128

Book:Belong to the boss Published:2024-8-27

The thought of being in the car with my brother makes me want to scream. I will probably punch him in the nose.
While he should be the one pounding the pavement to figure this out, I don’t know if I can even look at him right now.
“I’m going to go by myself.”
“No way, Chelle.” I hear the fear in Zane’s voice. “It’s not safe for you. Come pick me up. Or I’ll meet you there.”
“Honestly, you’ve fucked things up enough. You work on getting the money you owe them, and I’ll get the damn ring back. I seriously hate you right now.” I end the call then immediately feel guilty for saying I hate him.
I know from my dad’s suicide how easily I could lose him. What if he shot himself because he thought I hated him?
Gah.
I shove the thoughts out of my mind, grab my jacket and head out of my apartment.
I have to find the ring. That’s the only option here. I’m not losing my job over this, and I’m not going to jail.
Two hours later, I find a convenience store owner who knows about The Kremlin and points me to it.
As I stare up at the beautiful multi-million dollar building though, doubts creep in.
This is nuts. The Russian mafiya wouldn’t operate out of a luxury building like this, would they? Could running a weekly poker game really net profits enough to afford something like this?
Then again, Zane was into them for tens of thousands of dollars, so maybe it would.
The moment I march in, I know I have the right place.
The security guard or doorman or whatever you call the guy sitting behind the giant curved copper desk is covered in tattoos, same as all the guys I saw at the poker game. He gives me a stony stare.
I attempt to clear the desperation from my voice. “Hi, I’m here to see Nikolai,” I say, like I’m at a doctor’s office and have an appointment.
He stares back at me without comment.
Shit. I glance around to see the elevator bank behind him.
“Um, I’ll just let myself up, then?” I don’t know how that would work. Do I plan to knock on every door in the place?
Yes. Dammit. If I have to, I will.
The security guy shakes his head. “You can’t go up.” His accent is thick and definitely Russian. There’s no doubt I’m in the right place.
I want to toss out something reckless like, “try to stop me,” but one look at his bulging biceps and menacing scowl tells me he’d more than try.
I swallow. “Listen, I really need to see Nikolai. It’s super important.”
“Nikolai who?”
Crap!
“Nikolai, um, the one who runs the poker games?”
The guy immediately starts shaking his head. “You need to leave the building.”
I take it as good news. Nikolai definitely lives here, or he would’ve looked confused.
I draw myself up and fold my arms across my chest. “I’m not leaving the building until I see Nikolai.”
The guy comes from behind the desk.
Oh fuck. He’s throwing me out.
I drop to the floor and sit cross-legged like I’m some peaceful protester from the sixties. “Call Nikolai. Tell him Chelle is here, and I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”
The guy strides over and towers over me, his brows down like he’s pissed. “Get out of building,” he bites out, his accent thick.
“I need to see Nikolai. Please call him.”
He reaches down and grabs my upper arms.
I refuse to unfold my legs, making my weight dead weight. Still, he’s strong. He deadlifts me from the floor and shakes me to make my legs uncross.
When I still refuse, he shakes his head and starts hauling me toward the door.
“Wait!” I cry out when I realize once I’m out that door I’ll have no way back in. “Please. I’ll do anything. It’s life or death. I need to see Nikolai.” I reach out and wrap my legs around his waist like a koala bear, so he won’t be able to deposit me outside when he gets there.
“Please. Please. Please just call him,” I beg. “Pozhaluysta.” Unable to keep it in, my voice breaks and tears spill from my eyes.
I always hated girls who cried to get their way, but I see an instant change in the guy.
He stops walking. Indecision scrawls across his face.
“Please, please, please. Please call Nikolai for me. I need to talk to him.”
“Put feet down,” he grumbles.
“Will you call him?”
“Wait here.”
I release the strangulating hold my legs have on his waist-thank you, spin class, for my leg strength-and let him put me on my feet.
When he walks back to the front desk, I follow. He frowns at me as he picks up a cell phone and dials. He speaks into it in Russian, rapidly and with exasperation. Then he goes silent.
“Is he coming?” I ask.
He shakes his head and holds up a finger.
My heart pounds against my breastbone.
It seems like forever that the two of us stand there in silence while he waits for an answer, then he replies into the phone and puts it back in his pocket.
“Nikolai will come.”
Nikolai
I ride the elevator to the ground floor with a semi.
When Maykl called up to tell me there was a small, hysterical young woman downstairs demanding to see me, I knew it was Chelle even before I flicked over to the security feed and rewound to watch.
She’s still adorably fierce. Throwing around all hundred pounds of her body to get her way. I know she’s either here about the ring or something bad has happened to Zane. Probably both. Zane could’ve been busted for stealing it, and she’s hoping to get charges dropped by turning it in.
When I exit the elevator, Maykl is still patting her down for weapons, which for some reason annoys me. I want his hands off her. She already climbed him like a tree when he tried to take her out of the building.
“Nikolai,” she calls the moment she sees me, launching out of Maykl’s grasp and running for me.
Maykl gives me a nod to let me know she’s unarmed.
She reaches me and makes contact, her palms spreading over my ribs as she looks up at me. My breath leaves my chest when I realize her cheeks are wet. “Nikolai,” she says, again, sounding breathless. “The ring Zane gave you, do you still have it?” Before I have a chance to answer, she rushes on. “It belongs to a client at work. I wasn’t even supposed to have it, but I couldn’t get the safe open, and I was the last one there. I didn’t want to leave it in case the cleaning people found it or something, so I took it home. I didn’t realize Zane-the fucker-had taken it until this afternoon, and I have to get it back. I mean, I have to get it back. I don’t want to lose my job or go to jail or anything like that.” Her golden eyes swim with tears. “Please tell me you still have it.”My body is feverish from having her up against me and the need to make those tears stop makes me itchy.
“I still have it.”
“Okay.” She takes her first breath since she threw herself at me. “Okay. I know Zane owes you a ton of money, and we’re going to pay it off, but please, please, please,” -she fists my shirt and tugs on it- “I am begging you, Nikolai. Please can I have it back?”
I allow a slow smile to curve my lips. “I like it when you beg, Chelle.”
More relief sweeps through her body, and she melts into me. Whether she’s just happy because she thinks I’ll give her the ring, or if it’s her body responding to my innuendo, I can’t be sure.
“Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll be your sex slave, if that’s what you’re into. I’ll give you my car, every piece of jewelry I own. I just need that ring back.”
My dick gets harder. “Come upstairs,” I invite, unclenching her fingers from my shirt to hold her hand. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”She allows the intimacy, staying by my side as we walk to the elevators. Once inside, I release my hold, and she backs up against the wall, her hands tucked behind her, her gaze pinned to my face. She’s wary but attentive. Obviously willing to do anything I ask of her at the moment.
I’m a bastard for all the dirty ideas flying through my head. Did she actually say the words, sex slave?
She’d look so damn cute in a collar and leash. I’d put a butt plug in her ass and make her crawl around…
I stop before I get a full-on boner.
I wouldn’t do it.
I’d be an asshole to take advantage of her plight. Still my dick doesn’t get the memo, and it remains chubby, hoping for some action.
I shove my hands in my pockets and regard her. She’s in a pair of black yoga pants and a long sweater that molds perfectly to her small but proportionate tits. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Her generous lips look soft and kissable. I try not to think how they’d look stretched around my cock.
Neither of us says a word. I’m not sure my little sex-slave is breathing.
“I don’t accept sex as a form of currency,” I finally tell her. I don’t know why I let her off the hook so quickly. It would’ve been easy to make her sweat a few more minutes. Maybe I was afraid she’d pass out due to lack of oxygen. She bobs her head in relief. “Good to know,” she chokes out. “I, um, don’t usually offer it.”
My lips twitch. “Yeah, I figured. But I sort of love that you went there. Now I’m having a hard time not picturing you in all kinds of compromised positions.”
She flushes a sweet shade of pink but is saved by the elevator ding from replying.
The doors swish open, and I place my hand at the small of her back to guide her into the hallway.
“This way, zayka.”
“What does zayka mean?”
“Bunny.”
I let her steal a look at me as I open the door. When I push it wide to usher her in, she stops just inside and murmurs, “Wow.”
I thought I was over impressing women with the magnificent floor-to-ceiling views of Lake Michigan, but apparently I’m not because I drink in her shock like it’s fuel.
“I guess being a loan shark really pays, huh?”
“Rich boss. He owns the building. I’m just lucky enough to benefit from it.””Did you recently move in?”
“How can you tell?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It still looks uninhabited.”
I ignore the discomfort that snakes through my belly at her observation. Like the apartment is a metaphor for my life.
“Wait here, little bunny.” I leave her in my living room to retrieve the ring from the safe in my bedroom.
“I’m not your little bunny,” she addresses my back as I exit.
“No?” I call back from the bedroom. “A minute ago you were begging to be my sex slave. I think you’re whatever the fuck I want you to be right now. I hold all the cards, zayka, and it’s an unbeatable hand.”
“Poker metaphor,” she snorts. “How fitting.”
I walk out holding the ring case up. “Want it or not?”
She concedes, opening her palms and bowing her head. “Happy to be your bunny.”
“That’s more like it.” I smirk as I approach. I stand in front of her, hold the little jewelry box up and waggle it.
She eyes it. “So, ah, what arrangement are we going to come to?”
“I’m still thinking,” I admit.
She stops breathing again.
“The forfeit penalty goes on Zane’s account because he’s the asshole who fucked us both over on this.” She starts to interrupt, protesting the increase to Zane’s ledger, but I speak over her. “But I will give you the ring for a kiss.”
She falls silent. “A kiss where?”
I chuckle. “On the lips. I’m not that crude.” I turn away to adjust myself. “You just made my dick hard.”
To my delight, her eyes dilate, like she’s excited about the kiss. I tuck the jewelry box into her purse because I want my hands free for this, then cup the back of her head and pull her face up to mine. She rises up on her toes, and I have to lean forward to mate my lips to hers.
Blyad’. I was right. They are soft and supple. She tastes like brown sugar or something sweet-it must be a lip balm, and I like the way it lets my lips glide.
Her hands come to my chest, lightly resting there as she tentatively returns the kiss.
I deepen it, prying her lips open as my other hand slides down her back to land on her ass. I help myself, squeezing her soft flesh as I walk her backward.
She fists my shirt as I maneuver her against the wall, where I pin her smaller body with mine. My tongue invades her mouth at the same time I stroke up the cleft of her ass. The soft material of her yoga pants yields to my exploration enough that I feel when her muscles contract. I fuck her mouth with my tongue as I pulse my finger against her anus. My cock is harder than marble, and I grab her ass with both hands to lift her, so I can grind it in the notch between her legs, reveling in her heat and the way she rides it with her feet hooked behind my back.
I don’t want to stop. I want to kiss this girl senseless. Leave her panting and breathless and unable to recall her own name. I want her begging again, pleading to be my zayka.
But the kiss was coerced. A mild coercion but possibly still unwanted.
She may be returning it, but she had no choice, really. Not if she wants her ring back.
So I break it.
She stares up at me, lips swollen, eyes glassy.
It’s all I can do not to claim that pout once more, except I know if I did, I wouldn’t stop with a kiss. I’d pick her up and carry her straight into my bedroom, breaking every rule I have about sex as currency and forcing women.
Reluctantly, I lower her hips, and she puts her feet down to stand. When I ease my body back, she falls against the wall like her legs don’t work. I want to steady her, but I don’t dare touch her again.
I step back and tip my head sideways toward the door. “Get out.”
A laugh tumbles from her lips. “Or you’ll spank me?” She seems happy. But then, she got her ring back and didn’t have to blow me, so of course she’s happy. It wasn’t that she needed my kiss. Or that she craves another one.
I smile back because I’m already far too fond of her to play mean. “That’s right.”
I know the idea excites her, or she wouldn’t have mentioned it again. Of course, I saw her body’s reaction to my words the first time.
She walks to the door and stops with her hand on the handle to look back. “Thank you, Nikolai.” She seems sincere.
“My pleasure,” I say, which is the truth.
She steps through the door and starts to close it.
“But I will break Zane’s nose for his fuckery.”
She freezes, her eyes flaring wide. “No, please, Nikolai-”
“You have no say in this,” I interrupt, and her mouth snaps shut.
There. The fear is back, as it should be. I’m the bratva bookie. I can’t let everyone who owes me something off with a kiss.
“And you still owe me,” I tell her.
She likes that better. She softens her hip against the doorframe. “What do I owe you?”
Huh. Is she still offering sex?
Nevermind. It doesn’t matter if she offers or I demand it, I still don’t accept it as currency. I’ve had enough meaningless sex to last me a lifetime.
I don’t need any more.
The next time I take a woman to my bed, I want it to be something real. Like what the others have. Or I at least want to find out if I’m capable of having something real.
“A favor. When I call it in, you’ll have to give it.”
She rubs her puffy lips together. “Give what?” her voice sounds husky.
“Whatever I demand, Freckles. That’s how it works.”
Probably realizing I might mean something more sinister than a kiss, she pales and draws herself up from the doorframe. “I rescind my thanks, then,” she says. She’s so fucking adorable when she gets tart. “Since this is just business.”
“Out,” I tell her, and she shoves the door closed with a click.
I stand there a moment still staring at the door, a smile playing around my lips. Then I pull out my phone and call Dima.
“What’s up, mudak?” Dima answers. It sounds like he’s in the car, probably with Natasha, since the two are inseparable.
“I need you to dig up everything you can on Chelle Goldberg.”
“Zane’s sister?”
“Da.”
“Now look who’s cyberstalking a woman.”
Before Dima finally let himself have Natasha, the guy played full-on cyberstalker with her, watching her go in and out of our building, tracking everything there was digitally available on her.
“Shut up, or I will tell your fiance the full extent of your creepiness. I know I’m on speaker. Hi, Natasha.”
“Hi, Nikolai,” Natasha says with a laugh. “What’s the full extent of Dima’s creepiness?”
“Nevermind, we don’t need to go there,” Dima says. “So, you want the full dossier on Chelle?”
“I want everything.”
“Give me a couple days.”
“I need it tomorrow.” I end the call as Dima’s telling me he’ll see what he can do.
I know the guy can do pretty much anything, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it.
I may have let Chelle go, but that doesn’t mean I’m finished with her. In fact, I’m just getting started.