Maykl
Someone’s buzzing the bell of the Kremlin front doors. Technically, not my problem. The doors are locked-it’s past business hours. It’s approaching nine at night, for fuck’s sake.
But I have the video feed running in my room because I take security at the Kremlin very seriously, and this one doesn’t look like she’s going away.
She’s holding a suitcase and is hunched against the wind. The long red woolen jacket wrapped around her doesn’t disguise how slender she appears. How lovely.
She raises her gloved hand and raps on the glass. “Pozhaluysta.” I can’t hear the word, but I see her lips form it.
Blyad’. She’s Russian.
I’m up and out of my chair in a heartbeat, palming a pistol that I tuck in the waistband of my jeans. I shove my feet in a pair of boots and get on the elevator to go down to the front doors.
I see my share of crazy shit here. I saw when that band kid tried to knock the doors down a month ago to get in. I knew he was here for Nadia, and I also knew Adrian wouldn’t approve, so I didn’t even bother answering the door.
As it turned out, Nikolai let the kid in.
I’ve had to field an aggressive visitor for that mudak, too. Before she was his girlfriend, Chelle nearly climbed me like a tree when I tried to throw her out. I guess her brother has a gambling problem that Nikolai helped her out with.
I open the door and stare at the pale beauty looking up at me. Her eyes are ice blue, and her lashes and brows a light blonde.
She takes in my tattoos and the width of my shoulders. “I am Russian,” she says in our mother tongue, ducking her head submissively. “I was told I would be welcomed here.”
Fuck.
I grunt and open the door to at least let her in from the cold. “Told by whom?” I demand in Russian.
She gives a name I don’t recognize.
“What do you need?”
She pulls off her winter cap, revealing a head of pale blonde hair that falls in layers to her shoulders. I get the feeling the submissive act is just thatan act. There’s a steely determination behind her eyes that makes me cautious.
“My name is Kira. I just arrived from Russia, and I need a place to stay.”
I consider her for a moment. Nyet. There’s something off about this.
I jerk my thumb toward the door. “So find a hotel.” I speak in English to see if she understands me.
Her pale brows draw together, but she replies in accented English. “I can’t stay here? Just for a few days until I get a job and find my bearings?” She unbuttons her coat, and I take in her slender but feminine form. She’s in pants that hug her hips and a pair of lace-up boots that give her a mildly punk look. Her sweater is asymmetrical, falling off one shoulder and molding to her perky tits.
She appears alert. In command of herself. She’s taken in the opulent lobby as well as the gun at my waist without any apparent surprise. Like she expected as much.
Her gaze travels from my face, to my chest, and down my tattooed arms. When she sees the tattoo that marks me with the sin of patricide, her lip curls slightly with what appears to be distaste. Like she knows what it means.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you really here for?”
She goes still for a moment then draws in a breath and lets it out. “I came to Chicago to find someone. But… it seems they may be harder to locate than I expected. I need a place to stay, and I don’t know the area. I can pay a little. Or I could work it off.”
I relax a bit because I recognize the note of truth in her voice. Or maybe her demeanor.
She wasn’t being suggestive when she offered to work it off, but my mind jumps to all the jobs I’d love to give her.
On her knees, at my feet.
In my bed.
Maybe some light cleaning while she’s scantily clothed.
Blyad.’ My mind isn’t normally this clouded by sex. Something about this waif of a warrior in front of me has me dying to conquer her.
“I heard back home that this place is a bratva stronghold but safe for someone like me.” She holds my gaze with hers, and I picture her tied to my bed while I go out and slay dragons for her.
The fact that she admits she knows what we are relaxes me even more. That was the vibe I got. She didn’t just wander in off the street. She understands we are a criminal organization. Dangerous-but not to her. It explains her demeanor. But where is she from? How does she know about us?
These are problems that need to be solved before I just let her into the building.
I consider her.
Her beauty does strange things to my decision-making skills. Something about that bowtie mouth. The exquisite bone structure. The egg-shaped birthmark on her cheek that looks like a fairy’s kiss.
She seems both fragile and strong at the same time.
I can’t tell if I’m uneasy because I know something’s off about her or because of my dick’s reaction. I’m dying to throw her over my shoulder, carry her to my apartment and spread those legs. Find the juicy pink heart between them and feast until she screams.
And that’s how I arrive at the answer. The wrong one, I’m certain.
“The apartments are not mine to rent out, but you can stay with me tonight until I can take you to my pakhan.”
She swallows like she’s afraid of what that might mean, but she bobs her head. “Thank you…” She lifts her brows as she holds out her hand.
I clasp it. Her grip is firm, her skin soft. “Maykl.”
“Maykl.” She gives me the glimmer of a smile.
Seeing that softness on her makes me want to learn her secrets. Earn a full smile. An easy one.
I lock the front doors and reset the alarm then pick up her suitcase. I tip my head toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”
Kira
Maykl is gruff but not a mudak. Not like the bratva men Anya serviced. They were less civilized than this guy appears. Unintelligent. Certainly not chivalrous. I’m not the type who needs a man to carry her suitcase, but I admit it feels nice.
But that doesn’t mean I find Maykl any less dangerous or menacing.
I know what his tattoos mean. The black X’s across his knuckles signify his kills. The apple shoved down a tree’s throat means he killed his own father. That one is shocking but also not entirely surprising. Most men get into the bratva young. They are street kids, usually with bad home situations. The bratva lures them in with the illusion of glory. The promise of power. They indoctrinate them into manhood through violence and crime.
He leads me to an elevator, which requires a keycard to start.
High-tech. That’s interesting. Clearly, this American branch of bratva is swimming in money to be able to afford this kind of stronghold right on the shore of Lake Michigan. I don’t know Chicago, but it’s obvious this is prime real estate, and the building is new and luxurious. The brass edging and handrails in the elevator gleam. Everything smells fresh and clean and expensive.
We get off on the third floor, and Maykl stomps with his untied boots to a door where he uses his keycard again. It shouldn’t be too hard to steal that card from him and have a look around. He’s the doorman. He seems in charge of security for the buildinga gatekeeper of sorts. I wouldn’t be surprised if his particular key opens everything.
Whatever I imagined or expected this place to be is very far from what I found. It’s not some kind of crack house for Russians. It’s a beautiful, modern, high-tech fortress.
Which means sleeping with MayklI mean, in his apartmentis probably the luckiest break I could have. I’d probably be smart to seduce him to really win his trust and ensure I can stay.
That’s not my specialty, but honestly? With Maykl it probably wouldn’t be a hardship. He’s over six feet of solid muscle, wide across the chest, chiseled in the arms. Any guy who carries a woman’s suitcase can’t be a total prick in bed. He at least has some level of consideration for others.
Not a total sociopath like the bratva men I’ve known.
His apartment is small but clean and elegantly appointed. It’s open concept with a granite countered peninsula separating the kitchen area from the living room. One wall features a desk with a half-dozen monitors that each display several different video feeds, including one of the front doors.
So that’s how he knew I was out there ringing the bell.
He kicks his boots off by the door, so I do the same, shrugging out of my woolen coat.
“Would you mind if I took a shower?”
I don’t actually need the shower, but it’s part of my seduction act. Again–I’m not an expert with this particular game-that was Anya’s gig. But getting naked and wet has to be a step in the right direction.
Maykl lifts his chin in the direction of the bedroom and follows me in with the suitcase, flipping on the light. He has a giant, king-sized bed in the center. It’s rumpled like I got him out of it to answer the door. There’s a dresser against one wall and two end tables. Otherwise, it’s pretty basic. It smells like himof leather and aftershave and that uniquely masculine scent I caught when we were in the elevator together.
I purposely don’t take my suitcase or any change of clothes into the bathroom. That way I can come out in a towel. Maybe accidentally drop it.
As it turns out, the shower is amazing. The stall is a beautiful walk-in with white marble or quartz walls and small iridescent glass tiles on the floor in blues and greens. The showerhead is large, and the spray of warm water is powerful.
I must be more aware of my body from thinking about having sex with the gatekeeper because everything feels so sensual. I bite back a moan of pleasure as I step under the water. It feels so good.
I spend a long time under the spray. He has a razor in there for his face, and I use it to clean up my bikini area and shave my legs and armpits. I wash and condition my hair. Soap every crack and crevice.
All right, maybe I’m stalling.
What if I don’t know how to seduce a man? I’m usually the one being hit on, not the other way around.
I close my eyes and channel Anya. After her initial trauma, she learned to claim power in what she hadwhich was only her body. She was forced into the role, but after that, she embraced it. Learned how to make it work for her. Of course, she had to because after our father was murdered by the bratva four months later, our mother stayed in bed for the next three years.
I think Anya truly believed she was bettering her life and Mika’s when she came to America with her bratva boyfriend.
I turn off the water and towel dry then walk out of the bathroom as I squeeze the towel around my hair.
Maykl’s not in the bedroom. I walk into the living room where I find him on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table, watching television. He pauses the show when he sees me but otherwise doesn’t give me the reaction I expected.
His eyes narrow as he takes in my nudity. “Kira.”
I cock a hip. The tail of the towel falls across one breast. I pretend to be completely unaffected by my state of undress. “I don’t mean to keep you from your own bedroom,” I say in a soft voice.
He picks his feet up from the coffee table and rises. “Are you trying to seduce me?” There’s a note of danger in his voice. A reminder that I’m playing a game that could have life-threatening consequences.
I’m glad Stepanov is waiting for me to check in. If I don’t call or text, he will know to send his FBI contacts in after me.
Maykl advances on me. His sheer size and bulk make it hard to hold my ground. Especially naked and without a weapon. I drop the towel completely. I’m already too far in this to not be bold. “Is it working?”
He stops inches from me. Looks down at me from a power stance. “No.” The word is no more than a growl, but I notice his pupils are dilated like he’s turned on.
He catches me around the throat but doesn’t squeeze. His narrowed eyes search my face. “What are you up to, little warrior?”
I would expect my fight instinct to come into play. I’m trained at hand-to-hand combat. I excel with a firearm. But something about Maykl’s loose hold around my throat feels far more sexual than threatening.
Like he’s showing me how he’d be in bed. Dominant. Attentive. Gentle when he needs to be. Rough when he doesn’t.
Moisture leaks between my legs. My nipples stiffen to tight buds. His gaze dips to one of them, and he brushes the backs of his knuckles over it.
“I’m just”I draw in a sharp breath when he takes my nipple between his knuckles and squeezes”showing my gratitude.”
He shakes his head. “No. You want something. What is it?”
I know the secret to a good lie is to stick as closely to the truth as possible. That’s what I’d done in the lobby when he was quizzing me, and it seemed to work.
“I don’t have any resources available to me here. No network. No contacts. I can’t afford to stay in a decent hotel for more than a couple of nights.” I lift my gaze to his and hold it. “I’d much rather stay here. I’m making friends.”
“So you thought you’d suck my dick, and we’d be friends?” he shakes his head. “Sorry, little warrior. I’m not that easy to play.”
“You haven’t had my mouth on your cock yet.”