Ravil
“LADY LUCK.”
I catch the elbow of the lovely blonde attorney as she sways. I’m so shocked to find her here-in Chicago of all places-I fail at first to notice the cause of her swoon.
Then I see it. Her belly protrudes indelicately below the button on her designer suit jacket.
Her pregnant belly.
I do the math very quickly. Valentine’s night. Broken condom. Five months ago. Yes, her bump is the right size to be mine. But I could’ve skipped the calculation-everything’s there on her colorless face.
She’s having my baby. And she didn’t want me to know it.
Blyat.
I may have thought many times about our night together. I may have even returned to the club in DC to seek her-without luck. But her thoughts of me have not been so fond.
She’s definitely not happy to see me. In fact, she looks downright alarmed.
As well she should be.
I take in a measured breath.
“LUCK INDEED,” I murmur, releasing her elbow as she quickly recovers, her ice-princess mask snapping firmly into place on her lovely face.
Lady Luck was the name she chose at the roulette event where I met her. Until today, I didn’t know her real name. Nor that we live in the same city.
“Mr. Turgenev.” She offers a slim hand to Adrian, who slouches a little as she shakes it, intimidated by her presence. “And Mr. Baranov, was it?”
“Call me Ravil.”
Or Master, as you called me the last time we were together.
Her brown eyes skitter to my face again. She’s even more beautiful than I remember. Pregnancy has softened her already lovely face with a few extra pounds. She has a radiant glow.
“Nice to meet you. Please, sit down.” She indicates the chairs across from her desk.
“You came highly recommended, Ms. Lawrence.” I sit, and I watch her as she shuffles the papers in her file. Her hand trembles slightly. When she sees me looking, she immediately drops the papers, snapping her head up and fixing Adrian with a shrewd gaze.
“So, you’re charged with aggravated arson. You allegedly burned down West Side Upholstery where you worked. Your bail posted at one hundred thousand and was paid by Mr. Baranov.” She flicks a glance at me then returns to focus on Adrian. “Tell me what happened.”
Adrian shrugs his shoulders. He’s one of the newest to join my fold. His accent is still thick, despite my edict that he must only speak English. I require that of all my men because it’s the quickest way to learn.
“I work at sofa factory, yes. But I know nothing about the fire.”
“The police found lighter fluid on your uniform.”
“I had barbecue after work.”
He sure did. Right after he broke into Leon Poval’s home, hoping to kill him with his bare hands. When he found the man’s apartment empty, he burned his factory down to console himself.
He’s obviously unconvincing, still in his defensive posture from being questioned by the police. I don’t tell him to act otherwise. It’s not my habit to reveal any cards before they should be turned over, even if she is working for us.
I’m also far less interested in Adrian’s case now that I am working out what’s going on with my beautiful attorney. Why didn’t she tell me?
“You were only hired there last week?”
“Da.”
I cut him a look.
“Yes,” he amends.
“Before that you worked for Mr. Baranov?” she glances my way. “As a… structural engineer?”
Adrian shrugs again. “Yes.”
“Why did you take a minimum wage job at a sofa factory when you’re trained as an engineer?”
“I have an interest in building furniture.”
Lucy sits back, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “I am better able to help you if you give me the truth.” She glances my way, as if for support. “Do you know about attorney-client privilege? Anything we discuss about your case will remain confidential and can’t be compelled from me in a court of law.”
I do nothing to intercede. This is her job. She can work for my money.
Adrian gives her a bored look.
She blows out a breath. “So you didn’t go back to the factory after work that night? Or stay late?”
Adrian shakes his head. “Nyet-no.”
She continues to interview him, jotting things down and studying both him and me. I remain silent. Let her wonder and worry.
I’m already making my plans. This afternoon I need to find out everything there is to know about Lucy Lawrence. And then I’ll know exactly what angle to take with her.
“I can probably plea-bargain it down to arson. It carries three to seven years in prison instead of four to fifteen for aggravated.”
“No,” I cut in. “He will plead not guilty. That’s why we hired the best to represent him.”
She doesn’t look surprised. “All right. I require a fifty thousand dollar retainer, payable before I enter the plea. And I will need more to work on if I’m going to win this case.”
I stand, signaling the end of the interview. “I’ll transfer the money today, and we will discuss the events some more. Thank you, counselor.”
She stands and walks around the desk. Her high heels would say fuck-me if they were red, but because they’re nude are more of an I’ll-fuck-you. Especially the way she struts in them like she lives at that altitude. I’ll bet she’s a barracuda as a lawyer. Paolo Tacone said as much.
The pregnancy does nothing to soften the edges of her imposing stature. If anything, it makes her even more goddess-like. The female form to be both worshipped and feared.
Except I know she’s the one who prefers to be dominated.
I’m guessing that’s a secret not many share. She was untried at submission when I had her. If she hasn’t pursued it since, I may be the only man who’s dominated her.
That thought shouldn’t get me hard, but it does.
I will dominate her again.