“How’s your finger?” she asked, glancing at him.
He held his hand up to show her and she took it, setting it in her lap to examine the bandage. He’d transitioned from her care to his regular physician. The bandage was clean and Krystoff couldn’t be in too much pain or he wouldn’t be in the garden. She let his hand go, satisfied he was healing.
It seemed incongruous but oddly comforting to sit with Krystoff. He was such a formidable character. She could easily imagine his hands soaked in the blood of his enemies, then going out to his garden to meditate on the miracle of life. The dichotomy of violence and peace was strangely appealing to Shaun.
“The operating room is my garden,” she murmured. When Krystoff glanced at her, she added, “I find peace when my hands are buried in someone else’s body. The blood flowing beneath my fingertips, the power of their life force at my mercy. The knowledge that I am the only person in the world who can fix them in that moment. I choose whether they live or die. It’s intoxicating.”
Shaun had never spoken that way before, had barely allowed herself to have the thought, yet sitting next to Krystoff, she felt that the mafia world finally made a strange sort of sense to her. There were studies done that suggested surgeons were among the top ten most psychopathic professions. It took a certain amount of ego and lack of fear to dig around in someone else’s body. Doctors played god with their patients, and while Shaun didn’t think she was a psychopath, she was no different than the average surgeon. She got a rush from the power of preserving life.
“There is happiness to be found in the release of that power, too,” Krystoff said quietly. “Of deciding when to stop and find a new path.”
Shaun looked at him sharply. Was he talking about his situation or Shaun’s? Perhaps he was telling her that she could find equal happiness in giving up her chosen profession to live under the umbrella of the Koba family, married to his vicious nephew.
“I don’t agree,” she replied flatly. “When you spend a lifetime working toward one shining goal, a new path feels like misery.”
“Misery is better than death.”
Shaun sighed her annoyance. Krystoff sounded just like his nephew. They were all telling her to settle down, to forget her old life, but how did she forget the career she’d spent their entire life driving toward and the loving family that had supported her every step of the way?
“I don’t think so,” Shaun disagreed. When Krystoff looked up sharply, she was quick to add. “Don’t worry, I don’t have a death wish. I’m just getting sick of being told by this family that my life is being decided for me and it would be best to just settle down and forget my past life. You wouldn’t be saying any of this if I was a man.”
Her words were bold, and she briefly wanted to recall them. What was she doing mouthing off to a guy who called entire countries allies? The man who made massive life-altering decisions as though he was choosing a tie. He could easily decide she was too much of a pain in the ass to keep around and order her killed and buried under one of his rose bushes.
Instead, he chuckled and said just as bluntly, “If you were a man, you would be dead.”
His words sent a chill through Shaun. He was right. The ease in which Jozef put a bullet in Danilo’s head told her that the Kobas had no problem killing innocent men. She was very lucky that she was not only a woman, but a woman Jozef found attractive. It was likely the only thing that had saved her life.
Krystoff reached for her hand and squeezed. “You are part of the family now; you have nothing to worry about from us.” He turned on the bench to study her, his sharp blue eyes seeing far more than Shaun was comfortable with. “You helped my grandson when he broke his arm. This is not something I will forget.”
Shaun felt the significance of the moment. The Godfather of Prague was basically telling her he owed her one. Since she didn’t think she could ask him to forget the whole marriage plan and send her home, she wasn’t sure what his protection would mean for her.
“I didn’t do anything but diagnose an easy break. How is he doing? I haven’t spoken to Leeza since yesterday.”
“He was just out here skipping around the stone path. He’s fine,” Krystoff assured her. “He took a rougher tumble than usual, and it scared him. He’ll be back to normal once the cast is off.”
Shaun was relieved that the injury was as minor as she’d thought. She imagined there would be hell to pay if any member of the Koba family came to harm. She wondered if their fierce loyalty would one day extend to her. Maybe it already did.
Krystoff squeezed her hand again and stood. He looked down at her, his eyes squinting against the sunlight. “One day you will find your normal again. It might seem difficult now, but you are resilient.”
He reached behind the bench and, using the gardening shears he pulled from his baggy pocket, cut a red rose. He held it to his nose for a few seconds, enjoying the simple pleasure of a fragrant flower. Then he handed it to Shaun and walked away.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The moment Shaun walked out of their suite, Jozef sent his fist flying into the nearest wall. Luckily it wasn’t one of the stone walls. A thought that didn’t occur to him as his hand sank through the plaster, sending dust flying in the air. He growled and yanked his fist out.
He’d never been so emotional that he couldn’t hang on to his temper. His uncle had raised him to make calm, cool and logical decisions so he could always do what was best for the family. Emotion was a liability and therefore stamped out of him at a young age.
So why couldn’t he control himself around one particular woman? Women were for fucking, not fucking with his head. Shaun made him feel out of control. Yet he couldn’t consider a life where she was dead, especially by his own hand. He had no choice but to keep trying with her.
He was starting to realize his lack of control with her wasn’t his only dilemma. Her inability to settle down and accept her new position was problematic. Jozef had been naive in his belief that bringing her home and forcing her to accept her place at his side was going to work. He’d yet to meet a woman who wasn’t compliant with him, but then again, he’d never really thought about women at all, except in fantasy when he was jerking off.
Maybe he did have prejudices toward the weaker sex. Maybe he shouldn’t think of them as the weaker sex. Shaun sure as shit wasn’t weak. She was the strongest woman he knew. Not physically, but mentally, she won every skirmish they had, persuading Jozef to do things that were out of character for him.
Maybe Shaun was right. Maybe they shouldn’t be together. Jozef knew nothing about how to treat a woman of Shaun’s caliber. She was no whore, but her responses in bed were utterly intoxicating. Addictive. For that reason alone, he didn’t want to let her go. But aside from sex, there was so much more to her. She had dignity, a sense of responsibility, she had solid morals. She made Jozef feel deficient in every way. Yet he liked it. He liked the challenge she presented.
He frowned. Was he a closet masochist?
No, definitely not. He didn’t enjoy pain himself, just enjoyed inflicting it. He leaned more toward sadist, but he had no desire to hurt those who didn’t deserve it. Was selective sadism a thing? Yeah, he was a selective sadist. For the right kind of guy, he was willing to pull out his tools and set to work.