking lot of the hotel.
He led me to his car, opening the door for me, and I stepped inside, thanking him while a blush crept over my cheeks.
Lev closed the door, and took his own seat, at the driver seat. He started the engine, and began to drive through the busy city.
The sun shined in my eyes because it was another clear and warm day.
"Do you really want to go back?" Lev asks, turning left, driving the car smoothly with only one hand.
No, I never want to go back there.
"I have to. I have to face Damian and Marcella." I responded, wishing I could stay with him, but he was driving me back to Damian's penthouse.
"You don't have to face them. You cannot face people who will never respect your personal boundaries." He explains.
There was bustling traffic during lunch, but Lev managed to make his way through.
"If only it was that easy..." I mumbled, looking out the window at the large city buildings.
I changed the subject because of the sudden silence in the car.
"So... tonight you are going back to Russia?" I questioned while biting down on my lower lip because I knew he was going back to Russia.
I wanted to stay with him, I wanted to follow him back to Russia.
"Да." He answered in russian, and I had been close to him these past two weeks to know what it meant.
Yes, he was going back.
"Oh, okay..." I lowered my gaze to my nails, the urge to fidget with the flesh around my nails was strong.
I hadn't scratched the skin around my nails the entire time I was with him, for two weeks, each time he saw me doing it, he held gently into my hand and he asked me questions.
'Are you still reading books?'
He asked me because that night when my parents switched me with Marcella. I had woken up, crying and panicking. I didn't know where I was, and Lev had began asking questions calmly, and he got to know how much I loved books.
'Do you still hate scotch?'
That night when I was in Russia, in his mansion, he had been drinking a glass of scotch and the nineteen-year-old me was dehydrated after getting kidnapped by my parents.
I sprung from the bed, took the glass from him and started to cough because it was strong and disgusting.
He ended up chuckling, but ended up giving me water along with strawberries dipped in chocolate.
'How many dresses should I buy, when I come to visit you?'
Lev also noticed my love for dresses because he took me to a shopping mall in Russia.
A mall in which he had rented for an entire day, and we walked for hours, while he bought me dresses.
I sighed at the memories, how could any man compare to Lev Mikhaylov?
I really didn't want to leave him, especially after everything he did for me, killing Marcella's friend because the guy tried to harm me.
Lev was one of the very few powerful men in the world, he was the Pakhan of the Bratva, and other powerful men kneeled at his feet.
But because of his massive power, he had a business and an organization to lead, he couldn't stay with me.
I discreetly began scratching around the skin around my fingernails, because the thought of not seeing him for a while hurt.
Perry was my home, but Lev was my safe haven.
Out of nowhere, a hand was placed on top of mine.
Lev had placed his hand on top of mine to stop me from scratching the skin around my nails.
I held into his hand as he gave me a gentle squeeze, and I looked down at my lap where his hand and my hand were intertwined.
I wish this had a deeper meaning for him.
Our hands stayed like that until we arrived next to Damian's penthouse. He parked the car, turned off the engines and stepped outside.
He walked around the car, opening the door for me, and reached his hand out. I grabbed his hand, holding into it, as he led me out of the car and closed the door.
We were standing on the sidewalk, next to Damian's penthouse, facing each other.
I tilted my head up, he was six foot five, compared to my five-foot six height.
Lev placed one hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly, as his eyes met mine.
"Never hesitate to call me. I may be across the world, but that doesn't mean I won't pick up your calls and come to you." Lev's words made the butterflies in the pit of my stomach awaken.
My breath got caught in my throat, and all I could do was give him a slow nod.
"Do you understand? Never hesitate to call me." Lev repeated because he knew me.
He knew that I would only stare at his phone number, but never call him.
"Yes..." My voice came out as a mere whisper as I helplessly gazed at him.
Lev's pitch black hair was thick and smooth, effortlessly combed back. My gaze trailed lower to his dark eyebrows, that matched his blue hooded eyes, which were a particular shade of dark, intense and appealing.
My eyes drifted lower, to his sharp jawline, especially on his slight stubble. I had an urge to trace my fingertips along the slight stubble on his face, and... along his lips.
"Дорогая?" His voice drew me from my thoughts of how handsome he was and how much I wanted him. (Translation: Dear, Love etc.)
"I promise to call you." I uttered, slowly wrapping my hands around his neck, placing my head on his shoulder while breathing in his masculine perfume that cost a fortune.
"Good girl," He says, wrapping his hands around my lower back and pulling us closer together.
I didn't want to let go of him. I couldn't let go of him. He was my safe haven.
But I had to, Lev wasn't mine, so I pulled away from him, and he seemed dejected.
I gave him a small smile, but hidden behind that smile was sadness. I told him goodbye as I made my way into the building.
Lev didn't leave the spot next to his car, not until he saw that I safely made my way inside the building of Damian's penthouse and once the elevator closed, did he only step inside his car and drive away.
I leaned my back against the wall of the elevator as it took me to the highest floor.
Once the elevator reached the highest floor, I stepped out, but I wished I could return to Lev, especially of what was happening in the living room.
Marcella was in the living room, a handkerchief pressed to her nose as she sobbed. On the coffee table in front of her was a picture of her friend that was brutally murdered last week.
The same friend that had tried to harm me, and chased after me like a maniac through the streets.
"I can't believe you're gone..." Marcella cried, sniffling into the handkerchief as she talked to the photo frame.
I covered my hand over my mouth because I had a strong urge to laugh.
Damian was sitting beside her, rubbing his hand on her back while he comforted her.
"It's okay, he will always live in your heart." Damian comforted her.
I couldn't believe those words left his lips because they were too funny for me, I even wanted to tell them that Lev killed him, killed Marcella's friend.
But I wouldn't expose Lev, never, he had saved me.
I walked past the living room where the married couple was sitting, ignoring them, but I only needed to take one step on the stairs, and I was yelled at.
"Where have you been?!" Damian's voice echoed throughout the entire living room once he spotted me.
I was going to mind my own business as I took another step, heading towards the second floor.
"Fucking bitch." Marcella spat under her breath and I never wanted to punch somebody so much.
"You have been gone for two weeks?!" Damian's shouting covered Marcella's spiteful words.
I had enough of them as I turned around, facing them. Damian had stood up from the couch while Marcella was clinging to his arm.
"Why do you care? You have my sister by your side, so why do you care where I have been?" I say in a calm tone, yelling at them was not worth my energy or voice.
"Because you are my wife!" Damian shouted, pointing his index finger at me.
"Oh, how romantic! I think all wives in the world would enjoy their husbands cheating on them with their half-sisters." I say in a dramatic voice.
"He's not cheating on you! He was never yours to begin with." Marcella tried to defend hers and Damian's relationship.
"You have no right to be acting like a spoiled, jealous bitch," She says, and I was grateful for the distance between me and the couple.
"No wonder dad is always disappointed in you. He can't handle how jealous you always are of me." Marcella added.
I lost it and yelled at her, "How am I acting like a spoiled jealous bitch? When you locked me in the restroom, and allowed your friend to try and rape me?"
"Marcella, you're a horrible sister-" I couldn't even finish my sentence because I felt a hard hand collide with my cheek.
Somebody had slapped me across my face, so hard that I knew it would be swollen and red.
My parents had entered the penthouse at some point during our fight, but my father had unexpectedly come after me and slapped me.
I placed a hand on my cheek because one thing my father had never done towards me, was to lay his hands on me.
This was a first.
"Rose, don't ever talk about your sister like that, she doesn't deserve it." My father stood in front of me, he was furious.
My mother rushed over to Marcella's side because she was crying about how I would never come to see her as a sister.
"Rose, go and apologize to your sister!" He raised his voice at me while I stood speechless and stunned because my father had never hit me, but he hit me.
"If I won't apologize to her, will you hit me again?" I ask.
"I will, if you won't listen to me." He answers, his voice holding no shame or guilt.
"Then, I guess I don't have a father anymore." I turned around, not allowing myself to cry in front of them as I headed to my bedroom.
My family was always the hardest to deal with, especially with a daughter they never cared for.