Yes, I over-think. But I also over-love. Anonymous

Anton

I am getting impatient, but I don't press the issue. I knew when she flew into that closet and locked herself in there I had done something to make her upset; to make her break. My thoughts went back to that damn scar and how she got it. I need to know how she got it. I feel like that will unravel the mystery that is Natasha, so I can make her melt into my arms and be mine without all this effort or this hatred between the two of us.

She finally comes out of her room, and I notice that she has a well-placed pair of white panties on under that dress. The thing still shows off enough skin that the men at the party will think the same thing of her as I mean for them to, as I want her to believe that they think. So, I don't press the issue.

I lead her out to the car that's waiting to take us to the party, one that will be held at a huge luxury hotel on the beach. I don't necessarily like parties. I like more private events better, and dark places like clubs, like the place where I met Natasha. But this is part of my job, especially now that I lead two Clans. I have to mingle and make myself a part of everything. I have to bring the woman that makes the fact I lead two Clans possible with me, to make a statement.

We get into the car, and I see that she is, as usual, staying as far away from me as possible, looking out the tinted windows as if some amazing artifact might pass us by and she might miss it.

I know I have upset her, I can see it in her posture, her legs crossing away from me, her back stiffened. This is something more than what was already keeping us apart from one another. I hate that I fucking care, that I want to know anything about her feelings. I wasn't raised in an environment to be that way, and in fact, I am meant to be the complete opposite. As a Clan leader, I am ruthless. I don't give a fuck. I can’t if I want to survive in this world around me. If anyone knew how I cared, I am not sure they would fear me as much. I do not have the king status to fall back on like Ion does. I do not have a Vasile by my side, just a woman who could bear the next Constantine. It doesn't mean as much.

But, I fucking care. Do you know why I fucking care so damn much about how Natasha feels? It’s because I fucking love her. Yeah, Anton Balan of all people is in love. What a cruel joke this is. I wonder if this is part of the universe paying me back for all the things I have done in the name of the Clans. It wouldn't surprise me one damn bit.

I want to know what I did as I look her over in that dress. She is mesmerizing, and I’ll be damned if anyone actually touches her tonight other than me. They will look, they will lust, they will imagine, but in no way will I let her be the piece of ass I want her to look like. It’s all a show. That’s all the Clans are at all anymore, one big show. I plan on putting on a good one.

I am not good at discussing feelings, at knowing what to say to a woman. I don't think I have an example to go by, as I have never felt quite this way about anyone. I look at her, and I want to find the words to get what I need out of her, but something more cruel shoots out, inserted before I can stop it. It’s this mask I have put on, this way I have to pretend has become automatic. I don't know who I am anymore.

“You need to change your attitude because we will be at the party in a few minutes, and I can't take you in while you are sulking.”

“Yes, Master,” she replies to me, that fire of hers coming back to bite me in the ass. I was wrong about her being upset. She is not that, at least not anymore. Right now, she is good and pissed at me. I can feel it radiating off her. I can’t help but smile at her, though, at her hostility towards me. She has such fire, and that is exactly what I love about her. I saw it on the dance floor when I summoned her to see me. I felt it the first time we had sex. I knew it in every quip of what she shot at me was just as good as my own. She is so sexy like this, even if right now she doesn’t want me to think that about her.

I can’t hold back anymore, especially knowing how close we are to the party. I want to make a move and damn it, I am going to make it now.

I grab her body and pull Natasha on top of me. My hand tangles in that gorgeous, long, dark flame of hair she has as I pull her lips down to mine. I kiss her, hard. I kiss her so that she can feel it in her womb, and all the way down to her toes that she has crammed into a pair of fuck-me-heels.

She is trying to push away from me, but I am not having it at all. I take both of her hands in one of mine behind her back, using all my strength to hold them there so she can’t resist me. I want her to feel this kiss the way she used to.

Natasha molds against me, and my heart holds a small bit of hope that she feels what she did about us being together in this moment, before the shit show named Jan Constantin fucked it all up for us.

My other hand tugs just a little at her hair, and my tongue slides into her mouth. I am going to take whatever she is willing to give right now.

All too soon, the car begins to slow, and I know this will have to stop so the show can begin. I break the kiss slowly with a satisfied and disappointed sigh at the same time. “You’re so sexy when you're fired up,” I tell her, my hand brushing across her face as I finally let her hands go so she is free. She still stays, frozen for a moment to listen. So, I say what I have needed to say for some time now.

“I miss you, Natasha. I miss us.” This is the most vulnerable a man like me will ever be, so I hope she appreciates it. I hope she feels something right now.