Sasha: A Dark Mafia Romance (Belles & Mobsters)
Sasha: Chapter 23

I sat in my hotel room with an unlit cigarette in my hand.

My whole body buzzed with the need to fight, kill, or just beat some poor schmuck and get this frustration out. I was one of the best killers on this goddamn planet, and I couldn’t replace a woman in the same city.

My muscles tightened, revolting at the images that played in my mind. I’d already decided I’d kill the motherfucker who touched her.

I fucking hated people touching what was mine. And the thought of another man or a woman hearing Branka’s moans was enough to send me into a fucking rage.

A visceral, violent type of rage.

Fuck Vasili and the promise he wrung out of me. I should have just killed Branka’s father years ago and taken her for mine. Who in their right mind could stop me? Fucking nobody!

Her nails belonged on my skin. Her moans belonged to me. And her pussy definitely belonged to me. Yeah, the girl didn’t know it. But she would. Very soon. The need to have her raged inside me, hot and unrelenting. It was probably the fallout from such a long goddamn abstinence.

Where was she? Was he touching her? Was she moaning his name?

That alone was enough to snap my control and turn my blood to fire. Her soft moans as I remembered them played on repeat in my mind. The anger burned so strong it stole my fucking breath. I’d lost it. I stood up to my full height and sent the coffee table flying through the room. It smashed through the window and disappeared from my sight. The sound of shattering glass was barely audible through the buzzing in my ear. The bed followed. Then the sofa.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Vasili’s voice penetrated the red haze suffocating my brain.

His eyes traveled over the room and now that some sanity returned, I followed his gaze. I’d destroyed every goddamn piece of furniture in the room. The little mini-bar was shattered, the glass scattered across the floor and the scent of alcohol filling the room.

“I’m re-decorating,” I answered in a calm voice.

He gave me an incredulous look, then returned his attention to the destroyed room. “You’re decorating a fucking hotel room?”

“It needed improvement,” I told him calmly, standing in the midst of a room that looked like it had undergone a demo project.

“I’d recommend not quitting your day job,” he said dryly. “Your decorating skills suck.”

I flipped him the bird, turned on my heel, and headed out.

My brother’s hand wrapped around my forearm. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes traveled around the room.

“Yeah, it looks like nothing,” he muttered sarcastically. “What did you and Autumn talk about back at the restaurant?” he demanded to know.

“Sucky weather in Canada.” His vein pulsed, his anger rose, and I held his gaze. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind sparring with him now. It’d blow off some of this steam.

“Goddamn it, Sasha. Tell me you kept your promise and kept away from Alessio’s sister.”

A sardonic breath left me. It was that stupid promise that had me losing the fucking control over the situation.

“I kept the stupid promise, Brat.” Brother.

“What the fuck is going on between you and Alessio’s woman?” He studied me, his expression exasperated. “Tell me you don’t have a hard on for Alessio’s woman. That won’t go well.”

I scoffed. He got it so fucking wrong. They always got it all wrong. Although something about the way Vasili watched me told me he was onto me.

“There is nothing between me and Alessio’s woman.”

Only his sister.