Chapter 2 Handsome Stranger

Four weeks. That's the amount of time Olivia had with her family before she was whisked away. They couldn't even wait another fucking day. No, they had to go and spoil her birthday. And now she was hungover, bound and abandoned on the floor of some expensive jet. "Questo non faceva parte del piano." This was not part of the plan. Olivia's eyebrows furrowed, trying to focus despite her pounding headache. She tried reaching for her temples but her wrists were bound. Suddenly she realised that all her limbs were bound, including her thumbs. "Non sappiamo cosa stia pensando." We don't know what he's thinking She didn't know what they were saying, let alone what language it was. Spanish, Portuguese or Italian, she didn't know. "Quando suo fratello lo scoprirà, verrà a prenderla." When her brother finds out, he will come and get her. What the fuck were they saying? Were they talking about her? "Maxim è spietato." Maxim is ruthless. Her gaze hardened as she turned on her back and sat up, glaring at the men dressed in stewards' clothes and causing them to freeze in fear. "Keep my brother's name out your fucking mouth." Their gazes moved away from hers and up to something behind her, causing a cry of fear to leave their mouths as they ran off. She didn't understand why until a pair of hands slipped beneath her arms and suddenly she was carried like a child and gently put down on one of the expensive cream leather seats, forced to face the man of the hour. Olivia's hazel gaze hardened as they stared into those deceptive chestnut eyes of her captor, two guards standing behind him, each with a hand on their gun, obviously not trusting her despite the red silk that bound her wrists together. Even completely sober, she had to admit that her captor was handsome. Unlike her messy hungover state, he looked put together, his hair perfectly slicked back, cheekbones tall, jaw sharp, straight nose and sharp eyes. Everything about him was sharp and put together; everything she wasn't. "You're awake." Barely. Fighting her exhaustion, Olivia blinked and glared at him. But her heart was heavy with grief after what she'd witnessed him do just the previous night. "You killed Lazar." Lips tugging in amusement, he made a gesture to one of his men and a moment later a soaked rounded cotton pad was placed in his hand. "Unfortunately, fate had different plans with him. Now do you have any allergies?" Olivia shook her head as her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes remaining on his as Santino gently slid the product across her skin, gently wiping her skin off her makeup as he softly ran his fingers through her silky hair to tame it. "What do you mean? I saw you kill him." "You saw nothing," he hummed, watching her close one eye so he could wipe it free of makeup. The small action alone lit a fire in him that boiled his blood. She could be a good obedient girl when she wanted to, it seemed. "Tell me if the product irritates your skin." Olivia ignored his false concern. "You shot him; he fell." "He didn't die, principessa," Santino cooed, tucking her hair behind her small ears to calm her temper. "He's at the hospital being treated and your brother is already looking for you." Relief flooded through her at his words and her grief was flushed out of her system just like that. Lazar wasn't dead then. "Okay." His eyes turned into slits and with one simple gesture, the cotton pad in his hand was replaced with another. "Okay?" Was Lazar all she cared about? Who was he to her anyway? Olivia rolled her eyes and glared at him. He was making her sound so unsympathetic. "He's my brother's favourite." So it wasn't about her. It was about her brother. "You only care about Lazar then, huh?" Olivia shrugged. "I like him. He's nice." Unlike the boys in the Bratva, Lazar cared about keeping her safe for her brother. It wasn't about some ulterior motive. He'd supervised the men who guarded her during her teens and personally supervised her during events. Being her brother's second-hand, Lazar had practically seen her grow up. Most of the boys at her birthday would've died violent deaths anyway. She didn't know much about them other than they were supposed to carry out their duties when their fathers eventually died. Most of them she'd only briefly talked to once or twice, knowing she'd eventually be married off to one of them anyway. She knew what her purpose was, just like they knew what she meant for her brother at the end of the day. Olivia was simply property. At the end of the day, she'd be sold to the highest bidder. And this man in front of her had just stolen Maxim Morozov's most expensive piece of property. Gently swiping the cotton pad across her skin, he hummed as he watched her real skin come out of hiding, seeing the flush on her cheeks. Suddenly, it became very obvious to him that she liked how attentive he was to her. Still, the blush caused him to wonder. Would she blush like that when he was inside her? "Nice?" What did nice entail? "He's loyal and dependable" Santino was loyal and dependable. "He's looked after me since I was small." Scoffing, he continued wiping off her makeup in gentle swabs. Here he thought for a second that Lazar secretly was her betrothed but he was only another one of Maxim's employees. "Irrelevant." Santino was going to look after her now. Olivia's curious eyes darted and once more she was forced to recognise that something wasn't right. Everything from her bound wrists and the guards with weapons to the man in front of her and his gentle movements. It was all wrong. Taking her chin, he forced her eyes to dart back to his chestnut-coloured gaze. He wiped the last of her makeup off in their quietude. Yet, the silence didn't feel awkward and uncomfortable. Gulping beneath his intense gaze, Olivia squeezed her thighs together. "You've gone quiet." Despite mimicking gentleness, she saw the hatred swirling within the lust in his sultry gaze. Her only confusion grew. "Who are you?" Standing up, his hand cupped her chin and forced her hazel eyes to remain locked with his chestnut-coloured ones. "Santino." Her eyebrows furrowed. Was that meant to mean anything to her? "Head of the Mezzanotte family." Olivia stilled, the colour leaving her skin as she stared wide-eyed at him, horror filling her eyes. Had she seriously blown Santino fucking Adriano the head of the Mezzanotte clan? What the fuck was wrong with her? "But to you," he lowered his face to hers, his hand abandoning her chin, dragging down her throat and giving it a squeeze, "I'm Saint." Her breath hitched, her eyes darting between his intense ones. Her confusion only grew. "What do you want with me?" "Say that again but with my name." Gulping, her eyes darted nervously, but Santino didn't like that so much, seeing as his hand squeezed threateningly around her throat. "Santino-" Her breath hitched when his hand tightened around her throat in warning. "Saint." His slacks tightened and for a moment, he contemplated throwing his staff off board so he could have her all for himself, listening to her cry his nickname repeatedly into his ear as he made her feel good. "What do you want with me, Saint?" You, he contemplated answering honestly but decided against it. His staff didn't need to know that this nineteen-year-old could do things with her mouth that could make any man go crazy. No one could ever know. He wanted to be the only one to know, the only one to breathe the tale, the only one to ever have earned it. Sliding his thumb across her pouty lower lip, he watched as doubt filled her eyes, yet fear was nowhere in sight. The little girl wasn't scared of him when she should've been. Olivia should've been scared. She should've been fucking terrified of having caught his attention. Maxim was a wise man for turning no stone unturned in the search for his baby sister, after all. "What I want," his thumb slipped inside her parted lips, watching the way her pupils dilated at the action, her tongue instinctively wrapping around his thumb, "is to teach your brother a lesson. Do you want to know how?" Olivia tentatively nodded, his thumb pressing against her tongue, eyebrows furrowing with desire at the realisation that this little girl didn't have any gag reflex. Before he could go through with his deepest desires, he drew away from her and pulled out his burgundy handkerchief, wiping his thumb of her saliva. Santino watched as her gaze fell to his slacks, seeing how she had an effect on him, causing a smirk to tug at her lips. "I'm going to marry you." Her smirk dropped and she blinked. "Huh?" She was too distracted by his declaration to notice him draw out an envelope filled with a thin stack of papers all for her to sign. "In about twenty-four hours, you're going to be walking down an aisle and marrying me." Shooting up her seat, Olivia stumbled straight into his arms, her horrified eyes locking with his smug ones. "Excuse me, I'm what now?" Chuckling, he took her left hand and slipped a Harry Winston ring with a huge diamond on the fourth finger of her hand before spilling the papers out before her, all awaiting her signature. "You're my fiancée." Glancing over the papers, all written in his native language, all bearing his signature by the end of them, Olivia paled in horror. "Are you crazy?" Santino only raised an eyebrow again, enjoying her wild her eyes stared into his as if unable to grasp what he was saying. "No, I'm Saint." Tucking an inky lock behind her ear, he let his thumb smooth over her eyebrow before pressing a kiss against it. "And you're my principessa. Got it?" "I'm not gonna sign those." Cutting the zip-tie off the thumb of her right hand, he brought a pen to her hand all while keeping a close eye on the girl. "Yes, you are." "I don't even know what I'm signing!" Santino only chuckled at the girl and brought her reluctant hand closer to the papers despite her futile struggle to pull away from him. "You're marrying me on paper and by law." "I don't want to marry you." His eyes hardened at her words. "We're not in Russia, principessa. You can either sign it or meet the consequences." The consequences? Before Olivia could ask, several guns were pressed against her head. She stilled in fear, dread forming in her belly as she stared at the cruel man in front of her. The cruel man only smiled gently at her as if he wasn't forcing her hand. "I should tell you, I'm not very patient." Biting back her prolific curses, Olivia aggressively signed the papers as he waited patiently. Before Olivia could say anything, Santino took her hips and threw her over his shoulder with ease, the signed papers long forgotten as he walked away. "This is insane! All I did was blow you-!" Spanking her ass, he grumbled curses beneath his breath. Had the girl not been taught that it was impolite to share marital affairs with the public? "My family's not going to allow this!" Pinning her down on their bed, his form hovered over hers as she stared wide-eyed at the smug Santino. "Then it's great that all the priest cares about is that you will say those two binding words. Now go to sleep. It's going to be a long trip." Before Olivia could scream at him once more, he'd already left, leaving her confused and frustrated at how crazy it all was. What words was he even talking about? Olivia paled. Oh. Those words. I do. Olivia didn't sleep despite Santino's order. All she did was turn and twist as she ran the silky rope up and down the side table until her arms were exhausted and all her muscles ached. She knew that she needed to get away from the mentally ill man. Suddenly the door opened and she stilled, feigning an innocent smile when Santino stepped inside with a plate of food. He raised an eyebrow and stared at her as she sat on the floor, her back against the bedside table when she should've been lying on the bed where he'd left her. Had she fallen? "Hi." Santino put the plate down in suspicion. "Hi." "I'm not doing anything." Oh, she was definitely doing something then. Trekking forward, he leaned down to her level, slid his hands beneath her arms and threw her on the bed face down. The action caused her to let out a dramatic noise as the air knocked out of her lungs but he was far too invested in the state of her hands to care about that. Her wrists were bleeding, yet all she'd managed to do to the expensive red silks was loosen a few threads. "I wasn't doing anything-!" Muffling her voice by pressing her face into the mattress, he drew out his pocketknife, causing her to panic and squirm beneath him. Santino ignored her, pressing her head further down into the mattress as he took her arms and cut through the red silks, freeing her wrists. The action caused Olivia to still and before she knew it, every silk was cut from her skin and then she was pinned onto her back, Santino glaring harshly at her. "Sit." Olivia sat, watching him leave before returning with a wet towel. Roughly taking her arm, Santino glared at her as he gently dabbed it against her bloodied skin. "Was that necessary?" "Yes-" "The answer is no." He forced her to sit on the edge of the bed, roughly pulling open the drawer of the bedside table and pulling out a first aid kit. "What were you going to do when you got out of the binds? Jump off the plane and parachute your way back to motherland Russia?" Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance at his jab, yet she allowed him to draw her closer and gently disinfect her skin, causing her to flinch in pain. "Fuck you." His gaze hardened as he threw the disinfectant swab to the floor, tearing another open with his teeth before continuing. "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you." Just as she was about to curse at him, the disinfected swab pressed against her skin and she let out a cry of pain. "That hurts." "I know. I'm trying to be gentle." Tears lined her eyes. "Just do it quickly." His eyes locked with hers. "Even if it hurts?" "It all hurts the same in the end. Don't prolong it." Their fight was suddenly all forgotten as he wiped away her tears and nodded. "Saltwater." Olivia threw her head up in despair. The number of times the clumsy kid had been forced to dunk a limp in saltwater all because she was better at stumbling over her feet than getting As and Bs at school. "At least that's better than vodka." Picking her up, he took her to the bathroom before placing her on the countertop by the sink. "I'll get the salt." Olivia was far too invested in taking in the bathroom to hear what he said and notice him walking away. She'd been in some nice private jets but never one that had a bathtub in it. How did that work when there was turbulence? Santino returned before long, turning on the bathtub and watching her eyes fill with fascination like that of a kid's. "It's just a bath, Olivia. I'm not asking you to take your clothes off." Her eyes locked with his. "You could." His breath hitched. "And I'd say fuck off." His gaze hardened, his hands sliding beneath her arms as he carried her to sit by the bathtub. "Tell me to fuck off one more time and you won't like the result." Huffing, she watched him dunk at least five pounds of salt in the bathtub. Where he'd gotten that much salt from was a mystery to her. "Don't carry me like that. I'm not a kid." "Stop acting like one then." "Why? Because it bothers you that an eighteen-year-old made you cum?" "Nineteen." Olivia rolled her eyes. She'd only been nineteen for less than twenty-four hours, so it didn't count. "How old are you anyway? Thirty-one, thirty-two?" Santino only chuckled, gesturing for the bathtub with his eyes and she reluctantly dunked her hands inside the bathtub, barely able to keep her tears at bay. "I told you it would hurt." "Distract me." His eyes darted down her body. "Distract you?" "Not like that!" Smiling, he gently kissed her temple, causing her breath to hitch. "I'm not thirty-two. I haven't been thirty-two for six years." Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at him, quickly doing the calculations. "Just give me the number." Chuckling, his index finger ran over her thick eyebrows, impressed by how quickly she managed to get them messy like that again. "I'm thirty-eight." Olivia gulped, her toes curling and her belly tightening. "And you're not put off by the fact that I'm literally half your age?" His finger dragged down the curve of her face before lying against her bottom lip. "No." His eyes locked with her dilated ones. "Are you?" "My brother is going to kill you." "That doesn't answer my question, principessa." Olivia shuddered. "It doesn't matter." Dragging her back flush against him, he drew her hands out of the bathtub. "I think it does matter," Santino drawled, carefully drying her wrists all while dragging his lips down her neck. "But if it doesn't, what's the use of keeping it a secret?" Her eyebrows furrowed, logic fighting desire. Why should she keep it a secret? In fact, she hadn't. She'd told him the moment they pinned him down on that chair as they celebrated her birthday the way she wanted it to be celebrated. "I meant what I said yesterday." "You said a lot of things." Things in English and things in her native tongue that he'd always wonder about until she told him what each word meant. Olivia watched as he tentatively covered each wound with a thick ointment before carefully wrapping her wrists with the bandages. "I said I've never been with an older guy." "Do you want to?" Yes. "Would it stop you from marrying me if I said no?" His gaze darkened. "No." It was marrying her or killing her. "But it would stop us from being as happily married as we could be, wouldn't it?" Olivia rolled her eyes despite her amusement. "Is sex all that matters to you?" "Yes." Shuddering, she turned her head and locked her hazel eyes with his chestnut-coloured ones, seeing the sincerity swirling in his eyes. All the times she'd asked a guy that, all they did was lie to her face, yet here he was, telling the truth to her face. He wasn't playing around. It was scary how alike they were in that regard. All she cared about in a relationship was the sex too.