Since she’s still learning English and is afraid to interact with people, he gave her a job cleaning the Kremlin. Never mind that he already has at least five other Russian immigrants on the payroll for the same job.
Now that she’s coming out of her depression, she does a little babysitting for him as well.
“You’ve showered?” Sometimes personal hygiene goes out the window when she’s in a funk.
“I will shower after work.”
Right. She wouldn’t go out to see the Storytellers without showering.
“Eaten breakfast?”
“I will. Adrian, I’m fine. What about you? What are you doing? When are you coming home?”
“I just have some business to take care of. I’ll be back in a couple weeks… if it all goes well.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Her voice is tight with strain.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell her. I don’t intend to die at Poval’s hand. I know it’s a distinct possibility, but I plan on making it home alive. With justice served.
I sneak a look at Kat, who doesn’t deserve her role in my vengeance. She’s frantically working her wrists against the zip ties.
“Ravil wants you to call him. He said it’s important.”
“Yeah, I will. I have to go, Nadia. Call me tomorrow when you wake.”
“I will.”
I hesitate. “Have a good time tonight.”
“Spasibo,” she thanks me. “Do svidaniya.”
“Do svidaniya.” I say goodbye and hang up then walk to Kat’s side. “Hey,” I say sharply. “You’re only hurting yourself. You won’t get free. Stop trying.”
“Go fuck yourself, mudak.”
Asshole is the same in Ukrainian as it is in Russian.
I don’t have a thing for hurting women. In fact, it’s the opposite. Knowing what my sister suffered, the idea of hurting a woman makes me sick. But Kat looks so beautiful right now with her wrists tied over her head. Her lips are chapped which makes them red and pretty and very kissable.
I rub my forehead.
I shouldn’t be getting emotionally involved with this girl. That should be the farthest thing from my mind right now. I should be channeling Ravil’s cool business-like approach. Show nothing, give nothing. But instead I find the need to claim this girl. To comfort her. To show her who’s boss in a sexier way than using zip ties on her poor wrists. The way she liked it last night.
Kateryna is a beautiful, sexy girl, and last night definitely tweaked me in a way I didn’t expect. I may have not thought I had a thing for the school girl outfit or playing dominant, but now I do. Now I definitely do. I will never forget what it felt like to make her come all over my fingers after spanking that pretty little ass red.
“They hurt,” she complains. “My arms hurt. My wrists hurt. I can’t be in this position any longer!”
Da. She’s right. I need to change things. I pull my pen knife out of my pocket and cut the zip tie around her wrists loose, catching her hands to keep her from hitting me.
And she does try. She hits and kicks at me, suddenly a violent little ball of venom. I have to pin her down on the bed, my knees straddling her waist, my weight falling into manacling her wrists with my hands. I sit on her pelvis to pin her down.
After a moment of useless struggle, she goes still, breathing hard beneath me. Her gaze is less angry than it is…hurt?
This is why I shouldn’t have mixed business with pleasure. I am fucking this up so badly.
“Let me go.” Her eyes fill with angry tears.
“Don’t make this hard, dietka.”
She changes tack. “I need to use the loo.”
It’s probably a lie, but what can I do? I’m not going to make her soil the bed. “Okay. Let’s go.” I should put the zip ties back on her, but I decide to take the risk and just hang onto her. She’s small and not trained in hand to hand combat like I am. She could get lucky and take me out, but it seems highly unlikely.
I ease my hips up from hers and swing a leg off the bed, tug her by her wrists to pivot her up to sit then stand. Her glare still holds the same hurt I saw a moment ago.
I fold her wrists behind her back one at a time then turn her to face the bathroom and walk behind her, holding her prisoner.
When we get to the bathroom, she uses the toilet then turns on the shower. “I feel gross,” she says sulkily. Without looking at me, she starts stripping off her clothes, starting with her knee-high socks.
I shut the door and lean my ass against it. “Fine. Use shower.” I fold my arms over my chest.
There’s no window in the shower. She’s not getting out. It seems harmless enough.
She unzips her skirt and lets it drop, then she takes off the blouse, her bra, and finally her panties.
I try to keep my gaze… well, diffused. I can’t very well look away or turn my back. She might bash my head in with the back of the ceramic toilet tank. But it’s damn hard not to appreciate her beautiful body. She has full, ripe breasts that contrast with her tiny rib cage and narrow waist. Not much in the hips department, but her legs are shapely, and that ass…so cute.
She ignores me and pulls off the elastic bands holding the ends of her braids to unwind her long dark hair. She steps into the shower and slides the frosted glass door closed.
“Don’t you have any conditioner?” she demands.
“Nyet. Why would I need conditioner?”
“I need conditioner. Do you know how tangled my hair is going to be?”
“Sorry, printsessa.”