11

Lucy
I don’t think I’ll fall back asleep because I’m upset, but I do. My dreams are sensual and lush. Like many of the dreams since I’ve been pregnant, they feature Ravil and Black Light. This time, Gretchen and I arrive at the elite BDSM club. It’s my first time back since Valentine’s. I’m looking for Ravil-he’s the only one I want to play with. I’m not pregnant in the dream. Ravil finds me, but he’s angry.
I never called.
He takes me to the big cross structure to tie me up and whip me. I’m scared but also totally excited. He attaches cuffs to my wrists and ankles…
And then I wake up.
Horny.
Disappointed I didn’t get to finish the dream.
And furious that I’m a captive in this man’s domain.
I blink at the clock. It’s much later than I usually sleep. If I were going into my office, I’d be rushing out the door already. Good thing I’m calling in.
Strike that from the record. It’s not a good thing. I’m a prisoner who’s being kept from going in.
Ravil steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s solid muscle. Golden skin with a light dusting of hair, tattoos across his chest, down his arms even onto his knuckles. Tattoos are part of the bratva. Markings for crimes, prison time, cells. They were how I recognized what he was when I partnered with him. Why I didn’t want to be paired with a man like him, even though he’d turned out to be an attentive and thoughtful partner.
Too bad he’s still a criminal who thinks he can do whatever he wants.
Correction-who probably can do whatever he wants.
He steps into the walk-in closet and drops the towel, so I have the full view of his naked body. I’m not the type who ogles men’s physiques, but even I know he’s a perfect specimen. Tight glutes that flex when he pulls on his boxer briefs. Muscles that ripple across his broad back when he pulls on a white undershirt.
He’s sexy. Everything about him is sexy, from the accent to the cool, confident demeanor to the ice-blue eyes. I wish I weren’t so affected by his presence. Maybe I’d be able to think my way out of this. Then again, maybe it would make this situation a million times worse. Because the only thing that makes it even remotely palatable is the sexual satisfaction.
“You will call into work this morning,” he says without turning, knowing I’m watching.
I don’t answer.
“Tell them you have preeclampsia. I can get you a doctor’s note if you need it.”
I guess he’s thought of everything.
“A desk will be delivered in an hour.”
I frown but pick up my phone, which I find charging beside the bed. I call into the office.
God, this sucks.
Understatement of the year.
I start with Dick because he’s the asshole who will make the most trouble for me. I put on my most brusque, business-like voice. Nothing like calling the good old boys boss with female problems. “Hi Dick, it’s Lucy. I will call HR next, but I wanted to start with you. My doctor’s put me on bedrest. I will be working from home and fully available via video or teleconferencing. I don’t require any reduction in load and can handle all my cases.”
“Bed rest?” he snorts. “What happened?”
“That, of course, is personal. I’ll be happy to provide my medical records to HR if required.”
“What about when you’re needed in court?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll be working on a plan and will keep you in the loop. All you need to know is that none of my cases will suffer as a result of this change. In fact, they will probably all benefit, since I’ll be saving time on the commute.”
“I see. Well, I hope everything’s okay. You know, with the baby.” He drags out the last syllable like he’s hoping for more information, but I’m not going to give it to the bastard.
“I will be just as available as always,” I say firmly. It’s illegal to discriminate against me for this situation, but I’m certain they will all try.
“You sure? I mean, if you need to take a leave of absence-”
“I don’t,” I cut in and say nothing more, letting the censure of my voice reverberate.
“All right.” I hear the manufactured doubt in his and, like usual, want to kick his shins with my pointiest shoes.
“I need to make some more calls, Dick. I will talk to you later.”
“Yep.” He hangs up.
I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I like your boss bitch voice,” Ravil says from the entry to the closet, squeezing his dick through his pressed trousers.
I stalk past him on my way to the bathroom. “I thought you liked being in charge.”
“It’s not a question of like, kitten. I am in charge.” He slides a Rolex on his wrist. “Always. But it’s more pleasurable to take charge of a strong woman. Winning your surrender is a challenge I enjoy.”
“You won’t,” I tell him as I shut the bathroom door.
“We’ll see,” he says mildly. “I will get your breakfast. Do you want eggs? They are a good source of protein when you are pregnant.”
Somebody’s been doing his research.
I’m not the fussy diva type, but it’s tempting to test how many demands I can make. Ravil’s pledged to take good care of me during my pregnancy. I’m curious how far I can push. I crack the door. “I’ll take a spinach omelet-three eggs-with cheese. Buttered toast and some kind of fruit.”
He nods without comment and leaves.
Okay. I’ll keep pushing then.
I take a quick shower. When I come out, I find he’s put my clothes away in his closet. I don’t know how he even knew what to pack, but he picked my favorite work clothes, minus the high heels, as well as a decent selection of my home wear. I want to complain, but really, there’s nothing to rail against. The man is somewhat uncanny in his ability to decipher me.
And I’m not even certain I know how to decipher myself half the time.
I wear a wrap-around dress-my favorite staple of pregnancy since it accommodates my growing breasts and belly. I make the rest of my calls to work, checking in with HR, the secretary I share with three other attorneys, and the summer associate who has been assigned to help me with a few cases. I have no idea what I’ll do about going to court, but I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
I try the door to find it locked from the outside-a fire hazard, I must note. I’ll be registering that complaint with Ravil immediately.
A knock sounds and Valentina is there with a tray carrying a spinach omelet, toast and cut up strawberries. I start to push past her, but the giant Russian-Oleg, I believe-is sitting outside my door, his chair facing me. He looks at me impassively.
I step out of the room.
He stands up.
“Okaaaay,” I say to him. “I guess you’re my prison guard?”
Nothing changes in his face. He doesn’t speak to me in Russian like the others have. He doesn’t even show he’s heard me.
I turn toward the kitchen and take a step, and he shifts to angle his body in front of mine, blocking my way. Christ, he’s big.
Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about the fire hazard. The giant would surely let me out.
If the smell of the food didn’t have my mouth watering, I might have stayed to wrestle my guard, but considering the food’s in the room and my body is busy growing a baby, I turn around and go back inside.
I can fight the Hulk later.
Valentina has set the tray on the bedside table, as if I really am on bedrest.
“I’m not going to eat in bed,” I tell her even though I’m guessing she doesn’t speak English, either.
She looks at me blankly. I point to the armchair and table by the window. Might as well enjoy the view. At least my cage is gilded.
She bobs her head and complies, setting the tray down and chattering to me in Russian.
I wish I had a clue what she was saying. I’m getting on that language app… right now, while I eat. I sit down and tuck into the food, which is delicious. Apparently there’s more than just Russian food in this place, thank God.
I wolf it down while getting started on my Russian practice. At least I have something to focus on. It keeps me from flipping out over my situation.
Still, when Ravil comes in, I’m ready to skin him.