Brutal

By Alexis Rey

Pavel, a relentless force, views the world as his personal playground. What he craves, he seizes, and now his fixation is on Elizabeth – young, exquisite, and tailor-made for him. Yet, Elizabeth is not as innocent as she seems. She knows who she's dealing with and has plans of her own. Their fiery relationship is a toxic and dangerous game of chance, but just who is playing whom?

• Language: English
• Publisher: And Why Not Books
• Release date: Jan 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224493821

Alexis Rey

As a spice reader and a spice lover, Alexis long ago decided the real world wasn't worth the stress. She would prefer to live in a more exciting, spicier place. Hence, she became a writer and travels to various spicy worlds every day. 

Book preview

Prologue

Back around the end of the winter session, Elizabeth stood at the back of the auditorium, watching the press conference.

A big contribution, some typical posturing, and now there would be a photo op and a favorable article in one of the political journals—the Dean shaking hands with this guy on a stage. It would look lovely for the next campaign, or fundraiser, or whatever they were angling toward.

She looked at the program. Pavel Reznichenko. Hm. Ukrainian? Russian? Oligarch? She squinted at the stage to get a better look.

He was of middle age—what to her at twenty years old seemed like middle age—had his dark hair brushed back away from his face and close cropped on the sides, and under his expensive suit, a large build, suggestive of long hours spent at the gym.

Pavel Reznichenko looked out into the audience, and Elizabeth straightened. She could have sworn he was looking right at her but couldn’t be sure—his face was washed out in the brightness of the spotlight. Then he grinned, inclining his head, and she smiled back, just in case. His grin spread wider.

Elizabeth felt a spark of curiosity, a slight flutter in her chest, and surprised at herself, stepped outside the auditorium. This was new. She didn’t usually get curious about anything. The interest this gentleman up on stage seemed to elicit was as unusual as it was exciting.

She took her phone out of her pocket and was still scrolling through information on entrepreneur Pavel Reznichencko opening another branch of whatever uninteresting venture capital or real estate development or some other kind of business—as a student of philosophy, she didn’t care to find out—when people began to file out of the auditorium in pairs and clusters. The guest of honor came out last, flanked by two huge guys dressed in all black, their ears plugged up with communication devices.

He swept right by her, leaving her in a swirl of expensive, slightly bitter cologne. A little incredulous at such drama, she stared after him. He looked over his shoulder for a moment, just long enough for another broad grin, which he directed at her, or perhaps, somewhere above her head. Then he was gone, and the lobby was quiet.

Elizabeth took her phone back out of her pocket, and dialed.

Hey, Mom… she said. Yes, everything is fine, I’m safe. Listen, I have a favor to ask.

One

It was the kind of summer evening when the air was hot, still smelled of melted asphalt, and sent everyone who was reasonable to gather around an air-conditioner vent.

Pavel reclined against his car outside the restaurant, puffing casually on a cigarette, flicking ash carelessly onto the ground.

His car was parked illegally by the curb under a sprawling tree near a well-known steakhouse in the university neighborhood. He’d come back for his biannual meeting with the Dean as a highly honored guest and big donor. Detailed reports of the multiple valuable uses of his money ensued, then a discussion of a plaque with his name on the side of a certain building, along with an argument on how big the plaque should be.

He’d been bored to tears.

The day had been exhausting, and he’d been looking forward to the steak and whiskey waiting for him in the private room inside. He felt better now, even in the heat.

Around the corner of the building, was a dive bar popular among the students, the kind with a neon sign in the window and rugs that still had cigarette burns from the year 1978. You couldn’t smoke inside, of course, so now, Pavel watched people pop out of the saloon doors and gather for an impromptu smoke break. A small group of girls had just emerged from the building and stopped a few steps away. They climbed onto a picnic table, tossing their bags haphazardly onto it along with thick, scribbled-in notebooks. It seemed to be the last day of school. Classes were over, exams were done, and they had come to this bar straight after to celebrate.

They lit up cigarettes simultaneously, as if they’d planned it. A pungent scent of menthol wafted in Pavel’s direction overriding the taste of his own cigarette. He grimaced, while the girls chattered and waved at him flirtatiously, releasing billows of smoke high into the sky.

Pavel could hear their conversation perfectly.

Initially, the girls talked about the usual things—clothes, plans for the evening, guys, the cute new philosophy teacher’s assistant. Then, suddenly, they fell silent. Pavel scanned the surroundings. Experience told him girls didn’t just stop their chatter for no reason.

Soon, they all started whispering in unison:

The Philosophy of Modern Society TA is definitely into Elizabeth Small—he stared at her the whole semester, totally unable to tear his eyes away, one of the girls wrinkled her nose.

She’s probably sleeping with him, said the second one agreed, laughing and tossing her hair over her shoulder. No need to study that way.

Well, why not, if I looked like her, I would too.

Yeah, she’s got the whole package.

Shh, here she comes, said a third one, and all three flashed brilliant smiles at their classmate.

Curious now, Pavel turned to see the infamous girl, and had to do a double take.

Out of the saloon doors emerged a slender blonde, heading straight towards the now-muted students.

The whole package was right. He was a worldly man, but he had to admit he’d never seen such beauty before. Squinting, he carefully studied her. He felt a rush of fraternal empathy for the unknown philosophy TA. Given the chance, he'd be liable to stare too, unable to tear his eyes away.

Elizabeth Small took her own pack of cigarettes out, lit one.

Her friend said, I don’t know how you smoke that nasty shit!

She shrugged. Can’t account for taste.

Pavel flicked his cigarette butt, but didn’t move, still watching. The girl wore a loose white sundress that came to slightly above the knees and classic gladiator sandals. The way she spoke was soft, but not as he had imagined. There was something special about it: husky, breathy.

An ordinary cigarette in this girl’s fingers looked elegant, not vulgar, and when she brought it to her lips, Pavel felt a sudden warmth.

He was fascinated.

The strange girl paid him no mind.

He considered lighting another cigarette so he could stay here longer and watch her. She seemed to Pavel the epitome of female beauty.

At this thought, he snorted. Waxing poetic like an adolescent. As if he had never seen beautiful women before. He got in the car, slammed the door shut decisively, and blasted the air conditioning.

The smoking girls pivoted his way, watching with interest. The mysterious blonde did as well, but her face didn’t display any of the curious eagerness of the others. She merely turned her head, glancing at his car with indifference and put her cigarette to her lips, taking a long drag before shifting her eyes onto his face. She blew out smoke and, with the same indifference, observed him through the window of his car as the tinted glass rose to hide him. Then she turned away.

Eventually, the girl said goodbye to her friends, and took off toward the subway.

Only then, did Pavel start the engine and pull away from the curb, driving slowly in the same direction. Two Chevy Suburbans, with windows so dark that it was impossible to make out the driver, followed him.

He caught up to Elizabeth a block down. She was walking slowly and talking on the phone. Whoever she was listening to had captivated her attention so completely, she failed to notice three cars following her, until an angered driver honked at Pavel’s slow pace. The loud noise startled her into looking up just as Pavel rolled down his passenger side window.

Hello, gorgeous, he called.

She peered into the car, trying to make out who was addressing her. Hello gorgeous? Really? That’s it? Not even a whistle?

I’m just being polite. I noticed you before.

Oooh, she called back, sarcastically. Give me a nickel for every time I was noticed.

With a jolt, Pavel suddenly remembered that he’d seen her before, and also, where. Amused, he smirked to himself, and to Elizabeth, he said, I’ll give you ten cents. A nickel for now, a nickel from when you ogled me in the auditorium back there, last winter.

He was pleased that she had nothing smart to say to that, though she didn’t get embarrassed either. She resumed her trajectory, this time with faster, more assured steps, and Pavel nudged the gas pedal.

How about a ride? he called out.

Elizabeth stopped, looked inside his car again, took stock of the motorcade. She came a few steps closer, bent over to look into the open window, colliding with Pavel’s gaze. He was almost aghast to have her this close. Her eyes were greener than he’d initially realized, jade-colored, and the way she was bending toward his window left not very much of what was under her dress to the imagination. He could tell, for example, that she wore no bra. He had to shift in his seat.

A ride? she said now, almost mocking, and looked back at the Suburbans again. You’re not some kind of psycho-killer, are you?

Only on Tuesdays, he replied, internally triumphant because he knew he had her.

Two

Elizabeth fidgeted in the luxurious leather passenger seat of the stranger’s car to get comfortable, but it didn’t work. She allowed the possibility that she was a little agitated. This was far beyond the usual way she spent her evenings.

Her life thus far had been utterly uneventful.

Her father was dead, and her mother lived abroad for good reasons. Elizabeth had been invited to join when she moved, of course, but was reluctant to move, seeing no point in such upheaval to her environment. She could pursue higher education perfectly well here, in New York. Her mother, whose life didn’t allow much for attachments anyway, didn't particularly insist one way or another.

As it was, Elizabeth had a cozy apartment, her university, her father’s grave in an old cemetery, and some vague plans for the future.

Other than that, there wasn’t much to report. She lived alone. Weekdays were filled with mundane household tasks and hours of studying.