Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 58: Chapter 58

DESTINY
The cool dirt felt good beneath my torn jeans as I dug holes for Nonna’s basil plants. She was adding three more rows of herbs to the already impressive garden she’d planted in the back courtyard of the apartment complex she owned.
I’d finished recording for the day and had just come back from the city when I saw the old woman hauling bags of dirt outside. She had plenty of helpers, but Nonna wasn’t one to sit back and watch. But I managed to distract her by telling her I was hungry.
The woman had some sort of inner sensor and letting her know if anyone within a twenty-foot radius of her was hungry. Once she’d established that, it was only a matter of time before she had something homemade and delicious sitting in front of you.
“I’m going to go grab some more fertilizer from the truck. I’ll leave the side gate open,” Vince, the building manager, told me,
He and his wife were an absolute godsend. Trudy was inside with Nonna, mixing a pitcher of her special lavender lemonade, which I was completely addicted to. I wiped my brow, wondering if my tummy would cooperate with me today.
I hadn’t seen Marat in almost two weeks, and I wasn’t stupid. We’d had unprotected sex several times during our time together, but my period wasn’t regular.
The doctor diagnosed me with polycystic ovarian syndrome when I was in my twenties. The likelihood of me getting pregnant without the help of a fertility specialist was slim to none. But miracles did happen. I just wasn’t ready to find out just yet.
It was difficult enough just learning to live without him. Sure, I had Nonna, Vince, Trudy, Matt, Sofia’s father, and his sister, Linda. Everyone in the building was family by blood or marriage or choice.
It was a great mishmash of people, but it worked, and I was happy I was there. Even though it was only temporary. I mean, I couldn’t just plant myself in Nonna’s spare room and grow roots.
The sun was low in the sky, evening would settle soon, and I was not looking forward to another night alone. I missed Marat. I was so lonely even with all those people there.
I knew it was crazy, we’d only known each other for barely a couple of months, but goddamn, I missed him. Without his arms holding me at night, I slept fitfully. My dreams were horrible. More like nightmares.
My heart ached all the time. I felt so empty, I couldn’t focus. It was like my soul was crying out for him. Like that piece of me that bonded to him was stretched across oceans, across continents.
I was still tied to him. Even a world away. I still felt it, and I wondered if he did too.
I glanced down at my bare finger and teared up. I should have kept the ring. At least until we had the chance to talk.
Honesty. That was our rule number one. And I’d broken it. I’d hidden my real feelings from him, and I ran away like a coward. Lost in my own tumultuous feelings, I didn’t hear the gate open or notice the foul man creeping towards me until it was too late.
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”
I froze as a big, grubby hand closed around the back of my neck.
“I gotta say, you look like shit, Dollface.”
I turned my head, trying to shake off his hold, but he was strong. Immovable.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, his nasty mouth pressed against the side of my face.
Roger Royce’s stale breath invaded my nostrils, and I wanted to gag.
“Easy,” he grunted and tightened his hold when I tried to get away from him.
He pressed the barrel of his gun against my head. It was cold and hard, and it did nothing to instill a sense of calm in me.
Fear had me whimpering, and I hated the sound, hated Royce for causing it.
“I asked you a question, bitch.”
“No! I haven’t even thought about you since I left that job. Get the fuck off me,” I said, elbowing him in the side.
Royce grunted and pitched forward, but he recovered quickly, pulling my hair hard. I yelped at the pain as he dragged me towards the gate to where he likely had some vehicle to kidnap me.
To take me away from here. From Marat. Forever.
I struggled, but he pulled harder on my hair. I tried to lean into his hold to stop it from hurting. But I dragged my feet, using my weight to try to slow him down.
“What do you want with me?” I asked, gasping at the pain radiating through my head.
“What do I want? You stupid fucking bitch! You wanna know what I want? I want my life back,” he shouted in my ear, making my head hurt even more.
“I was somebody. I had money, power, girls, all at my disposal. Then your pretty boy had to go buy the club out from under Ferragamo. He fired all the managers, all the old bosses,” Royce said, and I was stunned.
“But don’t worry, Mr. Ferragamo has a special treat for him overseas,” Royce said, breathing in my ear as maniacal laughter sputtered from his chest.
Worry sliced into me. Real fear, the likes of which I’d never known filled me, but not for my situation.
I was scared for my husband. For Marat.
If Ferragamo was behind whatever emergency that sent Marat to Russia, it couldn’t be good.
God, no. Please no.
I knew the club owner was a former gangster. He likely still had connections.
Oh my fucking god.
This was all my fault.
Marat bought the club because of me.
He was in danger. He could be hurt all because of me.
“No! Please, Royce, you have to stop him. Call Ferragamo. I’ll do anything you say,” I begged and fell to my knees, forcing Royce to bend with his fist still wrapped around my hair.
“What are you doing? Get up,” he demanded, pointing his gun at me.
“Take your fucking hands off her!” a roar sounded from the gate.
I turned my head towards the familiar voice, no longer caring about Royce’s tight hold on my hair.
It was him. My very own fallen angel. My husband whose menacing beauty rivaled that of the Devil himself.
“Marat!”
I called out his name, so damn grateful he was whole, and he was here.
Marat was okay. And he was right here. But he was running straight into danger. I shouted a warning, and Royce fumbled with the gun.
But the bastard still managed to aim and squeeze the trigger. I screamed and slammed my fist into the side of his knee, causing him to buckle at the same time he fired the weapon.
The shot went wide, hitting one of the gnome statues Nonna had surrounding the garden like miniature sentinels. Shattered bits of concrete flew in every direction, but the broken gnome was still standing.
And so are we.
“Sonovabitch,” Marat snarled.
He slammed into Royce, knocking the squat man to the ground. Ironclad fury, brute dominance, and raw masculine energy vibrated from Marat.
Eyes wide as I couldn’t look away as my normally cool, calm, sophisticated husband beat the living shit out of my former manager.
Too close for my liking, I rolled away from the brawling men. Marat’s dark eyes were wild as he straddled Royce’s chest, raining his pain down on the man’s face and body.
Royce stopped struggling a while ago, but Marat’s anger was still going strong. A group of men in tactical gear came running into the courtyard, but he didn’t even flinch.
“Boss! We got him, boss!”
I exhaled, relieved they were on our side. Marat hit Royce one more time, and the crunch of bones breaking echoed in the courtyard.
My fallen angel stood up, his dangerous beauty a stark contrast to Royce’s destroyed face. He spared the man one last glance before his guards hauled him out of there.
I didn’t know where all the men had come from, but I was glad they were there to take over. My entire body hurt, and I realized tears were rolling down my cheeks.
I needed my husband. I needed Marat.
Adrenaline and fear, or maybe relief, had my body shaking like a leaf caught in a windstorm. Marat’s gaze found me with unerring accuracy, and he approached slowly, his chest still heaving.
His knuckles were cracked and bleeding, and there was splatter on his shirt and suit jacket. It was the first time I’d ever seen him looking anything but perfectly put together.
And he’d never look so good.
My heart squeezed with emotion, and it was all I could do not to throw myself at him.
“Destiny, Destiny,” he whispered, repeating my name like a prayer spilling from his beautiful lips.
“Are you good? Baby, talk to me. Are you hurt?” he asked, crouching down.
He raised his hands, arms wide, palms up, like I was a frightened animal he was trying to keep from bolting. But I wasn’t scared of him, and I wasn’t running.
Not anymore. Not after that.