jcobtb

OWNED BY THE BRATVA KING

A BRATVA CAPTIVE ROMANCE

JAGGER COLE

Owned By The Bratva King Jagger Cole © 2021 All rights reserved.

Cover by Plan 9 Book Design | Photography by Wander Aguiar Editing by MJ Edits | Proofing by Jessie Sta ord, Teshia Elborne This is a literary work of fiction. Any names, places, or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Similarities or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events or establishments, are solely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal and a violation of US copyright law.

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Owned By The Bratva King Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Epilogue Paying The Bratva’s Debt Preview Also by Jagger Cole About the Author

OWNED BY THE BRATVA KING

She’s been mine since the second I saw her.

It would be easy to say I have no business even looking at a girl like River Finn. She’s too young. Too innocent. Too much my daughter’s best friend.

That is, until the gorgeous forbidden fruit becomes my business. A rival bratva kingpin wants her. I want his empire.

Kidnapping her as leverage should be an easy, simple business arrangement.

Except there’s nothing easy or simply about this. Not when she captures my piercing gaze. Not when she leaves me hungry and wanting. Not when her sassy mouth and dangerous curves make me weak.

But my world is strength and brutality. There’s no place in it for softness like River. There’s no room for the longforgotten, smoldering feelings she ignites in me.

Touching her could destroy my empire. Keeping her could start a war. And yet, possession is nine-tenths of the law.

River has no business being in my world. But now, I’m making it my business to make sure she never leaves.

She’s mine—finders, keepers.

This scorching hot Bratva captive romance is a standalone story in the Bratva's Claim series. Older H/younger h, twists, turns, and so much heat you'll need a cold drink. Safe, absolutely no cheating, no cli hanger, and a perfect happy ever after.

1

RIVER

A DRENALINE SCREAMS IN MY EARS , almost drowning out the thudding whirring of the helicopter blades.

I can barely breathe—fear and the roaring fight-or-flight evolutionary response taking control of my entire body. But there’s no choice here—there’s no fight, and there’s definitely no fleeing. Not with the men who’ve just taken me —bound, terrified, and dragged onto a helicopter.

I want to scream. I want to beg. I want to know what the fuck is happening to me, and where I’m going. All I know is, roughly twelve minutes ago my entire world went upsidedown and sideways.

Twelve minutes ago, I was still me; fashion-model me, shooting a spread for the Vanessa’s Dream summer swimsuit line. Which, for a model, even someone like me at my level, is like winning the fucking Grammys. I’ve spent weeks preparing for this—taking my already absurdly restrictive diet to extreme levels. Starving myself on a diet exclusively of spinach and fish-oil shakes.

Twelve minutes ago, I was doing what I do. Ethan, our Ellerenowned photographer, was clicking away as I gave “the look”—a mix of “come hither” and “bright-eyed innocence” that I’ve practiced to the point of it being second nature. It’s kind of my “thing”—as in, the thing that’s put me on dozens of magazine covers and twice as many fashion runways since I was fifteen.

Eleven minutes ago, we were racing the clock to get those perfect sunset shots—me in the final bikini of the shoot, and Ethan’s army of assistants madly running around trying to get the perfect light and shade on me. I was ignoring the aching gurgling in my stomach, powering through the final shoot on the rented yacht moored o the coast of Odesa, Ukraine.

Ten and a half minutes ago, Ethan was barking for a lighter for the French cigarette hanging from his lips in preparation of being finished. I was shoving my hair back, giving my best possible version of “the look.” And then suddenly, something was wrong.

One of the assistants was yelling about a boat approaching. A military looking ski was roaring up to the rear of the yacht.

Men with guns were jumping on board yelling in some sort of Baltic language. Ethan was screaming that this was a private boat, and one of his assistants was running up to show who we thought were Ukranian Coast Guard our passports and clearance papers.

And then ten minutes ago, that assistant got shot through the head, splattering blood across the deck of the yacht. After

that, my world went sideways, and all hell broke loose.

I remember screaming and running for the front of the boat, as if there was any escape o of a fucking boat. I remember crying, and thinking I was going to die. There were more shots, more screams And then, suddenly, a helicopter was dropping out of the purple sunset sky.

At first, I thought I was being rescued. Here were the actual Coast Guard to save us from the pirates or whoever the hell was shooting at us. Men on ropes dropped to the deck.

Machine gun fire cut down the other men from the ski in seconds. I remember Ethan sobbing in relief and jumping up from his hiding place by the door to the lower cabin. Except when the grim-faced man in black with a machine gun slammed the butt of his gun into Ethan stomach, doubling him over, I realized just how fucked we actually were.

Nine and a half minutes ago, two huge, rough-looking men grabbed me, ignoring my screams as they dragged me, bikini-clad, towards the ladder hanging down from the hovering helicopter. One of them cu ed me to it and raised an arm. And suddenly, I was being pulled up o the deck of the yacht.

Now, nine mines later, I’m paralyzed by fear. I’m freezing, wearing just a bikini with the wind roaring through the open door of the military helicopter. My wrists are handcu ed in front of me. There’s a bag over my head. All I know is, I’m somewhere over the Black Sea; at least, I think I am. And I’m scared out of my fucking mind.

Around me, I can hear the sounds of men speaking roughly to each other in what might be Russian or Ukrainian.

Someone says something, and a few of the men sitting next to me chuckle. This is a joke to them.

I smell cigarette smoke. Someone says something else, and there’s another round of dark chuckles. I’m trembling. I want to cry, but I’m too scared to. I’m almost too scared to even breathe.

The pressure and the terror mounts and builds, until finally, it feels like I’m going to explode. Even still, I can’t seem to scream. All I manage is the world’s softest “where are we going.”

The man next to me grunts something loudly. I can hear him turn to me, and I gasp as I feel him lean close to me.

“What?” He growls in a heavily accented voice.

I’m about to say it again. But I gasp sharply as if feel the helicopter bank and start to drop. I lurch, fumbling for anything to hold onto. The men chuckle again, and a heavy hand grabs my arm tightly, steadying me. The man leans in again.

“What?” He snarls once more.

“Where are we going?” I gasp He chuckles darkly. “Korol,” he grunts. “We go to Korol.”

I swallow, my mind racing. I’ve learned all of a whopping three phrases in Ukrainian in preparation for my photoshoot

here: “thank you,” “where is the bathroom,” and “do you speak English.”

“Korol?” I whisper. “Where—” “No where,” he growls. “Who. Korol is King.”

I balk. “King?” I blurt. “What king?! Please! I—I have money!”

He laughs. “Nyet.”

“I can get you whatever you want!” I sob. “Please… please don’t hurt—” The man says something gru in response in whatever the language is he’s speaking. I frown beneath the dark fabric covering my head. But then I gasp when another man leans close to my other side.

“He says,” this new man growls thickly. “You’re are not his to hurt.”

My face pales. Fear sinks it’s claws into me.

“Please…”

“You belong to the King now, little one,” the second man snarls.

My stomach wrenches.

“What?”

The helicopter drops sharply, and I realize we’re landing.

The men begin to speak around us, and I gasp when the

chopper touches down with a thunk. So we’re on land, I guess.

Rough hands grab me—firmly, but gently. They usher me out of the door, and I gasp at the sea breeze that blows across my bare skin. I’m guided down stairs, my pulse racing and my entire body trembling. I can hear the sound of the helicopter engines turning o . And then suddenly, a hand grabs the top of the sack over my head. It’s yanked away from me, and I gasp as my eyes suddenly adjust.

It’s night. I whirl, but when all I see is ocean in every direction, my mind turns into knots. I blink and whirl again, but then I realize I’m standing on the very top of an enormous boat. A dark black mega-yacht that dwarfs the one I was just taken from.

The men round me suddenly sti en and step aside. I whirl, and I gasp when the tall, huge silhouette of a man cloaked in shadow suddenly steps up onto the helicopter pad. He turns and barks something in what sounds like Russian. The huge, rough men with guns nod and instantly obey, like his word is law. They quickly file away, until it’s just him and I alone in the dark night, with the wind whipping around us.

My heart is racing, and my legs shake. The man steps closer, and closer still. Until suddenly, he steps into the low light cast from a sidelight on the helicopter pad.

And instantly, relief floods through me. Because I realize that I know him. Like I actually really know him. We’ve only met once, at a dinner in Chicago. But I know him.

His name is Yuri Volkov, and he’s my best friend’s dad. Well, sort of. Her recently rediscovered biological dad who happens to be the head of a vicious and notorious Russian Bratva family.

But even still, relief melts through my core. This has all been a mistake! Obviously, this is a misunderstanding. This is some kind of Russian mob business that I’ve been caught up in. But he knows me! I sigh, smiling in relief as I stagger towards him.

“Oh my God, Mr. Volkov—” “You will not call me that here.” His accented voice sounds like leather, smoke, and fine scotch. It’s a mix of moneyed and rough-and-tumble. The billionaire CEO meets the bareknuckle street fighter.

I blink, stuttering in surprise. My brows furrow as I look up at him. “Sorry, what?”

“Here,” my friend’s father growls thickly. His eyes narrow into twin piercing blue points of fire on me. “You will not call me. Mr. Volkov.”

I smile nervously. We’ve met once. But it’s not like we’re old friends. Even at that dinner, as my friend Belle’s father, he was… cold. Shrouded in a darkness, not to mention a power.

Not to mention, the man is a stone-cold fox.

I spent most of that dinner absolutely ogling him—the perfectly chiseled features. The thick black hair with the silver at the temples. The absolutely piercing blue eyes. The

fact that I could tell even with the three-piece suit that he had a body carved out of marble that most men half his age would kill for.

He’s wearing a similar suit now. Those eyes are still just as soul-quivering as they were that night over fine French cuisine.

But there’s no candles here. No expensive red wine. No salad forks. Just him and I, shivering in the darkness of the Black Sea, on the biggest yacht I’ve ever even heard of.

“What’s going on?” I whisper. “We’ve—we know each other!”

His chiseled jaw clenches tight. His eyes narrow. “A regrettable circumstance,” he growls in his thickly Russianaccented voice.

“Mr. Vol—” I catch myself. “Please, men attacked us on our photoshoot—” “And my men shot them. Yes, I know.”

I blink, shivering as I hug myself. “Mr. Vo—” I frown, catching myself again before I look at him pleadingly.

“Please, why am I—” “You are here, River,” he grunts thickly. “Because you are mine. Because you belong to me now.”

It’s like the record-player needle to my life suddenly scratches. He says it as easily as you’d order at a takeout window.

I blink, frowning. I must be too hungry. Or too cold. Or too terrified. Because I swear I just heard him say— “You are mine now,” he hisses again, as if he knows I didn’t hear the first time.

My mouth falls understand—”

open.

“What?”

I

whisper.

“I

don’t

“It is not complicated.” His steely eyes sweep over me fiercely. “You belong to me now. And you will stay here, as mine.”

I swallow, and suddenly, I realize he’s not joking. There’s no prank here. No Ashton fucking Kutcher. I’m literally in a foreign country, without a passport, without any fucking clothes, on a yacht with men with guns, and the leader of one of the most dangerous Russian mafia families in the world.

“Let me go,” I whisper. “Please, Mr.—” “You will have your freedom.” His voice is like chilled vodka.

It’s silky smooth and yet rough and dangerously edged, like a knife. And I hate how it makes me tremble. I hate that it makes my core tighten and my pulse skip.

“You will have your freedom when you have helped me.”

I stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“When you have help—” “Why the fuck would I help—”

“Because without it,” he snaps savagely, making me tremble. “Without it, you have no freedom,” He grunts coldly.

I swallow, trembling. “We—we know each other. We’ve met…”

“A regrettable circumstance given what must be done.”

When he says nothing more and o ers no other explanation, we just stare at each other across the helicopter pad, with the lights casting ominous shadows across his chiseled face.

“Let me go,” I whisper again.

He says nothing. Just silence.

“Please! Mr. Volk—” “I told you not to call me that.”

“Okay! Fine!” I blurt. “Yuri, please—” “Here you may call me ‘sir.’”

I blush. And my self-loathing grows as the heat of that word from his mouth touches me.

“What?”

“I said here you may call me ‘sir,’” he growls without blinking. No smile. No “just kidding.”

“You’re joking.”

He says nothing to me. He just turns and barks something in Russian. Instantly, a man materializes out of the shadows

and nods curly at him. When Yuri Volkov barks another order, the man nods again and turns to me.

“Okay! Okay! Please!” I blurt in terror. “Please! Please, sir!”

Yuri turns and smiles thinly. “Good. That is good.”

Hope blooms in me. “Good like I can go?”

His smile thins. “Good like you’re learning.”

And then suddenly, I can scream again. And scream I do. I scream for help until my voice is raw. But when I whirl, I know it’s useless. I’m in the middle of an ocean, on this man’s boat. I’m trapped. I’m caged. I’m…

“You may yell all you want, kiska,” the gorgeous, dangerous man grunts. “But I am the only one who will hear your screams.”

He steps towards me, and I gasp as he suddenly looms over me.

“You have entered my kingdom, little bird,” he purrs. “And here, I am king. Here, all is mine, all under my control.” His lips thin. “Including you.”

My pulse thuds.

“I would begin to make myself used to that idea if I were you,” he growls quietly.

My heart races. The blood thunders in my ears. My thighs are clenching as pure heat from those piercing blue eyes burns through me

And then suddenly, he turns, and without another word, he walks away.

You are mine. You belong to me now.

His words echo like a drum thudding in my very soul as I watch him melt back into the darkness.

2

YURI

M Y EYES NARROW as I watch the black spot of the helicopter approaching from over the horizon. My hand tightens its grip on the crystal tumbler in my hand, the scotch swirling gently before I bring it to my lips.

I swallow slowly, savoring the peaty smokiness. Then I raise the glass to the helicopter approaching like a dark bird of prey—like I’m giving a toast. Not to victory; not yet. But a toast to the opening volley of a war.

I grimace, but my resolve is like iron. I may have just fired the first shot. But I did not bring us to the brink of this war.

Just the same, if it’s a war my enemies want, they’re about to reap the goddamn whirlwind.

My eyes follow the chopper as it approaches over the sea in the dying embers of sunset. The first shots have been fired, and the first spoils of war taken. In this case, a pawn to play like a queen on the chessboard in front of me.

Like I said, I didn’t bring us to the brink like this. Semyon Belsky, the fat, greedy, recklessly unhinged leader of the

Belsky Bratva did. For years, the Belsky and the Volkov families have held… well, not a truce. Not even an uneasy one. It would be better to compare it to North and South Korea, with the demilitarized zone between them. I ignore Semyon and his interests as best I can. He ignores me and mine just the same.

What has helped keep the “peace” is that we both do business with an extraordinarily wealthy, politicallyconnected oligarch named Petya Gagarina. As with most truces in this world, it is money that has held this war at bay for so long.

At least, it did. But a greedy pig is a greedy pig by nature. In the last year, Semyon has mistaken my tactics trending towards diplomacy over violence as weakness. When an underboss of mine overseeing my interests in the United States began skimming and taking on business on the side, forcing me to correct things, Semyon saw opportunity back in Russia.

Semyon has seen my semi-recent truce with the Kashenko Bratva as a weakness to exploit. Tonight, I will crush those ideas.

My enemy is about to learn that as diplomatic as I have been recently, violence still beats in my very heart. He is about to learn what it truly means to hurt and bleed, slowly. Semyon is not just a pig. He’s a hog. And as the saying goes: pigs get fat; hogs get slaughtered.

Three weeks ago, I was one meeting away from cementing an extremely lucrative business arrangement. A man named

Boris Tsavakova who owns Russia’s largest cement business, was looking to expand. To do so, he needed both protection and the political sway that a man such as myself holds.

Unlike America, in Russia, the mafia does not hide in the shadows from the government. In Russian, the mafia is the government.

Boris’s contract with me would have bumped my profits by twenty-percent. Not to mention giving me an almost monopoly on bratva connections to the construction industry. But two hours before our final meeting, Boris bailed on me.

Instead of the Volkov Bratva, as agreed, he went with the Belskys.

Now, I could lean into my fury. I could lean on this other man; destroy his home, or kill his whole family if I so chose.

I could burn his life to the ground and stomp upon the ashes.

But that won’t bring me the business I want. That is not how I have achieved what I’ve built. Strength and power, but under control. Brutality, but checked.

Besides, this isn’t Boris’s doing. This is Semyon.

I have had people in his organization for years. And just yesterday, an opportunity presented itself. As I said: strength and power, but under control. Brutality, but checked. I could marshal the Volkov forces into an all-out war on the Belsky family. But war is not good for business. Scorched earth hurts me as much as my enemy.

So instead, I will take something he wants.

The intelligence I gleaned yesterday was simple enough: there’s a woman that he wants. A young, famous model who has captured Semyon’s fancy. Semyon being the fat, disgusting pig that he is, has no intention of wooing or charming this girl. His plans were to take her.

Were.

I smile as the chopper begins to descend to the helipad above the top deck of my yacht. I down the last of my scotch and leave the glass on the table on my private deck. I turn and climb the stairs to meet my men, and my new prize, not Semyon’s.

I have no idea who this unfortunate model is. But I also do not worry myself with caring. All that matters is that she was Semyon’s treasure to take. And now, she is mine. Mine to flaunt in front of him. Mine to dangle like a prize, in order to make him dance like the piggy little puppet he is.

My source within his organization has assured me this is much more than Semyon simply wanting to get laid. He truly desires this poor girl. There’s been talk of marriage. I roll my eyes at how insulting it is that a man as pathetic as Semyon turns out to be my greatest rival.

But with this captured prize, I will grind him to dust. I will use her to pressure him into giving me everything I want— not just the contract with Boris that he stole. I will dismantle his empire, piece by piece, until either I have it all, or he finally, sensibly, chooses business over some hot young piece of ass.

At the top deck, I pause in the shadow by the staircase. The helicopter drops to the deck. The door slides all the way open, and the engine turns o . I grin when I see my men jump out, with two of them leading a girl with a bag over her head.

But as she steps onto the helipad, my eyes suddenly harden.

My breath intakes sharply, and I growl thickly as my gaze sweeps over her.

She’s stunning. It isn’t just that her body is stunning— flawless, sun-kissed skin, curves in all the right places, and barely hidden behind a skimpy little black bikini. While I might not indulge these days, I’ve seen beautiful women in barely-there bikinis or far less by the hundreds on this yacht and ones just like it.

And yet, there’s something about this one. It’s as if there’s a magic power to her that sucks my gaze in like a moth to a flame. I growl quietly as they pull her from the helicopter.

My eyes land on the way the men’s hands are griping her arms, and I snarl. It’s like a possessive, jealous response. As if these men are touching what is mine.

I frown and shake that thought away. No, this is simply business. This is the weak spot of an enemy, and I will not relent in pressing it as hard as I can until he bleeds and begs for mercy.

I force myself to ignore their hands on her arms. This is not personal. This is simply—

One of my men reaches up and yanks the bag from over the girl’s head. Suddenly, my world freezes. My breath catches with a hiss. My eyes widen and then narrow dangerously as my teeth bare from the shadows.

Fuck.

I know her. When the bag is pulled from her head and my eyes drink in those bright green eyes and strawberry-blonde hair, I instantly know who she is. Her name is River Finn, and she’s one of the most famous young models in the world. Christ, she may very well be on the cover of one of the magazines onboard this very fucking yacht.

But that isn’t how I know her. I groan as my eyes burn into her. We’ve met. We’ve had dinner together, back in Chicago.

But most importantly—most unfortunately—she also happens to be best friends with my daughter, Belle.

This is a problem. This would be a problem for any father in this situation. But mine is… complicated. I’m only recently back into my daughter’s life. She knows what I am—and hell, her husband is a captain in the Kashenko Bratva. But I’m well aware that kidnapping her best friend as part of a bratva power game is well over a line.

I close my eyes, hissing quietly as my hands close to fists at my sides. God fucking damnit. My mind whirls, seeking and searching for a solution to this problem. But as the Black Sea wind whips over me, my jaw grinds.

There is no other option. There’s no other solution to my current political situation with Semyon besides an all-out

war.

Shit.

If there was another option, I would take it. But I know how much Semyon wants this girl. And now, I know why. It’s not just that River is stunningly beautiful. It’s that the world just found out that one of its most beautiful young models has never been with a man.

In a recent interview with some American magazine, River just admitted that the rumors are true. Somehow, this gorgeous young woman who absolutely drips with sex appeal, is in fact a virgin.

That is why Semyon wants her. A man like him has paid for it his entire life. But even the most expensive working women money can buy are working women. Semyon beds them knowing hundreds of men just like him have bedded them as well.

That’s why he wants River, especially since my source tells me there’s been talk of a marriage. Semyon want’s a beautiful, young, untouched trophy wife. And now, she’s in my possession.

My eyes close again. I know what this will do to my fledgling relationship with my daughter. And again, if there was any other way, I would take it over this. But realizing who and what she is has unfortunately made this even more complicated. And it has made her leverage with Semyon even greater.

I know men like him. And I know now he will cut o hand for her if I tell him to.

his left

And yet, I know this is only half the truth. I can sit here in the shadows telling myself this all for business or revenge.

But when my eyes land on her once more, I feel the beast snarl against the cage inside of me.

I am motivated by payback to Semyon. But also… I groan. But also by what this girl does to me. It was there in Chicago, at that dinner. I ignored it as best I could. I drowned it in scotch and in focusing entirely on my daughter Belle.

But there’s no ignoring what River does to me. There’s no pretending that even being near her at that dinner made me weak; it made me want, and desire. And her here now makes me hunger for what I have not hungered for in a long, long time.

I want her as payback. I want her for myself. Greedily.

Hungrily.

Slowly, I step from the shadows, and I move towards my new prize. I bark an order, and my men instantly snap to attention and leave. And then, it is just her and I; just me and my forbidden temptation. My little bite of the forbidden fruit.

I could debate this in my head until the end of time. But I am a man of action and decisive thought. So there will be no debate. I look at her, trembling and shivering in the sea breeze. Her tits rise and fall against the flimsy bikini top. Her nipples strain against the material. Her fiery strawberry-

blonde hair whips in the wind. And her heart-stopping green eyes burn—fiercely, even through the fear on her pretty face.

I groan as my desire swells and surges.

So be it. She’s mine.

“Oh my God,” she gasps. Relief washes over her face. “Oh my God, Mr. Volkov—” “You will not call me that here.”

I am not a soft or gentle man. I never have been, and even she will not suddenly flick that compassion switch inside of me that most people have. Compassion is not what has allowed me to lead my three-generations strong bratva family into the twenty-first century, and to wealth and power it never imagined before me.

Ruthlessness did that. Cold, unflinching power did that.

calculated

brutality

and

My words take her aback, I can tell. We barely spoke the time we had dinner together. But still. I can tell that she clung to the hope of familiarity when she saw it was me. Now, I will squash that hope.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Here,” I growl. My eyes sweep over her as my jaw grinds.

“You will not call me. Mr. Volkov.”

There will be no familiarity here. There cannot be. I watch her smile nervously, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m playing a joke.

She’ll learn.

“What’s going on?” she whispers quietly. I can see the fear begin to creep back into her eyes. I’m neither a monster nor a psychopath. It isn’t as if I feel nothing when I see this poor girl begin to grow frightened. But I know I cannot feel anything when I see it. Not in my business.

“We… we know each other!”

“A regrettable circumstance.”

“Mr. Vol—” she swallows. “Please, men attacked us on our photoshoot—” “And my men shot them. Yes, I know.”

Her lip quivers. She hugs herself. “Please,” she mumbles quietly. “Please, why am I—” “You are here,” I growl sharply. “Because you are mine.

Because you belong to me now.”

From the look of shock on her face, I can tell I’ve just rattled her entire world. There it is. She’s getting it now. She’s understanding that my reputation for brutal coldness is not a fabricated story.

She opens her mouth as if to say something. But I stop her with a shake of my head.

“You are mine now,” I hiss.

“What?” River blurts. “I don’t understand—”

“It is not complicated.” I don’t relish being cruel or cold to her. But I also don’t relish many of the things I do on a daily basis. Yet, I do what is necessary. I do what I must to keep my empire an indomitable force of strength and willpower.

“You belong to me now. And you will stay here, as mine.”

Her face pales. She’s really getting it now.

“Let me go,” she whispers. “Please, Mr.—” “You will have your freedom when you have helped me,” I grunt quietly.

She stares at me in shock. “What?”

“When you have help—” “Why the fuck would I—” “Because without it,” I snap, purposefully letting my power surge—a display of my fury to show her how deep into the bear’s jaws she really is. From the look on her face, I see that she now sees clearly.

“Without it, you have no freedom.”

She shivers, balking at me. “We—we know each other. We’ve met…”

“A regrettable circumstance given what must be done.”

She says nothing more. We just stand there three feet apart, staring at each other; her face frozen in fear and disbelief.

Mine in resolve.

“Let me go,” she chokes

I say nothing.

“Please! Mr. Volk—” “I told you not to call me that.”

“Okay! Fine!” She suddenly yells angrily. “Yuri, please—” “Here you may call me ‘sir.’”

She blushes. And God help me, I see it, and I feel it. My cock surges as I imagine her purring the word, doing my bidding.

My eyes slide over her barely-there bikini as it tries it’s best to hide her sweet curves and hidden treasures from my hungry gaze. My balls swell with a savage need for her—to take her. To have her. To make her all mine.

“What?” She chokes, still blushing.

“I said here you may call me ‘sir.’”

“You’re joking.”

I’m not. And I think she already knows that. If not, she will soon. She says nothing to me. Without another word to her, I turn and bark a command. Maksim, one of my top avtoritet, or captain, is there in seconds.

“Da, Yuri,” he grunts.

I’m not sure I would trust anyone but Maksim to be alone with her. But the younger man is one of my top, most trusted men.

“Otvedi yeye v yeye komnaty,” I growl. Take her to her rooms.

He frowns.

“The guest quarters directly below my own,” I clarify with a grunt, in Russian.

Maksim nods formally. When he turns to her, River starts to turn pale.

“Okay! Okay! Please!” She blurts, sounding terrified. “Please!

Please, ‘sir!’”

I let my eyes settle on her, and I smile thinly. “Good. That is good.”

Christ, I can almost feel the hope surging inside of her from here. “Good like I can go?”

“Good like you’re learning.”

She starts to scream—like a banshee. She screams in rage, and in terror—calling for help in every direction. Maksim glances at me, but I just stare at her, waiting. When she’s done, she’s panting and red-faced as she whirls on me.

“You may yell all you want, little bird,” I say thinly. “But I am the only one who will hear your screams.”

I groan inside at the idea of being the only man to hear another kind of screams from her pretty lips. I move closer to her, and she trembles and shivers.

“You have entered my kingdom, little bird,” I hiss. “Here, I am king. Here, all is mine, all under my control. Including you.”

Her face pales.

“I would begin to make myself used to that idea if I were you.”

Without another word—because I don’t trust myself with even one more—I turn and I walk away.

This may prove ruinous. This may break me or make me lose control of the beast I’ve spent a lifetime restraining inside of myself. But so be it. I’ve made my decision. And now, there is only one way to go: forward.

Come what may, she’s mine.

3

RIVER

I’ M STILL STARING in awe at the room when the door suddenly slams shut behind me. I whirl and furiously run to it, yelling as my fists pound on the gold filigreed, inlay wood. But the big man who’s just escorted me here from the helipad says nothing in return. In fact, I can hear his heavy footsteps thudding away, leaving me locked in the room.

Slowly, my fists stop pounding. I turn and sink against the door as my eyes wander my new prison. As prisons go, this is… well, it’s a palace. I might be locked in here against my will. But these quarters would fit a fucking queen.

The man who brought me here from Yuri grunted that this was my “room” when he opened the double doors for me.

But it’s rooms, plural. Four palatially enormous, breezy, elegant, exquisitely designed rooms. And for the hundredth time, my jaw drops at just how enormous this yacht is.

No expense has been spared. None. And yet it’s not gaudy or showy. I’ve been on shoots or to parties at luxurious mansions and huge boats owned by people who think “expensive” means “good taste.” Whoever designed this

palace of a yacht understood exactly what they were doing, though.

I walk slowly through the opulent living room area, into an equally lavish second living area, this one with a huge entertainment center across the wall and a very well stocked bar in the corner. Well, at least I won’t get thirsty, I think wryly to myself.

There’s also a kitchen and dining area, and a private balcony overlooking the now-dark ocean, complete with a hot tub and lap pool. Through a set of double doors, my jaw drops as I drink in the bedroom. Almost the whole thing is glass walls.

But it’s designed in relation to the rest of the yacht in a way where no other part of the boat can really see into it.

An enormous bed fills the center of the gorgeous bedroom.

Soft lights glow from recessed fixtures. Another door leads to a stunning marble and silver bathroom, complete with a deep whirlpool tub, steam room, and rain shower.

I wander in a daze back into the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed. What the fuck is happening to me?

It’s not like Yuri Volkov and I had hours of intimate conversations the one time we met. We actually barely spoke at all past initial introductions at dinner. Belle, my best friend in the world, wanted me there as she’s been slowly getting to know the man who is technically her biological father, but who she didn’t know about until recently.

It wasn’t a secret what he did at that dinner. Not when Belle’s own fiancé at the time, and now husband Niko is also

heavily involved with the Russian Bratva. But even knowing that, there’s something di erent about Yuri Volkov.

There’s something much darker, much more serious, and much more dangerous about him.

I’m still stewing in my own throughs when there’s a knock at the bedroom door. I gasp, bolting to my feet. I look down and frown. I’m still in a fucking bikini. But when I glanced around for something to put on, I groan as my eyes land on a fanned pile of current issues of fashion magazines across the top of a side table.

I’m on three of them, wearing just as little as a freaking bikini. I frown and glance at the door as I cross my arms over my chest.

“What?”

The door opens, and the big, younger guy who led me here ten minutes ago steps in.

“What now?” I mutter, glaring at him.

His face is stone-cold as he just shrugs. “It is time for dinner,” he grunts in a heavy Russian accent.

“Excuse me?”

“It is time for dinner,” he repeats with a bored expression on his face. “To eat.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m guessing I’m not going to be eating alone?”

He smiles thinly and shakes his head. “No.”

“Why am I here?”

He keeps looking me right in the eyes, saying nothing. His face gives away nothing.

“Well?” I snap.

“Let’s go. Mr. Volkov does not like to be kept waiting.”

I just glare at the guard. He sighs.

“Dinner is waiting, Ms. Finn.”

“Well, I hope it’s casual,” I say dryly. I glance down with a wave of my hand at my bikini. When I look up though, the guard is still looking me square in the eyes. It occurs to me that he’s made a point of never looking at me below the chin.

You are mine. You belong to me, now.

The memory of those brutally cold and yet heatedly charged words make my core tighten and tremble.

The guard nods past me. “There is a closet full of clothes behind those doors.”

I frown, pursing my lips. “I don’t want his clothes.”

“Mr. Vokov has requested—” “Yeah, and I don’t really give much of a shit what he requested, actually,” I snap.

The guard levels his sharp blue eyes at mine. He sighs. “Ms. Finn, I have orders.”

“Oh yeah?” I spit. “And what are you going to do…” I scowl.

“What the fuck is your name?”

“Maksim.”

“Well, exactly what are you going to do, Maksim, dress me?”

I sneer. Pushing the buttons of a six and a half foot Russian mobster who looks like he was built in an NFL gym and chews iron maybe isn’t the smartest move in the world. But I’m angry. I’m scared, and freaking out, and angry. And since the man who actually had me taken isn’t here, I’m lashing out where I can.

But Maksim barely seems to register my outburst. He shrugs with a thin smile. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Smart choice” I mutter.

“Smarter if you knew my boss.”

I swallow, trembling.

“Get dressed.”

“Get fucked.”

He sighs again. “Put some clothes on and let’s go.”

“No.” Maksim sighs again and just shrugs. “Okay. Follow me, then.”

He turns to march out of the bedroom. I follow with a scowl on my face. He leads me through the lavish quarters, out to the hallway, and then up an elegant, modern set of stairs. At

the time, we exit out onto a gorgeous deck overlooking the dark ocean. Near the railing, sitting at a table set for two and laden with all manner of dishes of food, is him.

Yuri.

I swallow when he turns to look at me. And when I feel that heated gaze tease over me, I simmer with a horrible, forbidden heat. Kidnapping mafia psychopath or not, Yuri Volkov is fucking gorgeous.

And unlike Maksim, he has no qualms about looking at me beneath the chin. I blush, trembling as his gaze slips over me, lingering boldly in places that make me blush and squirm.

I stare back, defiantly. But not only does he look amazing, he’s also dressed incredibly in a perfectly tailored cream suit.

A light blue dress shirt open at the neck perfectly highlights his eyes. I blush deeply. Christ, he looks fucking amazing.

He’s like a fucking Dolce and Gabana ad up here on his billion-dollar yacht.

Very quickly, I start to regret my little protest of coming to dinner in a bikini.

Yuri turns to Maksim and growls something smoothly in Russian. The guard nods and turns to leave without so much as another look my way. When he’s gone, I turn back to the older, sinfully handsome Russian mobster I’m now alone with.

“So what was that?” I snap.

“What was what?”

“What you said to him.”

Yuri smiles curiously. He arches a brow in amusement but says nothing in response.

“Well?!” I grunt. “Go fetch me another girl to kidnap? Go lord my power over someone else?”

Yuri’s lips curl at the corners. “I told him to leave us.”

“Yeah?” I snap. “Why, so you could—” “That is enough.”

I gasp at the strength in his voice as he stands abruptly. His eyes narrow at me, making me tremble with fear and a heat that confuses and shames me. His hand clenches his napkin tightly before he drops it to his chair.

I swallow heavily. “People will look for me, you know.”

The anger in his face seems to fade back to a sliver of amusement.

“Oh?” “Yep,” I spit. “I honestly don’t care how conceited this sounds, but people know me. I’m famous. And when it gets out that I’ve been fucking kidnapped—” “You haven’t been.”

I stammer, staring at him. “No?” I blurt. “Well then what the fuck would you call this?!”

The older man with the piercing blue eyes smiles thinly with amusement. “Your people, the photographer and all of the rest of them from the boat? They are being treated to a vacation at one of my villas.”

My jaw drops. “They what?”

“The attack on your photoshoot was the work of Ukrainian separatist terrorists. Unfortunately, they managed to kill two of your crew before my private corporate security forces came to your rescue.”

I stare at him. “You can’t be serious. I know what I saw. And so do the people I was with!”

He shrugs. “They are being compensated handsomely for their terrible experience.”

“You mean you’re fucking buying them o !” I spit back.

“You’re bribing them to not tell the world that I’ve been kidnapped!”

Yuri sighs. “As I said, you have not been ‘kidnapped.’”

I stare at him. “Then you and I have a very di erent definition of that—” “You are the guest of a wealthy and powerful billionaire.”

I blink. “His guest.”

Yuri nods.

“They think I’m your guest?”

He smiles wolfishly. “Actually, they think you’re my play kitten for as long as I desire to play with you.”

My jaw drops. “Excuse me?!”

“It was the easiest explanation, River.” He shrugs casually.

“You would hardly be the first beautiful young model to run o for a month of sex and fun with a rich older man.”

“A month?!” I blurt.

“Perhaps two. Maybe three.” He smiles that wolf-like smile again. “You may not ever want to leave.”

I tremble. Heat and real fear throb deep within me, prickling my skin. “None of them would buy that story.”

“I am told your photographer said, and I do quote: ‘good for you, girl. Get your fuck on. Get it,’” Yuri says with zero inflection. And yet, it still sounds exactly like Ethan. It also makes me blush furiously.

“And the two people who died on that boat?” I snap. “What about them? What about their families? Are you going to lie to them, too? Think it matters to them if I’m on a sexvacation with some prick of a—” “The assistant and the crew member who were killed were Russian.”

I frown. “And?” “And so their families have been paid well for their loss, and they understand.”

I stare at him, feeling ill. “That’s fucking inhuman.”

He shrugs. “That is how it works in Russia.”

“You’re a monster.”

His face darkens. His jaw grinds. When he starts to step closer to me, I tremble. My breath catches as he moves even closer, and I shiver as he casually walks around me. His eyes never leave me.

“You disobeyed my orders.” His growl murmurs into my ear from behind. I gasp, trembling as I turn my head towards him. But he’s already moving again, walking in a circle around me, like a shark circling his prey.

“What, I wouldn’t let you dress me like a fucking Barbie doll?”

“And yet that is what you do for a living, no? You let others dress you.”

“Not when I’m their captive,” I fire back.

Yuri comes to a stop in front of me and smirks. “Is that what you tell yourself when you dress how they want for money?”

My lips purse and thin. By anger swells. But I don’t say a thing. His eyes narrow on mine.

“I told you to dress for dinner.”

I laugh coldly. “And I’m telling you to go fuck—” I gasp as his big, strong hand shoots out and suddenly grips my chin. He growls like an animal as he surges close to me and lifts my eyes to his with a lift of my jaw in his hand. My

breath catches sharply as my eyes widen. His seem to burn right into me as he looms over me, like he might devour me.

Or maybe kiss me. Maybe both. My thighs clench as I tremble under his grip.

“Let us be clear,” He snarls heavily with measured words.

“The very brief, loose history between us means nothing here. That you and my daughter are acquaintances is meaningless to me,” he hisses as his blue eyes burn with fire. “You are here because I have ordered it. Because you will play a part for me. And you will do as I say.”

I couldn’t talk even if I wanted to. My heart is pounding so hard that it’s almost all I can hear. My skin feels like it’s rippling with fire. My very core quivers with a terror and an ache that horrifies and excites me.

“And yet,” Yuri hisses dangerously. His powerful hand still grips my jaw. His eyes never leave mine. “And yet you’ve chosen to disobey me. To defy me.”

I quiver under his gaze. I can’t tell if I’m turned on or terrified. And again, it might be both, which only means I’m even more turned on.

“You wish to defy me, River?” he growls quietly. “Why stop with this? Why stop with just wearing a bikini when I asked you to dress for dinner?”

I blink and swallow thickly. “What?”

“Take it o .”

My heart lurches. “Excuse me?”

A low growl rumbles in his throat. His grip tightens on my jaw, and he moves even closer to me, until his powerfully muscled body is almost pressed against mine. He lowers his mouth to my ear. My eyelids feel heavy as I tremble with a surging desire.

“I said,” he snarls. “Take it o .”

My face flushes. “What, my—” “All of it.”

He slowly pulls back, lowering his gaze to my eyes. I stare back at him.

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke.”

Suddenly, he drops his hand from my jaw. He turns and easily walks back to the table. He sits and turns to look at me again as he waves his hand with a flick of his wrist.

“The bikini. O , now.”

I swallow. I tremble as my eyes lock with his. He’s not holding a gun or anything. He’s not even holding me anymore. And yet, I feel compelled to do as he says. I feel under a spell, or a power. It would be easy to chalk it up to fear. But I know it’s not that. Or it’s not entirely that. It’s something far more dangerous, compelling, and shameful.

Slowly, I reach back behind me and pluck the knot at the back of my bikini top. Yuri’s eyes burn like hot blue fire as he

watches me peel my top o . My arm crosses my chest, covering my tits as I drop the top to the deck.

“Now the rest.”

“Fine, okay,” I mumble. My one free hand drops to one of the knots at the side of the bottoms.

“Fine okay what?”

I look up sharply. My face blushes.

“Okay what,” he growls quietly.

My cheeks burn as I eye him.

“Fine okay, sir,” I whisper.

He nods, like he’s approving. With a shaky breath, I pluck the knot on the side of my bottoms. When it falls open, I reach for the other one and do the same. When they drop down my legs, me free hand shoots between my thighs to cover myself.

All of a sudden, I’m naked, barely covering myself with my hands, on the private deck of a billionaire Russian mob boss’s mega-yacht.

Yuri smiles as if this is all completely normal. He gestures to the chair across from him. “Come, eat.”

I stare.

“Come eat, River,” he growls. “You are not on a photoshoot.

You may actually eat now. Do not cut your nose o to spite

your very pretty face while trying to tell me you aren’t hungry.”

I weigh it for one more second. But then my stomach groans like it’s dying, and I cave. I awkwardly move to the table, still covering myself as I sit. The white tablecloth covers my lap at least, so I bring that hand up.

“I hope you have brought an appetite.”

My eyes drink in the spread on the table in awe. Caviar, lobsters, king crab legs, oysters, champagne on ice, and endless other delicacies.

Without saying anything though, I start to eat. I don’t have the energy to wonder if it’s drugged or poisoned or not.

Besides, if he wanted me dead or blacked out, surely there would be easier ways than wasting a whole two dozen oysters on the half-shell.

We don’t speak as I eat with one hand. I ignore the champagne he pours me, though.

“Try the crab legs.”

I still don’t speak or look at him as I reach for one. But then I realize the problem. Crab legs take two hands to crack. I try with one, but there’s no way it’s happening. I shrug and go to leave it in favor of something easier.

“Try them,” Yuri growls darkly. When I look up into his eyes, I can see that he’s not letting this go. Even though we both see what he’s doing.

“Really?” I mutter.

He smiles thinly. “I’d hate to have a guest miss out on them.

They’re truly delicious.”

I glare at him. He looks right back, without blinking.

Finally, I sigh. Screw it. There’s only so many things on this table that won’t take two hands to eat. I take a breath and then slowly pull my arm away from my tits. I glare at him.

But he just keeps looking me in the eyes with a sharp smile.

And I realize this wasn’t about him trying to see my tits. This was about power.

That shouldn’t excite me like it does.

I reach for the crab leg and crack it open. Yuri keeps eating, and occasionally sipping champagne. I do catch his eyes landing on my tits. But when he does, I tremble with heat. I can feel my skin tingle under his gaze. My nipples harden. I blush as I dive back into the food.

Eventually, I’m actually full—for the first time in what might be months, given my usual shooting-schedule diet. I even finally reach for the champagne. Again, if he wanted to kill or drug me, there would be much easier ways.

When it’s clear we’re both done, Yuri sits back. He looks at me. This time, he doesn’t hide his eyes dropping to my tits at all. He smirks at me as he raises his champagne flute, like a toast.

“What exactly are we toasting too,” I mumble.

He smiles. “A mutually beneficial business arrangement.”

I frown. “What sort of businesses arrangement?”

He waves a hand. “Later.” His eyes slide to mine. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your dinner. I will walk you back now.”

I blink, frowning. “Oh, uh, okay.”

This is fucking surreal. But it’s just happening—it’s just unfolding around me, like a movie I’m actually part of.

I turn to look towards my bikini on the deck.

“Leave it.”

My head whips around. My eyes snap to his. But I don’t bother sassing “excuse me” or asking if he’s serious. It’s clear he’s nothing but serious at this point.

Yuri looks right at me as he takes his phone out. He grunts something in Russian into it and then hangs up.

“What was that?”

“I told Maksim I am walking you back to your chambers, and no one is to see you.” His eyes flash with that gleaming blue fire again. “No one but me,” he growls. He stands, buttoning one button of his suit jacket like it’s a practiced, secondnature move. He o ers his arm. “Come.”

With a shaky breath, I stand, trying to cover myself. But it’s useless. And besides, he’s already seen my bare tits during the whole time we’ve been eating. With a blush, I let him hook my arm with his.

We walk in silence back down the stairs, and down the hall to the double-doors to my quarters. He opens one of them and drops my arm. I shyly start to step inside. But suddenly, his

powerful hand reaches out and grips my wrist. I tremble, turning back to him. I blush in my nakedness.

“In the future,” he growls deeply. “You will obey me.”

I swallow thickly. I nod my head. “Yeah.”

His eyes narrow. I blush deeper.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper. I gasp as he leans down to me, his lips by my ears.

“Good girl,” he purrs thickly.

I step back as he pulls the door shut. His eyes hold mine until it shuts between us. Then I hear it lock, followed by his footsteps moving away. My breath comes out in a whoosh, like I’ve been holding it ever since I stepped out onto that upper deck for dinner.

My pulse is pounding. My mind is whirling in out of control circles. I’m terrified, and confused, and so very fucking wet.

4

YURI

I NEED A CAGE . I need strong rope, binding me fast to this room so that I may not leave. So that I don’t rush back to hers, break down her door, and have her every which way a man can claim a woman.

I need to be locked in here. Guarded, kept at gunpoint from her. Because I made a mistake. I miscalculated. I thought of myself as stronger than this.

I was wrong.

Tonight, I played games I had no business playing. Tonight, was playing with fire, or live dynamite. The point of her being here is to make her my pawn—to have her play the role I need her to play when I destroy Semyon.

I can lie to myself all I want. I can tell myself that having her strip for me was a power move—a way to show her I hold the reins here. But I know what that really was. That was me losing control. That was me wanting her. And that’s dangerous. A king uses the pawn, and sacrifices the pawn, in order to win the game.

A king doesn’t desire the pawn. A king doesn’t barely keep control of spreading the pawn’s legs and burying his cock in the pawn’s sweet little cunt.

I can make excuses. Yes, River Finn is one of the most stunningly beautiful, gorgeous young models on the planet.

She’s on magazine covers and strutting down the runway of the Vanessa’s Dream lingerie fashion show wearing lace and silk.

She has the face of an angel and a body built for sin. Her very career is based on her ability to make men desire her and women want to be her. I can tell myself that that is why I’m finding my control wavering. But those are merely excuses.

Those are symptoms of a bigger problem.

I’m a powerful man. I’m wealthy. I’m at the top of one of the most influential, connected, and ruthless bratva families in Moscow. Young, pretty things batting their eyes or throwing themselves at me is not anything new to me.

And yet I have not indulged myself with women in almost six years. I simply do not have the time, the interest, or the bandwidth to do so. My throne and continuing the reign of a bratva empire that has lived through two world wars, a revolution, and the overthrow of both a monarchy and an entire political system comes first.

But that resolve has been shaken twice now in the last six months. The first time was the dinner in Chicago with my daughter Belle, her fiancé Nikolai, and River.

The second was tonight. And it’s quite clear what the underlying common theme is with both of those instances.

I groan as I step out onto the private porch o my bedroom. I grit my teeth, feeling my pulse thud and my desire for her surges. My cock strains against the front of my suit pants, and I grip the railing tightly. I look out over the dark Black Sea and breathe slowly.

I can’t want her like this. For one, I’m more than twice her goddamn age. I’m forty-five, she’s… what, twenty? Twentyone? I groan as I bite my lip. There are men far older than me with the similar means, power, and wealth with girls even younger than her on their arms. But I am not those men. And I don’t desire “arm candy” to make me look or feel like a bigger man.

But I do desire her. Voraciously.

I hiss as I look away over the dark waves below. There’s also my daughter, Belle, to think about, whose life I’ve barely just stepped into for the first time. And here I am lusting after her best friend, who is currently a prisoner on my yacht.

This isn’t “going to be” a problem. This is a problem. I can’t want her like this. I can’t desire to take her, and to claim her as my own. For all of those other reasons, but also for the very reason she’s here at all: to destroy my enemy.

The power that my having her has over Semyon is the threat of me “taking her for myself.” He wants her for her beauty, but also for her innocence. Which might be disgusting and

barbaric in a way. But my world does move in disgusting and barbaric ways, like it or not.

If Semyon fears I’ll claim her myself, he’s my puppet on a string. If I actually do claim her myself, that power goes away.

I turn and spy the bottle of scotch on the bar cart back in my bedroom. But suddenly, my private cellphone rings in my pocket. I pull it out and smile thinly. Speak of the devil. I was wondering when the news would finally reach my asshole rival’s ears.

“Sukin syn!” Semyon screams when I answer the call. You son of a bitch!

I grin. “Good evening, old friend.”

“Don’t old friend me, you piece of shit!” he rages. “You son of a whore—” “That’s enough,” I snarl. I’m oddly in no mood to hear him bleat and whine. “You know what I have, don’t you, Semyon?” I hiss quietly.

“She was mine, Yuri!”

I shrug. “Boris’s business was mine.”

Semyon laughs thinly. “You fuck, is that what this is? Petty revenge—” “Yes.” He goes quiet for a second before he clears his throat.

“Give her to me, Yuri. I’m warning—” “Nyet, porosenka,” I snarl. No, little piggy.

Semyon hisses out a string of swears and curses at me. I merely smile as I wait for him to finish. When he’s done, I hear him wheezing and breathing heavily for a moment.

Then he clears his throat.

“Okay, fine. You can have Boris’s business, okay?”

I laugh, loudly. “You are pathetic, Semyon! So quickly? Just like that, you cave?”

“Do you want it or not?!” he snaps.

My lips curl into a savage smile. “Da, I do want it. But it was already mine.”

“Fuck you, Yuri—” “Manners, Semyon,” I growl quietly. “Let’s not forget what —who—I have in my possession.”

His breath catches.

“What the fuck do you want—” “More, Semyon,” I hiss. “I want so much more. You want the girl, and I want more.”

I can hear him seething on the other end of the line. And I know I’ve got him exactly where I want him.

“Yuri, you piece of shit—”

“I read the news, Semyon. I even read the celebrity gossip bullshit.” I smile. “I’m guessing you do as well?”

His breath catches audibly. I grin.

“You pathetic little man. I know why you want her. A beautiful girl like that… and a virgin?”

Semyon swears quietly.

“That’s what it takes for you to feel like a big man, Semyon?”

“She’s mine, Yuri! She will give herself to me!”

I laugh coldly. “Give? Is that what you call that?”

“I’m a man of means!” he fumes. “Of class!”

I roll my eyes. “You’re a troll.”

“Fuck you!” he roars. “Fuck you, Yuri! Fuck your mother in the—” “Shut up,” I snarl savagely. My rival goes quiet.

“You’ll give me what I want, Semyon. Or I will take all of what you want.”

He’s silent for a second, trying to chew on that.

“What are you say—” “You know damn well what I’m saying,” I growl quietly.

“Just her and I, all alone on my boat…”

“Fuck you!”

I smile. “Who knows the things she’ll do for me? The things she’ll let me do to her?”

Semyon is bellowing like a stuck pig on the other end of the call.

“Who knows the ways she’ll submit to me, my old friend,” I snarl.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Yuri!”

I shrug. “I’ve already undressed her.”

I smile when I hear him choke. He goes quiet, and I know I have his attention. I know I’ve got him wrapped around my goddamn finger now.

“Listen to me very carefully, Semyon,” I growl. “You’ll give me exactly what I want, or I’ll have her much more than just naked for me.” I smile thinly. “I’ll have her begging for it.”

I hang up abruptly. I turn, inhaling the salty air of the sea as I gaze out at the black waves. I don’t relish this. I really don’t. I don’t enjoy the threats involving River that I’ve just thrown at Semyon. I am not that sort of man, to do that to a woman. But I’m playing a part, as we all must do.

With a final deep breath, I turn and walk back into my quarters. I pour a heavy splash of scotch and head into the o ce o of my bedroom. I open the laptop on my desk and click over to the video feed from the hidden camera in her room.

I grin. She’s apparently decided to finally explore the vast array of clothes I have for her in the closet in her quarters.

She’s decided to ignore the drawers and drawers of expensive lingerie, opting instead for sleep shorts and a tank-top.

The problem is, this girl could dress in mud and a burlap sack and still be the sexiest women on earth.

I watch her pace the room, and my cock grows thicker. I switch cameras, watching as she brushes her teeth and washes her face. I flip back when she heads back to the bedroom and pads over to the big bed. She slips under the covers, frowning and tossing and turning. She reaches over and turns the lights o . My cameras switch to night vision.

I watch her toss and turn. I feel my pulse thud as she squirms under the covers. Her hands push under, and I groan, feeling a spark of lust. But that isn’t what she’s doing.

Or perhaps she was and decided against it.

Instead, she sighs deeply and drops her hands heavily back on top of the covers. I keep watching as she squirms some more. Her eyes close. Slowly, her breathing becomes regular.

But still, I watch her sleep. And I wonder if she’s dreaming of my eyes on her; my hands.

My mouth.

I groan as I slam the laptop shut and clench my eyes shut. I must be strong. This is business, not pleasure. This is a power move, not a seduction. In this world, and in this game, I am King, and she is a pawn.

Three scotches later and the laptop’s back open, I’m still repeating that to myself.

5

RIVER

T HE SUN TEASES over my bare arms as I step out onto the main deck. A gentle wind dances the fabric of the gorgeous sundress around my legs as I look out over the stunning blue sea.

I’ve caved. Or I’ve swallowed my pride. Whatever you want to call it, I’ve finally explored the huge walk-in closet o of my bedroom. I’ve been around fashion for almost half my life, and even I’m impressed by what I saw in there. Private collection pieces from the world’s top designers. Hints at lines that won’t even be out for another year.

I mean the sundress I finally picked out is an Oscar De La Renta, but from a line I’ve never even heard of. And I’m literally a De La Renta ambassador model.

My sandals? Valentino. The silver-link necklace I just couldn’t say no to because it was insane how well it complimented the sundress? Van Cleef & Arpels, vintage.

And then there’s the… unmentionables that I’m wearing under the sundress. The absolutely gorgeous rose-pink, lace

thong and matching demi; both from Aleksandra Josef, one of the most exclusive lingerie designers in Paris.

Yes, I could have kept digging my heals in. When Maksim just knocked on the door of my quarters and told me breakfast was ready and my presence was requested, I could have said fuck no. Or if it was insisted that I come, I could have worn a bedsheet or something.

And yet, I caved. Or maybe I just felt like meeting Yuri again on my own terms, dressed how I want. I mean if I’m going to be a captive on this fucking boat, I may as well look nice.

But I frown when I see the empty breakfast table by the balcony overlooking the main deck.

“Where—” I turn quizzically to Maksim. But he just nods with his chin past the railing before he turns and exits the private deck.

My brow furrows as I walk over. But then my breath catches when I see what I see.

At first I think it must be someone else. But when the man with the muscled and tattooed arms and shoulders swims perfectly to the edge of the pool and e ortlessly pulls himself out of the water, my jaw drops.

The man built like a Greek god is Yuri.

The silver at his temples might show his age—somewhere just north of forty if I remember from Belle telling me. But the rest of him might as well belong to a twenty-five-yearold. He grabs a towel from a pool lounger and half turns as

he dries himself. Water trickles down his perfectly grooved chest and abs.

I just stare at him like a horny teenager. That is, until he turns. His sharp blue eyes slide up the railing I’m leaning against. When they spot me, I blush and quickly look away.

But not before I see the smirk on his gorgeous face.

I turn and quickly move back to the breakfast table. I pretend to busy myself with the carafe of co ee and a mug. But a second later, he appears at the top of the curved staircase that leads up from the pool deck—wearing nothing but a small, well-fitted black swim shorts looking like a fucking Armani model.

“The co ee is strong,” Yuri growls as he slinks towards me.

He sits in the chair across from me, and I finally look up at him. Instantly, I blush.

I’ve been on hundreds of photoshoots with plenty of very handsome, fit male models. And yet, none of them have ever tripped me up like this. None of them have made my heart skip and my words fail me. Maybe it’s that Yuri isn’t the typical pompous male model—or a model at all. It’s just that he’s naturally stupidly handsome and built like pure sex.

I swallow, blushing as my eyes sweep over his perfectly chiseled chest muscles and sculpted shoulders and arms.

They’re covered in tattoos that even I recognize as Russian mafia ink—reminding me that this is no “pretty man” I’m about to have breakfast with. This man is flat out dangerous.

Not just a vicious criminal, either. The king of an empire of vicious criminals.

He pours some co ee and takes a slice of toast from a gilded platter. I shake my head. How the fuck does a man who looks like him eat carbs?

I opt for some fruit with my co ee. But we sit in silence for what must be five full minutes before I can’t stand it anymore. With a heavy sigh, I put my co ee cup down and raise my eyes to him.

“Why am I here?” I ask sharply.

Yuri’s simply been looking out over the sea. He takes a sip of his co ee before his eyes slide to mine. He smirks thinly.

I sigh again. “Why am I here, sir?” I say dryly.

He smiles. “Because you’re my guest.”

“Very fucking funny.”

He shrugs and takes another sip of his co ee.

“The men who took me… there were other men…”

“Who would have taken you,” he grunts.

“Your men killed them.”

“Yes.” He smiles again. He finishes his co ee and then stands. “You are welcome, by the way.”

He turns to walk away. I bark a laugh.

“Sorry, is this where I’m supposed to thank you for kidnapping me?!” I snap.

Yuri frowns as he turns back to me. “For rescuing you? It would be polite, yes.”

I roll my eyes as he turns away again.

“Well how about you drop me o at the next port and I’ll be sure to send you a fucking thank-you card—” “You have a mouth on you,” he snarls. I gasp as he whirls and storms over to me. I tremble in my chair as he marches right over. His hand reaches up and suddenly cups my jaw, making my heart pulse like a drum as he leans in.

“I—” “You have a mouth on you, kiska,” he growls quietly. His lips curl into a thin smile. “And I like it.”

He steps back, muscles rippling. His piercing eyes sweep over me, making me tremble. “I have meetings to attend to.

Rest, enjoy your vacation.”

He turns to leave. But of course, my mouth won’t just stay the fuck shut.

“Vacation,” I mutter thinly.

Yuri pauses. He sighs deeply, and I watch his shoulders rise and fall with a small laugh before he turns to look at me again.

“You are on a yacht that costs the gross domestic product of a third world country, on a beautiful sea, enjoying the finest wine and food you could possibly desire.” He shrugs. “You want entertainment? There is a movie theater downstairs

with virtually any film you can imagine. There is a library as well that may rival some university ones. There is a pool, a gym, a running track…” He frowns. “I have a masseuse on sta who is very good. She is available to you all day if you so choose. So tell me, kiska,” he growls as he slowly stalks back to me.

I gasp as he leans down, his knuckles on the table in front of me.

“Exactly how is this not a vacation?”

I purse my lips, swallowing. The nearness of him is… intoxicating. It’s disarming. It’s dangerous, too.

“You can leave a vacation,” I whisper quietly.

Yuri’s eyes hold mine; boldly, unflinching, and without blinking. His lips curl at the corners into a thin smile.

“Enjoy your day. Dinner will be at seven.”

He stands and turns to walk away again.

“Should I just come naked? Or is stripping my clothes away as a power move just part of the evening entertainment for you?”

He pauses at the doorway and turns to smirk at me over his shoulder. “I would, of course, always prefer that you come naked, kiska.”

I blush at the loaded double-entendre.

“Dinner is casual tonight. Come dressed or undressed however you like.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I snap.

He turns to me fully. I tremble as those piercing eyes slip over me hungrily.

“Yes,” he growls thickly. “I would.” His eyes finally land on mine, burning into me. “Enjoy your day.”

He turns and steps inside, leaving me trembling and far more worked up than I have any right to be.

A T FIRST , my inclination is to stick it to him by doing nothing.

After breakfast, I just sit by the pool, arms crossed, glaring at nothing. But then I realize how ridiculous that is—how petulant it makes me look, sulking like a child.

I eye the pool. It does look amazing, and tempting. But then I think of earlier this morning, going into the closet to find clothes for the day. Yeah, there are bathing suits in there.

And it’s not like they’re any more scandalous or skimpy than any of the suits I’ve been photographed in.

But there something easy about posing for an anonymously huge and wide-spread audience. It’s another thing to put one on knowing it’s basically for Yuri’s eyes only.

Instead, I find myself wandering down into the lower decks of the huge yacht. Eventually, I find the library, and my jaw drops. Holy shit. I feel like Belle—not my friend, the Disney character, in the Beast’s library. The place is three stories

tall, with gilded balconies and shelves and shelves of beautiful books.

I used to agonize about trying to “prove” that I wasn’t just some vapid brain-dead model; that I’m actually very, very smart. That’s one of the reasons I was able to run o and do modeling in Europe and Asia at sixteen. It wasn’t that I was ditching school. It was that I graduated high school two years early. Not dropped out and took the GED. I mean I literally passed every test and credit two years early.

But people don’t care. They want to see you how they want to see you. So, I stopped trying to push the fact that I was smart at every damn interview. Let the tabloids and fans think what they want. And in the background, I’ll be reading whatever I want, and delving into learning random stu because I enjoy it.

So before I know it, I’ve spent four hours in the library, and I’m starving. But the boat is enormous. And after ten twists and turns, I have no idea where I am.

“You seem lost.”

I gasp, turning to look up at the burly but now-familiar man.

Maksim looks at me impassively, right in the eyes as always.

“I…” I frown. “Yeah, actually. How the hell do you not get lost on this thing?”

“What are you looking for?”

“Food?”

He smiles. “This way, Ms. Finn.”

“You can just call me River, you know.”

Maksim nods, but says nothing more as he leads me to through the winding halls of the yacht. Soon enough, we end up in the sumptuous dining room that looks like it may as well be a three-star restaurant in downtown New York or Chicago.

“I’ll have the chef send out something delicious.”

I smile as I find a seat at one of the tables. “Thanks, Maskim.”

“Enjoy your lunch, Ms. Finn.”

Well, so much for the casual first-name route.

When he leaves, a handful of waiters bring me sparkling water, white wine I didn’t ask for, and some sort of fucking incredible ceviche type appetizer. Course after course, I’m diving into scallops bathed in butter, a salad with candied walnuts and gorgonzola—all sorts of stu I could never be eating in my “real life.” But here I am, diving into each dish.

I’m being pampered. Maybe this is kind of a vacation. I mean by the last course, I’m literally eating what is essentially a super fancy grilled fucking cheese.

And yet, when the table is cleared, I frown. I might be being pampered. But you can leave a vacation.

After lunch, the guilt of all the rich, buttery, delicious food eats at me until I cave with a groan. I find workout clothes back in the room, and then head to the gym. A grueling,

punishing hour on the stationary bike later, I’m aching for a swim.

And screw it. If Yuri wants to perv on me in a bathing suit, whatever. I blush when the idea of him doing exactly that brings a heat to my core.

The pool, of course, is amazing. This whole fucking boat is amazing. And somehow, despite my inner need to rebel and give Yuri the finger, at seven, I’m showered, dressed in a casual gown and heels, and stepping out onto the private deck after being escorted up by Maksim.

Yuri is standing by the railing in a dark suit, shirt open, no tie. Which seems to be his style. But hell, if you look like him dressed like that, that should always be your style, always.

He turns to smile thinly at me.

“You enjoyed your day I hope?”

“I did.”

“Not a bad vacation after all, it would seem,” he says with a smirk.

I arch a brow, saying nothing. Yuri gestures to the gorgeously laid out table with the candle flickering on it.

“Sit, please.”

When I do, just like at lunch, instantly champagne and sumptuous food is brought silently to the table. I eye it with a grumbling stomach. But I’m thinking of the decadent

lunch I had, even with the grueling workout after. I start to pick lightly at bits of the food, and Yuri sighs.

“You should eat.”

“I don’t eat much,” I shrug.

He arches a brow. “You’re on a break, River. Not a photoshoot.”

I look up to see him grinning at me.

“Eat, please.”

When my stomach groans again at the incredible smells, I cave. I dig into the sumptuous food and groan deeply.

“God, this is amazing.”

“I know.”

I smirk, looking up at him.

“I mean all of this…” My teeth drag over my lip. But then I shake my head.

“Yes?” “Nothing.”

“No,” he growls. His eyes narrow. “Speak.”

I run my tongue over my teeth, eying him before I finally just blurt it out.

“I know what you are.”

Yuri smirks. “I don’t make much of an e ort of hiding what I am.”

“You’re in the Bratva.”

He smiles dangerously. “No, kiska. I am not in the Bratva. I am the Bratva.”

A shiver dances down my back.

“And that gives you the right to do what you want?”

His smile fades.

“Yes, it does.”

I frown. “That’s not how the world works.”

“That is exactly how the world works,” he growls. “Power, money, influence… that is how the world keeps turning. That is what keeps us from dissolving into chaos and destruction.”

“Says the man who kills people for a living.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t kill people for a living, River.”

“Oh reall—” “I kill people to make a point,” he growls. “I kill people to show my enemies that there will be no quarter. Or to show my own people what happens with dissent.”

My brows arched as I set my fork own. “Wow, tell me more, Nero.”

He chuckles. “You think of me as a tyrant?”

“To show your people what happens with dissent?” I parrot back with an arched brow. “What would you prefer? Tsar?

Emperor?”

“I thought I was clear that ‘sir’ would work just fine.”

I blush. Yuri sets his wine glass down.

“Come.”

He stands and beckons me to follow him to the railing, where he waves a hand across the huge boat laid out before us.

“Look at this.”

Below us, I see all manner of sta all over the boat. There are people cleaning, guards with guns patrolling the lower decks.

At the pool, a man seems to be testing the pH levels while another scrubs the diving board.

Waiters scurry. A man hangs o the edge of the railing over the water, changing an LED bulb.

“These people’s jobs exist because of me, and this boat.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re really going to throw out trickledown economics at me? As a mafia boss? What, you’re a ‘job creator’?”

“You’re missing the point.” I gasp as he looms close to me, his eyes piercing into mine. “I’m not denying that I am a Tsar. Or an emperor, or tyrant. I am all of those things,” he snarls. “And I wield that power daily.”

I chew at my lip. “What was the point of showing me—”

“This.”

He snaps. One snap. And instantly, the sta melts away like fucking magic. The guards disappear. The guy testing the pool and the one scrubbing the diving board are just gone.

The waiters, the maintenance people, all of them.

And suddenly, it’s like we’re alone on the gigantic boat.

“Just like that, they’re just… gone?”

“Just like that,” he growls as he turns to me. “Do you know what that is?”

I swallow.

“That is power.”

I start to open my mouth, but he shakes his head.

“You cannot buy power like that. You earn it. You are born with the ability to hold it in your fist and bend it to your will.” His eyes burn as they hold my gaze. His gorgeous, chiseled jaw grits.

“I was born to this throne, River. I am the fourth generation of men to lead this family. It is in my blood. I wield this power because I breathe it. And I will do anything, and go to any length, and do whatever it takes to keep that power and control.”

I tremble, taking a shaky breath. “Damn the consequence, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Damn what anyone else thinks?”

“Yes.” “Damn if that inconveniences—” I gasp as he suddenly cups my jaw and looms close with a snarl. My pulse surges, and my breath catches in my throat.

“I told you earlier,” he growls as his eyes narrow. “You have a mouth on you.”

He groans as he moves close—so close that I can feel the heat of his body and his breath on my lips.

“And?” I gasp in a trembling voice.

“And I like it.”

His mouth closes the distance and crushes to mine, ferociously. My pulse spikes as his gorgeous lips captivate mine. But then before I know it, I’m moaning. I’m gasping and whimpering as his big hand cups my jaw and his other one slides around my waist to pull me tight to him.

He groans into my mouth, and I’m moaning right back. My eyes close, and I sink into the kiss. I melt against him, eagerly wanting more. My body shivers with lust as he pins me to the railing. His body is so hard against me, and when I feel something throb against my stomach, I whimper eagerly.

His knee slips between my legs. I feel him flex against me, and when his knee starts to spread my thighs, I tremble as I cling to him. I kiss him back, hungry for all of it. His thigh

grinds against the wet heat of my panties, and I moan into his mouth.

And then suddenly, he freezes, and he pulls back. My heart races, and my eyes flutter open. My cheeks burn as his eyes pierce into me. His jaw clenches as he drops his hands from me and steps away, chest heaving.

“Rest up, kiska,” he says tightly. His jaw grinds and his hands are clenching so hard at his side that I can see his biceps bulging even under the suit jacket.

“Tomorrow, we have a meeting. If it goes well, who knows?”

He smiles thinly. “Maybe you go free.”

He turns and snaps. Maksim suddenly appears and nods at me, and I know it’s time to go.

“And what makes this meeting go well?”

He sti ens.

“I need to know, Yuri,” I hiss quietly. “Why the hell am I here, and what the fuck is this meeting—” “The men who tried to take you, before my men intervened?” he snaps, whirling on me. “They work for a rival of mine.” Yuri’s eyes narrow dangerously. “He desires you.”

I pale. “Excuse me?”

“I think that’s as clear as I can put it for you, kiska,” he snaps, looking furious. “This man broke a fragile peace between us by taking something that was mine.”

My heart skips. My stomach knots as the pieces suddenly click into horrible place.

“So you took me, because he wants me.”

Yuri’s mouth thins. “Yes,” he hisses.

“And this meeting—” “This man took something of mine, and so I took something he believed was his.” His eyes narrow on me. “You, River. I took you, because he desires to have you for himself. Now…” he spreads his arms and shrugs. His face is grim.

“Now what,” I spit.

“Now, I’m going to use you to destroy him,” he says flatly.

My heart twists, making me wince.

Yuri’s eyes level at me. “You are here, kiska, because you are leverage.”

My face falls. The high of the kiss mere seconds ago evaporates like smoke. Whatever this throbbingly hot little interlude was, it’s over. And now, we’re back to the business at hand: him as the captor, me as the captive.

“That is how the world works, River” he growls thickly.

“This is not how the—” “This is how my world works,” he snaps. His jaw clenches.

His eyes burn into me. He opens his mouth to say something else. But then it snaps shut. With one more piercing look, he whirls. And then he’s gone.

6

YURI

I’ VE BARELY MADE it back to my private quarters before I’m ripping my belt open. I groan, sagging against the door at my back. My pants drop, and I hiss in pleasure as my hand wraps around my thick cock.

I stroke.

I stroke as imagine not pulling away from the kiss just now. I feel my cock surge and throb as I imagine pulling her dress open and dropping to my knees between her pretty thighs.

My balls draw tight and swell with cum as I play out the fantasy of pushing my swollen dick into her virgin cunt and claiming her all for my own.

By the time I’m picturing the feel of her pussy clenching around me as she comes, I’m at the edge. With a groan, my dick pulses in my fist. Thick, white ropes of cum spurt from the head and spill across the floor.

My eyes close. My jaw grits. I’m losing control. I’m spinning out of control. This plan should have ended the second I saw who it was that came o that helicopter. A full-out war with

the Belsky Bratva would actually be easier than trying to pretend River doesn’t destroy my walls and defenses.

My mind flashes back to the look of hurt and betrayal on her face when I told her about Semyon and why she’s here. The pain of telling her that, and of thinking of that motherfucker laying his hands on her almost ripped me apart. But it had to be done. She had to be told.

I close my eyes. Because she is not mine. She cannot be mine.

I should have sent her back. I should have walked away from this. But now, I can’t. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe both.

Now, I’m in too deep. There’s no going back now. God help her.

I GLANCE over at her as the helicopter starts to descend. River is looking out the window, her long, blonde-red hair tied up in an elaborate bun atop her head. She reaches down to play with the hem of her summer dress. My jaw clenches as my eyes sweep over her bare thighs.

I don’t relish the idea of showing her o to a pig like Semyon. But I need her looking like this for this meeting. I need him constantly looking at her, reminding him of what’s at stake here. He needs the visceral, visual reminder of what he’ll lose if he fails to give me what I want.

The sudden thought of giving this girl to him sends a stab of fury through my very soul. I snarl and turn away from her,

glaring down at the downtown Odesa o about to land on top of.

ce building we’re

This is neutral ground. The modern building is owned by Petya Gagarina—the oligarch who Semyon and I both do lots of business with. Meeting here is an assurance that a peace will be observed, at least for this meeting. We will behave as gentleman… or at least, as much as gentlemen as men like me are capable of being.

I drag my eyes up to the side of her face. She hasn’t looked at me the whole ride over from the yacht. She’s barely spoken a word to me. I know it’s all from last night—telling her about this meeting and why I really took her.

But so be it, I tell myself, repeatedly. So be it. This is business. This is what it takes to run an empire. A king does not save a pawn. A king uses the pawns available to him to win. End of story.

The helicopter touches down. Maksim and a few other welltrusted men have come with us, for security. They step out first, and I eye the frosty looks between my men and Semyon’s who are waiting for us.

The chopper engine shuts o . Maksim turns to nod at me.

“Let’s go.”

“Fine,” River snaps.

She steps out first, arms folded across her chest. We walk down the stairs from the helipad down into the modern o ce building. The meeting room is through a door at the

end of a glassed-in hallway. But when we get there, I nod for Maksim and my men to go in first. When River goes to follow, I suddenly grab her and yank her back.

She gasps as I shove her against the wall, my pulse thudding.

I growl as I press close to her, my eyes burning into hers.

“What?” she snaps.

“I don’t relish this meeting,” I snarl. “Just so we’re clear.”

“Oh, well, thank you for clarifying, sir,” she spits back.

My eyes narrow. “Do you think I enjoy this?”

She laughs coldly. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

“Yes.” Her eyes snap to mine. Her mouth thins. “Then yes, I do.

Because I think you’re a cold-hearted psychopath with a God complex who fancies himself a fucking king.” She smiles a sneering, sarcastic smile. “So you, your highness. I actually think you’re enjoying the shit out of trading me to a fucking rival like a bargaining—” I snap. Before she can even finish dressing me down, I snarl and shove her against the wall as my mouth slams into hers.

I kiss her fiercely—punishingly. I kiss her hard enough to bruise, until she’s whimpering into my mouth.

And then suddenly, she pulls back. Her eyes flash with green fire. And suddenly, her hand is slapping me across the face.

I stare at her with a mix of fury and shock. She stares back in absolute horror at what she’s just done. But she has just done it. I snarl quietly, my blood boiling as my teeth bare at her.

She swallows, her face paling.

“I-I…” “Let’s go,” I snarl. I grab her arm, turn, and yank her through the door into the meeting room. Inside, there’s a long, old wooden conference table lined with designer chairs.

And at the head of the table opposite the door is the little piggy himself.

“Semyon,” I smile thinly. “You’re looking fit.”

He frowns. “I am?”

“No, not really.”

He glares at me. But then his eyes land on River and spark. I grit my teeth in fury. I hate that he’s looking at her like that.

I turn to glance at my men and his lining the walls to either side of the table.

“Let’s dispense with the spectators, shall we?”

Semyon frowns. But then he nods. “Fine.” He turns to his men. “Ubiraysya,” he grunts. Get out.

I watch Semyon’s men leave through the door opposite me. I turn to nod at Maksim. He mutters to my other men, and they all file out the door we came in. Then, it’s just me, Semyon, and River.

I take her arm, still throbbing with… something from the way she slapped me. I pull her towards one of the two chairs at this head of the table.

“Sit,” I grunt.

She does as I say, smoothing her dress down as she takes a seat. I sit in the chair next to her. My hands steeple on the table in front of me as I eye my rival.

“You’re a real bastard, Yuri,” Semyon mutters.

I shrug. “I am what I am.”

He glares at me. “You think this will work on me? Bringing her here all dressed up looking beautiful?”

We’re speaking in Russian. But River can tell by the way we keep glancing at her that she’s the subject matter of this back-and-forth.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” I growl, turning to let my eyes slide over her. I turn back to see Semyon looking furious.

“And that’s clothed.”

He bristles. “This is not how business is done, Yuri.”

“This is exactly how this business will be done.”

He looks away, shaking his head. “No.” I frown. “No?” “I said no!” he snaps, whirling back to glare at me. “I know you think of me as an idiot, Yuri.”

“That isn’t true, Semyon.” I smile. “I don’t think of you as an idiot. I just know you are.”

He bristles. But he catches the outburst before it happens.

“This isn’t going to work, you motherfucker,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Not this time. You aren’t going to bully and provoke me into giving you whatever the fuck you think you’re going to get from me.” He shrugs. “Have her.

Keep her. There will be other women for me to claim.”

I smile thinly. Semyon is a terrible blu er. But just the same, I can see he needs to be pushed; provoked. He needs to be reminded.

I turn to smile at River. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she.” I reach out. She gasps, half turning to me when my knuckles brush her cheek. Her face reddens as her eyes find mine.

“What are you doing?” she hisses quietly.

“Business,” I growl. I turn back to Semyon and smile. “I’ve been told you’ve been thinking about settling down, Semyon.” I grin. “Marriage, was it?”

He bristles. “Who told you that?”

“People. So don’t try and blu bad at it.”

me, you dumb fuck. You are

He grits his teeth. But then he shrugs. “I do not care anymore, Yuri. Keep her. You’re not getting shit from me.”

“No?”

I smile. My pulse thuds. And suddenly, my hand drops to her knee beneath the table. River gasps. She whirls to me, and her own hand drops to grab mine, as if to pull it away. But I grip her tighter, staring at the man across the table.

“You’re sure about that, Semyon?”

His nostrils flare. He can’t see, because of the table. But he can see where my hand is. I grip her knee tighter. And then slowly, my hand begins to slide up her thigh. She gasps sharply. Her hand grips mine, trying to pry my fingers from her. But when I don’t budge, she stops trying. Her fingers grip around my wrist—not fighting me, but almost like she’s hanging on for whatever comes next.

I slide my hand higher, and her face burns red. Semyon glares at me, then her, then back to me.

“What the fuck are you—” “Nothing that concerns you, Semyon,” I growl. “Just enjoying what you’ve clearly told me I can keep as my own.”

My hand slides higher, pushing her dress to the side. River sti ens, gasping quietly. Her eyes dart to mine, her teeth raking over her lip.

“What the fuck are you—” “This,” I snarl quietly. My hand pushes even higher under her dress. And suddenly, my knuckles are brushing the soft lace of her panties, right across her little slit.

River quivers, gasping as a soft whimper escapes her lips. I groan, feeling my cock surge in my pants. But I drag my eyes

from her to the fucker across the table. He’s staring at me in horror.

“Stop that,” he chokes.

I smile thinly. “Stop what?”

My hand rotates, palm against her pussy through her now damp and warm panties. River’s hand clutches my wrist. But I can tell she’s not trying to pull me away. She’s just holding on, trembling against me.

I let one of my fingers drag up her seam. She moans quietly and I feel her get even wetter through her panties.

“Stop that!” Semyon barks. “Stop it, Yuri!!”

I grin as I turn to him again. “Stop what, you little worm?”

His face is bright red with fury. “Stop… stop touching her!”

“What, like this?”

My fingers deftly pull her soaking wet panties to the side.

River chokes and gasps around a halting moan as my finger strokes up through her bare lips. This time, she goes to pull my hand away. But I don’t let her. I keep it right where it is, and I’m much stronger than her.

She whimpers and tugs at my hand. But I keep stroking her eager little cunt, feeling her wetness coating my fingers. She chokes out another moan, and I watch as her eyes roll back.

“Enough!” Semyon roars. “Enough, Yuri!”

I turn to smile at him. “Not yet it’s not, you motherfucker,” I snap.

My fingers part her lips and center on her clit. I start to rub in slow circles, rolling the little nub beneath the pads of two fingers. She whines quietly. She’s still grabbing my hand, but she’s not trying to pull me away anymore. It’s like she’s making sure I don’t.

Her breath comes faster, haltingly. Her pussy gushes wetness onto my fingers. Her hips push, greedy and desperate for more. I rub her clit around and around, until suddenly, her hands clench my wrist tightly as her bright red face scrunches up.

“Yuri…”

And suddenly, she’s coming for me. Right there at the negotiating table, she’s coming on my fingers and desperately trying not to cry out in pleasure.

I keep rolling her clit as she comes, until she’s shuddering against me. Slowly, I pull my hand away. With the blood roaring in my ears, I slowly turn to Semyon.

He looks like he’s about to explode. He looks like he wants to kill me right here and now with his bare hands, even if this is neutral ground.

“You son of a bitch,” he chokes, sputtering in rage. His head shakes. “You son of a fucking—” “Your entire construction sector,” I say evenly. “All of it, Semyon. And half of your narcotics trade.”

His jaw drops. His eyes look like they might actually pop out of his head.

“I will kill you for this,” he snarls dangerously.

“You have two days to think of my o er. After that, I ask for more. Or else…” I turn to let my eyes sweep over River, who’s blushing furiously and staring down at her hands.

“Or else maybe I have more than a taste next time, hmm, Semyon?”

His chair falls back as he stands abruptly. He’s shaking all over, his face red and his eyes furious. He jabs a finger at me.

But when he opens his mouth, all he can do is sputter. With a snarl, he turns and storms out of the room through the door behind him, letting it slam behind him.

Instantly, River’s chair does the same as Semyon’s as she lurches to her feet. She whirls on me, fury on her face as she shakes her head.

“Fuck you,” she snaps.

When I say nothing, her eyes flash with green fire.

“You disgusting pig!”

“A pig?” I smile thinly. “Tell me, kiska, do pigs usually make you come like that?”

Her face blushes deeply. But she’s still glaring at me with fury in her eyes. My eyes hold hers as I bring my hand up to my face. Slowly, I open my mouth, suck my fingers inside,

and wetly lick them clean. Her mouth falls open. Her eyes are wide as the blush throbs hotly on her cheeks.

And then suddenly, she slaps me again, hard.

“Fuck you,” she spits as she whirls for the door. “We’re fucking done here.” She makes it half a step before my hand shoots out. I grab her wrist with a snarl and yank her back as I stand abruptly.

Once again, I’ve miscalculated. Once again, I thought of myself as stronger. And once again, I was fucking wrong.

River gasps as I yank her back into my arms. My hand cups her face, the other holding her wrist behind her at the small of her back.

“We are done here when I say we’re done here.”

And instantly, my mouth is crushing to hers, fiercely. I groan as I kiss her. And when she whimpers back into my mouth, I know there’s no coming back from this.

A line has been crossed. An unwritten law has been shattered. And suddenly, I know the rules of warfare have changed.

I growl as I kiss her deeply. But I want more. I need more.

The one little taste of her sweet pussy from my fingers isn’t enough. It’s on my tongue like the first hit of a drug. And now, the addiction is sinking its claws into me.

My mouth sears to hers, kissing her deeply as she moans into my mouth. With a snarl, I whirl us and slam her back

against the conference table. I slide her ass up onto it, groaning as her legs wrap around my waist.

I push her back as my mouth dives to her neck. My hands skim down her sides to grip her hips. I drop between her legs as I shove them wide apart.

“Oh God…” she cries out as I grip her panties. My knuckles brush over her slippery little pussy before I yank the soaked lace down her legs. I snarl, and my mouth presses between her trembling thighs. My tongue suddenly touches her silky soft lips, and I groan at the sweet taste of her.

“Oh fuck!” She moans as my tongue drags through her lips. I groan, pushing my tongue into her.

Fuck me, she tastes like candy. She tastes like heaven. She tastes like she’s all fucking mine.

My tongue delves deep, eager to drink every drop of her sweet sticky cream. I drag it up to her clit, humming against her as I suck the nub between my lips. River cries out, her thighs clamping around my head as her body clenches tightly.

She moans, shuddering on the conference table. Her hips raise up against my mouth. Her eagerness makes my dick throb and pulse between my legs. I hum into her, sucking her clit between my lips. I tongue it in small circles, gripping her creamy skin tightly. Her body quivers and shudders against me as her whines fill the room.

“Yuri!”

And with a wrench of her hips and a jolt through her entire body, she’s coming against my tongue.

She moans and thrashes, trembling as I keep licking and sucking. I growl into her, tasting her sweetness deeply as I demand the orgasm from her supple young body.

When I pull away, she’s staring at me with awe; her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.

“Now,” I growl quietly as I pull her o the table. I push her skirt down. But then I bring her panties up and slip them into my jacket pocket. I cup her chin and kiss her hard, letting her taste her own sweetness from my lips.

“Now, we are done here.”

7

RIVER

F OR A WHILE , I just buried the story whenever it came up in interviews. I’d dodge the question, or artfully switch to a new subject. I’d make a joke or something. But finally, a few months ago, that thread got picked at again. And this time, the tabloids kept picking until the whole story unraveled.

Then suddenly, what should have been absolutely no one’s business but my own became front page gossip: that “gorgeous, world famous model River Finn” was “ba ingly somehow still a virgin.”

And, I am. But if any of these tabloid headline writers were me, they’d see it’s not really so “ba ing” at all.

Ever met a male model? They’re fucking awful. They are insu erably arrogant, self-involved, pompous douchebags.

Ask any female model. I have it on good authority that most of them will tell you that “chiseled good looks” and having been in a Dior ad does not a good lover make.

I got into the industry young, at fifteen when I got spotted on the street in New York window shopping with my

grandmother. But while a lot of the girls I started in the industry with went hard into partying, boys, and drugs, I stayed focused. I had, and still have, no illusions about this industry. Being a model is not a lifetime career. That’s just the hard facts, even if a lot of models like to gloss over that.

At some point, looks fade. We age; it’s just part of life. So to me, I never saw the point in wasting time on arrogant pretty boys who just wanted to get in your pants to have one more “famous chick” notched on their bedpost. The same goes for partying or drugs.

I got older, and more famous. But that just made it all even clearer to me. The boys who pursued me only wanted one thing. And it’s not like I’m a prude who doesn’t want or have any interest in sex. I mean, yeah, I get horny like most people on the planet. But the longer I held on to it, the more I knew how pissed I’d be at myself for just “getting it over with” with some smug pretty boy.

So I never did.

The thing is, I’ve “dated” some fairly famous male models and actors. The only problem? They were all “image relationships;” fake, constructed relationships to keep your name buzzing in the tabloids. It sounds stupid, and it is. But trust me, it’s way more prevalent in the fashion and entertainment worlds than people think.

So, the story about me being rumored to be a virgin would come up. But then someone would point to the heartthrob of the hour I’d been “spotted with” at some concert. And the

idea that said heartthrob hadn’t “gotten me into bed” was laughed at.

Except a few months ago, it finally got traction. Chris Karl, the guy famous for having his abs looming above Times Square on the Gap billboard and for sleeping with more girls than the Rolling Stones, decided he’d found religion. He went on Ellen and renounced his man-whoring ways. Which included making a public apology to the women he’d treated terribly. And then he dropped the bomb: he apologized to me, specifically. Not for sleeping with me and never calling again. But for telling everyone that he did, when it never happened.

After that, the ball started rolling. Another model, Evan Stirling, mentioned o -hand in another interview that he also hadn’t ever slept with me. He’d never claimed he had either. But it was assumed, since he and I had been one of those “image relationships” for tabloids to take pictures of.

Then the landslide happened. Four more guys I’d been publicly linked with admitted they’d never even kissed me.

And suddenly, the question every microphone had for me was “was I really a virgin?” I honestly didn’t see the point of lying. So I didn’t.

So there’s my big story. “World famous” “iconic” twentyone-year-old model River Finn has never hopped into bed with anyone. Big fucking deal.

Except the thing is, it does become a “big fucking deal” when the absolutely gorgeous, dangerous, much older Russian mafia king puts his hand between your legs and makes you

ache for more. It’s a big fucking deal when he’s the first person aside from yourself to make you come.

And it’s a very big fucking deal when he plants you on the edge of a bratva conference table, spreads your legs, rips your soaked panties o , and puts his mouth on your pussy until you scream his name.

Yeah, that’s a big fucking deal, and I am now way out of my element…

T HE HELICOPTER RIDE back to the yacht is silent. But even without words, what happened back in that meeting room isn’t left there. The entire ride back, Yuri’s hand rests on my knee—gripping it possessively.

I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t send a tremor of heat through my core the whole ride back. The fact that my panties are in his jacket pocket and not on me isn’t exactly helping.

But even still, something grinds at me. It’s an itch in my thoughts the whole ride back. But it’s when we start to drop out of the sky down onto the yacht that I realize what’s bothering me.

That “big fucking deal” of the gorgeous, powerful man sitting next to me with his hand possessively on my knee having just made me scream his name with his mouth between my legs? It wasn’t some explosively hot tryst. It was a business transaction.

I wasn’t forbidden lust he simply couldn’t stay away from. I was bait. I was a pawn used to get what he wanted from a rival. My mouth purses as it slowly clicks into place for me.

And suddenly, the glow of what just happened back there fades. The buzz of excitement turns to bitterness.

I spent years saying no to arrogant, good-looking guys because I didn’t want to feel used. And that’s exactly what just happened.

The helicopter is just about to touch down when I reach down, grab his hand, and shove it o my knee. I turn to look out the window. But I can still feel his eyes on me as he turns to look at me curiously. His hand slips back to my knee. Once again, more deliberately this time, I shove it away.

The chopper sets down on the helipad, and the engine winds down. Maksim opens the door and steps out, followed by the few other guards. I go to follow, but Yuri’s hand grips my wrist to pull me back. I turn to glare at him.

“Yes?” His handsome face crosses with shadow as he narrows his eyes at me.

“You’re angry.”

I shrug. “I’m fine.”

“You’re also not a great liar.”

I sneer as I pull away from him. “Yeah, you actually don’t know much about me at all—”

I gasp as his hand tugs me back, spinning me into him. I whimper as my hands fall against his chest, and my eyes raise to look into his crystal blue ones.

“You are wrong, kiska,” he growls quietly. He leans close to me. “I know things about you that I know no others do.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh?” I droll sarcastically.

I gasp as he suddenly leans all the way down into my neck, making me tremble as his lips brush my ear.

“I know how sweet your pussy tastes, kiska,” he growls thickly.

I quaver, heat pooling between my thighs. But then I grab control back. I take a deep breath and pull away from him again.

“That is not happening again, just so we’re fucking clear.”

He smirks. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t… I honestly don’t know what I excepted his reaction to be. But smirking isn’t it.

“Is that funny to you?”

He grins. “Immensely.”

I glare at him. “Well, I fucking love jokes, so why don’t you share the humor?” I hiss.

“I’m amused because you’ve just proved my earlier point.”

My lips purse. “Which was?”

“That you are a terrible liar,” he growls thickly.

We stand there, glaring at each other. The air between us seems to ignite, burning hotly until I can’t tell if I want to kiss him or slap him across the face. But in the end, I decide on the third option.

Leaving.

With a final glare, I pull away. “I’m not your pawn,” I hiss.

“And that is never happening again.”

I turn on my heel, walk down the steps of the helicopter, and march away.

8

YURI

C LANK .

With a grunt, I set the bar back down on the rack and hiss with the exhale. My eyes close, my muscles screaming after that last set. But the endorphin rush hits me, and I grin triumphantly at the successful workout.

I sit up on the bench and reach for my water. Through the open doors of the yacht’s gym, the sea air washes over the sweat glistening on my bare chest. I stand, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth as I walk to the balcony overlooking the lower decks.

But my gaze is not aimless. It’s instantly pulled to the deck o of River’s quarters. Because there she is, in the lap pool.

In a bikini. I groan as the endorphins surge through my system.

To be fair, the bikini isn’t necessarily to show o . It’s because there’s a tempting pool, and the only bathing suits in her closet are small, skimpy bikinis. I didn’t stock the thing for River specifically, obviously. But as my plan was to

host Semyon’s object of interest, the idea was to send him pictures of his captured desire parading around my yacht in skimpy clothing.

The idea of sending any such picture of River to him makes my blood boil.

I watch as she swims strongly against the surging water in the lap pool. Her hair is tied up tight in a bun, her sleek body and tempting curves coiling as she swims. The tiny white bikini is already a skimpy bathing suit by design. But on River, with her tits and that ass? It’s almost pornographic.

But it’s also all for me. And I’m certainly not complaining. I groan as I watch her pushing herself. But then she slows to a stop and moves to the side of the pool. She pushes herself out of the water. My cock thickens as she slips out, the little white thong bikini pulled tight between her cheeks.

She slips out and stands on the deck. But then, as if she can feel my eyes on her, she turns. She blushes, sti ening when she sees me looking right at her. Her teeth drag over her bottom lip. I don’t look away. I stare right at her—right at what I want but should not want.

Her big green eyes look right back at me. Her cheeks burn hotly. But then, like she’s just remembered that she’s mad at me for making her come so eagerly, apparently, her brow furrows. Her look turns to a glare. She yanks a towel around herself, whirls, and storms back into her quarters.

I groan as my hand tightens on the railing of the deck. What the fuck am I doing with this girl?

I turn to head back inside. But just then, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and smile curiously when I see Belle’s name on the screen.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of a call from a famous movie star?”

Belle groans with a laugh. “Hi, dad.”

For the first eighteen years of her life, my daughter didn’t know me. Part of that was that she was concealed from me by her mother. But the next part was because I didn’t want the little girl I didn’t even know to be chewed up and spit out by the world of violence I live in.

Her mother—René—and I had been young and… unclear of what we were back then. I was rising in the ranks of my family business with the Bratva. She was a dancer at a club in New York, where I was living for a time. Maybe we were just young and stupid. Maybe it was more, but who knows. I know I don’t.

I do know I cared for her. And it hurt when I learned she was pregnant, and when she told me it wasn’t mine. She yelled at me, telling me we meant nothing, and that there were other men. There may have been, I don’t know. I knew I already shared her heart with the needle, which was hard enough.

She got clean for the baby, but she and I were done. And not long after her daughter was born, heroin finally took René. It was years later that I finally used my money and influence to secretly test Belle’s DNA against my own, just to see. The match was perfect.

But even with that, I knew I couldn’t be a part of her world.

Or more specifically, I couldn’t let her become a part of mine.

Things were much rougher back then, of course. There were constant wars between bratva families. It had barely been a decade since the fall of the USSR, and the race for power in the ensuing vacuum was brutal and bloody.

My daughter would not be a part of that.

And so, I watched from a distance. I watched her aunt raise her, and quietly made sure they were okay. I watched as Belle, a budding actress, suddenly found her big break. I watched with a heart full of pride, telling no one, as she rose to world-wide fame on the Hollywood stage.

When fate threw her and Nikolai, a captain in the Kashenko Bratva together, it also forced me into her life. And it’s the best turn of events of my life so far. It’s almost out of a movie script that I would be so worried about involving my daughter with the Bratva world for so long. And then she goes and falls in love with a Bratva captain.

“How’s… wait where are you these days?”

“Here and there,” I grin. It’s not that I’m playing coy. It’s that even though she’s married to a Bratva captain, I still feel the need to shield her from this world.

She chuckles. “International man of mystery, huh?”

“The name is Bond. Yuri Bond.”

Belle snickers. “Business is good, I hope?”

I frown. “Yes?”

“Good. So you won’t have to fall back on your God-awful comedy career?”

I chuckle. But just then, suddenly, the door to River’s deck opens again. She walks back out—still in the bikini. Without the towel. She glances up at me. She tries to hide it, but I catch the smug little smirk before she can.

I watch her sway her hips over to a lounge chair and spill herself into it. She stretches like a cat, arching her back and thrusting her full tits up, straining them against her bikini top.

My jaw grinds. She’s teasing me. Purposefully so.

“Dad?” I wince. “Yeah, I’m here.”

The sudden juxtaposition of these two versions of me is jarring. On one hand is the tempting little vixen trying to tease me. That hand holds my untamed and forbidden attraction to the gorgeous young model currently staying as my… well, my hostage of sorts.

And in the other hand, is Belle—the daughter I am finally getting to know. The piece of me that I’ve only recently been able to start to connect to. I mean Christ, it’s only been in the last few months that she’s even started calling me dad and not just “Yuri.” I’m well aware that fathering someone does not inherently make you a dad. But fuck, it’s been nice to hear.

And now, those two hands pull me in di erent directions— they pull me apart.

Below and across the main deck, River is turning to sun her back. She arches her body, thrusting her ass back towards me. She’s being a fucking prick tease, and she knows it. She just doesn’t know she’s doing it while I’m on the phone with her best friend. Just as my daughter has no idea I’m talking to her while I have her best friend captive on my yacht.

“Hey, so, actually I called to invite you to something.”

I blink away my thoughts and focus on Belle. “Oh?” “Yeah. Um… how’d you like to come to the premier for my upcoming release?”

The grin almost hurts it’s so wide.

“I would honestly love to.”

“Yeah? Look, you really don’t have to. I know you’re busy—” “Belle,” I smile. “Consider my schedule cleared.”

She laughs. “It’s for Tomorrow’s Battle… I think I was telling you about it?”

“The one where you’re the embedded Marine Corp press photographer who gets captured by the Taliban…” I smile. “I remember.”

Her latest film hasn’t even been released yet, and it’s already generating some big buzz. What makes me even prouder is that she’s doing this all under her own production company.

And the films that company is putting out are garnering so

much praise that she’s getting all sorts of investment o ers, too.

I grin, swelling with pride. And also with happiness. This is a big step, her inviting me to something this important. I’d have figured she’d bring someone like— “My friend River is going to come too.”

I freeze, my jaw grinding.

“Oh?” “Yeah, you met her once at that dinner in Chicago last year?

The model?”

“I…” my eyes land on River herself, not forty feet away from me, stretched out in the world’s skimpiest thong bikini.

“I think I remember her.”

“It’s not for a few more weeks. I’ll send you the info though.” She laughs. “Oh my God, speaking of River…”

My mouth thins. “Yes?” “This is really gossipy. But I just heard about it, and I think Niko is getting tired of being the only one I’ve been talking to about it.” She sighs. “So, apparently River ran o with some rich European guy.”

I sti en. “Really.”

I knew the story I put into place would leak eventually. In fact, that was sort of the point, to avoid people being worried

that famous model River Finn had been kidnapped. But it’s still jarring to hear it from Belle.

“You… spoke to her?” I ask, knowing she hasn’t.

“No, actually. I’ve been trying to call her, but her stupid phone is o . Can you believe that? I had learn about my best friend running o with some prince or an oil tycoon’s heir through a freaking grocery store tabloid cover.”

“Yeah…” I frown. “That’s—” “Oh, and get this. This photo-shoot she was on got attacked by pirates. Like real actual pirates, and this prince or king or whoever he is saved her.”

“It’s a strange world,” I grunt quietly.

“Seriously.” Belle sighs. “Okay, sorry, I’m gossiping your ear o now.”

“I enjoy your gossip.”

She laughs. “Well, I’ll let you go. My assistant will email over the info for the premier. I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Any time,” I say quietly with a grin.

“Okay. Bye, dad.”

“Bye, Belle.”

“Oh, hey.”

“Yes?” “Bring a date!”

I smile thinly as my eyes settle on River, still stretched out in a bikini.

“Very funny.”

I’m still smiling when I hang up. But my eyes stay glued to the forbidden attraction across from me, doing her damndest to shatter my self-control.

And if she keeps trying, she’s going to succeed.

9

RIVER

T WO DAYS LATER , I’m still stewing. I’m still buzzing, too. I’ve basically sequestered myself in my quarters, barely even coming out for meals. I tell myself it’s because I’m angry.

The lie I tell myself is that I’m furious that Yuri used his power and influence over me to take advantage of things, and to do things to me no other man ever has.

But, yeah… that’s a lie.

I’m not angry at him for the things he did to me. In fact, I can’t stop melting into feverish day-dreams and nighttime fantasies about his hands and mouth on me that leave me slick and throbbing. Yuri didn’t take advantage of me, because I let him touch me. I wanted his hands on me, and I know deep in a shameful place that I’ve been aching for him since the moment I laid eyes on him.

I’m angry because giving in to that aching lust was “giving in.” Or maybe I’m just not sure how to process the fact that I like the fucked up power dynamic. Being both his captive and his plaything gives me a thrill I’ve never ever felt before. And I like it; I like it a lot more than I fucking should.

Try as I might, my body won’t let me forget the feeling of pure ecstasy that his tongue between my legs gave me. I can’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt—the way he touched me and turned me to putty.

I can’t forget the way his kiss electrified me. And it’s downright infuriating.

Two nights after the meeting with Semyon, I’m slumped across my bed. But my mind won’t stop whirling. The problem is, the usual cure for my brain not shutting up is to call my best friend Belle and vent. Except there’s two big problems with that solution given my current circumstances.

One, I’m a captive on a yacht in the middle of the Black Sea, with no cell phone. And two, the man who’s mouth I can’t stop thinking about, who’s also the man holding me captive?

Yeah, that would be Belle’s father. There’s a conversation literally no one wants to have about their own dad.

The unfairness of all of this suddenly hits a peak. My anger at this entire situation suddenly pops. With a hiss on my lips, I jump up and storm out of my quarters. It seems they only locked the doors on me that first night here. After that, they were left open for me to come and go as I please. I mean what am I going to do, run away? It’s a boat.

I storm down the halls of the yacht, up a flight of stairs, and then out the doors to the private deck where I had dinner with Yuri. Sure enough, he’s out there. He’s in perfectly fitting suit pants and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, sitting in a deck chair by the railing reading a book.

He looks up in curious amusement as I march over to him.

“You’ve emerged.”

But he stops smiling when I yank the book out of his hand and toss it over the rail to land in the pool below.

A low growl rumbles in his throat as he slowly stands, glaring at me.

“I didn’t peg you for a thrower of temper-tantru—” “There are people who won’t believe I’ve just run o with some random rich guy, you know!” I snap. “They’ll talk!”

His eyes narrow as he folds his arms over his chest. “You mean people like my daughter.”

“Yep,” I sneer back.

Yuri’s eyes pierce into me, making me tremble. But then, he shrugs.

“Then call her. I’ll get you a phone.”

My brow furrows. “Just like that.”

He shrugs. “Just like that.”

“So I guess you want me to lie to her too about what’s going on?”

Yuri looks amused. “I want you to say whatever you desire.”

His brow furrows. “River, you are mistaken if you think I am worried what people think of me; that I let anyone in this world hold any power at all over me. Here.”

He pulls a phone out of his pocket and holds it out to me.

“This is a clean phone. It’s all yours. Call her, please.”

I eye him warily, my lips pursed. “You’re still patching things up after abandoning her for the first eighteen years of her life, just in case you forgot that little detail.”

His smirk fades as he sti ens. His brow darkens.

“No, River,” he growls. “I had not actually forgotten about the daughter whose life I did not get to be a part of for her entire childhood,” he says thickly.

He glares at me, his eyes narrowing.

“But you’re her best friend. You know all of that, which means you’re simply trying to be petty.”

I scowl back at him. But, of course, he’s right. Of course I know the story from Belle.

“You know damn well why I kept my distance from my only child,” he growls, anger rising in his voice. “I couldn’t be a part of her world. Or more specifically, I couldn’t let her become a part of mine. Things were dangerous back then.

Extremely so.”

He smiles thinly, eyes narrowing.

“But you’re a smart girl. You know all of this. So be my fucking guest, River,” he grunts. “Call Belle. Tell her whatever you want.”

“Including that you’ve kidnapped me?”

He pushes the phone into my hand. And without another word, he turns and storms o . But I don’t feel victorious. I just feel like a bitch.

“M Y

MY MY !”

I blush when I hear my best friend gush on the other end of the line.

“Well, I’d ask how your vacation is going, but it seems rhetorical, from what I’ve heard.”

I bite my lip, groaning. “What, uh… what have you heard?”

Belle laughs. “Oh, you know, nothing crazy. Just that my best friend in the world got rescued from actual, real-life pirates by some rich older European playboy, who she is now shacked up with getting laid eight ways from Sunday?”

I cringe, feeling my face burn.

“Does that about sum things up?” She giggles before groaning. “I cannot believe you’re just calling me now!”

“I—yeah I didn’t have my phone—” “And you haven’t left Mr. European hottie’s bed in a week?”

My lip twists in my teeth. “Where have you been hearing all this?”

“Oh, you know how this fucking town is,” she groans. She means LA. “The tabloids have been losing their shit about

you getting knocked up by the heir to some random European throne.”

I groan. “Yeah, that’s not entirely correct…”

“Gee, no way,” she laughs sarcastically. Aside from being my best friend, Belle’s also one of the most sought-after actresses in Hollywood. She’s had way more than her fill of and run-ins with paparazzi bullshit and half-cocked gossip rag stories.

That should mean I can o oad all of what’s been happening to me to her. But obviously, I can’t do that. Not with the little detail of who exactly has been keeping me.

Belle’s well aware of what her father is. Of course she is, her own husband is a captain in the Kashenko bratva back in Chicago. But knowing the father you’ve just come into contact with is the head of a Russian mafia family is one thing. Knowing he’s also making your best friend who’s barely older than you are ache for him, and crave him, is another thing entirely.

“So, it’s not an heir to a throne?”

I frown, shaking my head. “No.” Belle giggles. “But the other details…?”

I blush deeply. “No!” She laughs. “So wait, you’re not finally getting laid?”

I groan as my face burns. “No, God. Well…” I chew on my lips, blushing deeper. I look up from my bed that I’m lying

across to look out the huge wall of glass that overlooks the sea.

“Yeah, I’m going to need some clarification on that ‘well’, girl,” Belle snickers.

I roll my eyes as my cheeks throb. “It’s just…” I frown. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You met someone who finally makes you want to do something crazy. And it’s the strongest feeling you’ve ever had about anything in your life. But every single part of your life screams that it’s a bad idea, because it’s new and scary, and maybe that person doesn’t mesh with your version of life?”

My brows arch. Belle sighs.

“That about sum up what you’re feeling?”

“What are you, a fucking mind reader?” I mumble.

She giggles. “No, but there was that small detail a year ago of me, the Hollywood actress, running o with the Bratva hitman and having a wild and lurid a air with him which ended up in me falling hopelessly in love with and marrying him. Ring any bells?”

I laugh. “Maybe I did read about that somewhere.”

“Look, I can’t tell you what to do. But this guy you’re with… does being around him feel dangerous because you feel like you’re in danger? Or because it’s exciting and new, and it feels like it might shake up the life you thought you had?”

I smirk and slip o the bed to pad over to the windows.

“Hey, if this whole Hollywood superstar thing doesn’t work out, you should look into being a therapist, you know.”

Belle laughs. “Only for you.”

I sigh and drop my forehead against the glass. “And it’s not the first one. Maybe the second one.”

“You’re not in danger, but he still feels dangerous.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Sort of.”

Talking to her about this guy and my own twisted up emotions suddenly starts to feel shitty. I mean, this is her father we’re talking about. Her father and me.

“You know what? Don’t stress about it,” I sigh. “I’m fine, honestly. Just having fun. I just wanted to call and say hi, that’s all.”

“You sure? You know I’m here if you want to dig into—” “Yeah, no, I’m good,” I smile guiltily. “Really.”

She laughs. “Alright, alright. I know that tone. Fine, I’m o the case. But just one thing, if I may.”

I smile. “Shoot.”

“Do you get that hot feeling in the base of your stomach when he kisses you? Do you feel that… I don’t know, it’s like a wave that explodes inside?”

I close my eyes, blushing as I gently nod.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Well then, just do you, River,” she sighs. “Live the adventure. Have fun, and just see where it takes you. You’ve earned some time o .” She giggles. “And besides, what the hell is the point of being a famous model if you can’t run o for a tawdry sex-cation with a hot older European guy, right?”

I groan, rolling my eyes. “Thanks, super helpful as always.”

She laughs. “Call me anytime. You know that, though.”

“I do know that.”

“And have fun.”

I blush.

“Just, you know, maybe don’t get knocked up?”

I groan, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, thanks.”

She laughs. “Call me, okay?”

“I will.”

“Oh! Shit! I almost forgot.”

I frown. “What?”

“I was going to invite you to my next premier in a few weeks!”

I grin. “For Tomorrow’s Battle?!”

Not a month ago, Belle dragged me in to the private screening room at her new production company to show me the semi-final cut of her upcoming war movie. Which she

not only produced, but stars in. And it’s fucking awesome.

It’s like Zero Dark Thirty meets 127 Days. And of course, Belle is freaking incredible in it.

“Uh, hell yes! I’d love to!”

“Great! It’ll be fun. Feel free to bring a date, or…” Belle laughs.

“Huh?” “Nothing. I was just going to say, or you could come with my dad as his date.”

I freeze, feeling the blood leave my face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, cause I invited him and told him to bring a date, and he laughed it o .” She sighs. “Never mind, that’s just me trying to be funny.”

I laugh nervously. “Oh, yeah, no, totally. I’ll just bring your dad…”

I groan inside.

“Oh, perfect. A match made in heaven,” she snickers sarcastically. “But I am not calling you stepmom in case you two get married. Just so we’re clear.”

Lord, please take me now, I groan to myself.

“But I guess your oil tycoon might have a problem with that.” She laughs again. “Anyways, talk soon?”

“Yeah…” I mumble.

“Bye!” When I hang up, I turn and toss the phone onto the bed.

Then I look back out the windows at the rolling sea. The sun is just starting to dip past the horizon, painting everything in golden orange.

My stomach gurgles, reminding me it must be close to dinner time. The last few nights, I’ve just been walking myself to the kitchen, asking Korol, the chef, for something, and then taking it back to my room to eat. Which sounds like a great idea for right now, too.

I’ve been lounging around my quarters all afternoon in yoga pants and a t-shirt. And even if I’m here as a captive of sorts, I feel weird about the idea of walking around a yacht this fancy dressed like a schlub.

I find a cute dress in the closet and bring it back into the bedroom. I peel o the t-shirt and yoga pants, then my bra…

Then the door to my bedroom bangs open.

I gasp, whirling as my face burns hotly. My hands fly up to cover my chest as Yuri storms in, looking fierce and powerful. He’s in a crisp white dress shirt, open at the collar, and dark blue, ridiculously well-fitted dress pants. He prowls towards me as I tremble, my pulse surging.

“Uh, can I help you?!” I blurt, half in anger, half in excitement.

“Earlier,” he snarls as he marches right over to me. He stops inches from me, looming over me with his piercing blue eyes holding mine captive. I swallow, trembling.

“Earlier what?” I snap.

“I was wrong,” he grunts quietly.

I smirk. “Well, that’s a first—” “I was wrong to allow you to speak to me like that, without repercussions,” he growls. He lowers his mouth to my ear, making me gasp. “Without punishment,” he hisses into my ear.

My breath stutters. I shiver as heat teases over my skin.

“You…” I swallow before I drag my eyes up to his. “You don’t get to talk to me like—” “That is exactly where you’re wrong, kiska,” he growls.

“This is my world. You are in my kingdom, under my control.

And while you are here, I will speak to you any which way I please.”

I sneer at him.

“So you take me without my permission, you lock me on this boat, you trot me around like a fucking bargaining chip for your disgusting little Bratva friend—” “He is not my friend—” “And you think you can walk into my fucking bedroom, and touch me, or kiss me whenever you goddamn please?!”

“I haven’t exactly heard any complaints.”

My jaw is in the process of dropping when his hand suddenly juts out and takes one of my wrists. Without even blinking,

he yanks that hand away from the bare breast it’s covering and brazenly lowers his gaze to my chest. He smirks before he looks back up into my shocked face.

“I still don’t hear any comp—” My hand rips from his grip, swings back, and slaps him, hard, across the cheek. Instantly, my face pales. I see his eyes blaze and his jaw clench. But my fear melts into brazenness. I smile as I leer up at him.

“What, sir,” I spit. “What, your majesty,” I sneer. “This is your kingdom, right?”

The growl rumbles in his throat. He glares down into my eyes with a fierceness that takes my breath away.

“What are you going to do,” I hiss quietly. “Hit me?”

But slowly, Yuri smiles… a dark, hungry smile.

“No, kiska,” he growls. “I’m not going to hit you.”

I gasp as his hand slips up into the back of my hair and grabs a fistful of it. I whimper as he yanks me into him and suddenly kisses me so hard it bruises my mouth. But God help me, I moan. I moan eagerly into the kiss.

When he pulls away, I’m gasping through swollen lips. I’m panting for a breath, and my pulse is thudding in my ears.

“I’m not going to hit you,” he growls as he looms close. His eyes blaze with an icy blue fire.

“I’m going to fuck that little brat mouth of yours until I spill my cum down your throat.”

My jaw drops. My pulse surges. No one has ever once spoken to me like this. Not even close. I want to feel shocked and scandalized. But I’m not horrified; I’m turned on.

I feel more turned on than I maybe ever have before. I like the way he’s just spoken to me. I like the way it lights a fire inside of me.

His eyes burn into me. His hand tightens in the hair at the nape of my neck. He doesn’t push or coax… it’s all me, and my own volition that brings me to my knees in front of him.

His hand stays in my hair as I look up at him, my pulse thudding. His eyes captivate mine, never letting them pull away. My hands reach up, shaking, but with lust and desire as I undo his belt. Then the zipper of this pants.

I fumble with the rest, but he just groans and brings a hand up. He pops the button on his pants and slips them and his briefs down. My eyes drop from his gaze. They widen, my mouth falling open as the throbbing, thick, veined shaft slips into sight.

He pulls his briefs lower, and lower, and lower. More and more of his swollen length slides into view. A tendril of tattoo the groove of his hip muscle swirls into a black rose. I tremble as he peels them lower, until suddenly, the waistband slips o of his head, and his full, engorged cock springs out right in front of me.

My core clenches as my pulse thuds. Holy fucking shit. My mouth hangs open.

He’s… big. Very, very big. Virgin with no experience or not, I know what big looks like. My breath catches as I look up at him. His gaze holds mine fiercely, the lust and desire surging in his eyes. I reach up, gasping when my small hand wraps around the silky and yet rock-hard shaft. He’s so hot to the touch, and my heart skips as I give him a stroke.

I’m going to fuck that little brat mouth of yours until I spill my cum down your throat.

It’s so filthy and wrong. But there’s also no ignoring the heat that throbs in my core. There’s no ignoring the desire that coaxes my mouth forward, my tongue slipping out to wet my lips.

My eyes stay on his when my mouth kisses the head of him.

Yuri groans, hissing as excitement sizzles through me. I kiss his swollen crown again. My lips part, and with a soft moan, I take him in across my tongue.

“Fuck, Kiska,” he growls thickly.

I whimper, spurred on by the way his face looks like he’s in pure heaven. His jaw grinds, and his eyes burn hotly into mine. I can feel his hand tighten in the back of my hair, but that only makes me wetter. It makes me bolder.

I suck, taking him a little deeper. He’s so big, and my jaw feels stretched around him as I hum eagerly. His hand pulls me back, and then guides me back onto him as his hips push.

He’s not demanding or forcing. He’s showing. He’s guiding… teaching.

I moan, feeling more alive than I have ever have. I suck wetly on him as my eyes raise up to his again.

“Spread your legs, kiska,” he growls thickly.

I whimper, doing what he says. On my knees, I spread my legs, trembling as I slurp on his swollen dick.

“Now put your hand between them, and feel how wet you are for me,” he groans. “Touch your little pussy while I take your mouth.”

I don’t even hesitate. I don’t care how filthy and lewd this is.

My hand slips eagerly into my panties. I’m so fucking wet— slick and dripping as my fingers slip over my lips. I moan around him as I start to rub my clit.

Yuri groans, pumping his hips. His thick head glides past my wet lips, pushing over my tongue into the back of my mouth.

I whimper, humming and moaning as I rub my clit faster. He growls, dropping a second hand to my hair. His fingers thread into my long locks, taking two handfuls as his body surges against me.

I love this. It’s like a control and a dominance that I’ve craved, without even knowing I craved it. His cock swells, throbbing so big and hard in my small mouth. I whimper, slipping my hand up his body. I push his shirt up, dragging my nails over his abs. They clench, and the large, swollen balls beneath his cock jump, tightening.

He grunts, fucking my mouth and pushing his cock across my tongue as I rub myself. My pleasure builds and swells.

Until suddenly, I feel myself start to explode.

“You’re going to make me cum, baby girl,” he snarls.

“You’re going to make me cum down your pretty throat.”

His filthy words do it. With a mu ed cry, I start to come. My fingers press hard against my clit as Yuri groans. His cock swells and throbs, with a hiss, he pushes it deep. I feel the first spurt of him hot across my tongue—sweet and salty, and I swallow it eagerly. More and more spills out across my tongue and down my throat as I moan around him.

And then gently, he pulls my mouth from his glistening, swollen cock. A drop of white cum beads at his crown and drips to land on my bare thigh.

My whole world is throbbing and buzzing. I don’t know where to look now, or where to put my hands. But slowly, gently, Yuri pulls me to my feet. He cups my face, looking me fiercely in the eye. His thumb brushes my bottom lip, pushing a drop of his cum back into my mouth. With a whimper, I suck his thumb between my lips and lick it clean.

Yuri groans, and his mouth crushes to mine, kissing me deeply. When he pulls back, we’re still staring at each other.

I blush, biting my lip as his curl slightly at the corners.

“Dinner is in twenty minutes; my private deck.”

He kisses me again, and I can hear and feel him zipping his pants back up. Then he pulls away, turns and makes for the door.

“Are you… was that you inviting me to dinner?” I blurt.

He turns, smiling curiously. “Yes, River. It was.”

“After…” I blush and look down.

“After what? After that?” He frowns and turns fully. Then he walks back over to me. His hand cups my face tenderly again, tilting my chin up. And without missing a beat, he leans down to kiss me softly.

“It seems too crass to fill your mouth with my cum and not invite you to dinner, does it not?” He murmurs as he pulls back.

I blush as he grins at me. He leans down and kisses my lips once more. Then he turns and walks out the door, leaving me throbbing, tingling, and wetter than I’ve ever been.

10

YURI

S HE ’ S STUNNING when she’s awake. She’s angelic when she’s sleeping. I sit quietly at the edge of her bed, watching as her bare chest slowly rises and falls. Moonlight gleams in through the windows, bathing her porcelain skin and pale pink nipples in a soft glow.

My eyes slide lower, across the slim lines of her waist and swell of her hips—also bare for me. My gaze centers at the prize between her thighs, and I can feel my cock surge with desire. Her pussy is still flushed and swollen from my mouth.

I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue and lips.

Dinner was… brief. I’m not even sure we made it past the first course or glass of wine before the surging heat between us grew too strong. Before I kissed her, and almost had her right there over the cafe table on my private deck.

But though part of me does very much want to claim her—to push my swollen cock deep in her virgin cunt and mark her as my own—I held back. Part of it is this goddamn “deal” with Semyon. But a larger part is that while I do wish to claim her, I won’t like that. Not bent over a dining table.

Instead, somehow, we managed to make it to her quarters.

Here, I ripped her clothes back o , pushed her down across the bed, and devoured her whole; relentlessly. I’ve spent the last hour and a half between her thighs, to the point where she’s literally just passed out.

I grin hungrily as my eyes sweep over her bared body and gorgeously innocent face. My cock surges again, and I’m tempted to wake her up with my mouth back between her legs. Or with my cock slipping between her soft, pouty lips.

But the buzzing of my phone in my pocket pulls my attention. I scowl as I take it out. When I glance at the name, my jaw grits.

Quietly, I slip out of River’s bedroom. I let myself out onto the glassed-in deck o her living quarters before I answer the phone.

“Da.” “You’ve been a bad boy, Yuri,” the voice chuckles with a wheezing laugh. My mouth thins to a line. It’s Petya, the oligarch that both Semyon and I do business with. The man whose o ce we held our meeting at as neutral ground.

Clearly, he’s been made aware of the… situation between Semyon and I. “Have I now?” I smile thinly, playing along.

Petya chuckles. “You know you have, Yuri. I am told you’ve taken something that belonged to Semyon?”

I roll my eyes. “Is that what he’s told you? Coming to you like a child crying to his mother?”

Petya laughs. He might be soft from his lavish life of wealth, privilege, and political connections. But he’s not an imbecile like Semyon.

Petya likes to fancy himself a Rockefeller or a Carnegie. He likes to imagine himself as this wealthy blessing to the masses—a man whose name will be on college libraries and city squares.

And yet JD Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie didn’t get their start pimping girls, running street gangs, and cracking skulls.

Petya Gagarina, as with most of the now nigh-untouchable Russian oligarchs, wasn’t born rich, or cultured, or politically connected. He was down in the dirt with the rest of us—a Bratva-connected thug hustling on the streets.

What separates the bratva kingpins like me from the oligarchs like Petya is simply timing and connections.

When the Soviet Union fell, there was a mad scramble amongst connected criminal and political figures for treasures it left behind. Under the USSR, most major industries were State owned. When that fell apart, they were all up for grabs. And these connected men made sure it was them and theirs who reaped the rewards.

Oil fields, oil refineries, pipelines, construction warehouses and equipment, airfields, factories… all of it was up for grabs. By law, it was all going to be put on auction. Only

these sly fucks were the ones in charge of where and when those auctions happened. Like any greedy corrupt criminal class, they made sure every single one of these auctions were announced last minute, and held in remote areas of Siberia where they and their friends happened to already be situated.

And lo and behold, a whole new generation of overnight billionaires, including my country’s current president, was self-created through theft.

I’m not mad about it. I’m just impressed. Perhaps even a little jealous that my father didn’t have the right connections to be a part of that crew of bandits. I might be absurdly wealthy from my crimes. But Petya and the rest of them have more money than even Silicon Valley CEOs would know what to do with.

“If by ‘something that belonged to him’, he means a girl who had no interest in him, who he’d planned on kidnapping and marrying like a Crusader King, then yes, I did.”

“You killed some of his men, da?”

My jaw grinds. “His men shot their way onto a boat full of well-known American models and fashion photographers,” I mutter. “I would hardly say he has the moral high ground here.”

Petya groans and swears under his breath. “I don’t like getting in the middle of petty squabbles, Yuri,” he sighs.

“All due respect,” I mutter. “But I see no need for you to get in the middle of any of this.”

“Ahh, and yet, here I am; Semyon bleating in one of my ears, you telling me something else in the other.”

I roll my eyes. “If Semyon is having trouble getting laid, that is his problem. Not mine. Certainly not yours—” “Yuri,” Petya groans. “Yuri, Yuri, Yuri. It does not matter.

This is all bad for business, for all of us, yes? Semyon wanted this woman, and you are using her to… to what, to shake him down?”

I shrug. “Perhaps.”

“Yuri!” He sighs heavily. “This is what I am talking about! If the both of you go to war, that is very not good for my interests, now is it?”

I narrow my eyes. “No,” I grunt.

“So then, it seems I’m forced to be in the middle of this. And as such, I am forced to help smooth this arrangement out. To bury the hatchet, as they say.”

I’m tempted to tell Yuri I’m more than happy to bury any hatchet of his choosing as far up Semyon’s ass as I can get it.

But I hold myself back.

“She’s a person, Petya,” I mutter. “Not a fucking business arrangement or contract term.”

“And yet, that is exactly how it seems you are using her, nyet?”

I scowl.

“Listen, Yuri. I am having a party tomorrow night at my villa in Nessebar. I would like if you and Semyon would come, and we can sit down like men and fix this.”

“Fine,” I mutter.

“Excellent. And of course…” he smirks. “Feel free to bring this Helen of Troy, da?”

“Da,” I grunt.

“Oh, and I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m getting into the movie business.”

My brow furrows. “Okay?”

“By investing in your daughter’s production company!”

My jaw ticks. My eyes narrow dangerously.

“Excuse me?”

“Belle! Her production company has been sourcing outside investment to expand and take on new projects. I heard about it, and I love her movies, so I think, this will be a good place for my money, no?”

No. The answer is a hard, edged “fuck no.” I like Petya well enough. He’s a good businessman, he knew my father, and he’s always been good to me with our deals, with no bullshit.

But… these are two very di erent parts of my life. And I don’t like the idea of them mixing like this.

“Petya…”

“Yuri, I get it. This is why I tell you like this, man-to-man.

My movie business with her and my regular business with you are two di erent worlds. I promise you. They will not overlap or mix, ever. You have my word. And this is because her financials are good, Yuri. Not because she is Volkov blood, da?”

“Da,” I grunt. I still don’t like it. But I shake it o . “Thank you for telling me, Petya.”

“I will see you at the party?”

“You will.”

“Good,” he chuckles. “Good.”

I end the call, and I frown as I look out over the dark ocean.

And once again, my worlds are blurring at the edges that should be firm. With Belle and my Bratva business partner.

With having Belle’s friend as my bargaining chip that I don’t even want to be a bargaining chip.

And now with Petya getting involved with my friction with Semyon. Again, I am at this impasse. On the one side, this is business. It always has been. It’s the very reason I stopped Semyon’s men that day and took her for myself.

I did not take her to be my plaything. I didn’t take her to be my captive little kitten, or to have her spread naked before me for me to devour her sweet little pussy like a last meal. I took her to conduct business. I took her as leverage; a bargaining chip, to get what I want from a rival.

That’s it. That is the only vector involving her that should concern me: how to make sure I eviscerate Semyon in negotiations, since I have what he wants.

And yet, when I play through those negotiations, my blood curdles. The idea of giving her to him, or letting him get his hands on her in any way makes me see red. It makes me want to kill him rather than let him even look at her.

But there’s my problem: reaching across a conference table and choking Semyon to death won’t exactly help with our business negotiations. And as powerful as I may be, I can’t ignore Petya’s own importance. I am not necessarily beholden to him. But the Volkov Bratva does need his business and connections.

With a growl, I whirl and storm back into River’s quarters. I walk back to her bedroom, and over to where she’s still naked and sleeping across the bed. The animal fury burning in me from my conversation with Petya is like fuel on a fire.

It makes me want to tear my clothes o , push her legs apart, and plunge my swollen cock into her little pink pussy.

I groan as my eyes sweep over her. My jaw grinds as I inhale deeply.

I must be strong—stronger than I have been around her so far. I need to get myself in line and keep my eye on what is important here. I need to look past the tempting little distraction laid out before me.

I have an empire to run. I have a bratva throne to command that has stood proud and resilient through generations; since

there was a fucking Tsar sitting in Moscow.

I pull myself away from River as I quickly draw the sheet over her.

She is not “mine.” She is not my prize, or my weakness.

Because she cannot be. She is my leverage, and nothing more.

A king does not crave his pawn. Not ever.

“W E ’ RE

GOING TO A PARTY .”

River looks up at me from the sofa she’s sitting on in the library. She’s wearing a dangerously, flirtatiously short little skirt and a strappy top. There are books strewn all around her, and one open in her lap.

She frowns. “Excuse me?”

“A party. Surely you’ve been to one.”

She rolls her eyes. But I like the little smirk I see her try and hide on her lips. She glances back to me. Her frown furrows when she spots the white garment bag in my hands.

“What is that?”

I unzip it, revealing the gleaming, glittering, slinky Valentino gown inside. River’s brows raise.

“I need you to wear this.”

Her brows knit. Her eyes narrow on the gown and then slide up to me. “Why?”

“Because I need you looking irresistible.”

Her mouth purses as a shadow crosses her face. “Why,” she says dryly.

“You know why.”

Her eyes narrow. “So you can use me like a negotiating chip.”

My mouth thins.

“That’s why, right?”

I drape the open dress bag over the back of a leather chair and turn to leave. “Be ready at seven.”

“I won’t be.”

I pause in the doorway. My jaw grits as my brow furrows deeply. I turn to glance at her over my shoulder. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

I growl as I turn to her fully. “No, I don’t believe I did.”

River smiles sarcastically. She stands and walks over to casually browse a shelf of older first editions.

“I said no, I won’t be; ready at seven, I mean.” She turns to shrug at me. “Or any time after that, actually. I’m not going.”

She turns back to the books. But she jumps as I snarl and storm over to her. She gasps, whirling to meet me as I loom

over her, all but pinning her to the bookshelves with my body. She trembles, her eyes heated and wide.

“What was that?” I snap.

“That was a no…” She smirks. “No, sir,” she mutters sarcastically.

My temper surges. But then, it fades. I see the little glint in her eyes, and suddenly, I know what this is. I smile thinly.

“I’m not falling for this.”

River blushes. “Falling for what?”

“Your bait,” I grunt.

She glares back at me. “My what?”

“The bait,” I mutter again. “As in, I think you’re beginning to like when I punish you for being a little brat. And you’re baiting me. Provoking me.”

Her cheeks burn hotly. But she swallows it back.

“Or you just like lording power over—” “I would quit while you’re ahead,” I snap.

River’s face burns hotly. Her teeth drag nervously over her plump bottom lip in a tantalizing way. But I manage to yank my desires back into check as I turn to leave.

“Be ready at seven—” “Make me.”

So much for pulling my desires into check. Two words. Just two words from her pretty, bratty mouth, and I snap. I whirl, and River gasps, whimpering as I storm into her and grab her wrist. I turn and yank her after me towards the couch. I sit in the middle of it on the edge, and River moans when I yank her across my lap.

My pulse thuds in my ears. My skin burns with a need for her. My cock surges, thickening between my thighs as her lithe, tempting young body drapes across my legs. Without any hesitation, I suddenly grab the hem of her little skirt and yank it up high.

River gasps sharply, and I can feel her body tensing against my thighs. My eyes slide over the smooth, bare skin of her tight little ass, split down the middle with a little black thong. She whips her head over her shoulder, her eyes bulging from their sockets as her cheeks burn hotly.

“What the fuck are you—” My hand comes down with a sharp, loud smack across her ass. If her eyes weren’t popping out before, they sure are now.

“What the fuck?!” She squirms, kicking and thrashing as if she might get away. She won’t. I pin her fast with one strong arm across her back. The other I raise high. And before she knows it, my open palm comes spanking down across her ass again.

River squeals. Her breath leaves her body, and I swear to God, I hear her moan. I groan, my cock throbbing rock-hard

against her stomach as I bring my hand up and spank her ass again. The tight little globes jiggle tantalizing. This time, she fucking moans. Her eyes close, her mouth falls open, and a moan whimpers out of her lips.

My cock surges rock-hard.

I move from one cheek to the other, spanking her until her ass is red and throbbing. Until my cock is about to tear a hole through my pants. I can feel how wet she is, too. I can feel the slick, hot heat from between her legs against my thigh.

I groan as I grab her thong in my fingers and yank it down to mid-thigh. She whimpers, arching her back as she moans for me. I spank her ass again, this time lingering and gripping the taut muscle in my strong hands. I spread her lewdly open for my hungry eyes. And I groan as my gaze drifts over her glistening pink slit and her tight little asshole.

“Bad girl,” I snarl. She whimpers eagerly.

“Look how fucking wet you are when you’re across my knee like this,” I hiss. I swat her ass again, and she moans. But this time, I let my hand linger again. I stroke her tender skin before my hand slips between her thighs. River whimpers, clinging to me as my fingers stroke her slick, smooth lips.

All I know is lust. All I feel is the pure desire for this girl throbbing in my veins. My fingers stroke her little pussy before I spread her open even more. I sink a finger into her, making her moan. I stroke it in and out, rubbing against her g-spot inside as she trembles for me.

She’s so wet that it’s leaking over my fingers and soaking into my pants leg. It just makes me even harder. I ease another finger alongside the first. River cries out in pleasure as I start to stroke them against her g-spot. My thumb starts to rub her clit, and she moans louder.

My eyes slide to her other tempting little hole, though. And before I know it, my other hand is slipping between her cheeks. The thumb of that hand slowly brushes over her tight little ring. River jumps, gasping as I start to rub her asshole.

“Oh shit…” she whimpers. She trembles and shakes against me, soaking my fingers and my thigh even more as I start to use both my hands on her.

I growl and lean over her. Spit drools from my mouth and lands on her tight little hole. She whimpers as I rub it in with my thumb, swirling it around her ass. My fingers stroke in and out of her cunt, rubbing her g-spot. My thumb begins to center and add pressure. She clenches, gasping as she moans. But slowly, my thumb begins to open her up.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck! Yuri!” She whimpers.

I groan, pushing harder as my thumb gently begins to sink into her ass.

“Open up for me, kiska,” I groan. “Open up so I can have all of you.”

My thumb slips into her, and she whimpers eagerly. My cock pulses against her as my fingers and my thumb begin to stroke in and out. She’s so fucking wet; dripping all over me.

I keep pushing her, coaxing the pleasure from her body. I rub her clit with one thumb, her asshole with the other as my fingers plunge in and out.

“Oh God!” She whines. She clings to my thigh, shuddering against me. “Oh fuck, Yuri! Yuri!”

I sink my thumb deep in her ass as I rub her clit harder. And she starts to shake and thrash against me. Her breath intakes sharply, her body clenches and wrenches under my touch.

Suddenly, she cries out, and she starts to come for me.

“I’m coming!” she sobs, choking out her orgasm. “Oh fuck I’m coming!”

I pin her to my legs, swirling a thumb around her clit as she erupts for me. She clamps a hand over her own mouth, sobbing through a cry of pleasure. I feel her pussy and her ass clenching and gripping at my fingers as she explodes for me.

She’s shaking as I gently slide my hands from between her legs. I stroke a finger lazily over her ass, making her whimper. I scoop her up and turn, draping her back across the sofa. With her skirt still bunched around her waist and her panties lewdly tangled at her thighs, it takes all of my control not to take her right here.

But control is what I need. Even if I just lost it, completely.

But I ignore that voice as I stand. I bend down to cup her chin, and she moans as I kiss her hard. I suck at her bottom lip, pulling it with me with my teeth before I let it go. River’s big green eyes are hooded with lust.

“Seven,” I growl as I stand.

Her eyes hold mine. And slowly, a bratty little smirk crosses her lips.

“I’m still not wearing that.”

I growl as my lips pull into a snarl. “You damn well—” “It’s last season.”

She grins impishly at me. “I mean, if you’re trying to make me irresistible. I can’t exactly be seen slouching around in last year’s tired old Valentino.”

She’s teasing me. She’s provoking me on purpose. And she’s becoming very, very good at it.

“I’ll have something brought to you,” I grunt. I turn, leaving her sprawled like that—a temptation that forcing myself to walk away from will make me stronger for tonight.

“Seven,” I growl over my shoulder at the door. Then I’m gone and wondering how the hell I’m going to navigate these new waters.

11

RIVER

I’ M in over my head. It’s not even a question at this point.

I’ve jumped in the deep end of Yuri Volkov, ruthless Bratva king, and now I’m drowning. The only problem is, drowning in Yuri Volkov feels way too fucking good.

I sizzle as the shower water streams over me. My hands slide over my skin, and I can’t help but follow the map he laid out on my body earlier. I gasp, closing my eyes as my fingers touch me where he touched—everywhere he touched me.

My cheeks burn as tremble. I quickly pull my hands away and groan as I dip my head under the water again.

I mean seriously, what the fuck am I doing? I’m letting myself get pulled into him. I’m letting myself let go of rational thought and caution. Because there is no rational thought or caution when it comes to my dominant, powerful, gorgeous captor.

I shut the water o quickly and pull a towel into the shower stall with me. Cloaked in steam and terrycloth, I cocoon myself in my forbidden thoughts concerning Yuri.

I shouldn’t be doing this. There are a million reasons why I should be repulsed by him, not hopelessly turned on. I frown, listing them on my fingers: He kidnapped me.

He’s a ruthlessly, violent, notorious bratva kingpin.

He’s what, twenty-five years older than me?

He’s Belle’s dad.

Honestly, the list could go on and on, or have all sorts of sub-lists. But those four are the big ones. Those are the glaring warning flags to stop playing with fucking fire like I have been.

So why the hell does the thought of his mouth and his hands on me make me so hopelessly turned on?

When I’m finished drying o , I step out and wrap myself in a huge flu y white robe. I walk out into the living area of my lavish quarters, over to the windows overlooking the ocean.

A knock at the door shatters my thoughts though. I turn, wrinkling my brow as I go to answer it. “Yes?” “Ms. Finn, I’ve been told to bring this to you.”

I recognize Maksim’s voice. So far, he’s the only other person on this entire boat aside from Yuri and Korol, the chef, that I’ve even spoken too. That doesn’t seem by accident, either. Even with free range of roaming the ship, I’ve managed to never cross paths with any of the other men

or guards. Again, when it comes to Yuri, I think that’s by design.

Chef Korol is clearly gay. That explains that one. And Maksim is clearly Yuri’s most trusted guy. The fact that he very much never lets his eyes drop lower than my chin supports that.

I unlock the door and swing it open. Sure enough, there’s Maksim’s huge frame filling my doorway, eyes looking nowhere but mine. He’s holding a white garment bag and a black box that must be shoes.

“For this evening’s party,” he grunts. “From Mr. Volkov.”

I roll my eyes. “Right. Well, thanks.”

“It’s next season’s Valentino.”

I grin. “Thank you.”

“And this.”

He passes me the box of shoes and turns to leave.

“Hey Maksim?”

He turns.

“Thanks.”

Yuri’s guard nods with a smile and then disappears down the hallway. I close the door and take the gown and shoes back into my bedroom, where I lay the bag out across the bed. I unzip it and pull out a stunning little black dress—ankle

length, but slit all the way up, with a just-shy-of-scandalous plunge in the front and the back.

I blush. Jesus Christ. Forget being “irresistible.” I’m going to be the only thing anyone is talking about at this freaking thing wearing this.

I turn to the shoebox, which is curiously sealed shut with gold seal. I frown as I tear it o and open the lid.

My mouth falls open. My cheeks burn hotly as my eyes land on the contents, which is most certainly not shoes.

“Oh no fucking way.”

“W HAT

THE FUCK IS THIS ?!”

Yuri frowns when I barge into his o ce. But then he slowly smiles at the box in my hand. A smirk crosses his gorgeous face.

“It would appear you have a good idea already what it is, based on your reaction.”

I march over to his desk and slam down the box. The one that doesn’t have shoes in it. The one that has the gleaming silver… my face burns even just thinking of the word.

Butt plug. He’s given me a fucking butt plug. Silver, with a sparkling diamond… handle, or, whatever that part is called.

My face sizzles with heat as I glare at him over the box. Yuri grins.

“Did you try it on?”

I sneer. “Hilarious. I’m not…” I stammer. “No.” He simply shrugs. “Yes.” My brows shoot up. “Uh, no, I’m—” “Yes,” he growls, standing slowly. “You are.”

My mouth purses as I simmer under his fierce gaze.

“Do you need help putting it in?”

I blush deeply. “No, because I’m not—” “You are,” he says thinly. I tremble. He’s just said the two words without any edge or anger. And yet I know instantly it’s a command that will not be followed.

I swallow, raking my teeth over my bottom lip as I glare back at him.

“Is this some fucking power game?”

He smiles.

“And this party?” I snap.

“Neutral ground. A man both Semyon and I do business with is throwing it and would like for it to be a neutral ground where we can discuss our… arrangement.”

“You mean me,” I mutter.

Yuri’s jaw clenches. But he says nothing.

“And this?” I shove a hand at the black box on the desk. “Is this part of your fucking power game? Part of your arrangement?” I snap. “Because if you think for one fucking second that I’m going to wear that and, what, bend over for that fucking creep to—” “I wouldn’t let him see you like that in a million fucking years,” Yuri barks, making me jump at the ferocity in his voice. His eyes blaze with heat, and I gasp as he suddenly storms around the desk towards me.

“This,” he hisses, holding up the gleaming little plug between us. “This is because I know you crave this. Because I know the idea of wearing this for me, because I have said so, makes you wet, kiska.”

I gasp when he draws close to me. His hand slips to my jaw, cupping my chin possessively as I tremble against him. His other hand drops to my hip. He traces the little plug down the side of my thigh, and my breath catches sharply.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he growls quietly.

I swallow, shaking my head.

“River,” he purrs. The hand holding the plug drags it over my hip and down the curve of my ass. It hooks under the hem of my skirt, and I shiver as he drags it up the bare skin of my ass underneath. The cool metal slips between my thighs and brushes my panties, and I can’t help it. I moan.

My face burns when I do. My eyes snap up to see him smiling hungrily, and I tremble. My lip sucks between my teeth.

I have no idea how the hell he has this power over me. But he does. And shamefully, I like it.

“I’d check,” he growls quietly. I tremble. “But we must get ready.”

He pulls the plug away from me and steps back, leaving me shaking and aching for him. For more.

“Be ready in an hour.”

I drag my teeth over my lip, glaring up at him. But the defiance I marched in here with has been replaced with something far more… sultry. Scandalous. Something that makes my core tighten and throb.

“Fine,” I murmur. But the sass is gone from my voice. Right now, all I’m doing is trying not to moan again for him.

Yuri places the plug back into the box and hands it to me.

“Don’t forget this,” he growls with a smirk.

I blush when I take it and turn to leave.

“Oh, and this.”

I turn back. My face somehow learns a new level of heat when he passes me a little bottle of lube.

“You know where to find me if you need any help,” he murmurs.

I turn and all but run out of the room as my whole body burns with an aching, filthy heat.

Back in my own quarters, I stare at the little silver plug lying in its box on my bed. It’s smooth and bulbous—not too thick, but not exactly thin either. And the hilt, or whatever the hell you call that part of something like this, is glimmering with smooth, shimmering diamonds.

I mean who the fuck even makes diamond-studded butt plugs?

Slowly, I strip. My body tingles and my pulse thuds. I pick it up, holding and twisting it in my hand. Heat throbs in my core.

I pop the top on the lube, hold it up, and then drip it over the bulbous end of the plug.

I shiver, my pulse racing. I’ve never done anything even close to this. But I want to. But I’m going to.

For him.

12

RIVER

W E ’ RE RUSHED as we take o from the yacht in the helicopter.

Yuri ended up getting a last-minute call on bratva business from the US right before we had to leave. So it’s closer to eight than seven when we finally lift o and start cruising over the dark Black Sea. Every single nerve in my body is vibrating. Every single pore on my skin is throbbing and prickling with an electric hum.

It’s exhilarating. It’s like a filthy, dirty little secret that only I know. It makes me feel like this sultry, naughty temptress.

I’m talking about the fact that under my gown and lace panties, I’m wearing a gleaming silver and diamond butt plug in my ass. It is without a single hesitation the wildest, dirtiest thing I’ve ever done.

And Yuri knows.

He’s talking a mile a minute, in Russian, English, and French as well into three di erent phones. He’s clearly in the thick of it with business. But every so often, he raises his eyes and

lets them just hover on me. They just burn deep into my soul, like he’s looking right through me.

And he knows I’m wearing it. Somehow, I just know that he knows; that he can tell. That he knows I’m wearing this filthy, slutty little accessory, and that I’m wearing it for him.

I squirm, blushing as I whip my head around to look out the window at the dark sea beneath us. But suddenly, it occurs to me that I have no idea where we’re even going. I turn and glance at Maksim.

“Are we going back to Odesa?”

He shakes his head. “Nyet.”

“So, where?”

Maksim glances at Yuri, who’s still on a phone call. But he gives Maksim a brief nod before barking more orders into the cell phone.

“Nessebar.”

I wrinkle my brow, trying to place where that is. But then it rings a bell from a map I remember from the first yacht where we were shooting.

“Bulgaria?”

He nods and then turns to look out the window. I nervously do the same on my side. Yeah, I’m just hopping around to all sorts of di erent Balkan countries in a billionaire criminal’s helicopter without a passport. No big deal…

Slowly, I’m aware of Yuri no longer growling into di erent phones. I look up and blush deeply. He’s looking right at me, those piercing blue eyes sizzling through me. Slowly, his lips curl just a little at the corners—like a hungry, wicked smile.

His brow cocks just a smidge, and my face burns hotly.

Yeah, he knows. And he knows I know that he knows. I squirm in my seat, sizzling and marinating in the dirty little secret.

Out over the dark sea, suddenly, there’s a tiara of lights. We get closer, and I gaze out at a seaside town that looks like an old Roman city sitting along the coastline. The helicopter banks and lowers as it moves towards the far end of the small city. Up on a cli sits a huge stone villa with lush gardens lit by flickering firelight. A man with two glowing sticks directs the chopper down to a waiting helipad, and we touch down softly.

Maksim and Yuri’s small ensemble of guards step out first.

They’re all dressed in black suits like Secret Service agents, complete with earpieces and everything. Yuri steps down next, in his black suit with black dress shirt open at the collar. He looks back to me and raises a hand to help me down.

We’re escorted by a host of some kind down a gravel path lit by hidden lights throughs a stunning, torch-lit garden. Up ahead, the sprawling Roman villa thuds with club music.

Gorgeous guests in stunning gowns and suits mingle in the gardens and on the veranda, sipping champagne.

But before we hit the main villa, suddenly Yuri’s hand tightens on mine. He pulls me back, spinning me. I gasp as I fall against his chest, my heart thudding in mine. His blue eyes burn hotly as they look down at me.

“Do I need to check?” he grunts quietly.

I blush, heat pooling between my legs. I know what he’s talking about. We both know what he’s talking about. But when I say nothing, because I’m blushing and trembling too much to even speak, his face shadows. He pulls closer to me, making me gasp.

“Do I need to check?” he growls through a clenched jaw.

I shiver.

“It never hurts to.”

The second I say it, I can feel my face roaring with heat. I can’t believe I’ve just said that—to him.

Slowly, Yuri’s lips curl into a hungry smile. I gasp as his hands slide to my waist, pushing me back o the path into the shadow of an olive tree. I whimper when his hand slips over my ass, cupping it through the silky black gown. He caresses me before his hand slides to the side and finds the scandalous slit that goes all the way up to my hip.

When his fingers slip inside, I sti en. My heart thuds. My skin tingles like it’s been set ablaze as his hand slides under the dress and across my bare ass. His fingers tease down the back of my thong as it delves between my ass cheeks.

I moan with halted breath, my eyes closing as he traces one finger down the lace until he finds what he’s been seeking: the little diamond-studded hilt of the plug. When his fingers brush over it, a spark of excitement sizzling into me. His finger pushes on the hilt, and I gasp as the nerve endings in my most secret place tingle eagerly.

“Good girl,” he purrs into my ear. I gasp when I feel his thick erection throb against me. His finger pushes the hilt of the plug again, making me moan softly.

But then, his hand slips away and out from under my dress. I groan, feeling cheated, or toyed with. But also feeling like he’s flipped a switch in me, leaving me “on.” He pulls back, smirking dangerously at me.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

He takes my hand and wordlessly pulls me back onto the path. We follow the lights and step out on the gorgeous veranda strung with lights. Tuxedoed waiters carry trays of champagne, and three gorgeous girls in silver miniskirts, bikini tops, and knee-high boots gyrate slowly on a stage above the DJ booth to one side.

People turn to see us. Many of them seem to sti en with both fear and respect when they spot Yuri. Most of them make attempts at either nodding or coming right over to say hello to him. It’s weird, because I’ve been on his massive yacht for days, seeing the power he wields there. But this is bigger.

And for the first time, I’m really seeing him as the bratva King he is, with the power that comes with that.

People approach to smile and even bow, like they’re all here to show fealty to an actual monarch. Yuri is cordial if not short with most of them… gru er to some and warmer to others. But the whole time, he keeps his arm firmly around my waist.

It’s possessive. And it sends a message. A few other bratvatype men who come to speak with him let their eyes drop to his hand on my hip. No one says anything. But even I get that it’s an unspoken thing. It’s a claim he’s publicly laying on me.

Maybe that should annoy me. It’s barbarically patriarchal in a way. And yet, it also makes me tremble with heat. I like his hand firmly on me, making this statement. I like the possessive feel of his arm around my waist.

I’ve been desired my whole life. But this feels di erent. This feels like protection and warmth. I sure as hell feel desired, but it’s not just lusted after. It’s like a claimed sort of desire, which feels… di erent, somehow.

“Ty prishel, yy sukin syn,” a wheezy, familiar voice sneers from behind us. As we turn, instantly, a big shape is shoving his way through the crowd to lurch between us and the man who just grunted at us. The shape is Maksim. The man with the sneering familiar voice is Semyon Belksy.

But Yuri just smiles. He puts a hand on Maksim’s shoulder and grunts something in Russian. The big guard turns and arches a brow, as if saying “are you sure?”. Yuri nods again.

His eyes slide to his rival.

“Da, it is fine, Maksim,” he growls in English. “Despite this little piggy’s poor manners, this is a party.” His smile thins.

“On neutral territory. Isn’t that right, Semyon?” He pats Maksim on the shoulder again and gestures with his chin.

With a final glare at Semyon, Maksim moves away back into the edges of the party.

The older, rotund man glares at Yuri. But then his beady eyes swivel to me. He smiles lecherously, and my skin crawls as he shamelessly checks me out.

“Oh good, you’ve brought what is mine for me. Thank you, my friend. Bring her to my room, and then you may go—” “My good humor has limits, Semyon,” Yuri hisses dangerously. He steps towards Semyon, who bristles and starts to reach into his jacket.

“Khvatit etogo!” A voice barks sharply. An older, silverhaired man with a Stalin-esque mustache smiles thinly as he shoves his way between the two Bratva bosses. “Enough of that, gentleman,” he mutters in English, clearly for my benefit. He glances at me, and then to Yuri, but then back to me.

“Ahh, so this is your Helen of Troy.” He smiles at me.

“Welcome to my home, Ms. Finn. My name is Petya Gagarina, and I’m a big fan of yours.”

I smile awkwardly. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

“Though you have as of late made doing business with the two of these men…” he shrugs. “Di cult.”

I blush, but Petya just chuckles. He turns to smile thinly at both Semyon and Yuri. “Well, gentleman. Shall we go somewhere and talk? We must settle this little…” he turns to smile thinly at me. “This little disagreement.”

Semyon hisses something at Yuri. But Petya glares at him and barks something back. Semyon nods begrudgingly.

“Please, Ms. Finn, enjoy the party. Whatever you need, please simply ask my sta .” He glances at the two bratva bosses. “Come, gentleman.”

Yuri glances back at me. His eyes burn hotly, piercing mine. I see a flickering tendril of the heat from earlier in the shadow of the olive tree. Then his jaw grits, and he whirls to follow the two other men into the crowd.

Then, I’m alone. A waiter sweeps in with a tray of champagne, handing me a flute. I sip it, turning to start to mingle into the crowd of guests. Without trying to be vain, a few turn to me with recognition on their faces. But mostly, I’m ignored.

Parties have never really been my thing. And without knowing anyone here, it’s only heightened. With most of the conversations around me being in languages I don’t speak, I am very fully out of my element.

I try to avoid the thoughts of why we’re here. It seems like Yuri’s been avoiding talking about it as well. But I know we’re here because of the thing between him and Semyon.

And that “thing” is me. It’s more than a little surreal to be at

some Bulgarian sea-side villa while powerful crime lords debate and haggle the business of who you belong to.

I scowl, downing my champagne and grabbing another from a passing tray. I take a gulp of that, starting to feel it. The music thuds around me. I start to sway to the beat, more to just sort of fit in a little better with the dancing crowd. But the second I gyrate my hips, I can feel the tingle from the… accessory I’m wearing.

The minute I roll my hips, I can feel the little plug twist, rubbing against nerve endings that make me bite my lip to hold the moan. Okay, fuck. Dancing is out. I blush as I turn to scan the veranda party for a bathroom. Fuck this. I’m not spending the whole night stationary so that I don’t get too turned on in a crowd of strangers.

I push my way through the crowd to the edge of the party.

I’m find myself in a candlelit circular stone patio with gorgeously carved, ivy-covered railing. Beyond it, the moon glows low over the waves of the Black Sea. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

The woman’s voice startles me. I gasp as I turn, my hand flying up to my heart. But the tall, gorgeous blonde woman in the shimmering silver gown seems harmless enough. She smiles with a practiced smile at me.

“River Finn, yes?”

Her voice has a slight Russian lilt to it. She looks like she’s in her mid-twenties, maybe a little older, and very, very

moneyed. The fact that I recognize her stunning gown as an Alexander McQueen only underscores that.

I smile, blushing. “Yes?” “Wow,” she gushes. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

I smile with a shrug. “You know, I was doing a shoot outside Odesa, and when I was invited…” I shrug again. “Well, it’s a lovely party.”

“Just couldn’t say no, huh?”

I smile, spreading my arms. “I guess not!”

“Well,” she keeps grinning at me. “Most girls do so seem to have a hard time saying no to Yuri Volkov.”

I sti en. Her grin turns into more of a smirk.

“To anything he asks,” she says flatly.

The twist in her smile throws me. But I shrug it o . This also isn’t new to me. Yuri is a powerful, good-looking man. And I did just walk in on his arm. I’ve dealt with petty shit like this a million times with the various “tabloid boyfriends” I’ve entered parties or events with. Arrive with some guy with chiseled good looks and famous abs, and suddenly every girl at the party with even a drop of social climber or star-fucker in her wants to stab you in the neck.

“We’re just…” I smile. “Acquaintances, actually.”

The girl smiles thinly and holds a hand out limply.

“Svetlana.”

“Riv—” “We’ve covered that.”

I raise my brows and take a big gulp of champagne. Well, this is getting cunty fast.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Svet—” “He’s a lot of fun to be acquaintances with, isn’t he?” She sneers.

I freeze. My heart thuds. There’s a familiarness in her talking about Yuri that makes something sour swell inside of me.

“I…” I frown. “Mr. Volkov and I just have some mutual friends is all. I was here for the shoot, and he asked if I’d come to this lovely party with—” “Oh, you poor thing!” Her smile curdles. “You mean you haven’t even gotten a chance to play with that huge cock of his?”

My stomach knots. My heart thuds in my chest as my face pales. Svetlana keeps smiling at me.

“Or perhaps you have?”

“I don’t know what you’re—” “It’s that black rose tattoo that really gets me, personally.”

I freeze. My eyes narrow at her.

“It’s so hot, isn’t it?”

I don’t want to admit it. I try so hard to push it back down and ignore the emotion that I feel scorching my insides. But there’s no locking it back up. There’s no ignoring that her words and that smug, bitchy little smile bring up uncontrolled jealousy inside of me.

“It was nice to meet you,” I say quietly. “I’m going to go—” Her hand shoots out, grabbing my arm.

“Do you think you’re his first little plaything? The first young, pretty little toy he’s brought on that boat to wine and dine and bed?”

My face grows cold, my lips pursing tight.

She grins at me. “Silly, silly girl.” Her eyes narrow at me.

“You are not the first. And you will certainly not be the last.”

She laughs coldly. “Let me guess, he dragged you here and is now o somewhere in a meeting?”

When my face tenses, she smiles wider.

“These are the power chess-games these men play, little girl.” She sneers at me. “You are not his queen. You are a pawn.”

Svetlana smiles smugly at me as she polishes o champagne.

her

“But what am I saying? You are just… what was it?” Her lips curl cruelly. “Acquaintances, yes?” She turns to leave, but then glances at me over her shoulder. “Anyways, say hello to Yuri for me. Unless, of course, he’s already found some other silly little girl to play with tonight.”

Without another word, she saunters o

into the crowd.

I want to ignore everything she just heaped at my feet. I want to shrug it o , and tell myself it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. After all, Yuri and I are not “Yuri and I” at all.

He’s my captor. My best friend’s crime lord father. That’s it.

Except, that isn’t “it.” Not when I’m this deep. Not when I’m this wrapped up in him. Even if I hate that I am.

My eyes narrow. My teeth grind as my heart thuds heavily. I turn, and I start to shove my way back through the crowd. I need to get the hell out of here.

I need to get away from the man who’s somehow gotten his claws deeper than I ever should have let him get them.

13

YURI

“Y URI ,” Petya groans. He sits back in his chair and rubs the bridge of his nose. I’m too amused with the sight of Semyon storming out of Petya’s o ce to more than smile though.

“I brought you both here to work this out,” Petya mutters.

“This is me working it out.”

“No, this is you torpedoing some very, very lucrative business arrangements,” he grunts.

“I’m fine.”

“I meant of mine, Yuri,” Petya snaps.

I spread my arms. “The terms are what they are. I’ve been quite clear that I think Semyon is an incompetent troll. It is pure luck and the fact that he’s worth more alive than dead to enough people that he hasn’t been put out of his misery yet.”

Petya scowls at me. But he doesn’t contradict me either. We both know I’m not wrong. Even with my emotions taken out of the equation, from a purely business standpoint, Semyon

is a horrendous leader. He’s lazy, greedy, and has a hairtrigger temper.

L IKE ME , he was given the reins to the family-named Bratva that he runs from his father. But while he’s coasted on that for his entire life, I’ve poured my blood and sweat into the Volkov organization. I’ve driven it from mid-level syndicate to one of the most powerful, feared, and influential Bratva families in Russia and the US. “You goaded him, Yuri,” Petya sighs. “You insulted him.”

“Yes, and it was quite enjoyable.”

He groans. I smile.

“I joke, Petya. But the terms are what they are. That’s just business. Semyon is a rival, not a friend. I will not make this trade easy for him.”

But that isn’t quite the truth. I’m not making it a “hard” business decision for him. I’m making it impossible; purposefully so. Because though I keep saying it, this is not “just business.” This stopped being “just business” the very moment I realized who it was I’d stolen from Semyon’s clutches. This stopped being a business decision the second I laid eyes on her.

But this is not because I wish to play hero. I’m not a savior.

I’m no saint. I’m not doing any of this to save River from him.

I’m doing it to keep her all for myself.

“Yuri, that was not haggling. You’re asking for fifty-percent of his fucking business.”

“No, I’m asking for fifty-five-percent,” I growl.

He rolls his eyes with a groan. “Yuri! Please! All this for a girl?”

My mouth thins. The answer is yes, but I say nothing. I don’t actually trust myself to even think the answer in my own head. Because it is for her, but why it is… worries me. It frightens me a little, if I’m being honest with myself.

I smirk to myself. Right. Honest. I haven’t been honest with myself since the second she stepped o that helicopter. This should have been easy. But it was her that Semyon wanted.

And now, it’s the furthest thing from easy I can imagine.

Yes, I want to destroy my rival. I want to take his business for my own and delete him entirely. But she throws a big wrench into that plan. Because as much as I want to destroy Semyon, I want her even more.

Petya sighs and pours another heavy splash of vodka into his glass. He does the same to mine and then sets the bottle down.

“Yuri, we have done business for decades. I did business with your father.”

“And I see no reason why my dealings with Semyon needs to a ect that in any—” “Of course it does!” he snaps. “Yuri! You are a smart man; smarter than even your father was, and he was a clever man.

Don’t get obtuse with me. You understand that I do business with the both of you—you and Semyon alike. And I do a lot of business with the both of you.”

His eyes narrow as he leans over his desk towards me.

“But hear this, Yuri. I see there is more than business going on here, and I do not like it.” He looks at me coldly. “Settle this.”

“Are you threatening to cut me out if I don’t play nice, Petya?” I growl dangerously.

“Nyet, Yuri,” he grunts. “I am not threatening. I am telling you openly. Do not bring your shit with Semyon into my business, or I will cut you both out. Is that understood?”

I stand and knock back the vodka. “A very lovely party, Petya.”

He sighs. “Yuri, don’t be like that.”

I turn.

“Yuri! Sit! Let us find a solution to this. There is no reason to throw away a business arrangement as lucrative as ours for some pretty little whore!”

With a snarl and a roar, I whirl on him. I storm over, and before I know what I’m doing, I clear his desk of papers, glasses, and the bottle of vodka with one swipe of my arm.

The room falls silent. Petya looks at me coldly. He stands.

“Get yourself in control, Yuri,” he says thinly. “And get your house in order.” He turns and walks to the door before he

turns. “Enjoy the party, my old friend. Enjoy, and then get your shit together.”

The door slams behind him, and I groan. My hands tighten on the edge of his desk. Shit.

T O SAY I’m in a foul mood as I stalk through the party would be an understatement. I’m a black cloud; a hurricane looking to destroy. And almost everyone who I stride past can see it on my face.

When I get to the veranda, I frown. My eyes scan the guests dancing and swaying to the club music. But I don’t see who I’m after. I prowl through the gardens and don’t find her there, either. Back in the house though, my eyes narrow furiously when I spot her.

She’s on a couch in a sunken, retro-style living room. And some… man—some asshole—is siting next to her. He’s grinning at her, leering close. His arm is around her shoulders. My jaw grinds painfully. My lips curl into a snarl, and I storm towards them.

River spots me first. Her eyes widen when she sees the look on my face. But then I see her push that shock away. She smirks at me, teasingly. Then she turns back to the man and laughs loudly at something he’s just said.

She’s playing a game. I don’t play fucking games.

I stride up to them and drag my scowling eyes to the man.

He’s still laughing as he turns to see who’s looming over him. I don’t know who the fuck he is. But I can see from the way his face pales that he sure as hell knows me.

“Mr. Volkov,” he blurts as he jumps to his feet. My eyes narrow on him. Then they slide to burn possessively into River. Whoever the little fuck is, he’s a smart fuck. He gets it instantly that he’s just crossed a line he should not have.

“Mr. Volkov, I am so sorry,” he chokes, his eyes wide and his face pale. “I… forgive me, please. I’ve had too much to drink.”

“Then perhaps you should get some air.” I turn to him, my eyes blazing. “Now. Or else perhaps I could take you up in my helicopter for some…” I smile. “Some higher air.”

He swallows, whirls, and all but runs away. I smile thinly as I turn back to her.

“What the fuck was that?”

I frown. “Excuse me?”

“That shit! That macho alpha shit. What, I can’t talk to another guy?”

“No,” I growl. “You cannot.”

She rolls her eyes. “Wow, so, being kidnapped and locked up on your fucking boat while you negotiate to sell me to some creep rival of yours basically means we’re going steady then.

Is that it?”

I frown. “You’ve been drinking.”

She rolls her eyes again. “It’s a party, Yuri.”

My eyes drag over her, prying. “You’re angry.”

“No, I’m not.”

A group of party guests wander into the living room and find seats on the far side of the couch. I glare at them. But the five of them are clearly drunk. Instead, I grab River’s hand, turn, and pull her after me.

“Hey!” She yanks at my grip. But I’m much stronger than her. “Hey! Let me the fuck go!”

I ignore her as I pull her down the hall of the sprawling villa and into a room. I slam the door behind me as she suddenly yanks her arm free and whirls on me. She glares at me. I glare right back.

“What exactly have I missed?” I mutter.

She cocks a hip, crossing her arms over her chest. She glares at me. “Nothing,” she snaps.

I sigh. “Kiska…”

Her face turns red with anger. “Don’t you dare call me…” she frowns. “What the fuck does that even mean? You keep calling me that.”

“It means kitten.”

She purses her lips. “Kitten, hmm? Like a pet?”

I frown.

“That what you call all of your girls?”

I arch a brow. “My girls?”

River’s mouth thins. “Yuri, please.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

She sighs. “Nothing. It’s just finally occurred to me that I don’t have any interest in being one of your little playthings.

So, please, make the business deal, Yuri. Sell me to that other creep for the best you can gouge him for, and we can be done with this absurd arrangement.”

The growl rumbles in my chest.

“Where is this coming from?”

She opens her mouth and then shuts it again. She paces the floor, glaring at her feet.

“Speak.”

She barks a laugh. “Seriously? I’m not a fucking pet, Yuri.”

“And I’m not a fucking mind-reader,” I snap back. “So tell me what the fuck you’re angry about!”

She glares at me. “I’m not angry.”

“Really,” I mutter dryly.

River’s eyes narrow at me. “I met a friend of yours tonight.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“Well gee, there’s a surprise.”

I sigh. “If we’re done playing these games…” I walk over and grab her arm. “Let’s go.”

“Svetlana,” she mutters thickly, yanking her arm from my grip. “I met Svetlana tonight.”

I freeze. Slowly, I turn and look down into her eyes.

“Svetlana Gagarina?”

River bristles. “Tall, blonde, pretty. A giant cunt?”

I smirk. “That sounds like her.”

River’s face darkens. And suddenly, I smile as I get what all of this is about.

“You’re jealous of her.”

She glares at me. “Hardly.”

I chuckle. “Yes, you are.”

Anger burns hotly in her eyes. “Oh, is that funny to you?”

“Immensely.”

And suddenly, she slaps me. I snarl, bristling as I turn back to glare at her. River looks terrified at what she just did. But she holds her ground. She sets her jaw, glaring right back at me.

“She told you we have history, didn’t she?”

River’s lips thin to a line. Then I truly see it. She’s jealous.

The thought makes me… I shake my head. It makes me

happy. Not that she’s jealous, but what her being jealous of another woman implies.

“She lied,” I mutter, truthfully.

“Whatever,” River turns as if she might go. But I grab her wrist tightly and yank her back around.

“She lied to upset you, probably to upset me by proxy.”

River’s face burns hotly. She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure —” “She tried,” I grunt. “If you’re curious. She tried, a couple of years ago. I did not fuck her, but she tried.” I narrow my eyes at River. “Her father is Petya, the man whose home we’re in.

He’d cut her o from her allowance—something to do with drugs or something. I don’t know and I don’t care. But Svetlana came to me, after, and tried to seduce me. I sent her away, because she only wanted money, and her father is a business associate.”

River bristles.

“But most importantly,” I snarl. “She does not interest me.”

She looks away, pursing her lips. “She… she knew things, about you…”

“Such as?”

River blushes.

“River…”

“Such as your…” her face throbs even darker. “Your dick being big. The black rose tattoo someone could only see if you were naked.”

I smile. My hand comes up to cup her chin gently as I look down into her eyes.

“I did not sleep with her, River. I’ve never touched her.

But…” I frown. “I have not lived the life of a monk. I’m forty-five, kiska.”

She looks away, chewing angrily on her lip.

“You are jealous.”

“No,” she snaps.

“You hate the idea of me with other women—” “Yuri, I don’t fucking care—” “Yes, you do.” My hand slides up to cup her face, tilting her chin up to look me in the eye.

“Because the idea of any other man even laying their fucking eyes on you makes me want to spill blood,” I snarl. “It makes me want to burn down nations and break the world in two.”

She whimpers as I pull her against my chest. One hand slips over her hip, the other tilts her face up to mine. She swallows.

“It makes me want to make you mine and mine alone,” I snarl. “Because you are mine. All fucking mine.”

I crush my lips hard to hers. I kiss her punishingly. I kiss her ruthlessly. I kiss her like she fucking belongs to me.

And in that instant, I see it all clearly. There will be no deal.

No trade. No giving her to Semyon, or any other man, for any price.

I’ll break the world in half. I’ll go to war. I’ll burn the whole fucking thing down. For her.

14

RIVER

I MOAN , my pulse throbbing as he kisses me. His hand tightens on my hip, sending a thrill through my core. Heat pools between my thighs as he cups my jaw possessively and kisses me like he’s claiming me; like he’s marking me.

His hand slides around my hip and over my ass. His hand on my jaw pushes up into my hair, freeing it from the knot on top of my head as he tugs the hair-tie free. My long strawberry-blonde locks tumble down, and I whimper into his lips as he tugs it into his fist.

The hand on my ass centers, rubbing the cleft at the top of my cheeks through the thin, silky dress. I moan as I feel him tugging the dress up, bunching it higher and higher. Until the entire back of it is pinned above my bare ass. He groans deeply as his hand slips over the lace of my thong. His finger traces lower, like he did before. And like before, I know what he’s looking for.

When his finger finds the little plug, I whimper. He pushes on it, growling into my lips before his mouth slides to my

ear. He nibbles at the lobe as he adds pressure to the plug once again.

“Good girl,” he snarls.

His fingers slip under the back little strap of my thong, until they’re touching the hilt of the little toy. I feel him grip it between his thumb and finger. When he gives it a small twist, I gasp sharply as the erotic sensations on my nerve endings take my breath away.

Yuri growls as he kisses me again. He scoops me up into his arms, my legs wrapping around him as he carries me to the bed. It’s only then that I realize we’re in a guest room, complete with a double set of French doors open to a private stone balcony bathed in moonlight.

I moan when he drapes me across the bed, hovering above me. My legs spread to either side of him. I gasp when he grinds his hips into me, pushing the thick bulge of his cock against the slick, eager heat between my legs.

His mouth captivates mine, kissing me deeply as his fingers slip the straps of my dress o my shoulders. He moves his lips lower to my neck as he peels the dress away. He pulls it lower still, over my bare tits. I whimper when the material slips o my hard nipples.

His mouth follows the path of the fabric—down the slope of my tits until his lips wrap around one pink, throbbing little nipple. I moan, arching my back as he swirls his tongue over me. His hands keep pushing the dress down, over my stomach until it catches at my hips.

Yuri groans as he moves up to kiss my mouth deeply. But then he’s sliding down my body. He tugs the dress over my raised hips, slipping it o my legs along with my heels. He stands, his eyes holding mine as he shrugs his jacket o and starts to unbutton his shirt. I drop my gaze to his gorgeous, muscled body as he sheds his shirt and moves onto the bed.

My body trembles when he slides his hands up my thighs to the waist of my soaked little thong. He hooks his fingers into it and peels it down. Once again, my hips raise as he skims it down my legs, where it tangles on one ankle.

But he leaves it there as he pushes my legs apart and moves between them. He snarls as his teeth drag up the inside of my thigh. I whimper as his lips suck and nibble, leaving marks up towards my slick pussy.

His fingers get there first though. He groans, stroking a finger up and down my slit, making me whimper for more.

He parts my lips and sinks his finger into me. I gasp, shuddering in pleasure as I feel him stroke against my gspot.

But then, he slips his finger from my pussy and slides it lower. Once again, he pushes on the silver and diamond hilt of the plug still deep in my ass. And once again, I shudder in pleasure when he does. He grips it again and starts to slowly turn it in my ass, making me whimper eagerly.

Suddenly though, his mouth comes down on my pussy. He sucks my clit between his lips and starts to swirl his tongue over it. And instantly—instantly—I’m coming.

“Yuri!” I moan, thrashing on the bed as my hips press shameless against his mouth. He growls, pushing me back down with a hand gripping my hip. His other hand keeps turning the plug, making me gasp in pleasure. He tugs gently at the plug as he hums into my clit.

I’m seeing stars. I’m feeling pleasure I’ve never once felt before. It feels as though I’m melting into the bed. I’m lost in the sensations he’s giving me; writhing for him and begging him for more.

His tongue slides down my slit and then back to my clit. He pulls at the plug again, harder this time. I can feel it start to slip out, and I gasp. I feel the thickest part of it begin to open me up. But he keeps it there, keeping me stretched and whimpering for him. He pushes it back in, only to pull it out to the thickest part once again. And his tongue dances over my clit the whole time.

Yuri groans into my pussy as he pulls on the plug again. This time though, he keeps sliding it from me. The thick part pops out of my tight little hole, and I moan deeply. He swirls the very tip of the plug over my ass before he sets it aside.

His mouth slides down over my pussy. His tongue drags down until it swirls over my quivering asshole. I cry out, my eyes rolling back at the filthy, erotic pleasure.

“Yuri…” I moan for him.

His tongue dances over my ass before he moves back to my clit. I feel his fingers pushing at my hole, and I moan when he sinks one into my ass. His mouth hums on my aching clit

as he slowly fingers me, until I’m pushing my hips to meet him.

He gives my clit one more wet lick before he raises his head to look at me.

“I want this,” he growls. His finger pushes into me again as I gasp.

“Oh God…” I moan.

“Tell me you want me to claim you, kiska,” he groans deeply.

He lowers his mouth, kissing my clit with his eyes still locked on me. He adds a second finger, pushing two now into my ass as I moan and writhe for him.

“I-I’ve never—” “I know,” he groans. “But you want me to have you. You want me to claim you—to have all of you.”

My face crumples in pleasure. My eyes close as I nod. “Yes,” I choke softly.

“Say it.”

I moan deeply. “I want you to have all of me…” I moan.

“What do you want me to have, River,” he growls deeply. His two fingers plunge in and out of my ass as his tongue lazily circles my clit. He’s driving me insane. He’s making me want to do insane things… like what I know I’m going to say yes to. What I know I want him to do to me.

“My… my…” I moan deeply.

“Say it,” he growls into my clit.

“My ass!” I whimper. “I want you to have my ass!”

Yuri groans as his mouth falls back to my clit. He swirls his tongue over it before he pulls away. He gently pulls his fingers from me as he flips me over and stands. I’m throbbing all over. I turn to look at him over my shoulder, watching breathlessly as he slips his pants and briefs o . My eyes fall to his huge, thick cock, and I tremble.

He has something in his hands, and I realize it’s a bottle of lube. I watch, pulse thudding, as he drizzles it all over his thick, pulsing cock. He strokes himself, watching me, until he’s glistening. Then he moves onto the bed and slides over me.

He pulls me to my side, spooning me. He gently bends my top leg at the knee, spreading me open. I gasp when I feel the cool lubricant drizzle onto my ass. I can feel it dripping slowly down between my cheeks.

His fingers follow, pushing it gently where it needs to go. He sinks a finger into me again, and I whimper. I can feel his cock pulse and surge against me as he gets me ready and then slides his finger free.

One of his hands cups my face, turning me. I moan when he kisses me and eases the slick, swollen head of his cock against my little hole at the same time.

“Yuri…” I choke.

“I’m not going to hurt you, kiska,” he growls thickly. “I’m never going to hurt you. I’m incapable of hurting you.”

“Have me,” I whisper.

“You’re already mine.”

He pushes. I gasp, and my eyes fly open. I can feel the sensation of his thick head prying me open with the lube. He pushes a little harder, and I whimper as I feel him start to slide into me. My hand grips the sheets tightly. The other one slides back to hold his hip.

He goes so slow. Inch by inch, I can feel his huge cock sinking into me. The feeling is indescribable. Maybe I’d imagined it hurting. But it doesn’t. It feels tight, but I’m slick enough and turned on enough that he keeps pushing. It feels like he’s as deep as he can go. But when I reach back to touch him, I gasp. He’s only halfway there.

Yuri groans and pushes his hips. I moan thickly as his swollen cock sinks in—more and more until suddenly I feel his balls against my pussy. I’m trembling when I turn my head. He groans, cupping my jaw as he crushes his lips to mine.

His big hands grip my ass, spreading me. He rolls his hips, and his huge cock slowly slips out of me. Every nerve ending explodes with pleasure. Every inch of my body trembles and sizzles with heat. Every ounce of me wants him to take me however he wants.

He sinks back into me, and I moan. My toes curl, pushing at the sheets. Sweat beads at my back, and I gasp into his

mouth. His cock plunges in and out of my tight little ass. His hand slips over my hip and down between my legs. He starts to rub my clit as he fucks me slowly and deeply.

I rock against him, clinging to him. I moan into his lips. I clench tight around his cock. My body begins to tremble and quiver. The naughty, dirty feeling of him taking my most forbidden place while he rubs my clit is almost too much. My back arches as I writhe on his dick. He grunts, fucking me harder and deeper as I start to moan.

“Yuri… I… oh my God,” I whimper. “Oh God, Yuri…”

“Come, kiska,” he growls into my ear. His hips grind into me, his cock so deep in me. I start to shake. My legs quiver and my toes curl against the sheets. I cry out into his mouth as I feel the trembling explode into release.

“Come for my cock, River,” he snarls. “Come for me with that big dick deep in your pretty little ass.”

He thrusts deep as his fingers roll over my clit. I suddenly can’t hold on any longer. It hits like pulling a trigger, and suddenly, I’m coming hard.

“Yuri!”

I scream his name as the orgasm explodes deep inside of me.

I can feel my asshole clenching him tight as I come from that and his finger on my clit. I moan into his mouth when he kisses me deep and hard.

He snarls into my lips and buries his cock to the hilt in me.

His muscles clench, and his grip on me tightens enough to

leave marks. He grunts, and I moan as I feel him throb deep in my ass. I can feel something hot pouring into me, filling me.

My tongue dances with his. I pant my breath into his mouth as I cling to him desperately. Yuri doesn’t try to pull away though. He holds me tighter. He just keeps kissing me as he wraps me in his arms and whispers my name into my lips.

He keeps holding me, and stroking my skin, until my heart rate is reasonably normal. Or at least until I’m sure I’m not about to have a heart attack. Gently, he slips out of me and wraps the bedsheet around me.

He kisses me and stands, slipping his pants on and loosely pulling on his shirt without buttoning it. He pulls his phone out and grunts something in Russian before slipping it back into his pocket. His eyes hold mine as he slinks over and scoops me e ortlessly into his arms.

I moan when I kiss him, my arms around his neck as he cradles me. He walks out onto the balcony, and then down a side staircase into a dark part of the garden. I cling to him, nuzzling his neck. My body is still throbbing all over as he carries me gently through the gardens. And then suddenly, we’re stepping out of the shadows onto the helipad.

A smaller helicopter is waiting for us, the rotors already spinning. I get a glimpse of the pilot and realize it’s Maksim.

Yuri carries me in to the back area and gently buckles me in, still wrapped in the comforter. He buckles in next to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my head against his shoulder.

We rise up into the night sky, and then we’re skimming over the black waves, back to the yacht.

I have left sanity behind. And right now, I don’t care in the slightest.

15

YURI

F ORGET S EMYON . Forget all of it, actually. Something has changed in me, but I don’t have to wonder what the cause is.

I’m looking right at it.

Lying in my bed, I grin as my eyes drink her in. She’s standing under the spray of the shower in my bathroom, the door open. I watch as she pushes her wet hair back, looking up with closed eyes. Water streams down every single curve of her body.

I’m forty-five, and I’ve just spent the last five hours in bed with this girl. And yet the sight of her like this in the shower still gets my cock hard. I grin and shake my head. Something has certainly changed in me. And it’s all her doing.

I usually spend my days feeling like I’m caught in a mill— the stones grinding me as I use all my strength to keep them from destroying me. That’s life at the top of the most feared, respected, and ironclad Bratva family in the world.

But for the last few days, I’ve simply breathed. I’ve lived in the moment and closed myself away from the pressures and

stress of my usual life. Besides, part of the grinding I’ve done to get to this point with my organization is making sure it does run without me. I have Maksim, and my other trusted top avtoritets. I have my nephew, Ilya, who is quickly learning the ways of his family business.

But even with all of that in place, it’s taken her to make me take that breath. It’s her falling into my world that’s given me the ability to press pause, even if it’s just for a few days.

In the shower, she bends over to soap her legs. I groan as my dick throbs. In the last three days since Petya’s party, I’ve spent almost every minute of every day in bed with her. Or else the floor. Or else my o ce desk, or the sofa. Or against the railing of my private deck. I have had her every way I can, except for taking her virginity.

My reasoning for not no longer has anything to do with Semyon and our dealings. That door is shut. There is no more deal, and I no longer care to involve myself with him or his business. None of it could ever be worth her. The riches of the entire world, or the power to rule it all don’t compare to having her in my arms.

But my reason for not taking that last part of her innocence is simple. Simple, and yet complicated, I suppose. The problem is, in the last few days of her being in my world, something has clicked in me. A spark I thought I’d never find, and a fire I thought I’d snu ed out is very much alive again. I very much like her. It’s much more than “like,” actually.

The problem is, River is ones of the most famously beautiful women in the world. And yet she’s still somehow made it to twenty-one with still being a virgin.

I won’t take that from her after a week of being on my boat.

Not when I took her here originally against her will. Not when I’m more than twenty years older than her. Not when she’s my daughter’s best fucking friend. And not when what I feel for her has this sort of gravity.

I need it to be her who asks me for that. Because I can’t ask it of her.

I groan as she steps out of the shower and starts drying o .

She looks up, and she blushes shyly when she sees me looking at her. When I grin wider, she blushes deeper. Then she wraps the towel around herself and steps into the bedroom.

“What?”

I chuckle. “Nothing. I’m just amused that a professional model and one of the Vanessa’s Dream Dreamgirls becomes bashful with me watching her in the shower.

She bites her lip. “It’s… di erent.”

“How so?”

She simmers, her eyes holding mine. “Well, for one because I’m not naked on those runways or in those ads.”

“This is true.”

“Or maybe it’s because the way you look at me is…” she shakes her head and blushes. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Kiska,” I say softly. She swallows and drags those big green eyes back up to me. “How do I look at you.”

“Like you’re never going to stop,” she whispers.

“And other men, with how beautiful you are, haven’t looked at you like that?”

River looks down, playing with her fingers as she stands in the doorway to the bathroom. “I’ve understood the way men look at me since I was young—even before modeling. But those looks just pure desire to have me, or to use me to an end. That’s just lust.”

“I have a confession.”

She looks up shyly.

“I lust when I look at you.”

She blushes. “Yeah, but it’s di erent.”

I grin. “Yes, but how is it—” “Because no man has ever looked at me the way you do,” she breathes softly.

Our eyes lock. My lips pull into a smile. Goddamn, I can’t stop smiling with her here in my world.

River blushes and turns to the wall of built-in shelves by the doorway.

“Hey, how about some music?”

She suddenly reaches for the bluetooth speaker connected to my laptop as I sit bolt upright.

“Shit, wait—” But she pushes the play button. Instantly, the whole bedroom is filled with…

“Okay what is that?”

I grin, even if I have a slight twinge of embarrassment in my taste in music. Especially to someone her age. I very much doubt she’s ever listened to much Russian folk music.

“What, you’re not a fan of Vladimir Vysotsky?” I smirk sarcastically.

She’s trying to hold back, but she’s clearly having a hard time not laughing. I don’t exactly blame her. Vysotsky is like the Soviet-era Russian version of Johnny Cash. Deep baritone with a country music sound. But, Russian country music, not American. So basically, Johnny Cash singing like a dramatic Bond villain, backed by a klezmer band— accordions, tubas, the whole thing.

I’ve listened to this shit my entire life, and it’s still comical to me.

“You can laugh, you’re not going to get in trouble.”

The dam breaks. Instantly, River is howling with laughter.

Tears roll down her face as Vladimir belts out an upswing ballad about his grandmother’s beet farm. She blushes as she looks at me, wiping tears away.

“Oh my God, this is…”

“A classic,” I grin.

“Do you really listen to this?”

I nod, shrugging. “He was my father’s favorite singer. I grew up with this shit.”

Her smile fades. “Oh, geez, now I feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t. It’s comical, and campy. But that’s why I like it.” I smile as the memories of playing in the corner of my father’s o ce, listening to this stu , flood back. “I was born when Russia was still the Soviet Union. Towards the end of it, but still. It wasn’t the happiest, sunniest of times. My father though?” I shake my head. “He was born during the second World War. He grew up during the height of the Cold War. He was…” I frown. “Let’s say he wasn’t one for smiling. I can count the number of times I saw his smile on less than ten fingers, actually.”

The Vysotsky track swells comically, blending from tuba band to a gypsy-jazz type sound.

“But this?” I chuckle. “This you can’t help but smile about.”

She grins. “You really can’t. This sounds hilarious, what are the lyrics about?”

“A soldier dying face-down in a trench.”

River makes a face. “Seriously?”

“That’s Soviet humor for you,” I chuckle as the song ends.

“For the record, I grew up listening to other stu too. I’m

old but I’m not that old.”

She giggles and turns back to the bluetooth speaker. She starts scrolling through the tracks. “So what else did you grow up listening to?” She turns to smirk at me. “Soviet marching music and more tuba bands?”

“Hilarious. I was an eighties and nineties kid. We listened to smuggled-in Depeche Mode and Nirvana records.”

She grins impishly. “Oh, so classic rock?”

“Careful,” I growl as she giggles.

“I actually love Depeche Mode. More of Pearl Jam girl when it comes to grunge, though.”

“Well, no one’s perfect.”

She giggles again. God, I’ll never get tired of that giggle. I stand, naked as I move towards her. She drags her teeth over her lip, glancing down at my nudity. But I brush past her and scroll to a new track on the speaker. I turn to grin at her.

“I hope you’re ready for this.”

“For what—” The Russia hopak folk music blasts through the room.

Instantly, I drop into the dance position—the sitting position with my arms crossed sti y. My legs kick out, my thighs staying at the ninety-degree angle.

River losses her mind. She howls with laughter—tears running down her face as she holds her sides. I bark the shouted verses with the folk music. I kick furiously, keeping

my face stern and scowling. Which is extremely di how much she’s laughing.

cult with

When the song ends, she’s literally on the floor, laughing as the tears flood down her face. I grin and take a dramatic bow.

River gets to her feet and falls laughing into my arms. She looks up, and she’s still laughing when my mouth finds hers.

But then the kiss grows deeper. I pull the towel from her and let it drop. Her body presses to mine, and her laughter turns to a soft moan.

It doesn’t matter that I’m not technically fucking her. This is the most intimate I’ve ever been, with anyone. This is lust, but it’s also something bigger. It’s something I thought I’d felt before, but now know I was wrong.

I reach over and push the play button. Depeche Mode’s Precious fills the bedroom as she sinks into my arms.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know what she’s doing to me. But I know there’s no going back. There’s no taking any of this back.

Only forward. With her.

16

RIVER

“H OLY

SHIT …”

I’m seeing double. I gasp for air as I roll onto my stomach on the bed. Every inch of me is throbbing and tingling. Every single cell in my body is humming with a hungry energy.

It’s been like this for almost ten days now. But no, I’m not having the longest stroke in the world. This is just the hazards of locking yourself away from the world on a crime lord’s yacht having a marathon sex-fest with the hottest older man of all time.

I turn to grin lazily at that very man himself. Yuri groans, stretching on the big bed next to me. Sweat glistens on his chest, and I can feel it trickling down the small of my back as well.

“You okay, old guy?”

He turns to glare at me. But it’s with a hungry grin on his face. “Watch it.”

“Or?”

“Or I’m going to do that to you again, without a break.”

I groan. But my body surges, eager for it. Even if doing that again might very well kill me unless I get some air and water first.

“I yield, I yield,” I mumble. Yuri grins as I slide over and kiss him. But then I’m rolling out of the bed to stand on shaky legs. Shit, too quickly. I plunk back down to the edge of the bed as my head spins.

Yuri chuckles. “You going to be okay?”

“If I’m not, I’m blaming you.”

He grins. “That seems like a fair accusation.”

I groan and stand again. This time, I make it the bathroom. I pee, grab a robe, and wrap it around myself before I duck back into the bedroom.

“I’m going up for air. And maybe some food.”

“I’ll have it brought here.”

I roll my eyes, grinning at him. “That’s tempting.”

“So be tempted.”

I blush. “Air, Yuri. I need fresh air.”

He chuckles and sits up in the bed. My teeth rake over my lip as I let my eyes slide over his perfect body.

“Eyes up here,” he grunts.

I blush as I look at him. “Need anything?”

“You, back in this bed.”

I giggle. “I’ll do you one better when I come back with food, too.”

I turn for the door.

“Come back soon, kiska,” he growls. “Or I might come looking for you.”

The promise makes me tremble with heat. I smile at him, heart thumping as I slip out the door. I walk slowly, barefoot, through the huge yacht. Korol is prepping some sort of roast in the kitchens when I step in. But he eagerly puts it aside when he spots me.

“Here, for you, I make something special.”

I giggle. “Is it one of those sinfully good grilled cheeses?”

He smirks. “I am getting predictable.”

“And I’m getting chubby. Bring it.”

He chuckles and turns to start the stove. “Get a seat, I’ll bring it out when it’s done.”

I thank him and slip out into the formal dining room. It occurs to me that I’ve only ever had late-night, post-sexmarathon grilled cheeses out here, courtesy of Korol. The rest of my meals I’ve eaten either in bed with Yuri, or on his private terrace.

But the big dining room is gorgeous, too. I walk across it and out the open doors onto the mid-level deck. I slip behind the

bar area and pull a bottle of sparkling water from the cooler.

Then I find a seat by the balcony overlooking the dark sea.

I could stay here forever.

It’s a silly thought. But every time it comes up in my head, the next question to thinking it’s silly is “well why not?”

Why not spend forever here? A huge boat? A pool, a movie theater, all the grilled cheeses I can eat, and a crazy-hot, older sex-god who seems hell-bent on making me die from orgasm?

I blush as I replay the events of the last few hours. And yet somehow, through all of our body-quaking escapades…

My face burns hotter as I look down at my hands.

I’m still technically a virgin. In the most archaic, basic sense of the word. We’re covered literally everything else, but we’ve stopped just shy—sometimes by barely an inch—of him actually sliding into me.

He’s never pushed it. Not once, and I’m so amazed by him for that. But I also understand why, even though we haven’t said it out loud. Yuri might be a vicious, ruthless, coldblooded bratva kingpin. But he’s not a monster.

I know the reason he hasn’t simply done what most men would have by now, is because of me. He’s waiting for me to make that final step.

I groan, feeling embarrassed at myself as I chug the sparkling water. I don’t actually know why I haven’t been able to find the courage to do that. I mean it’s not for lack of

intimacy on a physical level, that’s for freaking sure. And it’s not because I don’t feel safe with him. On the contrary, I’ve never felt safer. I’ve never felt more desired, and truly wanted, for all of me.

No one has ever seen the “me” inside of me like that man back in that bedroom has.

I freeze, the bottle of water halfway to my lips. It’s like the second I say it, I realize that’s that final key. The second that thought enters my head, I suddenly realize I have no freaking idea why I haven’t truly slept with and given my virginity to him.

I grin, a flush creeping over my face. The idea of just doing it —just marching back there right now, climbing into his lap, and just taking him in sounds so good. It sounds so fucking good that I’m almost mad at myself that it’s taken me this long to come to this inevitable conclusion.

“Et voila, grilled cheese.”

I gasp, startled by Korol as he sets the plate down in front of me.

“Magnifique,” I giggle.

He laughs. “Enjoy, Ms. Finn.”

When he walks away, my stomach gurgles as I stare at the sandwich. Okay, grilled cheese, and then I’m marching back down there and shaking o this dumb v-card once and for all.

I’m two bites in when I hear the chuckle behind me. I blush, turning with a mouthful of buttered bread and cheese.

“Don’t judge me,” I mumble around the bite.

Yuri chuckles as he slinks towards me. He’s barefoot, in black jeans and a Depeche Mode t-shirt. I giggle at the sight.

I’ve only ever seen him in either a formal suit, or naked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kiska,” he grins. “But only if you share.”

I scrunch my face up. “That’s a hard bargain.”

“Take it or leave it.”

I sigh dramatically. “Okay. One bite. Korol is a genius.”

Yuri sits, and I instantly climb into his lap. I kiss him softly, then pull back to o er him the sandwich.

“I might prefer the appetizer more, now,” he groans. He leans close and kisses me again. Heat sizzles in my core. I pull back to let my eyes hold him. I swallow as my pulse thuds.

“I…” my cheeks burn. “I was thinking about something.”

“Oh?” “Yeah.” I grin. “It involves you and me.”

He laughs. “I like where this is going.”

“And…” I wet my lips. “Something new.”

Yuri raises a brow. “Something new like…?”

“Like something we’ve been dancing around. Something we both want, but that we’ve both been waiting for me to take the first step on…”

He groans, and I instantly feel his thickness surge against me. I gasp softly as I settle onto his lap.

“Kiska,” he growls quietly. “There’s no need…” he groans as he looks deep into my eyes. His hands tighten on me. “I want you, River. I want every part of you, all for myself. Greedily.

Selfishly.”

I moan, pulling close to him. “Good, then we’re on the same —” Something heavy and metal suddenly lands with a clank on the deck. My head whips around as the strange hook looking thing suddenly yanks back against the railing, pulled by a rope. My brow furrows.

“What the hell is—” “Move!!”

I scream as Yuri grabs me. He lunges to his feet carrying me in his arms. He whirls and starts to bolt into the dining room. But suddenly, the doors inside smash in. I scream again when two men in black holding machine guns barge in and start screaming in Russian.

Yuri hisses, whirling. But suddenly, I realize what it is that clanked onto the deck: a grappling hook. Because just then, three more men are clamoring over the edge of the rail brandishing machine guns.

Yuri moves like a bear: fast, ferocious, and ruthlessly. He tosses me into a deck chair and whirls, slamming into the first man like a truck. The guy doubles over in pain, but Yuri is already whirling to the next. He grabs the teak chair I was just eating grilled cheese in and whips it around. It catches the second man in the head with a crunching sound. I bury the scream in my hands as his body flops over the side of the yacht.

But as Yuri whirls again, suddenly, there’s even more of them. Three others join the first two in the dining room, and all five are barking orders, holding the guns up at him. I scream as two of them rush me. Yuri roars, whirling as if to charge. But instantly, the others are on him.

I scream again when one of them slams the butt of his rifle into Yuri’s stomach. Two men grab me by the arms, yanking me out of the lounger. Yuri bellows and tries to charge again, only to get slammed to the deck by the rifle again.

He gets right back up. I’m screaming and sobbing in terror as he roars and charges again. But suddenly, a familiar voice barks from the dining room. We all whirl to see Maksim storming out brandishing a machine gun, a tight scowl on his face.

Even though there’s five of them and one of Maksim, I feel hope suddenly catch fire in me.

That is, until Maksim marches over to Yuri, pulls his fist back, and punches the older man in the jaw.

I scream as he topples to the side. The men around him chuckle, and two of them yank him up and slam him up against the railing. Yuri’s eyes flash to mine, his jaw clenched tight. My pulse thuds as I try not to drown in the fear creeping up my throat.

“Ona ne tvoya,” Maksim spits at Yuri.

None of the other men are knocking him down or taking his guns. He’s with them. I’m witnessing a coup.

“Yes, she is,” Yuri snarls back at him in English. “She was mine the minute I laid eyes on her.” His lips curl into a snarl.

“This is Semyon, isn’t it?”

Maksim shrugs. “It is what it is,” he grunts.

“Fuck you!” I scream at him. He turns along with the rest of them to smirk at me.

“You will learn how to speak politely,” he smiles thinly.

“Your new husband will see to that.”

My stomach drops. Yuri snarls and tries to lunge at Maksim.

But the men holding him hold him fast. Suddenly, Maksim pulls a pistol out of the back of his belt. When he levels it at Yuri, my heart stops. My vision dims at the corners as pure horror explodes deep in my very soul.

Yuri’s gaze swivels to mine. His face is grim, but his eyes hold mine fiercely. And suddenly, his lips are mouthing three words that break my heart in two.

“I love you.”

Maksim cocks the gun. “See you in hell, Yuri.”

“No—!!”

The gun roars. Yuri grunts and knocks backwards as the men holding him let go. And suddenly, he’s just gone.

I hear the splash, and then nothing. Then, I just go numb.

I feel nothing. I hear nothing as the men yell in Russian and yank me back through the dining room. They bring me down to the back lower deck, and then onto a small black military ski .

Maksim climbs on as well, and the engine rumbles to life.

The ski pulls away from the huge yacht that’s been my home for the last two weeks. But suddenly, it slows and stops, drifting to the side. One of the men pulls a big box out from under one of the bench seats and opens it. He hauls something cylinder-shaped out and rests it on his shoulder.

Suddenly, I realize he’s holding a rocket launcher.

Maksim hisses something angrily. But the man with the rocket just chuckles. The other men I don’t know seem to be on the same page. One of them turns to me, grinning wickedly.

“Say bye bye,” he chuckles in broken English.

I barely hear the hiss. I blink at the sudden bright spark of the rocket launching from the tube. It feels like I’m watching in slow motion as the little bright spark shoots through the darkness. But when it hits the side of the yacht, the darkness is erased.

The explosion is deafening. The fireball turns night to day.

And my heart turns to ash as the yacht goes up in flames.

The ski motor turns on again. I crumple to the floor, holding myself in shock as we roar away across the waves from the only man I ever loved.

17

RIVER

I T ’ S EITHER BEEN hours or days; I lost track of all time somewhere between the boat, the SUV on the shore, the second SUV they dragged me into, and then the long, bumpy ride to wherever here is.

I’m shaking. I’m tied to a chair in a huge, vaulted-ceiling bedroom, and I’m trembling from head to toe. I can’t tell if it’s that I’m cold, or if it’s a panic response to everything that’s just happened…

I close my eyes. Everything that’s just happened. Everything like Yuri being killed in front of me. Everything like my heart being ripped out of my chest and burned right in front of my eyes. Everything like my whole world exploding.

My head hangs. Even with the trembling, the tears start to flow hot down my cheeks. I sob a wrenching cry, before suddenly I hear footsteps. The door to the bedroom swings open, and Semyon Belsky walks in with a smile on his face, flanked by two guards.

Suddenly, my sadness turns to rage.

“You bastard!!” I scream, lurching out of the chair. But the binds hold me fast, digging into my skin. Just the same, I lunge again, screaming at him until my voice is ragged and choked. Semyon chuckles. But then his face turns to a fakelooking concern.

“Ahh, you are sad about what Yuri, yes?”

“You killed him!!” I scream. “You son of a bitch!! You fucking killed him!!”

He shrugs. Not smiling or gloating, just a shrug as if he’s just told me the store was out of milk.

“This is the way of our world, my pretty girl.”

A sour feeling curdles in my stomach. “Don’t call me that.”

“Ahh, but you are so beautiful, my little one,” he gloats as he starts to walk towards me. I tense, recoiling from him. But I’m tied fast. I can’t get away.

Semyon stops right in front of me and sighs happily. “And you are mine, yes?”

“Not a fucking chance.”

He smirks. “It would seem you are, though.”

“Tied to a chair doesn’t make me yours you sick fuck!” I scream. Emotion chokes my voice. Tears of rage, anguish, and heartbreak flow hotly down my cheeks.

Semyon frowns. “And yet it was so recently that you were the captive of another, and it seems you are quite broken up about being taken from him.”

The tears blur my eyes as I seethe, staring hot daggers at the piece of shit in front of me.

“So sad… so it would seem, him taking you and binding you did in fact make you his.” He smiles thinly. “So, now it is my turn to make you mine, my little one.”

I choke a sob, turning to look away.

Semyon grunts as he steps closer. His hand raises, and when his fingers stroke my cheek, I recoil sharply. I want to vomit at his touch, and the sob chokes from my throat.

“I apologize for the way you were stolen from me, my beauty.”

My eyes swivel to him, glowering in rage.

“It should have been me who had you to himself these last two weeks. And then, we could have avoided all of this…” he waves his hand. “Unpleasantness.”

Another sob chokes deep in my chest.

“I barely slept, my beauty. Knowing that motherfucker had you in his clutches. Wondering if he…” Semyon’s eyes narrow dangerously, looking crazy. “If he’d touched what was mine.”

It’s stupid, given that I’m bound to this murderous, psychotic bratva kingpin’s chair. But the hatred I feel for him for taking from me, and twisting a knife into my heart is more than I can hold back.

“Oh, he touched me,” I hiss. “He touched me all day and all night.”

When Semyon’s face darkens and his lips curl, I know I’ve touched a nerve.

“That’s all we did on that boat, you disgusting little troll,” I spit at him through my tears. “So, you’ve lost. I’m not yours, you fucking prick,” I hiss furiously a him. “I’ll never be yours. Because I’m already someone else’s. All of me,” I snarl.

Semyon looks like he’s about to snap. He’s shaking and redfaced. His eyes look like they’re going to pop out in sheer rage. I smile at him.

“You wanted me because of all the news about me, didn’t you?”

His lips purse.

“You pathetic little man,” I sneer. “You pathetic—” The slap comes hard—much, much harder than anything I’ve ever felt before. I gasp, blinking in blinding pain. The whole chair almost falls over, until Semyon grabs me by the front of the robe I’m wearing and yanks me upright. He snarls as he leers into my face, making me seize up in fear as my face pales.

“Perhaps Yuri let you walk all over him, little whore,” he hisses. His breath reeks of vodka. Sweat trickles down his temples from his thinning hair. “But here, with me, you will learn respect. You will learn a girl’s place with her man. Here,

with me, you will learn to thank me for my generosity, and speak when you are spoken to only,” he growls thickly. “Is that understood, you little Volkov bitch?”

Pure fear grips my heart like an icy claw. I want to spit at him, or hurl more insults at him. At this point, I almost want to scream abuses at him until he snaps and just ends this whole thing. Every part of my heart just hurts. Every part of me is crumbling in the anguish of losing him.

Yuri.

Through the pain of the slap, I close my eyes. It hurts like hell, but just same, I replay the memory of that last look on the boat. I’ve done this almost every minute since they took me. It doesn’t hurt any less, but at the same time, it keeps me going. It keeps me breathing.

“I love you.”

I try and shake the memory away before the replay of the gunshot hits. But I’m not successful. I start to shatter inside when suddenly Semyon’s meaty, sweaty hand grips my cheek and tilts my head back sharply. He leers down at me, smiling thinly.

“You were his little whore, da?”

I sneer right back.

“Yep.” Semyon glowers, his face dark with anger.

“And did he fuck you?” He snarls quietly.

I swallow. “Every which way he could,” I hiss. “All day, all night, every single day.”

Semyon’s teeth bare. He whips his hand back as if to hit me again. I wince, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the pain. But then it doesn’t come. With my eyes still squeezed shut, I hear Semyon chuckling.

“No, he didn’t.”

I open my eyes. He’s smirking at me.

“You are not a good liar, my little beauty.”

“Yes, he did,” I say quietly.

Semyon shrugs. “I do not believe you. In any case, I will have my doctor examine you.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“My doctor,” he shrugs again. “He will examine you for your virginity.”

I want to throw up. I almost do, actually. My eyes narrow in horror and fury at him. “You can’t check!!”

“Of course you can,” he grunt. “And my doctor will assure me that my wife-to-be has not been despoiled by that Volkov piece of shit.”

My stomach heaves as my face pales. I want to scream at him. But I’m just empty. I’m broken; snapped in two. That is, until his words suddenly hit me again. My eyes harden in horror as I look up at him.

Semyon smiles. “Ahh, so you did hear me.”

Wife-to-be. Yeah, I heard that alright. I heard it and I want to scream until my breath fails me. I want to puke until there’s nothing but a husk of me left.

“You think I wanted to take you just for you to be a little plaything for me? Like Yuri?” He laughs coldly. “No, my little beauty. No…” he reaches out to me. I recoil as much as I can with the binds holding me. But it’s not enough. The backs of his fingers stroke my chin, making my insides knot and the bile rise in my throat.

“I am not a savage, like him,” he hisses. “I am going to make you my bride. My beautiful, beautiful bride.” He’s still stroking my face horribly as he leans down. “We will be forever each other’s, my love.”

I choke a sob, wrenching my face away from his hand.

Semyon’s eyes narrow. But then he grins and shrugs again as he stands.

“You will learn to love me. Once I burn every single memory of that motherfucker and his motherfucker family to ashes.

His business. His life. His friends…” he smiles thinly. “His famous daughter too, da?”

I sob—ugly, burning tears streaming down my face as my heart breaks for the hundredth time. Semyon sighs.

“You are emotional, I understand. Maybe it is that time of the month, no?”

I’m still sobbing and wishing I was dead when he turns and walks with his silent guards back to the door.

“When you are done with all of your woman emotions,” he grunts, pausing in the doorway to look back at me. “You should sleep. I want my bride looking beautiful on our wedding day tomorrow.”

The news is like a last slap to the face. I start to cry again as I sag in the chair.

“And then, we can forget all about that dead motherfucker who laid hands on what is mine, da?”

The door slams closed, and I start to cry harder than I’ve ever cried before.

18

RIVER

T HE BEDROOM IS DARK , and I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally drained from the horrors of the last few hours.

But I can’t sleep. Or, I won’t sleep. I can’t close my eyes without reliving the gunshot that ripped away the only man I ever loved. I can’t shut them without hearing that dead splash of his body hitting the water. Or seeing the eruption of the yacht exploding into flames.

Tears trickle down the corners of my eyes. Somehow, I still have the capacity to cry more of them. Inside, my heart feels wrenched and run over—broken in a million charred little pieces.

Yuri, I think quietly to myself. I sob as I turn to press my face to the pillow. The bed is hard, the sheets too sti . Earlier, a stern, grim-faced older woman who brusquely introduced herself as “Mr. Belsky’s housekeeper” made me change out of my robe and put on the lacy, semi-transparent matching pajama tops and bottoms I’m wearing. They’re awful. And it’s made worse knowing that it’s Semyon who picked these out, imagining me wearing them.

But even worse, while she was in here, she took my measurements. “For the dress,” she’d snapped in her heavy accent.

I start to cry harder into the pillow. The man I love is dead.

The escape I thought I had, burned to the ground. Now, the horrible piece of shit responsible for destroying everything has me as his prisoner. And tomorrow, he’s going to make me marry him.

I suddenly hear the door to the room creak open.

My heart skips as I whirl, my eyes piercing the darkness. I say nothing, but I know someone’s there. I hear footsteps, and then suddenly see a shape emerging from the shadows.

When Maksim’s face suddenly appears, I start to scream in rage.

But instantly, he’s on me, clamping a hand over my mouth.

“Do not scream,” he growls quietly into my ear. I scream anyways, though his huge hand mu es it entirely. I thrash and kick and punch at him. But he just takes it. I mean the man is a giant, built like a football linebacker. I’m not going to hurt him. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try until it kills me.

I roar into his hand, kicking and hitting with everything I have left in me. I want to tear him apart with my bare hands —this traitor. This complete piece of shit who betrayed Yuri for a price.

“Stop it,” he grunts. But when I don’t, he sighs heavily. “I am sorry for this.”

He yanks out a length of fabric and starts to stu it into my mouth. I’m screaming at him, hurling swears and calling him a coward and a betrayer. But he doesn’t hear me. He stu s the fabric into my mouth and then wraps a bandana around my head, gagging me entirely. I sob as he uses another length of fabric to tie my hands together in front of me. Then, he hauls me to my feet.

I’m screaming at him as he drapes a trench-coat around me.

He deftly closes and ties it at the front and then takes my arm.

“Let’s go.”

I dig my heels in. Fuck this. If he wants to hurt me or bring me to Semyon so he can hurt me, I’m sure as hell not going to go willingly. Maskim turns to me, his brow furrowing.

“Ms. Finn—” I hurt a string of mu ed swears at him. When I tense again when he tries to pull me, Maksim sighs.

“Sorry, but we need to go.”

He grabs me, throwing me over his shoulder and turning to storm from the room. I scream, but no one can hear me. And even if they could, so what?

Maksim moves like a wraith, quickly stepping from shadow to shadow down the dark halls of Semyon’s mansion. We take a winding, gilded staircase down past huge oilpaintings of Russian aristocrats. Then down another hallway

lined with various old firearms mounted on plaques on the wall.

Down another staircase, we exit out into an underground garage. Maksim marches over to black Mercedes SUV with dark tinted windows. When he opens the back, my heart lurches. I scream and yell, but he deftly puts me inside on a blanket in the back and shuts the trunk. I hear him get into the driver’s seat and start the engine. Then we’re o .

We stop almost right away, and even with it being in Russian, I can tell we’re at the front gates, or a guard post or something. I almost scream. But again, what’s the point?

Maksim says something and chuckles, and the guards laugh too. He’s probably telling them that he’s bringing me out to the woods to kill me—that Semyon’s decided he doesn’t want me after Yuri.

The SUV rumbles away, down a gravel road. Then I can feel the smoothness of tarmac. We drive for a long time. I lose all track of it, but it feels like hours and hours have gone by when I feel Maksim pulling o the main road. In fact, it’s light out. We’ve driven through the whole night.

The SUV rumbles over gravel again. Through the heavily tinted back window, I can sort of make out trees, like we’re in a forest. The car stops, and I hear his window roll down. I hear beeps, like he’s punching in a security code. Then the window rolls up, and the car keeps driving over the gravel.

And then, a minute later, the SUV stops, and the engine turns o . Maksim’s door opens and closes. I hear the crunch of his boots before he opens the trunk. We’re in the middle

of the woods. And suddenly, I know I’m not going out without a fight.

I scream and scream through the gag. I lash at him, kicking and fighting. But Maksim isn’t phased by my assault. He reaches for me and pulls me out of the trunk. He sets me on my feet. But when I see the glint of a knife, I quaver. He brings it up, but suddenly, he cuts o the tie on my wrists.

He reaches up and pulls the gag o , and the fabric from my mouth “You asshole!!” I scream as I lurch at him. My fists rain down on him as the tears stream hot down my face. Fuck this. If Maksim is going to kill me in the fucking woods, I’m going to fight until my last goddamn breath before he does.

“You fucker!” I roar. “You killed him! You fucking killed—” “Ms. Finn, please,” he growls. He reaches for me, but I punch his arm away.

“Fuck you!”

“Ms. Finn!!” He roars suddenly. His hands lunge out, grab my shoulders, and turn me around. I gasp as I look up at the huge, stone, castle-like mansion in the middle of a small clearing in the heavy dark woods—like a hunting lodge for a Tsar.

“What is this place?!” I scream, whirling on him. I snarl as I jab a finger at him. “You couldn’t just kill me at Semyon’s —”

“I did not bring you here to kill you,” he says gently. He smiles quietly, which infuriates me.

“Then why?!” I roar. “Then why the fuck am I—” “Kiska.”

My heart lurches. My very soul jars and stutters. Everything goes quiet at the sound of his voice behind me. I don’t want to believe it, because I can’t. It can’t be real, because I watched him die. But slowly, my heart thudding, I turn.

And right there, walking down the huge front stairs of the forest mansion, is Yuri.

Real or not, I can’t hold back. With a choking sob, I lurch for him, running across the clearing. He groans as he rushes down the last steps and storms towards me. I crash into him hard, slamming into his arms as I sob into his chest. He’s real. He’s alive. I can touch him and smell him.

I cry hard, ugly tears into his chest. I cling to him like he might blow away. His huge arms encircle me, his hands stroking my back as I hold him tightly.

“I’m here, kiska,” he murmurs softly, holding me in his arms.

“I am here.”

“You—I saw you…”

“I had to, River,” he growls quietly. “For Semyon to believe it, I had to.”

My heart clenches as I raise my eyes to stare at him in horror. “You…” I balk. “That was a setup?!”

His face is grim as he gently nods. With a sob, I suddenly slap him, hard. But when his eyes hold mine, I collapse into him. I grip his shirt in a white-knuckle grip, sobbing into his chest again. Then I raise my face to his. He groans, and suddenly, his lips are crushing to mind.

I just hold him, for what might be forever. I hold him, and I kiss him with all of my heart.

19

YURI

L ETTING her watch me die was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Letting her think I was gone, even if was barely for a day, was like torture. But now, she’s here. She’s back in my arms, where she belongs. Where I’m never letting her leave from.

I hold her close, pressing my face to her neck and inhaling the scent of her. We’re sitting in the huge study of the old hunting lodge that once belonged to Grand Duke George Alexandrovich, brother to Tsar Nicholas the Second. I’m in a huge chair by the enormous fireplace, and the woman I love is back in my arms, snuggled into my lap with a blanket surrounding her.

She’s clinging to me tightly, like she’s afraid I might blow away. It breaks my heart that I’ve brought her to this state.

But my hands stroke her gently. My lips kiss her shoulder as I hold her close.

Maksim nods firmly. We don’t say a word out loud. But I don’t have to say anything for him to know how grateful I am for him for bringing her back to me. He pulls a thumb

drive out his pocket—the latest intel from his playing spy in Semyon’s organization. He sets it on the table near my chair, alongside the gun he “shot” me with back on the boat.

With a final nod from both of us, he turns to make his way back to Semyon’s mansion. He’s taken a huge risk with all of this. But he’s done it all as he does everything—with absolute dedication and grim resolve.

“How…” River turns to look up into my eyes. Since we crashed into each other outside, she’s mostly just been holding me tightly, and burying her face in my chest. But now that she’s realized I’m real, and not a dream, I can see the questions in her eyes.

“It was a matter of time before Semyon tried something drastic,” I growl quietly. “I know him, and I knew pushing him and the fragile truce we had by taking you would take him past his control. It is why I allowed him to think he had an ace in the hole with me.”

She frowns.

“Maksim.”

My top captain was never happy with this arrangement. Even when we planned it out for all of the most likely scenarios.

I’ve known Maksim since he was eleven. I practically raised him as a son or nephew. Telling him his new orders were to defect to my enemy was not easy for him.

“For the last few months, Maksim has been a ‘double agent’ with Semyon. That stupid little troll has thought he’s had a spy in my upper ranks. When in truth, it’s the opposite.

When I took you…” I lean my lips down to kiss her shoulder again. “I knew it would bring Semyon to the edge. But since ‘his’ man was actually my man, it allowed me to know what was coming.”

She stares at me. I can see anger start to simmer beneath the surface. “You knew that was going to happen?” She hisses quietly.

“No,” I growl. “Not exactly how it did. Semyon moved much faster than I expected. And Maksim only had a few minutes notice about what was happening.”

River trembles, looking into my eyes. “I-I watched him shoot—” “Blanks,” I say softly as I hold her tightly. “Semyon’s plan was always to have Maksim assassinate me on my boat. If he trusted Maksim to do it himself, we were simply going to lie about the events. And if his men were going to be present, we’d use the blanks to sell the story.”

She stares at me. “Why would you let Semyon try and kill you?”

“Because with him thinking I was out of the picture, his guard would be down,” I mutter. “He’d be reckless and unguarded, which would allow me to strike without him being ready.” I frown. “The yacht getting blown to hell wasn’t exactly part of the plan, though.”

Her face pales, and I know she’s thinking about all of my people from the boat.

“Everyone got o , kiska,” I say gently, stroking her cheek.

“The second Semyon messaged Maksim what was about to happen, he had our people on the escape pods and launching.

He was never told that they were going to torch the whole damn boat. But he had everyone o of it to avoid unnecessary loss, and because Semyon expected him to have my protection dealt with.”

She hugs me tightly.

“But all of them are safe. And you are safe,” I growl quietly as my arms tighten around her.

“And where’s Maksim o

to now?”

“Back to Semyon’s mansion.”

Her mouth opens in horror as she states at me. “He can’t go back there! They’ll know he helped me—” “Oh, you didn’t escape.” I smile thinly. “You died.”

River goes still. She stares at me. “I’m sorry, what?”

I frown. It’s a grisly detail to the plan I don’t relish. But I did what I had to.

“In a few hours time, Semyon’s guard patrol will discover your body on the ground beneath the bedroom where you were being kept.”

River looks horrified.

“You couldn’t see last night since it was dark, but Semyon’s mansion sits on a cli . It’s a two-hundred foot drop from that bedroom window to the rocks below.”

Her face pales. “Who…” “In your country, they call it a ‘Jane Doe.’” I say gently with a frown. “It doesn’t bring me any joy, but she was an unknown. An addict most likely. The morgue director I am friends with pinned her death on an overdose.”

River shakes her head. “No…” “She has similar hair to yours. Everything else doesn’t really matter though, not from two-hundred feet up. The lock on your window will appear to have been broken, and Semyon will have lost the prize he broke our loose treaty for.”

Her hands tighten on my shirt. “That’s awful,” she says quietly.

“It is not a pretty business that I am in, River,” I growl gently as I hold her. “But in the meantime, he will think we are both dead. He will be irrational, and unguarded. And that’s how I will destroy him.”

She nods as she pulls tight to me. My arms circle her, keeping her as close to me as I can get her. We sit in silence for a little while, just watching the fire. It’s been a grueling, long twelve hours. I can only thank the fates that I picked the swim team over the running team when I was a boy. Being as strong a swimmer as I am is the only thing that saved me when the whole goddamn boat went up.

The fire crackles, glowing through the dark room. And slowly, I realize she’s asleep against me. I smile as I press my face to her hair, drowning myself in the scent of her.

Letting the warmth of her softness fill me.

I want to lie to myself that this is a flawless plan. But it isn’t.

Semyon is an idiot, but not a complete one. Soon enough, he’ll understand that he’s been had, and his fury will be enormous.

I smile grimly. But mine is already greater than he can imagine. It’s tempered right now because the woman I love —my heart—is curled in my arms once again. But like I said once, I did not bring us to the brink of this war. But it’s a war we’re going to have. Petya can pick sides or sit it out and wait for the dust to settle. But either way, I’m going to crush Semyon and the entire Belsky Bratva under my heel.

He was a nuisance before when I took what I knew he wanted. Then I realized she was never his to have, because she’s always been mine. Now that he’s tried to take her from me, the line has been crossed.

Semyon’s poked the bear. And he has no idea the fury he’s awoken.

But that’s later. For now, all I know and all I want to know is her—in my arms, in my bed, close to me. She barely stirs as I stand and carry her up the sweeping staircase of the old royal hunting lodge to the master bedroom. She’s still fast asleep as I lay her in the bed and peel away the pajamas she arrived in. I pull my own clothes o too and slide into bed next to her.

I’m tempted to kiss my way between her legs and have my fill of her. But she needs to rest. She’s been through hell: thinking I was dead, being taken by Semyon, and all the mind-fuck’s she’s had to swallow over the last hour or so.

For now, we will sleep.

I pull close to her, kiss her neck, and close my eyes. The last thing I know is the feel of her heart beating against mine.

20

YURI

“Y URI ,” Petya sighs with relief. “I am glad you called. I’ve been so worried.”

I arch my brows with a small grin. I like Petya, and we go way back. But I know he’s mostly “relieved” and glad I called because he’s got enough eyes and ears out there to know that world war three is about break out between the Volkov and Belsky Bratva families. And that would not be good for Petya’s biggest concern: his money.

Petya might have more money than God. But he makes a fortune doing business with both Belsky and Volkov. And a war would severely impact that.

“Back from the dead,” I grunt, groggily.

It’s six at night, but I’m just waking up. It was earlier this morning, maybe twelve hours ago, that River was brought back to me. And we’ve been in bed ever since. Currently, I’m back in the big, wood-paneled, bookcase-lined study, in a huge chair gazing into the roaring, enormous fireplace.

I’m nursing a black co ee, my bare feet warmed by the flames and the soft bearskin rug beneath me. River is still asleep in the master bedroom upstairs, and I plan on letting her sleep for as long as she wants. We’ve both been through hell. But I’m used to hell. I’m used to the violence and destruction of this life and this world.

She is not. And I hate that she’s been exposed to this part of my world. I hate that she’s been dragged into the maelstrom, when she should be apart from all of this. Part of that blame is with me, of course. She’s been pulled into this bullshit because of me. But then, Semyon has crossed a line.

Perhaps I did “take her from him.” But this was no arranged marriage or anything like that. He simply desired her. And I simply took her before he could lay hands on her. As barbaric as it may sound, as such, she is mine. More importantly though, she isn’t Bratva. And that is where Semyon has severely crossed a line that is never crossed.

You don’t go after families. As ruthless and bloody as the bratva life is, that is the one rule that keeps things from exploding. No families. You may have the most bitter rivalry in the world with another bratva organization. Your men and their’s might be going at each other with kitchen knives in the goddamn streets. But you do not touch those men’s wives, or children, or loved ones. You just don’t.

“Shot and your boat blown to pieces in the middle of the ocean,” Petya wheezes out a laugh. “Yuri, if this were ancient Greece, there would be a story written about you.”

I smile thinly. “The Epic Poem of Yuri Volkov.”

“Swallowed by the sea and spit back out,” Petya chuckles.

“Too ill-tempered.”

I grin. “To pissed-o perhaps.”

for being tossed in to begin with,

“Too lucrative,” Petya grunts.

I sip the co ee, nodding into the fire. “This will e ect business, Petya. I hope you understand that it is unavoidable.”

“Da, da, I know,” he mutters. “Fucking Semyon.”

“It will be war, Petya.”

He sighs slowly. “Let me…” he grunts. “Let me speak to him.”

“Petya—“ “I know, I know! Yuri, I understand what you must do, and that is your business—” “Correct.”

He sighs. “But you are both my business—” “This is not a discussion, Petya,” I growl. “It’s a decision.”

“Da, okay,” he sighs again. “Okay. Let me speak to him first, at least. Yes?” “Yes.” “Good. Good.” He clicks his teeth. “You are okay though?”

“I am,” I grunt. “Thanks.”

“And your Helen of Troy?”

I smile. “Resting, but she’s fine.”

“I am sorry about your boat, by the way. I was very jealous of it.”

I wince. “I did love that boat.”

“Well, there is always more money to be made. More boats to buy, da?”

I smile.

“So you are back in Moscow?”

“Nyet,” I shake my head. “The hunting lodge.”

“Ahhh yes, I remember that place! Your father and I…” he chuckles. “We did some damage to the wine cellar there once.”

I smile. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Anyways, you are safe. Your girl is safe. That is what is important, da? All this talk about money… eh.”

I roll my eyes. He’s the one that keeps dragging this back to business. But it doesn’t matter. He’s right. River is safe and sound. And so am I. That is what matters.

“Listen, why don’t we meet? This business with Semyon…” he clicks his teeth. “It does not sit well with me. Maybe it’s time to… renegotiate my business arrangements.”

I arch a brow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning maybe Semyon has passed his usefulness as a business associate. And maybe it is time to move all of my business to you alone.”

I grin. “I think that would be a meeting I could be interested in having.”

He chuckles. “Good. Good. Just like your father, Yuri. How is tomorrow? I know you are laying low with this Belsky bullshit. But I can come to you, da?”

I nod into the fireplace. “Da, that would be good.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yuri. Be well.”

When I hang up, I drop the phone onto the side table, next to the gun full of blanks that Maksim left. I smile thinly, remembering the shot. Blank or not, watching a gun explode at you from two feet away is… jarring.

I pick up my scotch and drink deeply as I stare into the flames. But suddenly, I’m aware of a presence. I glance to the doorway to the large study, and I grin.

“Good morning,” River murmurs sheepishly. She steps into the dim, fireplace-lit room towards me. I feel a savage growl inside of me. She’s just in a short terrycloth bathrobe; her hair still damp from a shower or bath.

“I was out for a long time.”

I smile. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I know.”

She blushes as she moves towards me. She sits on the arm of the chair, leaning into me with her head on my shoulder. My arm slips around her waist as she turns to kiss me softly. The kiss deepens before we break. River grins, her eyes glinting in the firelight.

“How do you feel?”

“Sleepy,” she giggles. “Which is ridiculous because I just slept for like thirteen hours straight.”

“You need it,” I growl. My mouth thins. “River, what happened…”

“It’s behind us.”

“I knew Semyon would make a move, I just never thought it would involve you—” “Yuri,” she says gently, smiling as she kisses me again. “I’m okay. I’m fine. Really.”

She reaches for my glass and pulls it from my fingers. She drinks, her face brightening at the strong liquor before she sets it on the table beside us. We sit like that, my arm around her, as we both gaze into the flames.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Her voice is small, fragile. I frown, hating that she had that experience.

“Kiska…”

“I thought I’d lost you, and the only thing I could think of was that I never said it back.”

My pulse thuds. She turns to me, her eyes wide as they search mine. “On the boat, right before…” she shudders.

“You mouthed words at me. And… I thought you said—” “I said that I love you,” I murmur gently. Her face glows, her eyes widening as they bore into mine.

“I didn’t get to say it back.”

I smile, taking her hand. “River—” “I love you,” she whispers. My heart thuds heavily, ringing in my ears.

Slowly, she stands from the arm of the chair and steps in front of me. Firelight flickers behind her, making her skin glow. Her hands drop, and suddenly, she’s tugging the tie of her robe. It opens, and the robe falls to the sides before she shrugs it o her shoulders.

It slips to a pool at her feet, and I groan as my eyes drink her in. River trembles as she slips into my lap. She sinks against me and drops her mouth to mine. She kisses me slowly and deeply before she pulls back just an inch.

“I want you,” she whispers heavily.

My cock thickens instantly. My pulse thuds. I can feel my jaw clench as my hands tighten on her.

“River…”

“I want you,” she whispers huskily again. Her mouth slips across my jaw to my ear as she leans close. “I want you to have all of me.”

There’s no second-guessing; no asking if she’s sure.

She’s sure. So am I. My hand cups her face, and I crush my mouth to hers. She moans, gasping at the intensity of my kiss. My fingers slip back, threading into her long hair as I growl into her mouth.

Her thighs clamp around me, and she whimpers as I stand.

My hand cups her ass as I step from the chair and then lower us to the big bearskin rug.

River moans eagerly as I lay her out across it. My body covers hers, pinning her to the floor as I kiss her fiercely. My hands slide up her arms, pushing them up above her head. Her body undulates, arching against me as a leg curls around my hip.

I kiss her mouth until it’s bruised and swollen. Then I lower my lips to her jaw, her neck, and then her collarbone. I kiss gently down one of her full breasts until my lips slip over her pink, rock-hard nipple.

“Yuri,” she whines in pleasure as I suck the little bud. I move to the other nipple, then back. Then I move lower. I shrug my shirt o , tossing it aside as I sink between her pretty thighs.

She whimpers as I kiss up the inside of one of them, nearing her glistening wet pussy. Until finally, I can’t hold back any longer.

“Oh God…” she cries out when my mouth hums over her pussy. My tongue parts her slick lips, dragging up until it bumps over her throbbing clit. She shudders, moaning deeply as I suck the little nub between my lips. My tongue

swirls around it as I add suction. River starts to thrash on the rug, begging for more.

My hand drops to work my belt open. I shove my pants down as I devour her pretty little cunt. When I’m naked along with her, my hand wraps around my throbbing hard cock. I stroke, groaning into her little pussy as she floods my tongue with her arousal.

I groan into her, pushing my tongue deep. Her hips buck against my face, her hands dropping to slip into my hair. I tease her clit again, dancing my tongue over it as she chokes out a cry of ecstasy.

My lips wrap around her clit again. I tease her with my fingers before I sink one deep into her. She moans deeply when I stoke her g-spot and swirl my tongue around her clit.

River starts to shake and thrash, pushing her pussy hard against my mouth.

I groan as I push her harder, demanding the orgasm from her. I ease a second finger deep in her slick, tight pussy, and I feel her start to tremble.

“I—oh fuck, Yuri!”

I groan deeply and suck her clit. My fingers stroke her g-spot as my tongue relentlessly dances on her clit. Until suddenly, with a sharp cry, she’s coming for me. She wails out her climax, her hands gripping my hair tight. But she’s still gasping and trembling when I move up between her legs.

She’s still moaning when I drape my heavy cock over her slick pink pussy. River looks up into my eyes. Her face is

flushed and her eyes are glistening. And slowly, she nods.

“Have me,” she whispers.

With a hiss, I slip my swollen head down over her clit, through her lips, to center at her opening. I push, and she moans deeply as my head pushes into her.

My eyes roll back as I sink into her. She’s so fucking tight— so perfect, so slick and wet. I groan as I push deeper, giving her another few inches as she gasps in delight.

“Oh shit, that’s so good…” she coos softly.

I push deeper. For a second, she winces and sucks in a breath of air. But when I stop, she shakes her head.

“No,” River moans. “Keep going. Please, keep fucking me.”

I crush my mouth to hers, clench my muscles, and drive into her. She cries out into my mouth. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me close. Her legs do the same to my muscled hips. Between her clenching tight and me losing control, I quickly plunge the rest of the way into her.

“Yessss….” she whimpers.

I choke at the pleasure. I lose my goddamn mind at how fucking perfectly tight and slick she is, clenching around me.

I grind into her, kissing her deeply, before I slowly withdraw.

Then, I push right back in.

Right back to where I belong.

We rock together, my hips rolling as I pound into her. Her thighs clench my hips, her ankles locking behind my back as

I rut into her sweet little cunt. My balls slap her ass, and her moans of pleasure are like heaven in my ears.

Her nails drag over my back. Her mouth crushes to mine. I can feel her walls rippling and clenching around me, and I know neither of us can hang on. She moans into my mouth, never pulling away to tell me she’s about to come. But I know she is. I can feel it, and it pushes me to the edge.

With a scream of pleasure into my lips, she starts to explode.

Her pussy clenches me like a velvet vice. My big, thick cock swells as my balls draw up. And suddenly, I roar into her lips as I follow her into orgasm.

I push deep, groaning into her mouth as I spill my cum deep in her hot little pussy. I choke, kissing her fiercely as I empty every sticky drop deep where it belongs.

She’s shuddering as she clings to me, holding me tightly.

She kisses me slowly and deeply as I cradle her in my arms.

Until slowly, I slide out of her. I roll onto my back, pulling her against me. I kiss her slowly as she whimpers into my mouth.

We collapse onto the rug, panting for air. I groan, grinning as I glance over to see her sprawled on her front. Her long blonde-red hair is tousled around her face. Her skin glistens with the sweat of our lovemaking. But then my eyes drop to the tight, gorgeous curve of her ass in the firelight.

I’m still hard. And I still want her.

River whimpers happily as I suddenly roll over to move on top of her. My knees go to either side of her hips, and my

hand guides them to raise for me. I crouch over her and push my swollen, glistening cock into her sweet pussy.

“Oh fuck yes,” River groans.

I hiss as I push deep. I move over her, pinning her to the ground with my cock sliding deep in her. I grab a handful of her hair, twisting her head as I crush my lips to hers. And then, I start to fuck her.

I snarl as I plunge my cock into her sweetness, sawing in and out of her tight little pussy. River moans wildly, kissing me with a ferocity that ignites a fire in me.

I fuck her deeply, thrusting my fat cock deep in her over and over. My hand keeps a hold of her hair, the other one gripping her ass possessively as I spread her open.

She shudders and clenches around me. And then as she starts to cry out into my lips, I feel her start to come again.

With a groan, I push my dick as deep as I can get. And then I’m coming with her, pumping my cum deep in her gorgeous, perfect little pussy.

I stay inside of her, even though we’re both trembling and gasping for air. I roll us onto our sides, looking at the fire with my cock still deep within her. My arms circle her possessively. My lips kiss down her neck before she turns her head, cups my cheek, and kisses me with a tenderness that rocks me to my core.

“I love you,” I groan softly, kissing her deeply.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back.

We lay like that until the fire starts to dim. And then we do it all over again.

21

RIVER

H IS CHEST IS warm against my cheek. I turn, grinning in the morning light as I kiss his skin. He grins as he looks down into my eyes. Slowly, I slide up his body until my lips can taste his. And once they’re there, I never want them to not be there.

Maybe it’s cliched, but I do feel di erent. I feel… a little older. A little more sensual and sexy. I feel a throb of desire in my core that I’ve never felt before. I also feel sore from the half dozen times we’ve made love since last night. But it’s a wonderful kind of sore.

It’s the sort of sore that reminds me of everything. It reminds me of the ways this man made me ache and moan for more. The way he’s touched me and tasted me. The way he fucked me, like he was claiming me.

And he was. Just as much as I was giving myself to him.

I murmur softly as I kiss him. His muscled arms circle me, protecting me; pulling me close. I can feel his cock throb against me, and I pull back with a giggle.

“You can’t seriously want to go again.”

He grins and shrugs casually. “You can’t seriously be this arousing.”

I blush and bring my lips to his again. I might be sore all over. But I’m not tired of having him. I will never be tired of having this man, that much I know for certain.

But his phone dings. Yuri’s face instantly sti ens. He hisses as he rolls away from me and springs from the bed. He yanks on a pair of underwear and grabs a gun o the side table, and my heart thuds.

“What!?”

“That’s the front door motion alarm,” he snarls as he bolts from the room. I’m right behind him as I yank a robe on, chasing him down the sweeping staircase and into the huge foyer. Yuri growls as he yanks the door open… just in time to see a dirt bike roaring back down the driveway through the woods. He bares his teeth and raises the gun. But the rider is way too far away by now.

“Yuri…”

He glances back at me with concern. But then his eyes drop to where mine are looking. At his feet in the doorway, is a small black box. He frowns as he bends to pick it up. He glances back down the driveway with a grim look.

“No one is supposed to know we’re even here,” he growls.

He turns to lower his gaze to the box. He starts to open it as I step close to him.

“Stay back, kiska.”

My heart seizes. “Why?” His grim looks says it all.

“If it’s a bomb, don’t freaking open it!”

His jaw grits as he drops his eyes to the box. He brings it to his ear, frowning. Then slowly, he rips the tape o the top.

There’s no explosion. But I frown when he pulls out a… something.

“What is that?”

“It’s a voice memo recorder,” he says cautiously. He turns to me. “I don’t know what’s on this, kiska.”

I smile thinly. “Only one way to find out, right?”

He nods. He twists the little USB stick in his hand before he steps inside and shuts the door. He turn back to me and pushes the play button on the side.

“No! No, please! Please! I’ll do what you ask!”

Horror explodes inside of me. And when my eyes slide up to Yuri’s, I see the same anguished disbelief in his.

“No…” he chokes.

“Don’t! Don’t hurt me! Whatever you want, I know he can get it for you!”

The terrified, sobbing voice on the recording is Belle. Belle as in my best friend and Yuri’s daughter.

“Please! I’ll do whatever you ask!”

Yuri’s face turns to ash. And yet, I frown. I stare at the voice recorder in his hand, trying to actualize the thought that’s twisting at the very edges of my head.

“Hang on, that’s—” “I’ll kill him,” Yuri snarls as he whirls and bolts outside, dropping the recorder. He yanks his gun out as he storms towards the Range Rover out in the driveway. But I pause to pick up the recorder and play it again as I frown.

“No! No, please! Please! I’ll do what you ask! Don’t! Don’t hurt me! Whatever you want, I know he can get it for you!”

Yuri jumps into the SUV. But suddenly, it clicks for me.

“Wait!”

I rush out the door and fling myself in front of the SUV as he guns it to life.

“Wait! Hang on!”

“River! Please!” He roars, waving his hand. “Move.”

“It’s fake!”

He revs the engine, even with my hands on the hood.

“Yuri, listen to—” “I lost her for eighteen years, kiska,” he hisses. “I’m sorry, but I won’t lose her—”

“It is fake!” I scream. My fist pounds down on the hood with a bang. And suddenly, he’s focused. His mouth thins.

“What do you mean fake? That is clearly her—” “It’s from a movie!”

He freezes, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“It’s from a movie,” I gasp, relief washing over me.

Yuri stares at me.

“It’s a movie, her new one that hasn’t been released yet. The one where she’s a photo-journalist that gets captured after a Taliban ambush.”

The car turns o , and the door swings open as Yuri steps out, looking grim.

“You’re sure.”

“I’m one-hundred-percent sure. I’ve watched it with her like ten times. Here…”

I push the play button again.

“No! No, please! Please! I’ll do what you ask! Don’t! Don’t hurt me!”

I pause it.

“They’ve spliced the audio tracks together. But right here, there’s another whole spot of dialogue with one of the wounded Marines. And then a whole flashback scene to her grandfather teaching her how to use a camera for the first

time.” I look up at Yuri with a grim face. “They cut that part out and went right to this for the e ect.”

I push the play button again.

“Whatever you want, I know he can get it for you!”

The recording turns o . Yuri and I stare at the little device, then up at each other.

“Semyon,” he growls thickly. He shakes his head as his blue eyes narrow dangerously. “This is crossing a fucking line.”

I shiver. He’s not wrong. A mafia war is one thing. Sending your rival a fake recording that sounds like their own child is being tortured is fucking appalling. But then I frown.

“That’s weird.”

“What?”

I shrug. “The movie hasn’t been released yet is all.”

Yuri scowls. “Meaning?”

“I just mean, there’s a copy in the production studio, probably under lock and key to avoid leaks. And then one at Belle’s house. That’s it.” My brows knit as I look up at him.

“How the hell did Semyon get his hands on it?”

Yuri’s mouth thins as he steps towards me and pulls me into his embrace. “I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.

Straight from the horse’s mouth.”

We walk inside with his arm around me. In the kitchen, I start the espresso machine as he puts his phone on the

counter and dials on speaker.

“Da, boss,” Maksim’s gru

voice rumbles from the phone.

“Can you talk?”

“Yes,” Maksim says, switching to English at Yuri’s lead.

“I’m out. They…” he grunts. “They found the body last night. Semyon’s having a fucking meltdown.”

Yuri’s line thins. “The fallout has already hit me.”

“Shit.”

“A line has been crossed,” Yuri growls. “The plan we once talked about?” He glances up at me, his jaw tight before his gaze drops back to the phone. “Pull the trigger.”

Maksim growls. “Full green light? It’ll mean me outing myself pretty clearly with the Belskys.”

“I know, but that time is over. Shut him down, Maksim. All of it. All of our forces. I want the hammer to smash through his fucking skull.”

“Consider it done,” Maksim hisses. “Let me get the other avtoritet on the phone. We’ll be ready to start hitting Semyon’s interests within the next two hours.”

“Good,” Yuri grunts. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

When he hangs up, he looks up at me with a haggard, hard look. I slip close to him, and I tremble when I feel his hands slide over my hips to pull me close. He lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me.

“So, war?”

He nods.

“It was always going to happen sooner or later. But Semyon’s pushed my patience too far. That recording might be fake, but the implication is over the line. And then…” he frowns, reaching up to cup my face. “Then there’s you. He crossed me too far with taking you. So yes, kiska,” he says gently. “This is war.”

I tremble as I pull close to him. “Now what?”

“Now, we wait.”

22

RIVER

B EING a fly on the wall of a literal war room is… intense. And more than a little exciting, too. For the entirety of the rest of the day, Yuri is in full General-mode.

He sits at his desk in the study barking orders into a phone.

He’s on his laptop on video conferences with his captains, or other Bratva family bosses. Then he’s up, striding back and forth in the study roaring and strategizing with his people.

The more I listen, the more I realize that this is no simple mafia war. This isn’t SUVs pulling drive-by shootings. This is war. The Volkov and Belsky Bratva families are huge organizations with thousands of people. This is like the US and the USSR from the real Cold War actually going into battle with each other.

And I’m right here with a front row seat to the whole thing.

I keep out of the way as best as I can. I bring Yuri co ee and food, I keep the fire in the huge fireplace roaring. At one point, with reaching out to some of his people in the States, I’m at the laptop as he dictates emails to me.

It’s thrilling, exciting, like nothing else I’ve ever been a part of. And watching Yuri command like this is… hot. It’s a turn on, watching him basically marshal an army into war. More than once, he smirks when he catches me staring at him with a glint in my eye.

“Enough!” He roars, startling me all the way across the lavish house, in the kitchen. I gingerly make my way to the study just in time for him to yell one last time into the phone.

“Un-fucking-acceptable!! Get it done, Boris!”

He slams the phone down onto his desk. His eyes squeeze shut, and his hands grip the edge of the desk so tight I think he might snap a piece of it o . I slip into the room and pad quietly around behind him.

My hands land on his shoulders, rubbing with my thumbs.

He groans, drooping his head. But he’s so tense. He’s still bristling from an entire day of battle with Semyon.

“What do you need?” I whisper quietly.

Yuri shakes his head. “Nothing, kiska,” he growls. He half turns to smile tensely at me. “Nothing.”

“How long until your next meeting?”

He groans and shakes his head. “No more fucking meetings.”

I bite my lip. My hands rub his shoulders, and then slip down to his chest. I rake my nails over his dress shirt, feeling the muscles clench beneath my touch.

“River…”

“Maybe I could…” I blush as I lean down to kiss his ear seductively. “Maybe I could help get rid of some of this tension…”

My pulse thuds with desire. Heat pools between my thighs as he growls thickly. His hands tense on the desk again, muscles flexing. But then he shakes his head.

“I cannot, kiska,” he hisses thickly.

I frown, thrown. “Oh... I… yeah.” My brow wrinkles as I move to pull away, feeling a little rejected. “If you’re busy —” His hand suddenly shoots up, grabbing my wrist tightly.

“I am not too busy, River,” he growls. “It is that…” he groans, turning to look at me. I tremble at the fierceness in his gaze; the heat in his eyes.

“When I am like this… when a fight must be fought…” he grinds his jaw, slowly shaky his head. His gaze bores into me.

“You’re busy,” I smile weakly. “It’s fine—” “There is a darkness in me, kiska,” he hisses quietly, but with a fierceness.

I swallow, feeling my skin prickle under his gaze. “I know,” I whisper.

“No, you—”

“Yes, I do,” I say again, my voice steady. “And I’m not afraid of it.”

His eyes harden. His grip tightens on my wrist in a way that sends a thrill of excitement and danger through me.

“Maybe you should be,” he growls, his voice edged like a knife; his eyes piercing into my very soul.

My wrist twists in his grip, turning so that my fingers entwine with his.

“What do you want?” I purr quietly.

Yuri groans, swiveling his chair to look at me fully.

“You know what I want, kiska,” he grunts. His eyes sweep over me, undressing me and making me tremble with need.

“I want you.”

I pull my hand from his grip gently. I keep my eyes on his as I reach down and slip my fingers into the hem of my t-shirt.

I peel it up over my head and toss it away, and his eyes dip to my bra-less tits before they drag back to my face, full of desire.

I tremble under his gaze, raking my teeth over my bottom lip. I’m playing with fire. But I can’t wait to get burned.

“Then what do you need, Yuri,” I whisper thickly.

“Careful,” he snarls darkly.

“Why?”

He groans, his jaw clenched. His eyes burning hotly into me.

“You know why, River.”

Without another beat, I lean down, cup his face, and kiss him deeply. I moan softly, submissively. I open my mouth for his tongue, whimpering as he groans deeply. I suck at his lower lip as I pull away, my eyes leveling on his.

“What do you need, Yuri?” I whisper.

And suddenly, he snaps. With a growl, he’s up so fast that his chair falls backwards to the floor. He grabs me, whipping me around as my breath catches. I moan as he shoves me against the desk and bends me over it. His hands shove my skirt up, and my mouth falls open when he yanks my panties down to my knees.

And then without warning his palm slaps against my ass, hard. I yelp, but the heat and the sizzle of it makes my pussy melt. He groans and does it again to the other cheek. The smack is hard and sharp. But the lingering feeling it leaves has me aching for him.

Yuri groans again, wordless as he spanks my ass over and over. I moan for more, bent over his big desk with my nipples dragging across the smooth wood. I hear his belt buckle hit the floor, and the sound of his zipper.

His big hands grab my sore, tender ass. I gasp when I feel the hot, throbbing heat of thick cock press between my thighs.

I’m so fucking wet, and he can tell. He chuckles darkly.

“So wet for me, little girl,” he groans. He pushes the fat head of his cock between my lips. I whimper as he grabs my hips,

eases in, and then drives deep. My breath catches in my throat, and my body ripples with desire.

Yuri growls, hissing in pleasure as my walls grip and clench around his huge dick. He pulls back and then fucks right back in, deep and hard. His palm smacks my ass again as he withdraws again before pounding right back in.

Then, he starts to fuck me—not making love. Not sex. No other word can describe it aside from fucking. And I’m loving every single second of it. I moan into the desk, writhing against it as he pounds into me. My nails dig into the wood at the far side. My hips bruise against the edge.

His abs smack loudly against the softness of my ass with every rough thrust. His palm comes down across my ass until it’s throbbing with heat. His other hand slips up to grab a handful of my hair, pulling just enough for me to moan for more.

His hand slides over my ass, teasing as his thumb centers down between my cheeks. I cry out, moaning for it when he starts to rub my tight little hole. His big cock thrusts into me as he adds pressure. His thumb slips into my ass, and my eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Yuri…” I whimper his name, my mouth falling open, my cheek on the desk. All I can see is light. All I can feel is the pure pleasure of his muscled body utterly dominating me, and his thick cock making me squeal.

He ruts into me hard and deep, thrusting against me until it all comes crashing down. I scream in pleasure as the orgasm

explodes in my core. It wrenches me, taking my breath away as I cry out.

I can feel my walls gripping his thickness as my body shudders in pleasure. Yuri groans and pushes as deep as he can. His cock throbs and pulses. I moan when his hot cum spills deep into me. He leans over me, his hands gripping me tightly as his balls twitch against my clit.

I can feel his breath panting against my sweat-slicked back.

I’m trembling all over. I can barely stand. And everything is sore, but in this way that makes me want it all over again.

Slowly, gently, he pulls out of me. Instantly, he’s scooping me into his arms and holding me against his chest.

“Kiska,” he groans softly against my mouth as he kisses me.

I moan back into his lips as he carries me from the room. We go upstairs and into the master bathroom. Yuri doesn’t let me out of his arms as he kicks on the water in the huge marble tub. When it’s full of steaming hot water and bubbles, he gently steps in, lowering me with him into the suds.

The heat stings in places. But then it’s nothing but soothing.

I slip between his legs, grinning happily as I sink back against his chest. His big arms circle me, holding me tight and safe.

“I love you,” he groans into my ear.

I turn, overflowing with emotion as I crush my mouth to his.

“I love you too.”

23

YURI

“T ALK

TO ME ,

but it’ll need to be quick.”

Maksim groans wearily on the other end of the line. I don’t blame him. I might have been back here acting as commander-in-chief during the opening volleys of this war.

But Maksim has been down in the trenches. He led four raids on Belsky assets in St. Petersburg yesterday and last night.

But just as he’s called, I’m watching Petya’s armored black Escalade pull up my driveway.

“Boss… you’ll want to hear this.”

“I do, Maksim, I just have a necessary meeting in about one min—” “Semyon is dead.”

I blink. My heart jumps into my throat. A grin starts to creep over my face.

“Christ, really?”

“Yeah, but Yuri,” Maksim sounds concerned. “It wasn’t us.”

I frown. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It wasn’t us, Yuri. Some of our guys got a tip-o from one of his maids who just showed up to work and almost had a heart attack. We just rolled up right into his mansion compound totally unopposed. The whole fucking place is shot up, boss. And every single one of them is dead. Guards, house sta , all of them.”

“And Semyon.”

“What’s left of him,” Maksim grunts. “Looks like someone emptied an anti-tank gun into him.”

My brow furrows. “You’re sure it wasn’t any of our—” “I’m sure,” he mutters warily. “And as far as I know, no one’s jumping in to help us this much.”

“They’re not,” I grunt. I glance out the window of my study.

The two huge guards that Petya always travels with are helping him out of the back of the SUV. “Maksim, I have to go. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” I stop and smile. “Shit, that was a short war.”

He chuckles. “It might be best to not question how this happened. But yeah, this is over. I had another team about to hit one of his shipping warehouses. They just called to let me know the place was empty—not a single soldier around guarding Semyon’s cargo.”

I whistle quietly. “I’m meeting with Petya Gagarina right now. He might have some ideas.”

When I hang up, I look up to see River looking at me curiously from the doorway.

“Everything okay?”

I grin. “Yes, actually.”

She smiles that smile that makes my heart soar. “Well?”

“Semyon is dead.”

Her mouth falls open. “Wait, really?”

I nod as she blinks in surprise.

“Wow, well… wow.”

“Yeah. Except it wasn’t us,” I grunt. I glance out the window again. “Petya is here. He might have some ideas. Or he might know who to start asking questions to.”

She nods, and I grin again as I move close to her. I slip my arm around her and pull her close. I lower my mouth to kiss her softly.

“Ready?”

She arches a brow. “For?” “Would you like to sit in on the meeting with Petya?”

She grins. “Oh?” I shrug. “You were in the trenches with me all day yesterday and last night.”

She blushes. “Yuri, I was just bringing you co ee and—”

“And other things,” I growl deeply. She blushes. “I’d very much love if you were with me, kiska.”

She bites her lips and nods. “Okay.”

My arm still around her waist, we walk to the door, and I swing it wide for the older oligarch standing outside. Petya looks up and smiles broadly.

“Yuri! Good to see you.” His eyes slip over to River, and he grins. “And the famous Helen.”

She rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m from Long Island, not Troy.”

He chuckles. “Beautiful and well-read.” He turns to wink at me. “Very well done, Yuri.”

I smile and step back to usher him inside. “Let’s sit and talk, shall we?”

He nods. He turns to grunt something at his two guards, who stay outside as we all step in and close the door. Petya follows us into the study and sits in one of the chairs by the fireplace that Yuri gestures to. I sit in the other, with River on the arm next to me.

“You don’t mind English, do you?”

Petya frowns and shakes his head. “Of course not.” He turns to grin at River. “Though if you plan on spending time with this old man, you should learn some Russian, nyet?”

“Da,” she smiles with a blush.

Petya chuckles and sits back in the chair.

“Anything to drink?”

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. Let’s get down to it, shall we?”

I nod. “Before we start, I’ve just heard some news that might…” I shrug. “Expedite our conversation.”

“Oh?” “Semyon Belsky is dead.”

Petya’s brows shoot up. “By your hand?”

“No, but I don’t know by whose.”

He nods slowly, frowning as he sits back in the chair. “I see…”

“You know Semyon and I were at war since yesterday, da?”

He nods.

“But I would have discussed it with you before I actually took Semyon himself out.”

Petya sighs. “Yes, I know you would have.” He frowns. “Can I ask… this escalation to this war between your two organizations…” he glances at River. “Was it over her?”

“Yes,” I growl. “But also no. Semyon set things in motion when he took her from me.” My hand slides over to take River’s. “But yesterday, he left a recorder on my front steps —a recording meant to make me think he had my daughter in captivity.”

Petya scowls. “He what!?”

“It was fake,” River says quietly. “Well, not fake, but not real. He’d spliced together lines of dialogue from one of Belle’s upcoming movies.”

Petya shakes his head slowly. “Incredible. Yes, I can see he crossed a line with that, Yuri.”

I NOD . But then River sits up a little straighter with a wrinkle to her brow. I turn to smile at her. “What is it?”

“It’s just… this recording he sent us…” she shakes her head.

“I’m still trying to figure out how he got it.”

I frown. I vaguely remember her bringing this up yesterday.

But I was also still in so much shock after hearing what sounded like Belle as a prisoner.

Petya cocks one brow. “What do you mean?”

“I knew it was faked because I’ve seen that movie. But it’s not out yet. I’ve just seen it because Belle is my best friend.

But that film only exists in two places—on the secured, firewall-protected servers in a guarded o ce at her production company. And one physical copy in her own home. But that’s it.” She frowns. “So, I guess the only explanation is that Semyon must have had access to the production studio somehow.”

The second she says it, I freeze. Because suddenly, the last piece of this puzzle clicks into place. The recording isn’t something that’s just out there. It’s under lock and key.

Slowly, something Petya mentioned the other day seeps into

my consciousness. Something about Belle’s company sourcing outside investment, and him wanting to go in heavy. My heart thuds.

Semyon didn’t have access to the production studio.

Petya did.

The same way Semyon had no knowledge of my being here at the lodge. But Petya did. Slowly, still clenching my jaw, I turn to him. But the second my eyes lock with his, it’s clear we’re both on the same page.

He knows that I know.

Faster than I would have ever bet for a man his age, Petya’s hand darts out. He snatches the gun up from the small table next to his chair. River screams and jumps from the chair as he yanks it up. And suddenly, he’s aiming it right at my chest, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Petya—!”

“I have enjoyed our business, Yuri,” he grunts thickly. “As I enjoyed business with your father before you. But,” he shrugs. “Business must come first, da? And this Brava bullshit? This constant threat of war or violence? It is intolerable, and it is not good for business. So, I start to think. As it is, you and Semyon, you were like managers for me—both managing di erent sectors of my business. But perhaps it is I who should be overseeing all of it.”

My eyes narrow on him. “You killed Semyon.”

He smiles. “Think of it as ending a bad business deal.”

“And me?” I snap.

He shrugs. “It is nothing personal, Yuri. But business cannot go on as it has. I’m ending all of my business deals, I’m afraid.”

I glare at him, seething. He smiles right back, his hand tight around the gun.

“Who first?”

My heart lurches. “What?” I snap.

“I asked you who first.” He sighs. “I don’t wish to harm a girl so beautiful, but…” he shrugs. “Witnesses are also no good for business, I am afraid. So…” he smiles. “Her?” I snarl as he pulls the gun from me to aim at River. I grit my teeth, eyes narrowing to slits on him. I can feel the weight of my other gun tucked into the holster under my jacket, at my back. My eyes slide from Petya to River, and then back.

I won’t get it out in time. I’m fast, but he’s got it aimed right at her. All it would take is one pull of one finger, and he’d take her from me forever. Even if I kill him right after… I would have lost everything.

My pulse roars as my chest rises and falls. I turn to look at her, holding her terrified eyes with mine.

“Or maybe you, Yuri?” Mercifully, he pulls the gun away from River and points it back at me.

“She is not in this business, Petya,” I snarl. “She goes, and you can have it. You can have all of it.”

He frowns. “I am sorry Yuri. But that is not an option. So, please, decide. Who first?”

My pulse is thudding in my ears. The gears in my head are whirling to the brink of explosion. But I can’t see a way out of this. I can’t find the answer.

“Not her,” I hiss.

He looks at me curiously. “So, you?”

“Petya…”

“You first?”

“Yes,” I hiss quietly.

My eyes slide to River. She’s white as a sheet, opening her mouth to speak, but without any words coming out. She stares at me in horror and anguish, shaking her head. I want to scream at her to run. I want to tell her to turn and bolt for the door in a zig-zag. Petya is old, and there’s a good chance she’d make it if she ran fast when he pulls the trigger on me.

I’d be dead. But for her? I grit my jaw. That is a trade I would take. For her.

I try and use my eyes to scream my thoughts to her. I can’t tell if she can hear them, but we’re out of time.

All things must end, da?

“I love you,” I whisper quietly, staring into her eyes. She starts to cry, shaking her head.

“Please…”

Petya sighs. “I have changed my mind.” But the momentary feeling of my heart swelling falls away as he suddenly points the gun at River.

“I won’t make her watch, Yuri.”

My eyes widen. “No—!!”

My heart rips in two as the gun suddenly explodes in his hand. The muzzle roars. My entire world focuses to a pinpoint of light.

And then… there’s nothing.

The white smoke floats into the air. River chokes, gasping and staggering backwards clutching her stomach. But she’s unhurt. There’s no blood, no wound. There’s no bullet.

Petya chokes, staring in horror at the gun. He snarls and raises it again at her. He pulls the trigger again, and again, and then again. River screams each time, but there’s nothing, just like the first. No blood. No wound. No bullet.

My eyes focus on the gun through the dull roar in my ears.

And suddenly, it clicks. I know that gun. I know it because it’s shot at me before.

My lips curl. It’s the gun full of blanks that Maksim used on the boat.

“It’s fake?!” Petya roars, looking pale. He lunges to his feet, shaking. “Why—why would you have a fake gun, Yuri?!”

I stand with a grim look on my face. “I don’t know, Petya.

But I promise you…” I yank the gun out of the holster at my

back and level it right at his face. “This one is quite real.”

His eyes bulge out of his face. “Yuri! You… your father and I —” “Look away,” I whisper at River. She whirls, covering her ears as I smile right at Petya, and pull the trigger.

The very real gun bangs in my hand. Petya’ head snaps back as the very real bullet passes through his forehead. With a heavy thud, his body hits the ground.

I whirl, stomping to the front door with vengeance coursing through my veins. I kick it open. The two big guards outside whirl in surprise, but I open up, dropping them in seconds.

And then, it’s quiet. And it’s over.

I turn just as River comes barreling into me, sobbing. I throw the gun away, wrap my arms round her, and I hold her tight against my chest.

“It’s over,” I whisper softly into her ear. “It’s all over, kiska.”

24

RIVER

T HE TOWN CAR pulls through the big, wrought-iron gates. It slows to a stop outside the gorgeous, mid-century style Laurel Canyon mansion surround by towering palm trees. Of course, Belle being Belle, she couldn’t live in a big modern place in the Hills like every other movie star. Ms. Free Spirit had to buy a place made famous by the folk musicians and rockstars of the 60s and 70s.

I turn to Yuri, and I squeeze his hand. “Ready?”

He grins. “Ready.”

Outside the car, the door to the big mansion opens. Belle skips out, beaming at the tinted windows. She knows I’m here in the car. She doesn’t know about Yuri. All she knows is, I’ve just landed back in the US from my adventures abroad, and that I “want to tell her everything.”

I’ve warned her it might be strange for her. I’ve told her it’s not what she thinks. But I wasn’t exactly going to say “and by the way I’m in love with your dad” over the phone.

So, here we are. This might backfire or blow up in our faces.

Yuri and I talked about hiding it; keeping it a secret so Belle wouldn’t be hurt. But neither of us wanted that. And so, after being kidnapped by two di erent Bratva kingpins, after being shot at, and tied up, and scared to death a hundred di erent times… this is about to be the scariest thing I’ve ever done.

But with Yuri next to me, I know I can do it. I have to.

I turn and kiss him slowly. Then I pull away, open the door, and step out into the California sunshine.

“You’re here!”

Belle screams as she rushes over to hug me. I quietly close the door to the town car behind me before hugging her tightly back.

“Okay! The suspense is fucking killing me! Tell me!” She laughs. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

I bite my lip. “I want you to know that I love you.”

She frowns curiously. “I love you too, weirdo.”

“And you’re my best friend in the world, Belle.” Tears bead at my eyes. “You’re like a sister to me.”

She frowns. “River, are you okay?”

“I can’t tell you,” I whisper. “I have to show you.”

I reach back and open the car door. And Yuri steps out. Belle stares in confusion.

“Dad,” she frowns. “I didn’t know you were…” she shakes her head. “What are you do—” She freezes. Her mouth suddenly drops open.

“Oh holy shit…”

“Belle…”

“Holy shit!” she chokes. She backs away, and then whirls, her fingers shoving through her hair as it really hits her.

“Holy shit!” she screams up at the palm trees.

Yuri takes my hand. I squeeze it tightly as I desperately try and stave o the tears.

“Belle, I-I wasn’t looking for it, and it’s nothing we planned —” “I fucking knew it!” she crows. She whirls, and I stutter.

She’s not furious looking. She’s smiling.

“You… what?” I choke.

“I fucking knew it! That bullshit about the oil tycoon heir or whatever?!” She laughs. “I knew my dad was on his boat in the Black Sea. I mean I didn’t know, but… I wondered. I even bet Niko on it.” She grins. “He o cially owes me fifty bucks.”

I stare at her. “Belle…”

“I’m not mad,” she says quietly. Her eyes dart from me, to her dad, to our hands locked together. “And if I was, fuck me, right? I mean, you’re my best friend. You’re my dad. I

don’t own you two. I can’t veto how you both feel. But…” she smiles quietly. “I’m not mad.”

I let go of Yuri’s hand and step towards her. Her arms go around me as I hug her so tight she might snap.

“River,” she pulls back and takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t really know my mom, and I certainly didn’t know her with my dad.” She looks past me to her father.

“You’re someone I’m getting to know, as my family. And you?” She turns back to me and smiles. “You’re my family.

So this? This thing between you two?” She shrugs with a smile. “I like it.”

Yuri clears his throat. “If you don’t…” he turns to look at me.

He smiles as I slip my hands from Belle’s and entwine my fingers with his.

“Then I hope to change your mind,” he smiles at his daughter. “Because I love her, Belle. I love her with all the parts of my heart that aren’t already yours.”

Belle smiles, bringing a hand up to wipe at her eyes.

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” she chokes with a laugh as I start to cry too. She turns to shake her head at me, grinning.

“I’m really never going to call you fucking stepmom though, just so we’re clear.”

I giggle. “Hey, we’ll talk about that later.”

“No, we just did.”

I laugh as she swoops into my arms again, hugging me tight.

“I love you,” she sighs. She pulls back and sinks into Yuri’s arms. “And I love you.”

I sob a cry of happiness as I throw my arms around them both.

“Shall we head inside? I was going to order tacos and margaritas.”

“Sounds perfect,” Yuri chuckles.

“Works for me, just as long as you’re brushing your teeth in time for bedtime.”

Belle turns to arch a brow at me as I grin impishly.

“Yeah, you better cut that shit out right now.”

The three of us erupt into laughter.

EPILOGUE

One Year Later: Y URI HOLDS the bottle up high, the sunlight glistens o the drops of water. And then, with a grin, he swings it down against the hull. I shriek, laughing and turning away as champagne splashes everywhere. But then, everyone present cheers.

I look up, holding Yuri’s hand and beaming at the brand new yacht—the newly christened Kiska. It’s bigger, better, and even more beautiful than the one before, and ready to make her maiden voyage out onto the Black Sea. We’re right back where we started. Only better. Only surrounded by friends and family. And this time, utterly in love.

Yuri turn to smile at me as he pulls me close. His fingers splay across the white lace gown I’m decked in. My eyes drop to his handsome as fuck suit.

“I love you,” he grins.

“I love you so fucking much,” I murmur back, looking into his eyes.

“Ready?”

“Very, very ready,” I whisper back. Hand in hand, we turn to face the crowd of our friends and family. The priest steps up between us as we turn to gaze into each other’s eyes.

Belle is crying tears of happiness as she brings us the rings.

We say the vows we’ve written for each other—in English, and in Russian, which I’ve been steadily learning. The priest finishes the blessing, and Yuri takes my hands tightly in his, looking happier and more at ease than I’ve ever seen him before.

“I do,” he whispers.

“I do,” I answer back.

We crash into each other, crushing our lips together as he takes me in his arms. First, he took me. Then, he stole me back. Now, he’s keeping me forever.

Looking for more from Yuri and River? Sign up for my newsletter and read a steamy extra scene! This isn’t an epilogue or continuation to Owned By The Bratva King. But this extra hot “follow-up” story is guaranteed to fog up your Kindle! You’ll also get a free full-length book when you join!

Get the extra scene!

PAYING THE BRATVA’S DEBT PREVIEW

Thirsty for more Bratva bad boys? Owned By The Bratva King is its own standalone story. But if you’d like to catch up on this series of standalones, you can start with Viktor and Fiona’s story. Paying The Bratva’s Debt, is available exclusively on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, and has been an Amazon top 100 bestseller.

Lev and Zoey’s story, The Bratva’s Stolen Bride, is also available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, and has also been an Amazon top 100 bestseller.

And after that, you can find Kostya and Nina’s story in Hunted By The Bratva Beast, and Nikolai and Belle’s story in His Captive Bratva Princess—both exclusively available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.

Read on for a sneak peek of Paying The Bratva’s Debt.

Chapter 1 Fiona This party sucks.

I fidget to myself, glancing around the crowd. It’s a lot more people than I’m used to seeing, which is having an e ect on my nerves a little. There’s only maybe forty people here, but still. For me, with the walled, ivory tower life I lead?

Well, it’s a lot.

What’s worse is that the party is my party. Or at least, it’s being thrown for me by my father. And when Chicago District Attorney Thomas Murray says jump? Well, you jump.

Or show up to his daughter’s graduation party, as the case may be.

But the premise and the invitations are wrong. This party isn’t really for me. I mean on the surface it is. But just like everything when it comes to my father, this all boils down to his own political agenda. Everything always has. Where I attended school. The friends I had. The boyfriends I wasn’t allowed to have. Smile for the press, Fiona. Make sure you’re on the debate team at school—the press will eat it up when they see you following in my footsteps.

Part of me wanted to fail, at anything, just to spite him. I dreamed of being the monkey wrench in his scheming and

plotting. But I could never bring myself to do it. So instead, I did what he wanted me to do: succeed. And now here I am, twenty-two years old after graduating college now law school early as well. All the right grades. All the right degrees, from all the right schools. All the right friends, no boys.

“Why the fuck are you not drinking?”

I grin and turn. Well, not all the right friends.

Zoey would be the one exception to my dad’s strict rules on who I see or hang out with. I may have been home schooled because my father rarely allows me to even leave our uptown townhouse. He may have pulled serious political strings to get college and law school to let me take classes remotely. I might have had my extracurricular activities and my friends hand-picked to make his political career look the best it could. But somehow, Zoey Stone slipped through the cracks.

It’s not like she’s completely bad news or anything. On the surface, she’s even exactly who my father would want me to hang out with—from the right family, has the money, goes to the right schools, and all of that crap. But she also has the freedom I don’t, complete with the ability to make bad choices, date glamorous older men, and party when she wants to. She’s almost certainly a bad influence. But sometimes, you need a little bad influencing.

It should make zero sense that my father would allow me to even live in the same zip code as her. But Zoey’s mom and mine were best friends. Cancer took them both around the same time, almost ten years ago. I guess even “image is

everything” Thomas Murray wasn’t stone-cold enough to block me from hanging out with Zoey here and there after that.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Zoey grins and hugs me close. “And miss this debacle? Of course I’m here.”

“And of course, to support your dear friend Fiona while she’s made to play a pawn in a game she hates?”

Zoey grins. “That too. So…” she turns to glance over the huge crowd of guests. “How many of these people do you actually know?”

“Like, four of them.”

“Not including me?”

“Three.”

She laughs and turns to snag two Champagne flutes o a passing tray. “Here. Cheers, and congratulations!” She clinks her glass to mine. “And I’m really proud of you, you know.”

I grin, allowing myself to bask in the praise. My dad might have a ton of money and political influence. But I earned the accolades. I worked my ass o to graduate college early, get into law school, and then graduate that early too, with honors.

“Thanks,” I smile.

“And how many of these people you don’t know have come up to gush congratulations?”

“Oh, all of them. So long as my dad was looking.”

Zoey smirks. “So, he’s really doing it, huh?”

“Yep,” I mutter dryly.

Like I said, none of this is really for me. I’m the centerpiece, I guess. I’m the excuse for bringing all of these people here to my father’s townhouse. But the real goal here is money.

Uno cially, this is Thomas Murray’s first fundraising gala for his bid to run for Mayor of Chicago. And having me here plays so well into that it might as well be movie scripted.

There’s not a single thing my father won’t or hasn’t used for his own agenda. After my mom died, Thomas Murray became the poster-boy for the hard-working single father.

He played himself up like this Kennedy figure who was also raising his daughter all by his lonesome, tirelessly.

It was all bullshit, of course. My father didn’t raise me, an army of nannies, private tutors, and “finishing class” instructors to make sure I was ladylike enough for high society did. Not to mention the private chefs, maids, and personal shoppers because God forbid I go out to buy my own clothes.

“Hey, you look fucking hot by the way.”

I grin, blushing. “Thanks.”

“Now finish that,” she nods at my flute.

“I just got it!”

“And I’m going to go get us more, so…” she makes a “speed it up” motion with her hand. I laugh as I knock back the champagne and hand her the glass. I choke slightly, and she grins.

“Just gotta open the throat, Fi.” “Yeah, thanks.”

“Relax the jaw, use lots of tongue. Eye contact is always—” “Oh my God…” She laughs as my face burns hotly. “Fancy law school degree at twenty-two, lots of job prospects, and a dad who’s going to be mayor. The only thing we need to do now is finally get you laid.”

I groan, feeling my face burn. “I’m fine, thanks.”

She giggles. “No, you’re not. Trust me. Okay I’ll be back with more booze.”

I shake my head and watch my friend disappear into the crowd.

“You look thirsty.”

I turn at the man’s voice. He’s handsome, and smug looking, and he reeks of old money. His blond hair is perfectly swept back and to the side, his square chin right o of a reality TV show poster.

“Chet,” he smiles. He passes me a champagne flute.

“Oh, thanks, but my friend—”

He ignores me and presses the glass into my hand. “And congratulations on your graduation.”

I smile. “Um, thank you.”

“So, has anyone scooped you up yet?”

“Hmm?” He grins. “Any firms.”

“Oh, no. Not yet. I haven’t actually taken my bar exam—” “Well, they will.”

I smile back at him. “Well, thank you, I appreciate—” “I mean with your dad being Mayor and all.”

Being cut o we’ll see.”

is such a pet peeve. But I force a smile. “Well,

“It won’t hurt, right?”

“I mean—” “And you’re smart, graduated the right school,” he winks.

“Beautiful…”

I blush, even though I know it’s a lame line.

“Thanks.”

“You know, my firm is actually looking. Cooper and Cooperman? Yeah I’m a senior partner there.”

Of course he is. The man has “smug, rich, privileged douchebag” written all over him.

“Oh, wow, really?” I ask with zero actual interest. This is exactly the kind of man my father ultimately wants me to be with. It wouldn’t even surprise me if he’s the one that sent him over to talk with me.

“Yep,” Chet grins smugly. “I could probably pull some strings. Talk to the partners, get you in there for an interview.”

My jaw drops in shock. “Oh my God, are you serious?!”

He grins. “Of course! What are you doing tomorrow night?”

My heart races. “Oh my God, nothing! Nothing at all! I could definitely come in and talk—” “I was thinking more going out.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah, I could also—” “You know with your dad taking o quite the power couple.”

ce, you and me could be

The record scratches in my head. Yep, there it is. And naïve me walked right into it. There’s no pulling strings with the partners. He just wants to take me out. Even as I’m thinking it, I see Chet glance back around the room. Sure enough, there’s my dad, watching.

“My dad put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Oh, no! No way!” Chet quickly backtracks. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

“Is your firm really hiring?”

“Yes? I mean, for you—” I groan. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, but—” “Don’t you have a sewer to crawl back into, Chet?”

Zoey suddenly shoves her way between us, glaring at him.

“Zoey Stone,” he growls, frowning.

“She’s not interested. Fly away, scumbag.”

“Why don’t you let her speak for—” “Trust me, she’s not interested. You’re not her type, Chet.”

He glares at her, and then turns to me. “Why don’t we let Fiona tell us what her type is?”

“Because I already know it’s not the type who like his girls young, rich, and unconscious, Chet,” she hisses.

He bristles, snarling at her. “Listen to me, you little—” “Fuck o , Chet. Now.” “Cunt,” he mutters. He glares at Zoey before he turns and slinks away.

“Ugh, fuck that guy,” she groans.

“My dad sent him over.”

“Well, your dad has really terrible taste in men for you.”

I sigh. “He checked all the boxes—rich, successful, and apparently a…” I frown into my friend’s face. “Wait, did you and—”

“Oh my God, no. Not me,” she makes a face. “Crystal Shoenburg used to date his brother though. Lots of family donations to sweep his predatory bullshit under the rug.”

I blanche. “Wait, that was Chet Brubaker?”

“Yep.” I groan. “As in…”

“Son of Melvin Brubaker, CEO of Adonis Capital. That’s the one.”

I roll my eyes and turn to glare at my father. He’s not even looking though. “Glad to see we’ve evolved past arranged marriages for political means,” I grumble.

“I mean, does it actually surprise you? How many guys has your dad tried to set you up with because of their family’s money or political connections?”

“More than I want to count.”

She sighs. “So, you’re going to tell him today?”

“That’s the plan.’

“Well, I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Zoey.”

The plan is to finally tell my father I’m leaving my gilded cage. I mean I’m twenty-two, I have a law degree, and it’s ridiculous that I’m still living under his roof as basically a captive doll. So, I’m leaving. Even if it means getting cut o completely, I have to get out.

And today, I’m telling him that. No more suitors pushed on me. No more being a pawn for his political career. I want my life, and I want it now.

I arch as my father shakes some hands. Wilson, his chief of sta , comes up and whispers something in his ear. My father frowns and nods quickly, then he turns and makes a beeline for his o ce down the hall.

“Where’s he o

to?”

“Oh, probably has Satan on the phone, o ering my firstborn child in exchange for a State Senate seat.”

Zoey snickers. “Well, no one’s allowed in his o

ce, right?”

“True.”

“So, wouldn’t now be an opportune time?”

I bite my lip. She’s right. He’ll be alone and cornered. If I’m going to do this, it might as well be now. I turn and pass her my glass.

“I’ll be back.”

“Be brave!”

“Thanks.”

I slink away through the crowd. No one tries to congratulate me or stop me, not without my father watching. And that’s fine with me. I slip down the hall until I’m right outside his o ce door. I go to open it, but suddenly I hear voices arguing inside.

“Look, I already told you,” my father is saying sharply. “I can get you money now, or if you want to wait until after the election, whatever contracts you want are—” “I am not interested in gambling on your political aspirations, Thomas.”

I freeze. The other man’s voice is dark and gritty, with some sort of Russian or other Balkan accent.

My dad laughs nervously. “Gambling? Please. This is a sure thing. And trust me, once I’m in, those contracts are going to be so sweet, you’ll get cavities—” “I already told you, I am not interested,” the man with the smokey, dark, powerful voice sighs heavily. “We had an arrangement, Thomas.”

“I know, I know, and I’m trying—” “I did you a favor.”

“I know that! And I’m so appreciative, I just—” “A debt is owed,” the voice snarls quietly. “And today, I am here to collect.”

“Look, I’m trying, okay?! If you just give me a month, Mr. Komarov.”

I freeze, dread filling me. The behind-door crooked dealings with my father, the Russian accent, and now, a name I’ve seen in newspapers. The man my father is speaking to is the single most dangerous, violent, and notorious man in organized crime in Chicago. Perhaps even the whole country.

He’s talking to Viktor Komarov, the vicious, powerful head of the Kashenko Bratva.

“I’m not interested in giving you a goddamn thing, Thomas,” the Russian mobster hisses. “Except a further three seconds to tell me how I’m going to get my money, today. One.” “Mr. Komarov, please! This is not how things are done—” “Do not lecture me, Thomas. We had an arrangement. That is how things are done. Two.” “Mr. Komarov!”

I hear the sudden metallic click of a gun on the other side of the door. I gasp loudly.

Too loudly.

The barking sound of a snarled command in Russian echoes through the door. Footsteps cross the room, and I gasp as I pull away from the door. But it’s too late. The o ce door yanks open, and two burly, terrifying men suddenly grab me.

I scream, and my father is yelling, but they ignore us both.

They yank me inside and throw me to the ground. The two of them storm over to me, when suddenly, there’s a barked command.

“Ostanovka!”

The deep, gravelly voice booms through the room.

I feel my heart pounding in my throat as I slowly look up.

The two burly men move aside, and suddenly, I’m looking at

a tall, broad-shouldered, completely gorgeous tank of a man.

He’s even taller and bigger than his two bodyguards, and you can almost see the power rippling o of him. His deep blue eyes look right at me, captivating my gaze.

“Who are you?”

“Mr. Komarov,” my father fumbles, almost tripping over himself as he stutters over. “This is Fiona, my daughter.”

The brooding Russian’s eyes glimmer. They narrow at me as a shadow of a smile curls at his lips.

“Thomas,” he growls. “Our debt is settled.”

Keep reading!

Paying The Bratva’s Debt - Exclusively on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited!

The Bratva’s Stolen Bride - Exclusively on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited!

Hunted By The Bratva Beast - Exclusively on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited!

His Captive Bratva Princess - Exclusively on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited!

ALSO BY JAGGER COLE

Bratva’s Claim: Paying The Bratva’s Debt The Bratva’s Stolen Bride Hunted By The Bratva Beast His Captive Bratva Princess Owned By The Bratva King Standalones: Her Rough Mechanic Cherished Captivated Roping His Bride Stalker of Mine Hungry For Her Wrapped Up In Her Bosshole Grumpaholic Be Ours The Scaliami Crime Family: (All standalone books which can be read in any order.)

The Hitman’s Obsession The Boss’s Temptation The Bodyguard’s Weakness

Power Series: (All standalone books which can be read in any order.)

Tyrant Outlaw Warlord Wants & Needs Duet: All He Wants Everything He Needs Forever Always Duet: Forever His Always Hers Tu

Built Series: Big Deck Hard Screw

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A reader first and foremost, Jagger Cole cut his romance writing teeth penning various steamy fan-fiction stories years ago. After deciding to hang up his writing boots, Jagger worked in advertising pretending to be Don Draper. It worked enough to convince a woman way out of his league to marry him, though, which is a total win.

Now, Dad to two little princesses and King to a Queen, Jagger is thrilled to be back at the keyboard.

When not writing or reading romance books, he can be found woodworking, enjoying good whiskey, and grilling outside - rain or shine.

You can find all of his books at www.jaggercolewrites.com