Russian Bastard | A Mafia Novel ✧

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Zeke

"So where do you want to go first?" He asked her as they walked back hand-in-hand back to the heart of Saint-Tropez.

"Hmm..." Tatiana pondered. "Well, you vacationed here with your mother as a child right?"

"Yes." He replied monotonously as they continued walking down a busy street.

"Show me where you had your best memories?" She said in a question. "I'd love to see where little Zeke had some of his best memories here."

He gave her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, my mother would always be busy with events and interviews so I was left by myself a lot, doesn't make for a lot of best memories."

She bit her pouty lips, the very lips that he wished dearly he could bite himself, but he kept himself in check. He didn't know what it was about her, but she always invaded his thoughts, day in and out. When she wasn't with him, he was always worried for her safety, the worry only disappearing when next he sees her.

When he was with her, he couldn't help himself but to always touch her; to hold her hand in his or to wrap her arm around her slender waist, to have some sort of contact to her warm skin that just reassured him that she was there with him, and that this beauty wasn't some sort of figment of his imagination.

"I'm sorry." She said, snapping him out of his daze, understanding in her eyes.

He brought her hand up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss while staring up at her eyes. He heard her sharp intake of breath and he hid his smirk behind her knuckles, his lips lingering there. He loved knowing that she was just as affected by him as he was by her.

"But," Zeke began, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Doesn't mean I didn't have fun sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night and running into the city." He smirked, pulling her along with him.

***

"You snuck in here when you were fourteen years old?" Tatiana asked in a deadpan, unimpressed.

"I was a troubled child." He defended as they walked into the very calm yet sensual atmosphere of a strip club.

"Why are we here, Zeke?" She inquired. He had already shown her various places in the town. The shops, the market where they bought plenty of little snacks, and a small park where they watched little children play on swings and slides while they ate the food they bought, making small conversation. He didn't miss how her attention would sometimes drift away from his and onto the playing children, an unidentifiable look on her face.

He knew that taking his soon to be wife to a strip club wasn't exactly what normal boyfriends do. If he can even call himself her boyfriend. Fiancé definitely but they haven't talked about where they stood in their relationship. He made a mental note to himself to make sure to talk to her about it.

In any case, he brought her there because he wanted her to meet someone special.

"There's someone here I want you to meet." He gave her a small smile as he continued to hold her hand, pulling her deeper into the building.

It's been years since he last stepped foot into it, yet the atmosphere remained the same. The walls held their usual dark burgundy color with dark gold trimmings, the air full of expensive Cuban cigar smoke. The floor was mapped with dark hardwood that was covered in a deluxe 1900s carpet where women of all shapes and sizes strutted in high-heeled stilettos.

He ignored it all, however, and bypassed all the men and women whose eyes had fallen on them when they had entered, heading straight to the office hidden behind grand curtains that would've made New York broad way jealous.