I jam my feet into the flip flops and toss my long hair as I walk to the elevator. Oleg has already gone down, so it takes a moment to return, and I stand there, staring at the steel doors rather than look at the man at my elbow.
“You can’t keep me prisoner,” I say finally, even though it’s only wishful thinking.
“Not prisoner,” he says mildly. “Special guest. I must keep you close, so I can protect you and be sure you are very well cared for. You carry precious cargo, of course.”
Now I cut a look at him. “I go unwillingly. Under protest.”
His lips twitch. “Noted.”
Dammit. I shouldn’t find sparring with him so sexy.
It must be the hormones talking.
Because my worst nightmare about having a baby with a member of the Russian bratva is coming true.
And I seem to be incapable of stopping it.
Ravil
WE TAKE the back elevator up to the top floor. I own this entire downtown building-the Kremlin, as it’s known in the neighborhood. Everyone in it is Russian.
And I put the word out before I left to break into her apartment. Everyone speaks Russian in front of Lucy. No English.
If she wants something, she’ll have to rely on me.
Lucy told me she already ate dinner, so I called on the way over and canceled the order for a full meal, asking instead for a variety of snacks and amenities to be prepared.
I keep my hand on her lower back as we go. I don’t like the pinched quality in her face nor her general pallor.
It’s a very fine line I walk here-making sure she takes my threat seriously enough not to disobey me yet making her relaxed and comfortable, so she stays healthy and can rest at ease.
Already I’m questioning my plan. I’m not one to hold onto anger. I remember it, I file it away to use as a reason for whatever revenge I’m enacting, but I don’t keep the emotion.
Still, I didn’t expect to find myself quite so eager to see her under my thrall, legs parted, body surrendered for my plundering.
I don’t think she even wanted to surrender to me back at her apartment. It was like she couldn’t help herself. Her brain revolted, but her body said yes.
Said more.
Said please.
And now I’m already planning our night together. Her punishment.
Possibly even a reward.
Blyat. She will have me wrapped around her finger if I’m not careful. Simply by being Lucy.
I don’t know what it is about her, but I felt it from the very start. The moment I saw her at Black Light, I wanted her. Perhaps I recognize something similar in her that’s also in me.
That drive for perfection. Excellence. Like she has something to prove, and she wants to get it right.
It makes me want to help her get there. Protect her from failure.
At Black Light, it made me want to draw out her surrender. Show her she could trust me not to humiliate her or degrade her, yet still to own her every response, every quiver, every orgasm.
And I still have that urge, despite the very disrespectful ideas running through my mind.
She’s definitely getting a flogging.
I’ll probably tie her up-but with something soft and forgiving like a silk tie. My hand creeps lower on her ass. Knowing she’s not wearing panties makes me sprout a semi.
We enter the top floor-my headquarters.
After I bought it five years ago, I had the entire building remodeled, a little every year, using only Russian laborers. Many of them live here, too, on the lower floors. They do their best for me because I take good care of them. I pay well, help them when there’s a problem, and provide protection from the American law and larger world. Plus, they live in prime real estate for a fraction of the price they’d normally pay.
Because none of the bratva have their own families, my brigadiers all live on this floor with me. We make our own family.
They come out of their rooms now to gawk at my captured princess. Her back straightens even more-ramrod stiff.
“Lucy, these are my men. You’ve already met Oleg, my enforcer, if you hadn’t guessed.”
Oleg lifts his chin in a ghost of a greeting.
“Maxim is a bit like me-he’s the fixer.”
“Rad vstreche.” Maxim shakes her hand. His English is excellent, but he’s playing along with me. No one will let on that they can understand Lucy while she’s here. Not unless I change my edict. My word is law in this building.
“Nicholai is my accountant.” Of course by accountant, I mean bookie.
“Dima, his twin, is the IT specialist.” Hacker.
“Twins,” she murmurs, gaze flicking between them. I don’t know why everyone finds twins so fascinating, but between the two of them, Dima and Nicholai get far more pussy than the rest of the men in the building.
“Pavel is a brigadier.”
“What’s a brigadier?” I like how quickly she digests it all and asks questions. She has an inquisitive mind. It will be hard to stay three steps ahead of her, but I will.
“It’s like a captain.”
“Capo,” she says.
“Yes, like the Italian capo.”
“And what’s your job? Also fixer?”
I shake my head. “I am the director. Pakhan of the Chicago Bratva.”
“Papa,” Maxim says with a smirk.
I shoot him a warning glance. He’s not supposed to understand what I’m saying. And I don’t go by Papa. Igor is still technically Papa, even though he’s on his deathbed and in Russia.
She looks around at the layout of the floor. It had originally consisted of four thirty-five hundred square foot penthouse apartments. I knocked out the walls of two of them to make it one giant mansion with separate wings. “You all live here? Together?”
“Yes. We are a family.”
Maxim and Dima watch her reaction with amusement. They enjoy my games, and the fact that this one is aimed at a beautiful woman makes it all the more entertaining. Having her share our space will be a novelty for all of us.