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PAYING THE BRATVA’S DEBT

JAGGER COLE

Paying The Bratva’s Debt Jagger Cole © 2021 All rights reserved. Cover by Plan 9 Book Design | 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.

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CONTENTS

Paying The Bratva’s Debt A Special Present 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 Epilogue Also by Jagger Cole About the Author

PAYING THE BRATVA’S DEBT

A debt is owed. And it will be paid. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been confined in a gilded cage. Beautiful, delicate, untouched. Meant to be seen and not heard. A perfect little prop for my father’s political career. But that all changes when Viktor Komarov, the most powerful, notoriously dangerous criminal in Chicago, explodes into my world. My father hired Victor to do a job: assassinate a political rival. But the brutal, ruthlessly cold Bratva kingpin doesn't work for free. And when my father can't pay him in time, Victor sets his eyes on another prize: me Now I’m his. A captive in his lavish home. A distraction for his fierce gaze. A plaything for his every whim. At first I hate him. But then something changes. I know it’s wrong. The captive isn’t supposed to want the captor. You’re not supposed to crave the man holding the keys to

your imprisonment. You’re not supposed to ache with need when he rattles the cage. Viktor’s the splash of red in my black and white life. And before long, the line between good and bad, love and lust, and captivity and freedom becomes irrevocably blurred. I've been caged again. So why do I feel liberated? A debt is owed. And it will be paid. Again, and again, and again… Hang on tight, because this Bratva captive romance is guaranteed to leave you breathless. Safe, absolutely no cheating, no cli hanger, and a perfect happy ever after.

A SPECIAL PRESENT

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FIONA

T HIS

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.”

VIKTOR

I SMILE THINLY UP at the gilded townhouse. Being the District Attorney for Chicago pays well, though I’m quite sure it does not pay this well. But I know all about the other business of the man who lives here. I know of his backroom handshakes, and sweetheart contracts. I know he fancies himself a Kennedy. My smile fades. If Thomas Murray doesn’t play his cards right in about ﬁve minutes, he’ll have a lot more in common with JFK than he’d like—such as an extra hole in his head he didn’t have this morning. I turn to Lev and scowl. “Give him one last chance.” “Da, Viktor.” Lev pulls a cellphone out of his suit jacket and hits a button. I look back up at the front of the Murray townhouse and smile thinly once again. Years ago, I may have envied this man with his wealth and this opulent home. It may have sparked a hunger in me—a drive to conquer and build my own empire. But I’ve done those things now. I’ve reached the top. Now, when I look at

Thomas Murray’s twelve-million-dollar Chicago townhouse, I just smile. I smile because now, my house is bigger than this. My wealth is vaster than his. And my power is even greater than his wildest aspirations. Thomas Murray can be mayor of Chicago if he wishes. He can think that brings him power if it helps him sleep at night. But the real power will be with the man who owns that mayor. And that man is me. Next to me, Lev grunts and hangs up. He turns to me with a stoic look. “That was his butler. Mr. Murray is ‘indisposed’ with a party.” My mood darkens even more. While I admit that sometimes I miss getting my hands dirty, I don’t relish the idea of dragging a probable mayoral candidate out of his own party to put a bullet in him. But Thomas is out of time, and I’m out of patience. “He had his chance to be a man about it,” I growl. “Let’s go.” Lev and two of my men fall into step behind me as I take the stairs to the townhouse’s front door. A man answers, but his smile quickly fades when he realizes who I am. “Sir, you’re—” “Here to see Mr. Murray. Right now.” The butler pales. “Sir, Mr. Murray is indisposed. It’s his daughter’s graduation pa—”

“I don’t give a shit if his daughter is solving world hunger and ending a war!” I snap. I snarl and loom over the trembling butler, letting him feel my wrath and power. “I am seeing him, right now.” “C—certainly, sir,” the man fumbles. “Of course. Allow me to show you to—” “His o

ce will do,” I snap.

The man swallows. “Sir, Mr. Murray’s o

ce is private—”

“As is our business,” I growl with a warning tone. “So bring me, now.” The man quickly caves. “Of course, Mr. Komarov. This way.” I follow the man, with Lev and the other two following close behind me. Elsewhere in the house, I hear jazz music playing, along with the dull murmur and din of the graduation party. I’m aware that Thomas has a daughter, though I’ve never crossed paths with her. Word is, few have. He’s kept her locked away in this house, even homeschooling her, for most of her life. Given Thomas’s tendencies for backroom deals with men like me, that’s probably the smartest thing he’s ever done. She’s recently graduated from Columbia Law School. But even that was done remotely, with some strings pulled by the aspiring mayor. I roll my eyes as the butler brings us into Thomas’s o ce. Imagine raising a child, giving them every advantage and the best schooling, just so they can be locked in a gilded cage.

I think of my own, radically di erent upbringing, and I grit my teeth. I was a orded nothing. I wasn’t given a single leg up, or golden opportunity. My childhood was a lesson in fighting for a bite of food, or piece of threadbare blanket against the chill of night. My upbringing was learning to fight and draw blood young, so the predators would stay away from me. That was life in the orphanage and foster systems of Russia. Some would call it Hell. They’d be right, but in a way, I’m glad for it. Being raised by devils in Hell forged me into the man I am today. It hardened me and taught me self-reliance and gave me the drive to claw my way to the top. “Mr. Murray will be in as soon as—” “Bring him,” I say flatly, glaring at the man. I ignore the chair he’s obviously gesturing to and walk behind Thomas’s desk. I sit in his chair and put my feet up on his desk. “Bring him now.” The butler pales and nods rapidly. “Of course, Mr. Komarov.” He turns and scurries out of the room, closing the door behind him. I sigh and sit back in his chair. My eyes scan the room and his desk. The walls are filled with pictures of Thomas shaking various important people’s hands—former President’s, important businessmen, a few celebrities. But there’s not a single one of his family. Not one picture of his late wife, or of his daughter.

I begin to think that Thomas locking his daughter away in this tower is less about protecting her, and more about regimenting his life. The door opens, and Thomas walks in with a white face. He glares at my feet on his desk when he sees where I’m sitting, but he quickly hides the look. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made myself comfortable.” He stammers. “N-no. No!” He smiles that bullshit politician smile at me. “No, not at all, Viktor. Can I get you anything?” “How about four million dollars.” Thomas freezes for a moment. But then he laughs, like I’ve just made a joke. My eyes narrow. “I’m not sure what’s so amusing about that, Thomas.” His stupid smile drops quickly. “Ah, well, Viktor, you know I’m a man of my word—” “I don’t know that, actually,” I snap. “Actually, I’ve only found the opposite with our dealings. And you can refer to me as Mr. Komarov,” I growl with a warning tone. Six months ago, it wasn’t Thomas Murray favored to sweep the mayoral elections next month. A man named Lewis Hall, a former State’s Attorney-turned-State Representative was a shoe-in. Alas, the unfortunate Representative Hall hung himself after pictures surfaced of him cavorting around naked and ball-gagged with an eighteen-year-old prostitute in a hotel room full of narcotics.

Bad luck for Lewis, but great luck for Thomas, who became the new favorite to win. Except, luck played no part in this. The girl was provided by me. So was the rope. So were the hands that tied it into a noose, as well as the ones that forced him kicking-and-screaming into it. The deal for getting rid of Mr. Hall was that Thomas would use his heavy inﬂuence with the current mayor to get one of my companies a lucrative shipping contract with the city. Lucrative to the tune of four million over the next two years. Not a bad trade for murdering one stupid politician. Except, the contract never happened. Instead, it went to an existing city contractor. Which means our deal is not complete. I did Thomas a favor—a big one, too. Now, he owes me four million dollars, or else Chicago is going to ﬁnd itself with yet another suicidal mayoral candidate. “Look, I already told you,” Thomas bleats. He’s backpedaling, like the sniveling political hack that he is. “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.” “Gambling?” Thomas laughs. “This is a sure thing. Mayor Pesactore endorsed me last week. It’s in the bag. And trust me, once I’m in, those contracts are going to be so sweet, you’ll get cavities—” “I already told you,” I snarl. I slide my feet o of desk, sitting tall in his chair. “I am not interested.” I glare at him

coolly. “We had an arrangement, Thomas.” “I know, I know,” he says quickly. “And I’m trying—” “I did you a favor.” I stand. Lev stays watching from the side, but the other two I’ve brought instinctually move behind Thomas, in case he tries to run. “I know that! And I’m so appreciative! I just—” “A debt is owed,” I snarl. “And today, I am here to collect on it.” “Look, I’m trying, okay?” Thomas’s voice is getting louder. He glances behind him, seeing my men there, and his cool starts to break. “I-if you just give me a month, Vi—Mr. Komarov.” “I am not interested in giving you a goddamn thing, Thomas,” I hiss. “Except a further three seconds to tell me how I’m going to get my money, today.” I level my eyes at him. Slowly, I reach into my jacket and pull the ninemillimeter out from its shoulder holster. Thomas’s face turns white. “One.” “Mr. Komarov,” he gasps. “Please! This is not how things are done—” “Do not lecture me, Thomas. We had an arrangement. That is how things are done.” I raise the gun at him. “Two.” “Mr. Komarov!”

I cock the gun with a click, more for dramatic e ect than anything. But then suddenly, I hear it—the unmistakable sound of a gasp from the other side of Thomas’s o ce door. This meeting is not so private after all. I nod curtly at the two men behind Thomas. Wordlessly, they turn, scowling as they storm over to the door. One of them throws it open, and suddenly they’re yanking a figure inside and tossing her down across the floor. They slam the door shut and march over to her, when suddenly, my voice booms out. “Ostanovka!” I roar. “Stop!” The room falls silent. And in that silence, the only thing I can see is her. The girl is stunning. She’s sprawled across the floor in a shimmering silver and white cocktail dress, one heel has fallen o . Her hands are splayed across the hardwood floor, and her long red hair falls across her face. But then she looks up. My eyes find hers, and I suck in my breath with a hiss. The roar of a beast rumbles inside of my chest. My muscles clench, as does my jaw. I stare at this angel from heaven, and I feel the world shift beneath my feet. Every pain ever inflicted on me fades. Every demon hounding my shadows falls silent. Every scar stops throbbing with pain. “Who are you.” The words come unbidden. But it’s the most important question I’ve ever asked in my life. I need to know her—every single inch and piece of her. I need to know her, and I need to make her all mine. “Mr. Komarov…”

Thomas’s voice cuts through the silence, infuriating me as it breaks my focus on the girl. But my eyes never leave her, and she blushes as she slowly slips her shoe back on. She gets to her feet, smoothing her dress. But still, my eyes can’t look away. My heart can’t stop racing. My hunger for her won’t be abated. “Mr. Komarov,” Thomas needles again. He smiles through his fear of me, like a good little political pawn. He shu es over and puts a hand on the girl’s back. He’s oblivious to the rage it induces in me as he turns to beam at me. “This is Fiona, my daughter.” I blink. The roaring in my ears comes rushing back. The world fades to black around me, until all I see is her; a redhaired angel drawing me in like a moth to ﬂame. My hands clench, gripping into ﬁsts at my sides. I drink her in, shaking inside as I turn to the district attorney. “Thomas,” I growl. My lips thin into a smile. “Our debt is settled.”

FIONA

M Y MIND BLANKS . I stare up—and it is up; the man is more than a foot taller than me—and my core tightens. I know I’m looking up into the eyes of the most dangerous, most ruthless man in Chicago; possibly one of the most ruthless in the world. But my body refuses to cooperate with that knowledge. The problem is that Viktor Komarov might be the devil himself. But he’s stunningly handsome. He’s the kind of man you’d call gorgeous—beautiful, even. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, a squared, chiseled jaw, and the sort of lips that make your brain short circuit. My eyes slowly slide over him, drinking in his massive height and size. He’s built like a football player, or star MMA ﬁghter, and yet clothed in a suit tailored around his huge shoulders and arms. But then, my body catches up with my brain. I sti en, hearing his words in my head again. “I’m sorry, what?”

The room is silent. My father says nothing. Viktor says nothing. My heart is racing as I look up at the big Russian mobster’s face, and then whirl to my father. “Dad?” “This is out of your father’s hands now,” Viktor growls, his deep voice like velvet and fire. “Isn’t that right, Thomas?” I turn to stare at him, then back at my father again. “Dad, what’s he—” “Mr. Komarov,” my father croaks. “It… I mean she’s…” He swallows. “It would be political suicide.” I stare at him with my mouth falling open. Political suicide? “What?” “Your father and I have an unfinished business arrangement,” Viktor grunts thinly. “Don’t we, Thomas?” “I—yes,” my father nods weakly. “Do you suppose she needs to hear the details?” He quickly shakes his head. “N-no. No, Mr. Komarov.” “Dad, what the hell is going on?” “I’ll play your gamble, Thomas,” Viktor growls. “I will wait for this ‘sure thing’ of yours. Though, the price has doubled. It’s two contracts now, both as profitable as the first. Are we understood?” My father nods quickly. “Yes! Yes, of course, Mr. Komarov!” He smiles that phony politician’s smile I’ve seen my entire

life. “That won’t be a problem at all.” “I know.” The Russian draws a slow breath of air. When I chance looking back at him again, I blush when I ﬁnd his eyes wholly on me. His jaw clenches, and I tremble at the heat in his gaze before he turns to my father. “And since your election is such a sure thing, I’m sure you won’t mind my taking a small…” he smiles thinly. His eyes slowly slide back to me, making me tremble. “Collateral.” I freeze, my heart dropping. I whirl to stare at my father again. “I’m sorry, what?” “Mr. Komarov…” “It is this or there is no deal,” Viktor grunts. “This is not a negotiation, Thomas.” When my father slowly nods, my face falls. “Dad?!” “Honey,” he turns, giving me this shitty, weak political smile. “I—I mean…” He takes a breath. “It would only be until the election.” My eyes widen in horror. “You can’t… are you fucking serious?!” “I strongly suggest you weigh the options here, Thomas.” I turn. My heart skips and lurches into my throat when I see Viktor pull back his suit jacket, revealing the heavy gun tucked into a holster under his arm.

“You…” I blanche. “You can’t just—” “Actually, Ms. Murray,” he growls. “I can.” His lips curl into a thin smile. “And I am.” “Dad, you can’t—” “Honey,” he says quietly. “It… it might be best if—” “What?!” Horror chills me to the bone. I feel like I’m having some sort of out of body experience as I whirl back and forth between my father and the Bratva kingpin—two wicked men, deciding my fate without me. “Dad!” “This is settled,” Viktor grunts. He nods to his three henchmen. “We’re leaving, now.” My father swallows. “I—when would Fiona… I mean—” “She’s coming with me. Right now.” My mouth falls open. “Wait, what are you saying—” “I’m saying,” Viktor turns suddenly. I tremble, feeling my core tighten again as his sharp blue eyes pierce into me. “I’m saying you’re coming with me, now, Fiona.” He lets my name drip from his mouth. I shudder at the way he says it, like a lover’s whisper. “I—now?” I croak. “Yes.”

“I—you want me to come with you… where?” He smiles thinly. “To my house.” My face pales. “Until when?” “Until your father wins his ‘sure thing’ mayoral election and can repay me what he owes.” I still feel like I’m watching from outside my body. I turn in slow motion to stare at my father. “Dad…” I’m not sure what I’m expecting. I’ve been nothing but a political prop to my father for my entire life. Do I really think he’s suddenly going to become a real father and stand up for me, to this monster? “It’s just a month, honey!” He says cheerily, though his face is pale and haggard. Just a month. Just a month as the captive of the most dangerous criminal in Chicago. I turn to look at Viktor again as the horror seeps into my soul. “Come with me, Fiona.” I swallow as the fear begins to grip me. “I—I can’t just leave…” “Yes, you can.” “I need to pack…” “That won’t be necessary,” the Russian grunts. I blink, feeling tears welling in my eyes. “No,” I whisper. “No, this is fucking insane. I’m not just—”

“It would be best, little princess,” Viktor growls quietly. He lifts his jacket again, ﬂashing me the cold steel of his gun. “If this happened quietly.” I turn to my father again. “Dad…” “It’s just a month!” He smiles nervously. “Just a month, honey.” In a daze, I turn back to the hulking, gorgeous Russian. His eyes burn into mine, and his jaw clenches as he extends a hand. “Come, Fiona,” he growls quietly. Again, my name sounds so intimate coming from his lips. “It’s time to go.”

T HE JET - BLACK B ENTLEY town-car rides silently through the city. My heart is still thudding in my ears though. And my mind is still in shock, trying to process what’s happening. Fifteen minutes ago, I was at my own lame graduation party. I was sipping champagne, talking to my friend, and rolling my eyes at some snobby douchebag trying to hit on me. Now, I’m sitting in the back of a limousine with the most notoriously dangerous criminal in Chicago. And I’m going to be his captive for the next month. How is this even real? But all I can do is just look out the window at the passing lights of the city. Slowly, the city fades into suburbs, and then countryside. “You’ve just graduated law school, yes?” I say nothing.

“And yet, you’ve never been out of your gilded cage, have you, little bird?” I suck on my bottom lip. I turn to glare at him. “Excuse me?” “Your father has kept you locked away in that golden tower of his your entire life, hasn’t he?” I narrow my eyes at him. “He just wants to protect me.” Viktor barks a laugh. “Does he?” He smiles. “Protect you from what, little bird?” “From monsters like you,” I snap. Viktor’s smile widens. “He does, does he?” “Yes,” I hiss. Viktor sighs. He speaks coolly and shrugs. “And yet, here we are.” “Because you threatened him!” “I hardly saw much of a ﬁght,” Viktor grunts. “What should he have done, hmm?” I hiss. “Get shot trying to stop you?” “No,” I snarl. “What he should have done was paid me what he owed me, when he was supposed to.” I purse my lips, glaring at the man across the seat from me. “What’s your business with my father?” He smirks. “You don’t want to know those things, little bird.”

I tremble. “My father might not be perfect—” Viktor laughs coldly, and I bristle. “He might not be perfect, but he’s one of the good guys.” “Oh, is he?” The Russian says with amusement. “Enlighten me how that is, given your current situation.” I glare at him. “He’s trying to protect this city from people like you, that’s how.” “By sending his daughter to live with a man like me? The very type of ‘bad guy’ you claim he’s trying to rid this city of?” I chew on my lip, simmering. “He’s not a bad man. Not like you.” “You don’t know me, Fiona,” Viktor growls quietly. “I think I know perfectly well who—” “If you did,” he snaps. “You’d be ten times as scared as you are right now.” I swallow, biting my lip. “I’m not scared of you,” I whisper. He smiles and turns to look out the window. “Then you need to start paying attention.” My lips purse. “I’m paying attention just ﬁne—” “We’re here.” The car stops abruptly as he cuts me o . Someone opens my door from the outside. I look up to see one of the burly

bodyguard types from back in my father’s o ce. Past him, I look up at a huge, elegant mansion, half covered in ivy and glowing with lights. The other passenger door behind me opens and shuts. I glance back to see that Viktor is gone. But then suddenly, he’s in front of me, taking the bodyguard’s place. He looks down into my eyes, his crystal blue ones glimmering. He puts his hand out, and I tremble. “Come, little bird,” he growls. “Come see your new cage.” I bristle. I ignore his hand as I slide from the car. Viktor smiles to himself and turns. “This way.” His hand goes to the small of my back. I wish I could say I bristle or shake him o . But instead, I just simmer, like his warm touch is something I’ve been waiting for. Flanked by his men, the big Russian leads me wordlessly to the front door. A man with a machine gun bows quickly at Viktor, ignoring me entirely as he opens the door. We step inside, only to be greeted by three other men with guns. Viktor grunts something at them in Russian, his voice dark and velvety. They all nod and ﬁlter away, leaving me alone with him. “You can’t keep me here,” I whisper. Viktor smiles thinly. “I can do whatever I like, actually.” “This is kidnapping.” “This is business,” he growls. “The kind your father never should have gotten involved in.”

“And if I scream for help?” “I’d rather you not.” “But if I do?” Viktor’s eyes pierce into me. His perfect lips curl with amusement, which is both infuriating and horribly attractive. “Does it look like I’m worried about who may hear you?” My mouth purses. I hear the sound of heels suddenly. I turn, and frown as the tall, beautiful brunette woman in an exquisitely tailored skirt-suit and thin-rimmed glasses steps into the room. She glares at me, but she doesn’t look surprised by my presence either. Like she’s been expecting me. “Nina, this is Fiona.” “Hello,” the tall, willowy woman says thinly. “Fiona, this is Nina, my personal assistant. As I’m sure Lev told you when he called earlier, Fiona will be staying here for some time.” “Of course, Viktor,” Nina says with a glowing, crystal white smile. But her look sours when she glances back at me. “Follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters.” “Um, I don’t have any…” I frown and turn back to Viktor. “What am I supposed to do about clothes? Toiletries?” I scowl. “I don’t even have my phone or wallet on me!”

“Clothes and toiletries have been sourced for you already, Ms. Murray,” Nina says with irritation. “What? How?” She purses her lips. “Because it’s my job, and I’m good at my job.” “We left Chicago like thirty minutes—” “I’m very good at my job,” she mutters testily. “Now if there’s nothing else, please follow me.” “My phone? My wallet?” “You don’t need either here,” Viktor growls. “Yes, I do.” His lips thin as an answer. “This way,” Nina mutters. I turn to follow her. At the foot of one of the huge, curved staircases that sweep up the wall in the foyer, I turn back to glance at Viktor. He’s still looking right at me, though. I tremble before I turn and quickly follow Nina up the stairs.

VIKTOR

M Y HANDS ARE CLENCHING , balling to ﬁsts as I watch her slink up the stairs. Okay, she’s just walking, but watching her is… enticing. It’s dangerous, too. This is not a game I play, and women are not indulgences I allow myself. Not ever. I’ve spent the whole drive back to my home coming up with excuses for myself—why I’m doing what I’m doing; why I’ve made this insane decision. But watching Fiona climb the curved staircase and then slink out of view puts it all into stark perspective. I’m not doing this for business, or for revenge on Thomas. I’m not playing a “long game” or four-dimensional chess of any kind. I’m doing this, because I desire her. I desire her more than I’ve ever desired any woman, ever. It’s a craving—an instant madness in my head. And it’s already thrown me into making at least one misstep. I’ve shown weakness. Thomas might not know it or see it yet. But he might. If and when he dwells long enough on what transpired in his o ce today, he’ll spot it. And if my

enemies spot weakness—even pathetic, toothless enemies like Thomas Murray—it could very well be my undoing. I storm down the halls of my house to my o ce. The door slams behind me, and I head for the bar cart by the fireplace. I pour a healthy double splash of the Balvenie Fifty Year scotch I keep there. I drink and sink deep into the designer leather chair by the fireplace. Forty-eight-thousand-dollar a bottle whiskey, in a fifteenthousand-dollar vintage chair, in my fifty-million-dollar mansion that I was chau eured to in a two-million-dollar Bentley. I allow myself a smug, satisfied smirk. The di erence between now and my youth is stark, to stay the least. But my rise didn’t come cheap. It didn’t come without sacrifice, and blood. And it sure as fuck did not come by making compromises and showing weakness to little pawns like Thomas Murray. I snarl as I knock back another sip of the whiskey. One glimpse of his gorgeous daughter, and I’ve gone soft. I grit my teeth and glance down at the bulge that’s been throbbing beneath my fly for the last two hours. Or not so soft, it would seem. And now, with no actual plan beyond wanting her, I’ve brought her back here, to my sanctuary. Now, she’s upstairs, in my home, sleeping under my roof. And I’m not entirely sure how long I can keep myself from her. There’s a knock at my o ce door, which opens immediately after. I don’t have to turn to now it’s Lev. Only he would be bold enough to enter without a command, even knocking

first. But it’s more than boldness with Lev. It’s almost a family-like familiarity. He’s the younger brother I never had. We met when I was young and just starting to seek my fortunes in St. Petersburg. I was sixteen, freshly expelled from my last group home, and living on the streets. I spent my days ripping o tourists and drunk businessmen, and my nights fighting o perverts and thugs. I didn’t have two rubles to rub together, and I hadn’t eaten in four days when I found him getting the shit kicked out of him. Lev was three years younger than me, and yet just as big. But that wasn’t helping much when he’d been caught stealing from a local gang leader. The fucker and three of his buddies —all adults—were laughing as they beat a kid within an inch of his life. I don’t know what made me jump in, or how I even did with how starving I was. But I did. I took down one with a lead pipe. The other three turned on me instantly, but it gave Lev the only break he needed. I took a knife to the shoulder that day—a wound which still hurts at times even now, nineteen years later. Lev almost lost an eye. But that gang leader and all three of his friends died in that alleyway. After that, we were truly brothers. “Want a drink?” “I’m good.” I glance at Lev. “It’s the Balvenie fifty. You’re sure?”

“Da.” I raise a brow but shrug. “Suit yourself.” “Do you know what you’re doing, Viktor?” I frown as Lev steps around and sinks into the chair across from me. “Having a drink,” I grunt. “In peace, was the plan.” “You know what I’m talking about. With her. With everything that happened in that o ce today.” My eyes narrow. Younger brother he may be, but our roles are clear. In this empire, I am king. Lev is my right-hand man, but there’s still just one king. And while I normally welcome his questions and his counsel, this is di erent. “Something you’d like to say, brother?” “Yes,” Lev grunts without hesitation. “I’m questioning what your move is here, with her. And no, Viktor,” he mutters as I open my mouth. “Do not tell me she’s collateral. You’ve never once done anything like that. If collateral was to be taken today, we both know it would have been Thomas’s big toe, not a family member.” “The plans changed,” I growl dangerously. “And I’ve made my decision.” “I’m well aware of that,” Lev hisses right back. “And I won’t ever question your decisions.” “Then why the fuck are we having this conver—”

“Because I’m questioning the motive behind that decision, Viktor.” I grit my teeth. Slowly, I take a sip of my drink, my eyes still on him. “I saw the way you looked at her, my friend.” “And how did I look at her, Lev?” I snap. He smirks. “Like I’ve never seen you look at a woman before.” “She’s attractive.” “Nina is attractive. Elizaveta, the bartender at the Cosmonaut Lounge is attractive. Have you looked at your bank account lately? You could buy the a ection of almost any attractive woman in the world, Viktor. Fly the Moscow Ballet in for a pool party. Sponsor the Victoria’s Secret fucking fashion show in your own bedroom if you like. But this?” “What,” I growl with a warning. Lev looks at me impassively. “This isn’t you, and it’s reckless.” I clench my jaw and turn away. I push a button on the table next to my chair, and the ﬁreplace in front of us roars to life. Lev says nothing, and we sit in silence for a few minutes until he sighs. “You know what? I will have that drink now.” “Too bad. O er rescinded.”

He smirks at me. “Don’t throw a tantrum because you know I’m right.” I glare at him. “Fine.” “Fine what?” “Fine, have a drink. And ﬁne, I’m ﬁxing this situation with Thomas’s daughter.” One of his eyebrows raises. “Oh?” “Yes.” I stand and knock back the rest of my drink. “She’s gone, tonight.” “As it happens, I’ve just dug into her a bit more.” I glare at him. “And?” “She’s very smart.” “She’s twenty-two and just graduated law school, Lev,” I grunt. “Tell me something I don’t know.” “I didn’t just say she’s smart, Viktor. I said she’s very smart. She was homeschooled, but all of the standardized tests she took over the years she aced. Perfect score on her SATs. Perfect 4.2 GPA at Princeton, despite taking her classes remotely. She was the absolute top of her class for the two years she was there.” I frown. “College is four years.” “She did it in two. All credits, even electives. All straight A’s, with extra credit. Perfect score on her LSATs, early

acceptance at age twenty to Columbia Law. Graduated with perfect marks and a glowing commendation from the fucking Dean.” My brow arches. “Interesting.” “Very.” “And your point?” “My point is, since even with this little stunt of yours, of stomping up there to throw her out, I know she’s not actually going anywhere.” I glare at him. He smirks back at me. “I know you too well, brother. So, let’s assume she’s staying.” “I don’t make a business of assuming things, Lev.” “Humor me, then. If she’s staying…” he shrugs. “Perhaps she can be of far more use than a forbidden temptation for you.” “Need a tutor, Lev?” “No, but you need a lawyer schooled in land trusts and zoning laws, for your project.” My mouth thins. He actually makes a very interesting point. “At least consider it, Viktor.” “Perhaps.” I drag my ﬁngers over my jawline and look back at him. “You may be right. She may be useful there.”

“You should listen to me more often—” “But you’re wrong about one thing.” He reaches over and pours a splash of the whiskey into a new glass. “What’s that?” “This is my house. On the outskirts of the city that I own. Just like I own a debt that is yet to be repaid.” I smile thinly. “So believe me when I say that there is nothing ‘forbidden’ about her. Not where I’m concerned.” I ignore Lev’s arched brow as I turn and wordlessly storm from my o ce. I head right for Fiona’s quarters. But none of the steps I take towards her room lead me any closer to deciding if I’m going to throw her out or throw her into my bed.

FIONA

“T HIS IS YOU ,” Nina mutters when we stop in front of a set of double doors. She swings them open, and I gasp. Wow. The room—or I should say rooms—are stunning. Wainscoted walls, gorgeous hanging light fixtures, gleaming hardwood floors, and flowers everywhere. I follow her inside, gaping at the trappings. I come from a lot of money, and my father spared no expense with his townhouse. But this is on another level entirely. This isn’t just wealth; this is a lot of wealth. Nina leads me through another set of double doors, into a lavish, gorgeous bedroom. “Bedroom,” she says dryly. For whatever reason, she’s clearly got a chip on her shoulder about me. She walks across the room and opens two more double doors. “And clothes.” I stare at the room beyond that’s almost the same size as the huge bedroom. Only this one is lined with rows and rows of hanging clothes, dressers, and shoes.

“Anything else you need?” Nina says with a tone that screams “say no.” “No, I’m fine,” I say quietly. “Oh, here.” She suddenly hands me my phone. My brows arch as I take it from her. “Can I use it?” “Yes, but it’s being wired through the house’s security team.” I frown. “Does that mean someone is listening if I make a call?” She gives me the first real smile I’ve seen from her yet. “It does. And reading when you send a text. This is for Mr. Komarov’s protection.” “I see.” “It would be best that if you must call or communicate with anyone, you…” she smiles. “Lie.” “For a month?” I say dryly. Nina just smiles. “If there’s nothing further, goodnight.” She turns and walks out, leaving me alone with my racing heart and swirling thoughts. I turn slowly, drinking in the room. I walk over to the bed and run my fingers across the luxuriously silken duvet. Through a doorway, I find an enormous, elegant bathroom—all white towels, silver, and crystal. It’s like I’m being kept in a princess’s apartment or something.

I head back into the bedroom and go to check out the closet. I glance at the size on one of the elegant gowns hanging up, and I frown: it’s my size. The one next to it is, too. My pulse quickens as I check more and more garments. But they’re all that way; they’re all exactly my size. Dresses, tops, jeans… even the freaking shoes lining the shelves are exactly my size. “How the hell…” I frown and move across the room. I stop in front of a tall dresser ﬁlled with thin drawers. I pull one out and blush at the row upon row of lacy, delicate panties. I quickly shut it. But the drawer beneath is the same. As is the one above it. The whole dresser is ﬁlled with elegant lingerie of every possible kind—panties, bras, slips, stockings, and far far more intimate ones. I feel my face burn hotly as I glance at a few of the tags. Unsurprisingly, like everything else, they’re all my size. I stand there, staring at it all before I slowly back away. I tremble and glance around like I’m being watched. I retreat back into the bedroom and pick up my phone. I remember what Nina said about it being monitored, but I open it anyways. Scrolling to Zoey’s number, I push the call button. “Where the fuck did you go?!” I sigh with relief at the sound of her voice. “Hey! I’m…” I frown. I want to scream and tell her what’s just happened to me—all of it. I mean what are they going to do, shoot me?

“Zoey, the craziest shit just happened—” “Yeah, you left me in the lurch at your own graduation party! Do you have any idea how many times Chet Brubaker came sni ng around asking me where you were?” I cringe. “I’m so sorry—” “And when he ﬁnally stopped asking about you, he started asking me what I was doing tonight.” I grin. “And?” “Not getting rooﬁed and assaulted by that scuzz bucket, that’s what I’m doing.” I giggle before surroundings.

trail

o .

glance

around

“Well?” “Hmm?” Zoey sighs. “Where the hell are you? I even went and asked your dad. But he gave me that lame politician’s non-answer answer.” “I—” I close my eyes. I want to tell her. But I know I can’t. Forget my own safety… what’s going to happen to her if I tell her all about what’s going on with me being dragged away to the home of the dangerous Russian kingpin? “I got a call from the recruiting head of this ﬁrm, and they really wanted me to come to dinner.”

Zoey shrieks into the phone. “That’s amazing! Oh my God, congratulations!” I smile, feeling guilty for lying. “Uh, thanks.” “So when are you done? I could meet you back at your dad’s for a drink or something?” I wince. “Yeah, uh… I can’t.” “Uh, lame. Tomorrow then?” “Can’t.” I groan. What am I going to do, keep this up for a month? “Okay, when does your schedule—” “The ﬁrm is in New York,” I blurt out. “They, uh, they ﬂew me out. For the week.” “The week!?” “Two weeks,” I lie through my teeth. “Holy shit, Fiona! I mean I’m not a lawyer, but that sounds like it’s probably a good thing?” “Oh, yeah it’s great…” I let my eyes drag across the lavish quarters again. I slowly shake my head, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening to me. “Anyways, sorry for running out like that. I got the call, and…” “Oh my God, don’t even stress. I get it. Well, have so much fun in New York! Call me! Tell me about the job when you

can you little genius.” I laugh, but it’s a forced one, with no real emotion behind it. “Yeah, will do.” “Okay, bye!” “Bye.” I hang up, feeling awful for lying to my best friend. I walk across the big room and ﬂop down on the bed. I lay back on it, luxuriating in how soft and perfect it is. Again, I grew up wanting for nothing, with a lot of wealth and nice things. But this whole house is on another level entirely. Viktor is on another level, too. I blush as my thoughts drift back to the terrifying and yet utterly gorgeous man who has me locked in his home. I’ve read about him in the news, like a lot of people have. He’s the man at the epicenter of a hundred criminal cases—smuggling, illegal weapons tra cking, money laundering, protection rackets, assassinations, and probably worse. And yet, he’s untouchable. He’s forever separated from every crime he’s clearly involved in by just enough space for the law to have nothing on him. As a lawyer, it’s honestly impressive. As his captive, it’s terrifying. I run my hands through my hair and then sit up with a sigh. I glance towards the huge bathroom and worry my bottom lip. A shower sounds divine right now. But I pause, glancing nervously around the room. What if there are cameras? What if he’s watching me right this instant?

I imagine Viktor sitting in front of a screen, watching me undress. I blush deeply as the thought turns into more of a daydream—a disturbing fantasy of him slowly undressing before walking in to take me in his arms. My eyes roll as my face burns hotly. Okay, that’s enough of that. I glance around, frowning. Well, cameras or not, what am I going to do? Not a take a shower for the next month? Never change clothes? I stand and start to unzip my dress. But then I stop and walk over to flip the lights o . But then the thought hits me that if a man like Viktor Komarov wants to spy on me getting undressed, he’s probably got night vision cameras anyways. I flip the lights back on and quickly shed my clothes. I scamper for the bathroom and turn the water on. Under it, I can feel some of the tension evaporating. Part of me still wonders about Viktor watching me. The thrill it sends creeping through my core makes me roll my eyes at myself though. Great, thanks, dad. Twenty-two years of being locked away in a tower, with no boyfriends at all, and this is the result: I get the hots for the first sickeningly handsome man to step into my sheltered world. And he happens to be the most ruthlessly dangerous criminal in Chicago. Wonderful. I step out of the shower and quickly wrap a towel around myself. I wander back into the bedroom, then into the huge walk-in closet. My hands run over the racks and racks of clothes in wonder. I open a few drawers until I find one

containing rows of silk and satin pajama sets. I take a pair out, but then I stop. Underwear, right. I turn to look at the dresser with the thin drawers. I poke around some more, until finally I accept it, there’s no “regular’ underwear in this closet. Just the heaps and heaps of lacy, racy, extra-sexy stu . I blush for the millionth time as I open the drawers again. I’ve never even owned lingerie like this. I pull out an especially lacy and see-through pair of thong panties. My jaw drops when I realize the back strip is strung with gleaming white pearls, meant to go right over… I blush deeply and stu the panties back in the drawer. I mean, everything here is in my sizes. I’m meant to wear these things. But does that include erotic French pearl-thong lingerie? I bite my lip and paw through more of the stu in the drawers. I finally pull out what looks like a regular old nightgown. But when I hold it up, I feel my face burn. Nope. It’s literally see-through all over and looks like it would barely cover my butt. But instead of stu ng it back into the drawer, I keep glancing at it. I feel a flutter of excitement as I run my fingers over it. I mean, I really have never owned anything close to this. And part of me is curious how it would even feel to wear something this sexy. Screw it, I think. I ditch the towel and quickly slip the teddy on. I feel the thrill of the sheer material brush across my nipples. I suck on my bottom lip as I turn to look into the huge mirror against the far wall. I cringe a little in embarrassment at what I see. But then I take a breath. I let it

go and admire myself in the mirror, and I blush. Okay, I look pretty hot, truth be told. My phone suddenly dings from where I left it on the edge of the bed. When I walk over and pick it up, I smile. It’s a text from Zoey saying, good luck with the job interview tomorrow. I’m about to text her back, when suddenly, the bedroom door slams open behind me. I gasp, whirling as the scream catches in my throat. Viktor stands frozen in the doorway; his jaw clenched, his hands curling into ﬁsts at his sides, and his eyes both surprised and burning with lust at the same time. “Mr. Komarov!” I choke. The phone drops from my hands as I yank them up to cover myself. But Viktor doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink. He lets his gaze shamelessly and openly slide over me, and I feel that gaze as if it’s his hands, not his eyes. I feel a throb of heat deep in my core. My face burns, and I tremble as the huge, gorgeous Russian stares at me like a meal. “I—I mean…” “Good,” Viktor growls quietly as his eyes slide over me. “You found your clothes.” “I—” “Get comfortable.” His jaw grinds. “You’ll be here for a while.” Without another word from him, I watch bewildered as he turns and starts to walk out of the bedroom.

“You can’t just keep me here,” I blurt. Viktor stops so suddenly that my pulse skips. His shoulders tense, and I watch his hands clench to fists at his sides. He turns slowly, his face tense and his eyes narrowed at me. With a snarl, he suddenly storms over to me. I gasp, backing away until the backs of my legs hit the bed. But then suddenly, his hands are sliding over my hips and pulling me against his rock-hard chest. His perfect lips lower, and I moan when they press hotly to mine. Quite suddenly, I’m having my very first kiss, in the arms of a ruthless killer. Viktor kisses me until my toes are curling; until my pulse is roaring in my ears, and my very skin is tingling for him. He slowly pulls away. His eyes hold mine fiercely, his lips wet from our kiss. “I can do whatever I want, Fiona,” he growls thickly. “Whatever I want.” I tremble as he pulls away from me. “Goodnight.” He turns and strides out of the room, leaving me speechless with my heart racing.

VIKTOR

B ACK IN MY OFFICE , the door slams behind me. Lev is gone now, mercifully. So I’m alone while I’m throbbing all over, like I might just fucking explode. I stagger over to the bar cart and pour a drink. But before it touches my lips, I pause. I scowl down into it, and slowly place the glass back on the cart. I need a drink. But not at the expense of erasing the taste of her lips on mine. I prowl back and forth, pacing the ﬂoor. My tongue runs over my lips, and I groan as I replay what just happened with Fiona. I went up there to tell her this ridiculous idea was over—to send her home and then deal with Thomas another way. That was before I saw her like that, though—clad in nothing but a lacy black, see-through slip. The sight of her gorgeous, tight little ass barely covered in that garment is forever burned into my memory. That soft, whimpered gasp as she whirled to me—the mix of fear and desire in her big blue eyes.

And then there’s her mouth—soft and sweet, with plump lips that were made for me to claim. I feel my pulse thunder inside my veins. My cock thickens, and I run my tongue across my lips once more, chasing the memory. There’s a knock at the door. For a moment, I indulge the fantasy of Fiona dressed in nothing but that little slip coming down here for more from me. But I know that’s not the case. I stalk over to my desk and sink into the chair facing the door. “Enter.” The door opens, and Nina slips in. Lev isn’t wrong about her: Nina is a beautiful girl. But that isn’t an option when it comes to her and I. Lev and anyone else can speculate all they want about my young assistant and I. But they’ll never find what they all think they will, no matter how hard they look. “Evening, Viktor.” Though formal with me, Nina is the only other besides Lev who refers to me by my first name. When we’re alone, that is. In public, I’m Mr. Komarov to her, as with everyone. “She’s settling in okay?” Nina frowns. I don’t have to ask or prod to understand that she’s not a fan of this arrangement of Fiona staying here. “Yes,” she answers curtly. I frown, drumming my fingers on my desk, my thoughts weaving.

“These are the reports from various sectors for the week. And this is the notarized contracts for the Elmwood development.” Nina walks smartly over in her heels, placing a few ﬁle folders on the side of my desk. “I want to use her.” Nina freezes, and then frowns behind her glasses. “Excuse me?” “Her legal prowess, I mean.” Nina’s lips purse. “She’s barely just graduated, Viktor. And as I understand it, her classes were entirely remote. She has no courtroom experience at all. She’s been locked in her father’s little uptown tower her entire life.” “That may be,” I grunt. “And I’m sure Thomas pulled strings for her. But her accomplishment is still no small feat. Have you seen this?” I push the reporting notes Lev left for me across the desk. Nina glances down at it but doesn’t pick it up. “You have a dossier on her already?” She purses her lips. “That was fast.” “Relax, Nina,” I sigh. “She’s not just pampered and rich, she’s very smart. And she’s got a specialty with land trust and zoning law.” Nina arches one thin brow behind her glasses. “You want her to help you with the Grover Street property?” I smile, nodding. “Yes.”

“You have lawyers, Viktor.” “And yet here we are, four months later and still stalled on even acquiring it.” The Grover Street property is currently an abandoned sneaker factory in the Southside of Chicago. It’s a blight on an already blighted, run-down neighborhood. I have plans, but they’re not moving nearly as quickly as I want them to. Nina takes her glasses o and rubs the bridge of her nose. “You know why it’s stalled. Because Joey Drucci is an asshole and is enjoying making you dance for him.” She frowns. “It’s beneath you, frankly.” I chuckle darkly. “Perhaps. But it’s important to me, Nina. You know that.” “And what makes you think Fiona can help?” “Can’t hurt to try,” I grunt. My thoughts swirl, like I’m having a ﬂashback. Instantly, I’m sucked back to that room with my hands on her body and my lips on hers. I sti en, my muscles clenching as the memory breathes ﬁre into me. But I take a breath and push it away. I glance back up at my personal assistant. “Could you make sure she has all the documents tomorrow morning? I’ll need her as prepped as she can be for the meeting.” Nina stares at me, barely hiding her frown. “Yes?”

“You’re bringing her to the meeting with Joey?” “She wouldn’t be a very good land contracts lawyer to me if I didn’t, would she?” Nina purses her lips, but just nods. “I’ll have everything brought up tomorrow morning.” “Thank you.” “Is there anything else, Viktor?” I shake my head. “No, thank you. Go punch out, Nina.” She nods and turns for the door. But then she pauses to glance back at me. “I almost forgot. Her phone is all wired up through the security system. Calls, text, internet, email, the whole thing.” I frown. “Who’s monitoring?” “Bogdan.” I shake my head. “No. No one else monitors her. Have the feed wired through my personal laptop.” “Viktor—” “My decision is ﬁnal, Nina.” She purses her lips and sighs. “Very well.” She pulls out her phone and brings it to her ear. “Bogdan. Yes, it’s Nina. Have Ms. Murray’s phone wired through Mr. Komarov’s personal laptop. Yes, only there. No, he doesn’t want it going through the security o ce. Wonderful.”

She hangs up and smiles thinly. “It’s done. The feed is all yours now.” “Thank you.” “You really think this Grover Street project is going to work out?” “I do.” She smiles, genuinely. “Well, I’m glad. Goodnight, Viktor.” “Night.” When Nina closes the door behind her, I breathe deeply. I sit back in my chair, drumming my fingers as my thoughts settle on Fiona. I replay the kiss, again and again, until my pulse is thumping in my ears and my cock is straining against my pants. I growl to myself, shaking my head as I open my laptop. I bring up the security system, and sure enough, there’s Fiona’s phone data, for my eyes only. I let my eyes linger on it, telling myself to close the laptop and go to bed. But I can’t resist. I open the program, and I start snooping. I look at her text messages first. I scan her past messages. I smile wolfishly when I notice a lack of texts to or from any boys at all. None—not a single exchange. There’s no dating apps either. I shake my head; Thomas really did have her locked in a gilded cage. Her most recent texts are few—a couple to her father letting him know she’s okay. There’s not a single text back from him though. I shake my head in disgust. What a piece of shit.

The other recent text exchange is with someone named Zoey —from the looks of their past conversations, a friend of hers. I glance over that one. But Fiona has been good—she’s been lying to her friend, telling her she’s in New York for a job thing. Good girl, I think to myself. I say it again, and my cock throbs at the idea of whispering it into her ear. My restraint begins to crumble. I snoop deeper, looking into her photo albums. I’m like a teenaged boy, horny and looking for something to satiate my hunger. But there’s nothing. No bathroom mirror selﬁes, no nudes, nothing. I frown and pull the notes from Lev towards me. I scan over the bits about her schooling and grades again. Yes, she’s very smart. Gifted, even. But my brow furrows as I look over more of it and start reading between the lines. She’s really barely ever been out of that townhouse. All of her schooling was remote. She has only the remotest presence on social media, and this Zoey girl it would seem is her only close friend. But more of a picture comes to me as I dig: not just no friends. No boyfriends. There’s nothing. No texts, no contacts in her phone. Nothing like Tinder or anything like that. Christ, with her having been cooped up in that townhouse her whole life, I almost wonder if she’s somehow a… My jaw clenches, my cock suddenly surging with desire. I frown at the thought. Could it be that this girl has never been

with a boy? Is the innocent little prize I’ve got locked away upstairs really so untouched by any other man? The thought of being the very first to touch her—to taste her, to make her scream and to spread her gorgeous legs wide apart and be the first to sink my cock into her sweet little heaven, is almost too much. I groan, feeling my balls swell and my cock lurch in my pants. I steady myself though, taking a breath. I glance back at the laptop and check her internet history next. When I glance at her recent searches though, I smile broadly. She’s been googling me. There are news articles about my “alleged” involvement in dozens of crimes they’d never be able to pin on me. There’s tabloid stu too, since those shitty magazines seem to love blabbing about me as if I’m some in-demand male celebrity. I keep scanning the searches, until I stop. My smile widens even more, smugly. She’s found the picture of me on the yacht. It was taken a year ago by some paparazzi with a good zoom lens, when I was trying to find a moment’s vacation in the Mediterranean. I’m not posing, I’m just standing on the bow, shirtless. But the tabloids ran wild with it. All of a sudden, I was on the ridiculous “most in-demand celebrity bachelors” list. I’m not vain, but I do keep in impeccable shape. I won’t deny that the picture was flattering, either. But just the same, it’s nothing I wanted. There’s a saying in America that there’s

“no such thing as bad press.” In my line of work though, it’s bullshit. With what I do, any press is bad press. But again, I glance at how many times in her search history the picture comes up. I grin. It’s a lot. I’m about to close the laptop down, when I glance at the bottom of the security program. Next to an icon of a microphone, a light is blinking red. I growl as I lean close to the laptop and click the microphone button. Instantly, the sweetest, most enticing sound floods my ears. It’s Fiona, and she’s moaning. My blood boils, and my lust surges to the forefront. I click onto the security cameras in her room. Like her phone, I made sure the second we got to my house that the feeds from her quarters would go through my laptop, and my laptop only. The camera’s view fills the screen as I turn up the volume a bit. My cock is rock-fucking-hard in seconds. Fiona is laid out across her bed with her phone laying next to her. She’s still wearing the slinky see-through nighty. But it’s slipped down one shoulder, baring one of her full, creamy tits with a rosy pink nipple. She’s writhing on top of the duvet cover, one hand teasing the exposed nipple. But the other one is between her legs, rubbing frantically. I groan. Instantly, I reached down and unzip my fly. I lift my hips and shove my slacks down along with my boxers, and my thick cock springs hard against my abs. I wrap a hand around my shaft and snarl as I start to stroke, rapidly.

My eyes are glued to her as she touches herself. I stroke my dick in time with the way her hand moves between her thighs. Fiona moans as she touches her pussy, gasping loudly as her body begins to tighten and shudder. I stroke faster, pumping my ﬁst up and down my throbbing hard shaft. Precum drips from the tip, trickling copiously down to make me sticky and slick. Fiona throws her head back. Her hips buck against her hand, and her face contorts in sweet agony. When I hear her start to cum, I let go. My balls surge, and I grunt as the hot cum spurts from my swollen tip. The sticky white ropes land across my hand and suit pants. I groan, slowing as she does. Fiona sighs deeply and sinks into the bed. She’s grinning, her face blushing as her legs shake. Eventually, she stands and walks into the dressing room. I switch to a di erent camera. I hungrily watch her change out of the teddy, my cock not going soft in the slightest. She changes into regular pajamas, crawls into bed, and pulls up the covers. The lights go out. I groan, sitting back in my chair. I’m still holding my dick, and it’s still so damn hard. I watch through the night vision camera as Fiona twists and turns, before going still. And then, all I can hear is her rhythmic breathing as she slowly falls asleep.

FIONA

I SQUINT MY EYES , frowning as the voice loudly snaps me out of my dreams. My head lifts from the pillow, and I look across the room with bleary eyes as Nina begins throwing open curtains on the windows. “What…” I wrinkle my nose, hating that I’m awake right now. “What time is it?” “Six. Up and at em!” Nina looks downright gleeful to be waking me so early. She’s beaming when she walks briskly across the room and tugs at my comforter. “Time to get up.” I groan and slowly sit up in the bed. My legs swing out before Nina decides to yank me out of the bed by force. I’ve never been a big morning person, and today isn’t any exception. My body still wishes it was under the covers, and my brain is still struggling to start up. I stand, stretching in the silk pajamas that of course ﬁt me perfectly. “Why am I awake so early?” Nina smiles with glee. “Because you have work to do.”

“Uh, what?” Viktor’s brunette assistant marches over to the door and sticks her head out. I hear her say something in Russian. A moment later, one of the big bodyguard-type guys who was with Viktor in my father’s o ce yesterday steps in lugging a tower of legal document boxes. I frown. “What are these?” “Your work.” “Excuse me?” The big guy with the tattoos and arms bigger than my body sets the boxes down. Then he turns and wordlessly walks out. Nina’s lips purse. “Did you think staying here was a vacation?” “Not for a single second,” I mutter right back, glaring at her. She just smirks. “Mr. Komarov would like your assistance in some legal matters. You start today, right now.” “I’m not a lawyer.” She frowns. “Pardon?” “I just graduated law school. I haven’t taken the Bar Exam or anything.” Nina sighs. “Of course you haven’t. Well, nevertheless, Mr. Komarov would like your assistance with this legal matter.”

I frown at the stack of boxes she nods at, and I shu to them. “Uh, okay, what sort of legal matter?”

e over

The big bodyguard guy steps back in and walks right over to me. He passes a mug of steaming co ee and a plate with a blueberry mu n on it to me. When I look up at him in shock, his stoic face cracks just the tiniest bit into a grin, and he winks. “Oh my God, thank you!” I groan. He wordless grins again before his face hardens back to stone. Then he turns to leave. Nina just rolls her eyes. “You’ll find what you need in these boxes. Be ready in three hours.” “Ready for what?” “Work. You’re accompanying Mr. Komarov to a meeting at nine. Dress appropriately.” Without another word, the ice queen turns sharply on her heels and marches out the door. I sigh slowly and walk over to the boxes of documents. Okay, time for work. I shower quickly and change into a really smart pencil skirt and white blouse combo from the closet. It’s… revealing. Actually, most of the clothes I find inside, even the o cetype clothes, are pushing it a little. None of them are overly slutty or scandalous. But it’s all things that would get some wolfish looks in an o ce. I get the feeling that it’s no accident, either.

When I’m dressed and feeling professional, I finally start to go through the legal documents stacked in the bedroom. There’s no workspace though, so I end up dragging the vanity out of the closet, inch by inch across the floor, and using that as a desk. The documents seem to be about some kind of land deal. There’s an old factory and some scrapyard space in Southside, and it looks like Viktor is trying to buy it o the current owner—some really fake looking LLC. I almost want to chase after Nina and ask what exactly I should be preparing for. But I’m pretty confident helping me is the last thing on her to-do list, ever. So instead, I just start reading and get to work. I actually specialized in zoning law and land use in law school, so everything I’m looking at makes sense, at least. Without knowing the details or what the deal is, it’s a little like shooting in the dark. But I do end up pulling out a lot of documents I think I might need. I’m so engrossed in the work that I don’t even look at the time until Nina marches right in without knocking. “Time’s up,” she says flatly. “Ready?” I kind of want to ask her if it matters, or if she cares. I’d also like to ask her why she’s got a chip on her shoulder when it comes to me. “I… yes. I think.” “Yes, or you think?”

“If I need more time, am I going to get it?” She smiles. “No.” “Well, then I’m ready.” “Wonderful. Mr. Komarov and Mr. Nychkov are waiting downstairs. Bring what you need, and let’s go.” I collect the stack of important documents I’ve pulled out, slip a pair of heels on, and follow Nina through the huge mansion. With it being daytime now, I can see out the windows as we pass. My jaw drops at the lavish, impeccably manicured lawns, gardens, hedges, and roses surrounding Viktor’s elegant home. Down the curved staircase in the massive entryway, Viktor and the stoic looking guy who seems to be his number two are waiting for me. Viktor’s eyes ﬁnd mine when I’m halfway down the stairs, and they’re sizzling into me. His jaw grinds, and I tremble. I blush, faltering slightly on the stairs as I remember the kiss. My eyes fall to his lips before I can quickly pull them back up. But he knows. He sees where my eyes have gone, and he knows. He smiles smugly at me as my face burns hotly. “Fiona,” he growls, making me tremble again. “This is Lev, my second in command. Lev, this is Ms. Murray.” “Good morning,” Lev grunts. He gives me a quick, skeptical look before he turns and heads outside. Nina wordlessly turns to march away, leaving Viktor and I alone.

My heart races, and all I can think about is the kiss—how his lips tasted, and the thrill of him demanding it from me like he did. I remember what happened later, too. After he left, when I couldn’t stop the desire burning inside of me and did what I did. All while picturing of him, I think as my face burns even hotter. “Are you ready?” Viktor growls. “I—” I swallow. “Yes.” He looks amused by my quick answer. But he nods. “Sleep well last night?” My mind instantly replays the kiss, again. And then the way I touched myself—the way I came while imaging his face and those perfect lips on my skin. “Uh-huh,” I mumble quickly. He grins at me, and my face darkens. God, it almost feels like he’s looking into my thoughts, and knows exactly what I did last night while imagining him. My blush deepens as my heart races like crazy. “Well then. Let’s go.”

I STARE up at the sign above the body-shop we’ve just parked in front of. “Drucci?” I say quietly. The sign above the west side auto shop reads “Drucci Customizations and Autobody.” It looks

innocuous enough. But you’d have to be living under a freaking rock to not know the Drucci name in this town. Specially, Joey Drucci Senior. If Viktor is the suave, handsome, sexy face of organized crime in Chicago, Joey is the other side of the coin. Viktor obviously gets away with all sorts of things, since he’s so careful to distance himself from anything legally. Joey avoids prison through open threats and violence. Two years ago, he was all over the news after they ﬁnally pinned a quadruple homicide, including a cop, on him. The case was a slam dunk apparently, too. That is, until members of the jury started not showing up to court. Then the ballistics expert was in a car crash and died on impact after ﬂipping over a highway divider. Then the lead prosecutor’s wife was mugged coming home from work. When the judge herself woke up to a bullet in her front door, the whole thing was called as a mistrial. By the time a new trial could be set up, every star witness was missing or dead, and most of the evidence had disappeared from custody. So the case against Joey Drucci disappeared. “As in…” “As in Joey Drucci, yes,” Viktor grunts. He glances at Lev, and then back at the three big men in black suits who’ve arrived in the car behind us. Something tells me I’m not the only one thinking about how dangerous any idea it is to sit down with that maniac. “You’ve looked over the documents?”

I nod. “As much as I could. I didn’t have much time to prepare.” “But you understand the gist?” “He owns a building, and you want to buy it.” Viktor smirks thinly. “At its barest, yes. Except Joey is dragging his heels. And even if he ﬁnally agrees to terms, there’s a mountain of bureaucratic tape around the property.” “Yeah, because it’s a dump,” I mutter. Viktor grins for a second before his face hardens as usual. “Perhaps. But I want that dump, and I want it now. It will be your job to help make that happen.” Without waiting for an answer, he strides forward to the door to the shop. He rings, and two Italian guys who are obviously armed under their suit jackets step out. “Come in, Mr. Drucci is expecting you.” Even though I’m with the most dangerous man in the city, along with four other equally huge and tough looking Russian mobsters, I still tremble when we step into the shop. Inside, a few more of Drucci’s men quickly frisk everyone. One guy ﬁnishes with Lev and grins lecherously as he approaches me. But suddenly, Viktor’s hand shoots out. He grabs the man by the collar, twisting tightly. He snarls and shoves the man back.

“No,” Viktor grunts. “Mr. Komarov,” one of the senior-looking Italian guys sighs. “Business meeting or not, Mr. Drucci—” “Attempt to put your hand on her again, and I will cut them o ,” the Russian hisses icily. I feel all the eyes in the room on me. My face burns, and I worry my lower lip as I look at the ﬂoor. The savage possessiveness in his tone makes me tremble. It scares me, but it also has my core tightening and my every thought on the kiss last night. The man who just tried to frisk me down clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, I’ll tell Mr. Drucci you’re here.” “Wonderful,” Viktor growls. The Italian’s ﬁle out. Viktor, Lev, his men, and I all take seats in the waiting room area. Minutes tick by. Then more. When half an hour has passed, Lev suddenly stands. He turns to Viktor and starts growling something furiously in Russian. Viktor answers in the same language, though his tone is much more level. “Viktor!” Lev hisses. “This is disrespectful. We should leave.” “I need that space, Lev,” Viktor grunts back quietly. He glances at me. I blush, simmering under his gaze. But then suddenly, the door to the room opens and two of Joey’s men step in. “This way.”

Viktor says nothing. But even just looking at him, you can tell his silence doesn’t mean acceptance of being made to wait like this. He’s more calculating than he appears to be, and I get the feeling that’s one of the biggest reason’s he’s managed to build the empire he has. “Ey! It’s Viktor! Get in here, comrade!” Joey Drucci is a paunchy, sleazy looking guy with slicked back thinning hair and a sweaty collar. He’s sitting at the head of a conference table in an expensive looking but badly ﬁtting suit. But he doesn’t get up when Viktor steps inside. He pats the top of the table next to him. “Come, have a seat.” “Our meeting was half an hour ago,” Viktor says coolly. “Well, you know how it is,” Joey shrugs. I frown, trying to make sense of it. I’m hardly an expert. But even I know that in the criminal food chain of Chicago, Viktor Komarov is way higher than a guy like Joey Drucci. But the Italian mobster is almost taunting Viktor—making him wait, playing everything so casual. I think back to the documents I was pouring over earlier. This property that Viktor wants from Joey is objectively garbage. It’s a condemned building on land that’s been deemed an environmental hazard. It would take more money to clean the site up than you would ever get back developing it. If you could even somehow get the permitting to do anything with it at all.

But obviously, Viktor wants it. And even more obviously, Joey knows it, and is using it as a shield to act as rudely and cavalierly as he wants to the more powerful man. Viktor crosses the room and sinks into the chair to the left of Joey. He glances at me, and his eyes gesture to the chair next to him. Feeling my face flush, I quickly take the seat, with Lev on the other side of me. “So, where were we last time?” “I believe I was making you a more than generous o er for your abandoned sneaker factory.” Joey grins. “Yeah, yeah that’s right.” He throws his hands up, shrugging. “What can I say, comrade. I’m attached to the place.” “So attached that you couldn’t agree to forty million?” My jaw drops. Forty freaking million? Who in their right mind would pay that for the all but unusable land in the terrible section of town? “Like I said, comrade,” Joey grins smugly. “I’m attached to it.” Viktor says nothing for minute. “So be it. Forty-five. But that’s my final o er.” The Italian mobster sighs and sits back in his chair. He pulls out a cigar and slowly cuts the end o . One of his men leans forward to hold a lighter as Joey pu s it slowly.

“You know what? I think I’m gonna wait and see what I could get from other interested parties.” I roll my eyes. Before I can stop myself, I’m opening my mouth. “Other interested parties?” I say incredulously. “Mr. Drucci, the property is basically useless. It’s a toxic hazard site, for God’s sake. If you could even get the city permitting to develop it—and that’s an enormous ‘if’—you’d need to excavate at least ten feet of soil o of the entire property, raze the building within an enclosure because of chemical particles, and send everything through detoxifying facilities before you could dump it. And all of that is before you even talk about building permits and land usage.” I shake my head, bewildered. “It would take ﬁfty-million dollars to put a lemonade stand on that property safely. And you think someone’s going to top forty-ﬁve million? If you got a quarter of that for that property, I would honestly be amazed.” The room goes utterly silent. Suddenly, I freeze, like I’ve just snapped out of a dream state. I realize what I’ve just said, and who I’ve just said it to, and I pale in horror. “Um, I—” Joey’s face cracks as he starts to laugh deeply. “Well holy fuck, comrade Vik!” He chuckles. “I thought this was your side piece or somethin’!” He turns to look at me with a mix of amusement and interest. “And who might you be, little girl?”

I frown. “I’m—” “This is Ms. James, my attorney in this matter.” I glance sidelong at Viktor when he drops the fake name. But I understand why. It won’t help things in the slightest if Joey knows he’s also dealing with the daughter of the Chicago District Attorney. “Well shit, what’s he paying you, sweetheart?” Joey leers at me. “I’ll double it if you bring that brain and that sweet ass of yours over to this side of the table.” I can hear Viktor’s low growl next to me. His hand clenches to a fist on the table, his face tense. I quickly turn to smile warmly at Joey. “I don’t change horses mid-race, Mr. Drucci.” He shrugs, but he keeps eyeing me lecherously. My mind feels scattered with being thrown into the deep end like this. But as I rack my brain for some way to turn the tides, I suddenly land on something—an idea from a case I once read about in one of my land trust classes. “Mr. Drucci, you’re aware that the property has been flagged as a red zone, aren’t you?” He frowns. “That some sort of hippy environmental shit? What’d they do, find a fucking spotted owl nest or some shit on it?” “Oh, no sir. I mean flagged by the US Justice System.”

His smile fades, and he sti ens in his seat. “Huh? What the fuck is a red zone” I sigh. “It’s complex, but it’s all part of the Patriot Act. Basically, it’s an entire area that can’t be surveilled conventionally with phone taps or bugs—places like a park, a port, or in this case, an abandoned building lot.” “Surveilled?” He grunts. “Yes, sir. A red zone flag means it’s been listed by Homeland Security for unmanned drone surveillance and cleared for action if necessary.” Joey starts to sweat. He glances around at some of his other guys, who all look equally unnerved. Beside me, Viktor stays utterly calm and emotionless. “Wait, how the fuck does a place get tagged like that?” I smile. “Well, sir, obviously I can’t speculate why the owner of an auto body shop might have a property red-flagged by Homeland Security…” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Viktor’s lips curl slightly at the corners. “But whatever your other business ventures may be,” I shrug. “As an attorney familiar with the intricacies of the Patriot Act, I can tell you that it typically brings a lot of attention to all business activities of the flagged property’s legal owner.” Joey’s face pales. He glowers at me, and then Viktor. His fingers drum the table before he finally grunts.

“Homeland Security. Are you fuckin’ shitting me?” “I’m afraid not. You know how the government is, always looking for terrorists under every rock. If you like, I could show you the red zone flag buried in the zoning paperwork.” I frown. “It’s unfortunately back at my o ces. But I’m sure by next week, I could have copies sent—” “Next fuckin’ week?” Joey grunts. “A week with fuckin’ Fed drones sticking cameras up my ass?” He shakes his head. “No. Hell no. Fuck that.” He drags his eyes back to Viktor. “Forty-five, huh?” The Russian shakes his head. “Actually, this is the first time Ms. James has mentioned the Federal interest in this property.” He turns to eye me curiously. I just shrug. “It was just made aware to me by one of my legal aides this morning,” I lie, hiding a smile. Viktor turns back to Joey. “As such, my o er is now twenty.” Joey looks outraged. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” “I’m afraid not. My interest is substantially lower if it’s got that kind of attention. And while Ms. James was correct about the soil excavation, it’s actually more like twenty-five feet of ground soil that needs to be removed, not ten.” He shrugs and steeples his fingers together on the table. “Twenty million, Mr. Drucci.” Joey’s sweating profusely. He drums his fingers on the table for a minute before he swears viciously. “Fuck it, fine, you

commie fuck.” He scowls at Viktor. “Twenty. But one condition.” “We’ll see what the condition is.” The portly Italian frowns. “What the fuck do you want that shit-hole for? Tell me that, and it’s yours for twenty mil.” Viktor’s lips thin. He seems to be considering it in his head for a minute before he leans forward. “I’m building a safe house and facility for street children, ones rescued from tra cking situations, and ones who’ve fallen through the cracks of a failed system.” My brows shoot up in surprise. Joey starts to laugh uproariously. “Alright, fuck you too, Viktor. Fine, don’t tell me. Do whatever you want with the place as soon as you wire me that money.” Viktor smiles thinly. “It will be transferred within the hour.” “Good,” Joey grins. His eyes slide back to mine. “Send your little honey of a lawyer over for the paperwork once you do.” “Oh,” I smile warmly. “Now that does sound fun. But unfortunately, I need to ﬂy back to New York today. Next time, perhaps?” He grins. “Yeah, you look me up, baby.” We all stand and shake hands. And then before I know it, we’re whizzing back through the city in the back of Viktor’s town car.

“Y OU

DID WELL BACK THERE .”

Lev has just left to go back outside, and Viktor and I are alone in the huge foyer of his home. His eyes hold mine without blinking. We haven’t had a second alone since last night, and now all I can think about is the feel of his lips on mine. I look up at this dangerous criminal of a man. I know I should be scared of him. I should hate him for e ectively imprisoning me. But neither of those things stops the urge inside. They don’t do a thing to temper the desperate wish that he’d kiss me again. Viktor moves closer. My heart beats faster. My skin tingles, wishing him even closer. “Thanks,” I whisper. “I especially liked the spoon-fed Homeland Security and drones.”

bullshit

involving

I smile widely. “I stole the idea from this case they had in Florida. The prosecutors intimidated Homeland Security getting involved with some low-level dealers to get them to ﬂip on their supplier and the head of the organization. They made the whole thing up, but hey, it worked.” “Well, it was smart bullshitting.” “Thanks,” I say softly. “And so was yours, by the way. I mean whatever you actually are going to build there, it better

be a casino or a money printing factory. Otherwise, you’ll never dig out of the ﬁnancial hole making it not toxic anymore will put you into.” Viktor smiles. “I wasn’t lying.” I blink in surprise. “What?” “The home for lost and forgotten children. That’s actually what I will be building there.” “As a front?” Viktor chuckles. “I think maybe you’ve seen too many gangster movies, Fiona. But no, not a front. A real home, for real children.” I want to ask why, but I’m afraid. Why would a man as ruthlessly and legendarily vicious as Viktor Komarov open a… what, an orphanage? I mean, what’s the angle? There’s no proﬁt there. And I very much doubt he has any interest in trying to “rehab his image” or anything like that. So… why? “Anyways, thank you,” he growls. “For today.” He steps even closer, and my thoughts trail away. He takes another step towards me. I tremble and take a shaky breath. Half of me wants to run screaming from him. The other half wants him to grab me, kiss me, and do whatever he wants to me. Viktor stops right in front of me, looming over me. His jaw is clenching tight as his hand comes up. He brushes his knuckles lightly over my jaw, making me gasp quietly. He growls low in his chest. He leans closer, and my heart surges.

But then suddenly, he pulls back. His hand drops, and he steps away from me. “There’s more work for that property I’ll be needing you for. But you did well today, Fiona.” I nod, trying to slow my pulse back down. “Thank you.” “Take the next few days o . Relax. If you need anything, ask.” I’m about to be snarky and ask what he’d do if I asked to go home. But I don’t. Not because I’m scared of him or what he’ll say. It’s much worse than that. I don’t ask because even after less than a day in Viktor’s world, I’m not sure if I even do want to go back to my gilded cage.

VIKTOR

S HE COMES WITH A GASPING MOAN . Her body arches from the bed, twisting beneath the sheets. She turns to bury her mouth in the pillow, and I grunt. My muscles clench and my cock throbs. My cum sprays from the swollen head, and I sink back into my o ce chair. Christ, what is wrong with me? It’s been like this for the last three nights, since she got here. Every night, she gets ready for bed, and I watch her. I grow hard while she undresses or showers. Then she slips into bed and grabs her phone. She might text her friend Zoey a little bit, lying about being in New York. But then, she’s doing research. On me. She reads articles about me—the bad headline news, and the tabloids. She scrolls through pictures of me online. And then eventually, she turns out the lights. But then, every time, her hands start exploring. Her moans ﬁlter through my computer speakers as I stroke along with her.

Then she goes to sleep, and I’m left wondering what the hell I’m doing. I know what I could do. We’re in my domain, where I am king. I could waltz in there and take her right now in that bed. Something tells me she’d beg me to, actually. But I don’t. I’ve held back on even being around her since our meeting with Joey. Because Lev is actually right: she does something to me. She makes me weak. She makes me forget myself, and my ﬁrm rules. Her being in my world is making me slip and taking my mind o of business in ways it shouldn’t be. I’m blurring what should not be blurred. She’s a hostage, not a love interest. She’s collateral, not a girl I should be sni ng around and lusting over. But there’s another problem. This might actually be easier if it was just a matter of lust. Lust is easy to cure, especially when you have money. But I don’t just lust after Fiona. I want her—all of her. It’s not just that she makes my dick hard and my desires run rampant. She makes my heart skip. She awakens something I’ve made sure is dormant inside of me for years. I shake my head as I watch her sleeping under her sheets. With one last look, I close the laptop, stand, and head to my own bed to sleep. To sleep, and to dream of the untouchable girl down the hall.

I GRUNT , hissing through clenched teeth. My muscles coil and flex, sweat dripping down my chest. I thrust with another savage snarl. The bar lifts high, my biceps burning before I lower it back with a clanking sound. My body aches as I slowly take a deep breath. I sit up on the weight bench, feeling the endorphins pump through my body after my workout. I drink deeply from my water bottle and look up at the mirrored wall across from me. I’m shirtless, my muscles quivering from the brutal weight regiment. My eyes slide over the various tattoos covering my skin. Some are from when I was young—a lone wolf on the streets. When I crossed over to the US and began to build an empire, it wasn’t long before I, as a Russian, caught the attention of others from my home country in the same line of work—the Bratva. The Russian mafia. I could say I laughed in their faces and went on to blaze my own path. But that would be a work of fiction. It doesn’t work like that with the Bratva. You want to play the game? They are the game. They’re the NBA. You don’t play ball without their say-so, or the tithing they take. The media likes to portray me as this underworld king. While it’s true that I make most of my own shots and calls, there’s still the power of the Brava Council above me. But the Bratva is also family. The Bratva took me in when I was an angry young hothead. They saw potential under my “live fast, die young” bravado, and they helped me mold myself into the man I am today. This empire I run is my

empire. But the world it exists in is that of the Bratva. And I have no qualms about this. My eyes dance over the other tattoos—these ones Bratva through and through. These are the marks of rank—of sacriﬁce. They mark my loyalty and a liations. They brand me as a criminal to some eyes, and as brother to others. I stand, grunting as my muscles burn. But it’s a good ache. I like keeping my body a well-oiled machine. But I also recognize that my physique these days is a luxury. I can remember my life before, when I was back on the streets in my old country. You don’t get muscles like this when you’re scrounging the gutters for food. You don’t build biceps when your day-to-day existence is simply ﬁnding enough calories to keep living. But now that I have this luxury and these means, I’ve vowed to keep myself hard. I won’t be soft. I won’t get fat and complacent. This empire I’ve built rests on my shoulders. And I won’t ever let them weaken. I stride through my lavish home, still shirtless. I glance up the stairs towards the wing of the house where Fiona is staying. I growl to myself, feeling my cock thicken. Part of me dwells on the idea of going up there—of knocking her door down and ripping whatever clothes she’s wearing from her soft body. My blood is roaring with testosterone and endorphins. It’s bringing out a caveman need to claim this girl as my own. My jaw grinds as I suddenly act. I storm up the stairs and down the halls. My blood boils in my veins, like fuel. My cock

surges harder as I approach her door. I don’t knock. It’s my own home, after all. I swing the door wide and bluster inside. But her room is empty. She’s not in the bathroom, the bedroom, her small living area. None of it. I swear to myself, deﬂating a little. I didn’t have a plan in coming up here. But what was I thinking that I was going to do? Pin her to the bed and take her forcefully? I scowl, shaking my head. No. When I take Fiona—and I will be taking her—it will be when she begs me for it. I’ll have her in my bed when she’s whimpering for more. Not like a savage maniac forcing myself on her. My mood is sour, but my lust is still thudding inside when I march back downstairs. I head to the back of the house to take a post-workout swim in my pool. I’m still muttering to myself as I storm into the backyard, kick my shoes o , and dive in. I push myself hard, lap after grueling lap. I don’t slow or even look up until my body is screaming for mercy. Then and only then do I push for one last lap and then ﬁnally stop. I suck in air as I place my elbows on the edge of the pool. I look up, and suddenly startle when I see her. But when my eyes focus on Fiona, my jaw clenches. She’s sitting in a pool lounger not six feet from me with a book open. And she’s wearing nothing but a black bikini. “I—” she blushes. “I was sitting here when you came out. I didn’t know if I should leave, or—” “Stay,” I growl.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” I shake my head. “You didn’t.” My lips curl. “You did, actually. But it was a good startle.” Fiona smiles. My eyes shamelessly travel down over her chest, down her stomach to her hips, and then up and down each smooth, toned leg. The black bikini ﬁts her perfectly, highlighting her porcelain skin, her freckles, and her gorgeous red hair. Beneath the water, my cock surges at the thought of peeling her bottoms o with my fucking teeth… She creates a war inside of me. One side wants to climb out of this pool, walk over there, and do just that. That side of me wants to simply take her—to fuck her right here and now, because it’s what I want. That side of me reminds me that this girl is my prisoner—she’s mine. A debt is owed, and if it is not paid, she’ll be my prize to collect instead. But the other side of me resists. There’s a goodness to this girl—an innocence. And I’m a storm cloud of chaos to that goodness. With me comes violence and destruction. Taking her would mar and blemish her. And besides that, I’m not going to just take her like a goddamn savage. I’m not that man. I want her, yes. But a man who simply takes a woman because he desires her, heedless of what she wants, isn’t a man at all. I scowl as I think back to my past. There was a time when I was new in the game where I was running a strip club in the South Side. A customer got handsy and wouldn’t take no as an answer from one of the girls. After his second warning, we kicked him out. But later that night when we closed, he

was waiting for her out in the parking lot. Luckily, I was still at the club and heard her screams. We stopped him from doing what he’d intended to do, but a message was sent. I gelded him myself with a kitchen knife and had him dropped weeping in front of a hospital with his severed manhood in a brown paper bag. So, no. I may want Fiona with a fury that almost scares me. But when I take her to bed, she’ll be moaning for it. I take a breath, calming myself. I turn away from her, ending the conversation because I have to. I climb from the pool and stalk across the patio to the outdoor shower. The small enclosure is only partially private. Through the slats of the wood plank walls, I watch her. The water streams over me, cleansing the chlorine from my skin and my shorts. But my cock aches as I watch her look back at her book. The sun glistens o of her creamy skin, beckoning me. Enticing me. Goading me. Fiona rolls over onto her front, still reading her book. I shut the water o , clenching my jaw as I watch her. I step from the shower, knowing I should go inside. But I don’t. I can’t. It’s like there’s a magnetism about her sucking me in. And for all my strength and toughness, I can’t resist her. I barely even realize I’m stalking towards her until I’m standing right beside her. “You’ll burn.” She gasps, startled by me. She glances over her shoulder at me, blushing. Her teeth drag across her bottom lip again,

and it’s all I can do not to groan out loud. My eyes slide over her back, glistening in the sunlight. They slide lower, over her tight, curvy ass and smooth thighs. But then I drag them back to her eyes. “The sunlight,” I growl. “Do you have any sunscreen on?” She half smiles. I’m sure she’s confused and maybe amused at the dangerous, rough Bratva kingpin worrying about her getting a goddamn sunburn. “I don’t actually. I wasn’t sure where—” “Wait here.” I walk over to the bar area by the side of the pool. Reaching into one of the cabinets, I pull out lotion and turn to walk back over to her. I don’t ask, I just squeeze some out onto my hands and look down at her. “Oh,” Fiona blushes deeply. “I can—” “I’ll get your back.” She trembles slightly. Her teeth drag across her lip, and I can see her face burning hotly. But there’s a glimmer in her eyes. And besides, I know her secret. I know what she does at night under her sheets in the dark, after looking at pictures of me without a shirt on. I sit on the edge of the lounger, reach over her, and lower my hands to her skin. I have to bite back the growl when my ﬁngers touch her soft, warm skin. My cock thickens to steel in half a second as my hands slide across her back. The lotion slicks across her skin, and I feel her tremble beneath

me. She lowers her head, her red hair tumbling across her face. I slide up and down, kneading her skin and the muscles beneath. A low, soft little sound escapes her lips. I know it’s a sigh of contentment. But it’s so similar to a moan of pleasure that it ignites the fire in me. My fingers drag slickly over her skin. Without hesitating, they pluck at the tie of her top. Fiona gasps when she feels me do it. But when it falls to her sides and my hands are no longer hindered, she murmurs softly. I bite back the growl. My desire surges as my hands slide down to the small of her back. I pour more of the lotion onto her skin and knead it deeply. She moans again for me, writhing a little beneath my touch. I can see her ass flexing and her thighs clenching together. It makes me want to yank those thighs apart and see where else needs my attention. One of my hands stays on the small of her back. The other slides over her hips and then down the backs of her thighs. I rub deeply, my fingers curling down into the valley between her legs. Fiona whimpers, sending my hunger racing to the surface. Her body quivers under my touch. Her breathing gets faster. And then her legs spread—not overly, but just enough to make my balls swell. Wordlessly, I slide my hand higher. And then higher still, up the inside of her thigh. She’s whimpering overtly now, moaning softly. My fingers brush higher until they stop just short of where her bikini bottom is pulled tight between her

legs. Christ, I can almost feel the heat of her little cunt through the black lycra. And then she moans. If she’d stayed quiet, I may have stopped myself. But that sound wrecks my control. She moans softly, and my hand keeps moving. I slide it up until my knuckles drag over her pussy, through her suit. Fiona gasps and then moans sweetly. She whimpers into her arms, and I feel her legs widen as she lifts her hips. I grin hungrily. She’s as eager for this as I am. I boldly cup her eager cunt, and I groan as I lean over her. “You’re wet for me,” I growl. Fiona whimpers, her breath coming in hitches. “I—I—” “I like that you’re wet for me,” I groan. My hand cups her pussy a little firmer, and I start to rub. My one hand is massaging the small of her back, but the one between her thighs begins to tease. My cock is straining against my shorts like it might tear a hole in them. But my focus is all her. My finger drags up and down her seam through the black suit. I can feel her getting even warmer and wetter under my touch. She squirms, whimpering and moaning softly even as I keep teasing her. My hunger grows, surging inside until I can’t resist it any longer. With a low growl, I slide my fingers under the edge of her suit and slip them inside.

Fiona moans eagerly when my fingers slide over her bare pussy. She’s fucking drenched for me, too. I push my fingers over her slickness, parting her lips to seek her entrance. I drag my finger up and down before centering on her clit. She gasps sharply, and I watch her fingers claw at the pool lounger. Beneath the tousles of her red hair, I can see her face crumpling in pleasure as I slowly rub her aching little button. I add pressure—both with my hand pinning her to the chair by the small of her back, and with my finger on her clit. I rub faster in deliberate circles as she moans into the chair. Her ass rises, pushing back greedily for my hand. Her slick desire coats my fingers as I roll her clit over and over. I lean over her, until my lips are right by her neck. I growl deeply into her ear as she gasps, panting in desire. “Come for me,” I snarl quietly. “Come for me right fucking now.” She jolts, bucks against my hand, and then chokes out a moan. I can feel her body react to my demand, coming instantly for me. Her pussy floods my fingers with her wetness and she buries a scream into the crook of her arm. I let my fingers stroke through her dewy lips once more, before I slowly pull away. Desire roars inside of me. I care not that it’s broad daylight. I don’t give a shit anymore about anything except taking this girl, right here and now. My cock hungers for her, straining obscenely at the confines of my shorts.

But then suddenly, I hear footsteps. With a furious curse, I slip my hand from her bikini bottoms. Fiona’s blushing deeply as she scrambles, reaching back to quickly tie her top back up. I glance up as Nina strides around the corner. She narrows her eyes, shaking her head at me. And I know it’s because I’m sitting on the edge of Fiona’s pool chair, shirtless, with her in a damn bikini. “Viktor,” she says curtly. Now I know she’s pissed. Nina might call me by my ﬁrst name when we’re alone. But around others aside from Lev, she defers to Mr. Komarov. I know instantly that the “Viktor” is her admonishing me for being so cavalier with a girl who is decidedly my prisoner. “Yes?” I growl. I don’t stand, because it would be obscene given my current state. Nina purses her lips. Her eyes drop past me to Fiona, but then they snap back to me. “Your…” she frowns. “Your guests of honor have arrived. Lev is with them, at the docks.” I sti en, but then relief washes through me. “Good,” I growl. I let the tension out with a slow exhale. “Good. Thank you, Nina. I’ll be inside in a minute, if you could have the car ready.” She nods. “Will do.” Her eyes dart past me to Fiona again. But then she shrugs, turns, and marches o . I turn back to Fiona. She’s blushing darkly, her face red and her eyes wide. But she doesn’t look away when my gaze ﬁnds hers.

“I have work,” I say quietly. She nods, still blushing. “It’s a good thing I was here,” I grunt softly. “So that I wouldn’t get sunburned?” she asks softly. “So that you wouldn’t have to wait until nighttime to do that to yourself again.” Her mouth falls open as her face grows an entirely new shade of crimson. “I—” I smile hungrily and lean close. “Or perhaps you still will, but just with something better to think about now than just fantasy.” I look her in the eye as she blushes furiously. I slowly bring my hand to my lips, and I suck the very ﬁngers that were just rubbing her pussy to orgasm into my mouth and lick them clean. Fiona watches with wide, lust-ﬁlled eyes, her face beet red. Her lips quiver like she’s desperately looking for something to say to save herself. But before she can say a thing, I move. I lean down, my hand slides into her hair, and I yank her mouth to mine. She sti ens and then melts against me as I kiss her. My desire throbs inside, my cock rock-hard. I kiss her slowly and deeply, before I gently pull away. As much as I want to drag her to my bed, I have business. I stand, smiling to myself at the way her eyes fall and widen on the huge bulge in my shorts. Then I turn and walk away, the taste of her sweet little cunt like candy on my lips.

FIONA

M Y ENTIRE BODY throbs with heat and desire. Back in my quarters, still in my bathing suit, it feels like I’m trembling on a knife’s edge. On one side, lust, desire, and the deliciously dirty knowledge that I’ve just come by someone else’s fingers but my own for the very first time. On that side, I want to wait by the front door for him to come back so that I can jump him. I want to kiss him until my lips are bruised. I want to touch him the way he touched me. But on the other side of that knife’s edge is confusion and doubt. It’s fear at the unknown. That side of me genuinely wonders what the events of earlier even mean to a man like Viktor. He’s a dangerous man who runs this city like a shadowy Czar. He’s rich beyond imagination, and ridiculously gorgeous. I mean how many girls has he had as “prisoners” at this palace of a house? How many have become his little poolside playthings? I scowl and glare at the floor. I hate that I’m jealous of imaginary women. I hate that the dangerous criminal who

literally kidnapped me is even capable of making me jealous. And yet I can’t tell if I want to slap him or yank his pants o . I change out of my suit. I blush, remembering the feel and intimacy of his hands on me. I rinse o in the shower and then slip into comfortable pajama pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I pace my quarters, feeling more and more like a trapped lab rat, until I can’t stand it anymore. With a pursed mouth, I turn and head for the door to go for a real walk to clear my head. But it’s locked. I frown, yanking at the doorknob. I rattle it, glaring at the knob that won’t budge. Eventually, I start to pound on the door, yelling. I can hear someone on the other side, too. “Hey! Hey! Open the fucking door!” I hear the sound of a phone being dialed, then a masculine grunt and a few words in Russian. The man goes quiet, and I start pounding again. “Hey! Open this door!” The man is talking again in Russian. But this time, I hear a woman’s voice too. The lock clicks open. I step back as the door swings open, blinking in surprise when it’s Nina who steps in. “Yes?” she says testily. “What?” “Yes, what is it you need?”

I frown. “I need to not be locked in my rooms. I was going to go for a walk.” She looks at me impassively. “What do you need? I’ll have it sent up—” “I don’t need anything to be brought up to me. I’m not a princess locked in a freaking tower.” She smirks. But I just glare back. “I want to go for a walk.” “Are your quarters not large enough for you?” she says sarcastically. “Guess not,” I snap back. Nina sighs. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll need to stay in your quarters.” “Says who!?” She shrugs “Mr. Komarov says so. While he’s gone, you’re to stay in your quarters.” I gape at her. “That’s insane!” She shrugs again. “Mr. Komarov was quite clear in his instructions.” “What am I, a prisoner?” I blurt. Nina smiles. “Ms. Murray, what would have given you the impression that you were not a prisoner here?” I glare at her furiously. But she doesn’t seem phased. “Well, if you do need

something brought up, just let your guard know through the door.” She turns smartly on her heel to walk out. “You know it’s not my freaking fault if my being here throws a wrench in your little crush on your boss,” I spit at her back. Nina freezes. “I didn’t exactly ask to come here, you know.” Slowly, she turns to look at me with amusement. “My what?” “Your crush, or whatever your freaking story is with Viktor. I don’t care, Nina. I’m not trying to get in the way of anything, okay?” “Ms. Murray—” “You very clearly hate me for being close to him or stepping on whatever history you have with him. But if you could lose the attitude about something I have zero fucking choice in, I’d really appreciate it, got it?!” She looks at me, her smile widening. Slowly, she starts to laugh softly. My temper ﬂares as I glare at her. “Oh, that’s funny to you?” “Yes,” she smiles, chuckling softly. “It’s amusing to me how little you understand about what’s going. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have my pathetic, jaded little ‘crush’ on my boss to get back to.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I haven’t quiet ﬁnished writing ‘Mrs Nina Komarov’ on my schoolbooks yet, you know.”

She gives me a sarcastic sneer, whirls on her heel, and leaves. The door closes and locks behind her, and my anger throbs. I hiss furiously and whirl to stomp across my quarters. I angrily sit at the vanity I was using as a desk before. I grab a legal pad and a pen, and I start to write. I don’t really know what it is I think I’m doing. But I start to write out detailed accounts of everything I’ve seen at Viktor’s house, and what I’ve overheard since being taken by him. It’s not much, but it feels like I’m doing something. Maybe it feels like I’m taking out insurance or something. I list the weapons I’ve seen around his house that I’m sure are illegal. I detail my own captivity, and how I’m not allowed to leave my own room, under guard. I write about Viktor’s land deal with a known criminal, both of them working through shady shell companies. I even detail how Viktor was using me—a captive, and not a real attorney—to leverage Joey Drucci with their arrangement. I know what Viktor’s told me the property is for. And he was even fairly convincing about it. But the more I think on it, the more I realize how bullshit it is. There’s no way that man is opening a freaking home for lost children or whatever on that property. It just doesn’t add up. Not the utter fortune it would take to open something that will most certainly lose, not make, money. Nor does the idea of a man as ruthlessly vicious as Viktor Komarov building something so selﬂessly giving. I go back to the paperwork for the land and the condemned factory that sits on it. I look at trucking routes nearby, and

its access to the airport and lake ports. I don’t have proof, but I have enough business paperwork and past accusations against Viktor to put together some ideas. Under what I’ve already written, I list my thoughts on what he most likely is using the property for—gun tra cking, possibly a narcotics distribution center. When I’m done, I sit back and glare at what I’ve written. I’m still angry, but it feels good to get that all out. It’s like instatherapy. As good as he felt earlier, and as much as he made me want to throw myself at him, he’s still what he is. He may have made me feel things I’ve never felt before, not even with just myself. But he’s still a monster. He’s still a merciless, ruthless Bratva kingpin. I end up shoving the garbage I’ve written into a drawer of the vanity. I walk over to the bed and throw myself across it. I’m still feeling pissed and confused. So I pick up my phone and call Zoey. I know damn well someone—maybe even Nina herself—is listening in on my conversation. But I don’t care. I just need someone to talk to who isn’t part of my imprisonment. “Hey, girl!” I smile. “Hey yourself.” “So, really, are you ever coming back from New York? Or are you just going to stay there now that you’re a big-shot lawyer.” I roll my eyes. “Not a lawyer, Zoey. I still need to take the Bar.”

“Well, enough of one that big ﬁrms want to wine and dine your fancy ass,” she teases. I smile, but I still feel like shit for lying to my friend. Zoey seems to sense it, too. “What’s going on, Fiona? You seem out of it.” I shrug. “I don’t know…” “C’mon, spill it. Is the job o er still good?” “It’s ﬁne, yeah,” I mumble. “It’s just… I don’t know.” “Maybe you’re just homesick?” she ventures. “Maybe…” I shrug to myself. “I don’t, Zoey. Yeah, maybe that’s it.” “How’s the o

ce been?”

I glance around sullenly at my quarters. “Limiting.” “The potential co-workers?” I think of Nina’s condescending sneers. “Petty.” Zoey sighs. “Shit, I’m sorry. How about your boss, though?” “Oh my God, a bossy, pushy, domineering prick.” I don’t give a shit that I’m probably being listened to by Viktor’s own people. Good. They can tell him exactly what I think. “He walks into every room like he owns it, Zoey. And everything’s this growly thing with him. Like he can’t just talk, he has to growl it like this macho man thing. And he’s

so controlling, and grumpy, and he’s got that clenched jaw scowl thing constantly.” Zoey snickers. “Is he hot?” I blush. My thoughts quickly ﬂash back to earlier, by the pool. I remember watching him dive in, not even seeing me there on the side. I replay the way I felt like a peeping Tom watching him swim back and forth, his muscles bulging under his tattoos. And then, I replay the part when he got out —when he touched me and kissed me. When he made me explode on his ﬁngers like that, demanding that I come. Suddenly, I’m aware of Zoey laughing. “What?” I snap. She giggles. “Well, I asked if this grumpy, dominant, growly boss of yours was hot and you just went quiet.” I blush deeply. “I was thinking about what a dick he is.” “Oh, you were thinking about dick alright.” “Zoey!” I gasp. “Seriously?!” “Well answer the question!” I simmer, blushing deeply and worrying my lip. “Yeah, that’s still silence—” “He’s cute, alright?” “So he’s hot.” I feel my face grow warmer. “Maybe,” I mumble.

She crows a laugh. “So, grumpy, growly, snarly, and hot. And he’s your boss at this swank new job in New York. Fiona, I can pretty much assume I’m never seeing you again, right?” I roll my eyes. “That’s not true.” “Well at the least, maybe you can ﬁnally lose your v-card.” My face turns crimson. “He’s my boss, Zoey!” “I mean, not yet he isn’t. Technically.” No, technically, he’s the vicious killer who has me under lock and key in my own bedroom. And I still can’t stop fantasizing about him. “This conversation is over,” I mumble. She laughs. “Okay, okay. Sorry for teasing.” “Well how about you, huh?” I push back. “Chet Brubaker been sni ng around anymore?” Zoey instantly stops giggling. “No,” she says quickly. “Zoo-eeey,” I tease. “Eww, no, Fiona,” she says quickly. “No Chet. Gross.” I frown at her sudden change in tone. “Anything else on your end you want to talk—” “You know what, shit, I have to run.” My brows knit. “Oh, uh, okay. You okay?” “Yeah, ﬁne,” she says quickly. “Chat later. Bye!”

She quickly hangs up. I’m confused as I stare at the phone in my hand. But finally, I shrug. I fall back on the bed, drumming my fingers on the comforter. My thoughts, predictably, wander to Viktor. I start to wonder where he is, and who he’s with. Who are these “guests of honor” he had to go meet with? Bravta types? Business associates? My mouth purses tightly. Or, girls, maybe? Images of Viktor cavorting around with underwear models or a bunch of skanky club girls burn through my mind. I scowl, pushing them away. The sting of jealousy singes me, making me pout as I glare at the ceiling. I hate that I’m jealous of imaginary women having imaginary fun with the man I shouldn’t be wanting in the first place. My phone rings suddenly. I glance at it to see that it’s Zoey again. “Hey, what’s—” “I have to tell you something,” she blurts. I can hear the panic in her voice, and I frown. “Of course,” I say gently. “Zoey, whatever it is—” “It’s your dad,” she says quickly. “He’s…” she groans. “Zoey, he’s been… sexting me.” My face scrunches up. “Eew! What?!” “I was walking past your building yesterday and saw him as his car was pulling up. He invited me in, and I mean, I’ve been to your house a million times, so I went up.”

My stomach knots. “Wait, what did he do?” “Nothing! Well, he sort of tried to…” she groans. “We were alone, and I was talking about you and your job. But he kept changing the subject back to me. He kept asking questions about my life, which were fine at first. But then it was like, do I have a boyfriend. Do I like older guys, that sort of stu .” I make a face. “Eww! Are you kidding me?!” “I left, Fiona. I just made up some excuse and ran out. But he’s been texting me… stu , since then. Like, flirty stu , and then when I didn’t know how to respond, he got bolder.” “Oh my God, Zoey, I’m so, so sorry. That’s so fucking gross.” “He, uh…” she takes a breath. “He sent me a picture of himself naked an hour ago, Fiona. Like it was an accident, but it wasn’t?” I groan, feeling ill. “Okay, that’s so gross. I’m so sorry!” There’s a long pause, and I frown. “Zoey?” “I…” she breathes quietly. “There’s actually something else. I told myself I’d never tell you this, because I just never wanted you to have to look at your dad like this…” I feel cold as my mouth thins. “Zoey, what is it?” “It’s not the first time he’s done this,” she whispers. My mouth falls open. “You’re joking.” “I wish I was.”

I blanche. “Oh my God, when?” She groans. “That’s actually the worst part. It was…a while ago.” My stomach knots. “Oh my fucking God.” “It was when we were seniors in high school,” she says thinly. “When I was seventeen.” My body feels like it’s caving in on itself. I feel cold, and gross, and just sick all over. “Look, it was a long time ago. He told me at the time it was a mistake, and that he’d been drinking and texted the wrong person. I wasn’t sure if I believed him, but I really wanted to. And he never brought it up ever after that.” I breathe shallowly, shaking in disgust. “Zoey, I’m…I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking sorry.” “I’ll live,” she sighs. “Sorry, I know you probably never needed to hear that. But I had to tell you.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the mental image. “Hey,” she says quietly. “You think I can come visit you in New York?” I wince. “I… I’ll be home pretty soon, Zoey.” “Yeah…” she sighs again. “Alright, sorry. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry. God, that’s so freaking gross.” “Politicians, huh?” she mutters dryly.

“Ugh.” “Alright, well go back to your fancy job o er and your hot growly boss. If he’s got a brother, let me know.” I smile. “Night, Zoey.” “Night.”

VIKTOR

T HE CAR COMES to stop beneath a flickering streetlight. I get out, the gravel, broken glass, and grime of the warehouse district crunching under my shoes. It’s a depressing place, but it’s also quiet—perfect for my guests, and for the violence that will come to the others tonight. We’re parked in front of two small, dark warehouses. The door to one opens. Light floods out across the gloomy parking lot as Lev steps out. “How are they?” “Scared,” Lev growls. “But safe. Doctor Turgenev is looking them over now, but they seem okay. They’re eating.” My brow furrows. “Good. That’s good. And the others?” His smile twists. He turns and nods to the second warehouse. “Slowly accepting their fate. Sobbing like little girls.” My lips thin into a hateful line. “Even better. I’ll see them in a few. But I’d like to meet our new arrivals first.”

Lev nods and heads back to the ﬁrst warehouse. I follow, but at the door, I stop and turn to my men. “Stay outside. If anyone is to come in, your guns stay out here. Is that clear?” “Da, boss,” a few of them grunt. I nod and turn back to Lev as he opens the door for us. Inside, there’s a small entryway with a little o ce desk, and then another door. Wordlessly, we step through that one into the next room. Two dozen faces suddenly lift to me, and my heart both soars and breaks. The children look scared, and dirty—ranging from perhaps six or seven to seventeen. They’re all sitting at long cafeteria-style tables eating from platters of food. A few of the older kids stand to one side, eying me and Lev. This is the third group to come through Chicago. Even as we stand here, two more are being taken in by my people in New York and LA. But this is the last, at least from the monsters currently waiting to die in the warehouse next door. But I could have seen this a hundred times before and it wouldn’t matter. My heart still breaks a little when I see them. My fury still surges to hatred at those responsible. A middle-aged woman with a stethoscope around her neck looks up from a little girl and nods sti y. She says something with a smile to the girl she’s been talking to, and then walks over to us. “Mr. Komarov, hello.” “Dr. Turgenev. How are they?”

The doctor sighs heavily. “They’re terrified, of course. Emotionally battered, a few were beaten.” In the distance, in the warehouse next to this one, I hear the occasional sound of a lumber saw. It steels my resolve. It gives me the strength to face this horror. The children in this room are the lost—the discarded, the forgotten. My jaw clenches tightly. They’re the easily preyed upon. They’re me, before I became the me I am today. These ones, like the others who came last month and the month before, and the ones tonight in LA and New York, are part of a tra cking operation. Even thinking about it brings the bile into my throat. It makes me want to forget the saw and use my bare fucking hands on those responsible. This whole thing is my own project. While the Bratva takes no part in shame like this, they don’t involve themselves in the active role I’m taking against this shit either. But for me, it’s personal. This is how I fight the demons from my past. This is how I try and fight the horrors of this world that I witness as a forgotten child of the streets—a casualty of the broken system. This is the work of evil, evil men. I’ve been tracking them and using shell companies and fake entities to string them along, in order to free these children and others like them from… well, it’s best not to think about. Mercifully, what could have happened, didn’t happen. I’ve made sure of that in my dealings with the pieces of shit running this operation. They believed they were selling these children to a ring of

predators here in the city. But when they arrived to the meeting… Well, they won’t be making any deals at all ever again. Or breathing. My teams in LA and New York tonight are dealing with groups tra cked from Southeast Asia. But these here tonight are mostly from Russia, Ukraine, and other Balkan states. They’re orphans, mostly. Some of them refugees from small wars the world doesn’t care about. They’re the children who would otherwise fall through the cracks and be swallowed up. Exactly the kind I’m trying to save. Eventually, they’ll have a place to stay, all under one roof. I’ve told Fiona the true purpose of the property she’s helping me with, but not the gritty, horror-show details. I’ve chosen not to give her nightmares knowing the full evil of the world we live in—that there are those who would prey on the most innocent for a price. For now, these, like the ones before them, and the others we’ve taken in tonight, will go to temporary housing I’ve set up. They’ll have food, clothes, medicine, counseling, and anything else they could possibly need. Hopefully one day, they’ll have permanent homes, with real families. They’ll know love again. I turn back to Doctor Turgenev. “If there’s anything you need, Lada.” She smiles and puts a motherly hand on my arm. “All I need is the resources, Mr. Komarov.”

“You have them.” “I know,” she smiles warmly. “The work you’re doing, Mr. —” “I’m just the money.” “No,” she shakes her head. “You’re the sword.” She gives me another smile and then excuses herself. I watch her go over to a little girl, who lights up when Lada sits down with her. Lev gets a call on his cell. He’s short on the phone, and when he hangs up, he’s grinning thinly. “Yeah?” “We got him,” he growls, smiling savagely. “You’re joking.” “No. He was on the fucking boat in New York.” My fury burns hot. But this is also good news. “Him” is a man I’ve only known as “Igor” through our coded online messages. But he’s the ringleader of this entire operation. Through him, we’ll be using Bratva contacts of mine in Russia and other places to stomp out the rest of his hive of cockroaches. There are others—other monsters out there prowling for the innocent. But this is one of the bad ones. And tonight, he’ll be crushed under a heel like the insect he is. “Should we head next door?” I nod. “Give me one minute.”

I scan the room and let my eyes land on the group of the older kids across the room. One of them, a boy, looks like the oldest. Or at least, he looks like the biggest. He’s the one the rest of the older kids seem to be di ering to. I leave Lev and cross the room to the group. The others seem to sense who I’m there for, and they quietly filter away. He eyes me warily, and I don’t blame him. “Ty Russkiy? Are you Russian?” “Da,” he mutters. “But I speak English.” I smirk. I sometimes forget that my time in the US has softened my Russian, making me sound like it’s my second, not first language to those who speak it. “Smart boy,” I grunt. “How old are you?” He stands up to his full height, squaring his shoulders. I’ve still got a foot and probably a hundred pounds on the kid. But I like that he doesn’t cower. This kid has balls. “Seventeen,” he says proudly. “Got a name?” “Do you?” I chuckle. “You don’t have to fight anymore. You’re safe now. You and the others here, you’ll be taken care of from now on. Food, shelter, school, jobs if you’re looking.” He bristles, and my jaw clenches.

“Not that kind of job. None of you will ever face that, do you understand? Not here, not while you’re under my protection, which you are. Is that clear? You are free. Truly free.” I watch his jaw clench, his nostrils ﬂaring. His hands are still balled at his sides. “Kak vas zovut?” I say gently. “What is your name?” He shu

es his feet and looks down. “Maxim,” he grunts.

“Maxim, my name is Viktor. You come from St. Petersburg, da?” He nods. “Yes.” “Me as well.” He glances up at me curiously. “I was on the streets in the Murino district.” Maxim frowns, but then his look softens. “Me too.” “Rough fucking place. I shouldn’t have called you a boy before. You survive that, you’re a man.” He grins proudly “Maxim, I need to go deal with some business. But while I’m gone, can I leave you in charge of the others? They need someone to look up to, to guide them and make sure they know they’re safe. Can you be my man in charge?” Maxim grins wider. “Da.”

“Good man. And if you need anything, please just ask Dr. Turgenev or any of my men here.” He nods. I smile and then turn to leave, when he stops me. “We’re really not being sent back?” I glance back at him. “Do you wish to go back?” “Nyet,” he hisses. “Then no, you won’t. Your home is here now, Maxim.” He nods. “Thank you, Mr. Viktor.” I smile back at him and then head over to Lev. He smiles grimly, and the both of us leave the room of our new arrivals. Outside, we walk next door to the second warehouse. This one is guarded by two of my men, armed. Inside the little o ce vestibule, three more armed men stand ready, smiling eagerly. We all know what’s happening here tonight. All of the men present are glad for what’s about to happen. But the men with children of their own have a special sort of satisfaction on their faces. Lev and I step into the main room. Faces look up at us here, too. But these faces do not make my heart break. The look of fear and dismay on their faces gives me great pleasure. The ten bound and gagged men on their knees before me are human waste. Utter trash. I’ll never claim to be a saint. I’ve killed, I’ve brutalized, I’ve terrorized, and I’ve been unmerciful. But these men are pure evil. Tonight, we stamp that evil out of this world.

I look at them coldly. Some look back with the faintest glimmer of hope in their eyes. But if they’re looking for mercy or some sort of communion of their sentence, they won’t find it here. I let my eyes settle on the crew leader of this little group. He smiles hopefully through his gag. I smile back, and his grows wider. Then I look up to my men standing by the wood-chipper in the middle of the room. “Cold tonight, da?” They smile thinly. “Da, boss.” I turn back to the utter piece of shit on his knees in front of me. He’s trembling, smiling weakly up at me. As if I’m not about to shred him inch-by-inch, slowly, for the horrors he’s helped wrought upon this world. I smile thinly at him. “Maybe we should cut some wood.” My men chuckle as they turn the wood-chipper on. The face of the man in front of me instantly turns to horror. He and the others start screaming and crying through their gags. But I have not a single drop of pity. I think of the children next door, who I’ve saved from whatever hell these monsters had planned for them. My eyes narrow on the crew leader. “This one first.” He screams and screams as they drag him across the floor. Lev stands next to me, both of us with our arms crossed. The metallic whine of the chipper screams hungrily over and over while we watch in silence, smiling thinly.

It’s not much. But piece by piece, a little evil leaves this world.

FIONA

T HIS TIME , I’m aware of her presence before I open my eyes. I groan, sensing Nina watching me as I slowly wake. “Oh my God, are you going to make a habit of doing this?” I mutter into my pillow. “Only if you’d like me to.” My heart ﬂips. I gasp as I sit bolt upright in shock. It’s not Nina. It’s Viktor, sitting in a chair across the room from my bed. I blink quickly, feeling my pulse race. I hold the sheets up around myself, even though I’m fully clothed beneath them. The full night of endless dreams involving him, me, and some very dirty fantasies, comes rushing back to me. I blush, eying him warily. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Viktor growls quietly. “Just to watch me sleep?” “Yes,” he answers plainly, with a shrug. I run my tongue quickly over my lips, still eyeing him. “How was your work thing last night?”

“Fine.” “Great,” I retort quickly. Viktor smirks slightly. “Did you wait up for me?” My nose wrinkles. I glare at him. “No.” Viktor’s grin widens slightly, but he says nothing. We sit in silence for a few seconds before he takes a breath. “There’s co ee next to you, on the bedside table.” I arch a brow and turn. Sure enough, there’s a steaming mug of straight black co ee, just how I like, sitting next to me. I pick up the mug and inhale the scent, perking up a little. Viktor drums his ﬁngertips on the armrest of the chair as he watches me sip. “I was hoping to show you something today.” “Okay.” “Would you like that?” “Do I have a choice?” Viktor frowns. “Of course.” “Are you sure? I thought I was your prisoner,” I snap. “You’re my… guest.” “Your guest,” I say dryly. “Really. Like your ‘guests of honor” last night?” His mouth curls at the corners. Mine thins.

“Huh. So, have fun with them? What were their names? Or do you even know? Is it even exciting if they’re not locked in your house?” Viktor’s smiling when I’m done with my little tirade. “Are you finished?” “Sure,” I hiss. “Last night was not what you apparently think it was,” he growls. “Not that I owe you an explanation.” “You’re right, you don’t,” I snap back. He frowns. “Well, I’d like to show you something.” “You’re the boss. Or should I say jailor.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re not my prisoner, Fiona.” “No? The guard outside of my locked bedroom door suggests otherwise,” I retort. “It’s for your protection.” I bark a laugh. “My protection? Seriously?” Viktor says nothing. “Well, you can save the reasonings. Nina already confirmed it anyways.” He smiles curiously. “And what did she confirm for you?” “That I’m a prisoner here. Not your ‘guest,’ I’m not your ‘intern,’ or your non-licensed land attorney, Viktor. I’m your

prisoner. That what you call someone being held somewhere against their will.” Viktor runs his tongue over his teeth, eying me with a hint of amusement. It’s both infuriating and ﬂirtatious at the same time. His brow arches. “Nina is…” “A bitch?” He frowns. “She’s part Russian, you know. So it’s also a cultural thing. She’s a little black and white with things.” “Oh, is she?” I smile sarcastically. “And what else is she? To you, I mean.” He frowns. “What you’re intimating is incorrect.” “What I’m intimating?” I glare at him. “What I’m intimating is wondering if she’s ever gotten one of your little poolside massages.” He starts to chuckle, and my temper ﬂares. “Or is it the just a ‘cultural thing’ I don’t understand.” Viktor grins. “No, she hasn’t,” he sighs. “That isn’t what Nina, my employee, is to me.” I smile thinly. “Well, I’ve seen how you like to be with your pretend attorneys. So I guess I’m skeptical.” “Toying,” he growls. I swallow. “Toying?” Viktor stands. I tremble as he slowly steps closer to the bed.

“You think I’m toying with you.” Heat ﬂoods my core. “Aren’t you?” He steps even closer, until he’s right next to the bed, looming over me. His lips curl into a hungry grin. “Do you want me to toy with you, little girl?” he growls thickly. My breath catches, audibly. I gasp, and my body blooms with heat beneath the sheets. Viktor reaches out and plucks the co ee from my hands. He sets it down before his hand reaches for me again. This time, I tremble when his hand cups my jaw. “Maybe you’re just dying to be…” his lips curl. “Toyed with,” he growls. I breathe quickly, my heart racing. “Or I’m helpless to say yes or no, seeing as I’m your prisoner,” I croak in response. “Ahh, but maybe that’s part of it for you,” he growls. “Maybe you like the removal of choice—that I can do with you…” Viktor leans close, taking my breath away as his lips pause maybe an inch from mine. “That I can do with you as I fucking please.” I desperately wish for a witty response—something snappy to take him down a peg. Except all my brain and my mouth manage to do is whimper. I freaking whimper, inches from his lips. Viktor smirks, his eyes piercing mine as he lingers with his lips so close to mine. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me again. For that same second, I ﬁnd myself wishing he would.

But then he pulls away, grinning. He’s smirking at me as I glare right back, throbbing with desire. And I’m so wet. “When can you be ready to leave?” I swallow, trembling all over. “W—what?” “The thing I want to show you. When can you be ready to leave?” I stare at him. Not toying with me? Is he delusional or just being an asshole? “Half an hour,” I mumble. “Good. I think you’ll appreciate this.” He turns to leave my room, but I stop him. “Wait, you think I’ll appreciate what?” Viktor glances back at me. “Clarity.”

“W HERE

ARE WE GOING ?”

We’re in the car, headed somewhere within Chicago limits. My mood is sour. Partly because Viktor did what he’s so good at—turning me to mush and then walking away. But also, because I tried to call my dad—twice—before I left just now to ask him what the hell he’s doing with Zoey. But of course, no response. Again. I turn to glare at Viktor’s proﬁle, sitting next to me in the town car. His lips curl slightly at the corners as he glances at

me in amusement. “Do you not like surprises?” “From you? No.” He smiles curiously. “And why is that?” “Because the last ‘surprise’ I got from you was a ‘surprise, you’re a prisoner in my mansion now.’ That’s why.” Viktor smirks “Interesting.”

and

turns

look

out

the

window.

I don’t want to take the bait. But of course, I do. “Interesting?” I mutter. “What’s so interesting about it?” “Nothing. I’d just assumed that we were both in agreement on what the last surprise I gave you was.” I frown. “Meaning?” He turns to me, smirking. “I believe there was a pool chair involved.” I blush deeply, quickly whirling away from him to glare out the window. I’m simmering all over as I hear his deep, quiet chuckle. “You still didn’t answer my question,” I say quietly. “You really want me to ruin the surprise?” “Please do.” Viktor shrugs. “As you wish. We’re visiting the land you’ve just helped me acquire. The site of my future project.”

“The old sneaker factory?” He nods. “I thought it would be nice for you to see what you’ve helped start.” My phone dings, and I glance at it. It’s a text, from my dad of all people. It’s the ﬁrst communication I’ve had back from him since Viktor took me away. Hello sweetheart. How are you doing? <3, Dad. I stare at it, anger rising inside of me. If you didn’t know him, or me, or our relationship, it would look like a normal text from a father to his daughter. But I can see how bullshit it is. It’s like he’s posing for a photo op with it. It’s staged. I write out “screw you” before deleting it and staring at the phone. My dad sends another text. I want you to know how sorry I am, Fiona. I took risks I shouldn’t have to advance my career. I thought I knew what I was doing and who I was working with. But I was wrong, and now you’re paying my price. I’m so sorry, honey. I’m ﬁxing this as soon as I can. I stare at the phone. I want to still be furious at him. I want to hate him for what he’s put me in the middle of. Not to mention his utterly vile behavior towards Zoey. But I falter. I know he’s a practiced politician who knows all the right things to say. And I know he can be a narcissistic asshole. But he’s still my father, and something about his words makes me really feel the remorse. I sigh and type out a response:

It’s okay, dad. I’m fine. I’m not hurt, and no one is threatening to hurt me either. I’m being taken care of. I smile and follow it up with another text. I’m actually getting some legal experience in helping Mr. Komarov with a land deal, as an advisor. We’re actually about to tour the site—this old sneaker factory in Southside. The circumstances are strange, but it’s exciting to be at least sort of doing what I’ve worked hard for. I stare at my phone, waiting for the little dots showing he’s typing something back. But it never comes. I keep looking, waiting for a reply. But after twenty more minutes, I finally put the phone away. Guess my dad exhausted his “being a dad” points all on those first two texts. “Everything okay?” I frown and glare out the window. “Fiona.” I slowly turn to Viktor. For a moment, I want to tell him about my dad—how he’s barely contacted me since Viktor took me. But he must know that already, since he has my phone bugged. But also, as angry as I am at my father, there’s the worry of what might happen if I tell Viktor everything. I shiver, wondering what sort of violence he’s truly capable of. “Nothing, it’s just…” I shake my head. “My friend Zoey is having trouble with this older guy.”

He frowns. “What sort of trouble.” “It’s nothing.” “Tell me, please.” I worry my lip. “It’s really nothing. Just a way older guy being gross. Hitting on her, texting her gross stu . That sort of thing.” He frowns. “I see.” “She’s…” I smile. “She’s Zoey. She’ll be okay.” He nods, looking at me curiously. I turn to glare out the window as my thoughts sour back to my father and his lack of being any sort of real dad. I’m still sulking when the town car stops. I’m also still simmering inside. I’ve been sitting inches away from this man for half an hour, in silence. But it’s charged silence. It’s like a static spark has been hovering in the air between us. It’s like he’s purposefully teased me so that I’m squirming with desire, only to leave me wanting. What do I want? Him? Do I want the dangerous man who’s keeping me hostage to do anything like that to me? The answer is easy though, even if it’s mortifying. Of course I do. The big bodyguard who I guess I’m friends with now opens the car door and o ers me a hand. I smile as he helps me out, thanking him. But then I pause. “What’s your name, by the way?”

He frowns. “Your name,” I stress. Okay, so he’s Russian. I point at my chest. “My name is Fiona,” I say slowly, over-annunciating. “What is your—” He chuckles deeply and quickly. “My name is Oleg,” he grunts in totally natural English. “And I was born in Queens.” I cringe. “Oh God, sorry!” But he just smiles and helps me out of the car. When he steps away, I look up at the crumbling old building we’ve parked near. “What do you think?” “I…” I frown. “I think it’s a toxic waste site that’s going to put a big dent in your savings.” He smiles. “Perhaps it will.” “Well, at least I’m sure whatever you’ve got planned for it will be proﬁtable.” “What makes you say that?” “Because most criminal operations are?” Viktor frowns curiously. “I’ve told you what my plans are for this place.” “Yeah, I’m sure,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes. He smirks. “You don’t believe me.”

I shrug. “Here.” Viktor passes me a folder of permits and the legal paperwork. “It’s all in there. My plans are quite on the surface.” “The ones on the surface usually are.” “Would you rather wait in the car?” he mutters. “Oh, no, I’ve always dreamed of touring a toxic hazard site.” The hint of a smile crosses his face. “This way then.” I follow, walking gently over some of the construction rubble. It’s not like this place is Chernobyl. There’s not raw asbestos lying around or anything. It’s just considered to be tainted ground by the city and the EPA. So, we don’t need hazmat suits, but we just probably shouldn’t plan to eat any food planted here until after the cleanup. As we walk, I glance over the permitting. There’s stu in here for dormitory houses, a massive cafeteria ﬁt for a university campus, gym facilities, outdoor sports ﬁeld, a pool, and… I frown and then look up at him. “You’re building a school?” He shrugs. “I told you before what I was doing here.” “Yeah but…” “But you didn’t believe me.” I blush. “Maybe not entirely.”

Viktor stops and turns to me. His eyes drink me in curiously, and he steps closer as my heartbeat quickens. “Do you not find me trustworthy?” “Why wouldn’t I find you trustworthy, Viktor?” I breathe. He smiles thinly. “Aside from being a bad, bad man?” he growls, stepping even closer. “I have no idea.” I quickly glance around and realize how far we’ve walked from Oleg and the car. We’re alone around the other side of the building that will eventually come down, in the shadow of some rubble. My pulse quickens even more, and I glance up at him. My face is a mix of fear and desire. “If I’d planned something nefarious, Fiona,” he growls. “I live in a fourteen-thousand square foot house that I can have emptied of people with a snap of my fingers. I needn’t have driven you all the way out here.” I swallow, looking up at his face. “So why did you?” I whisper. He smiles thinly. “Perhaps it was for something nefarious.” I tremble. A dangerous flirtation flickers inside of me. “Like shooting me or something? Putting me in a shallow grave?” Viktor steps right into me. I gasp as his hand slides over my hip, pulling me against him. “I could perhaps think of far more fun things we could do,” he growls quietly. “And still be bad.”

I tremble, feeling the heat pool between my thighs. I want him—very much so. Viktor’s hand tightens on my hip. It’s like a direct trigger to something warm between my legs. I take shaky breaths, quivering under his touch. He leans close, and my heart flips as his lips brush mine. I gasp quietly. And then, his phone rings. He scowls, pulling back as I groan to myself. He glances down and swears in Russian. “I’m sorry, I… it concerns this project.” “Oh, yeah,” I breathe haltingly. I can’t tell if I’m frustrated or relieved that we were interrupted. “Yeah of course.” He eyes me hungrily, puts the phone to his ear and walks away around the corner. I exhale in a whoosh, trembling. Okay, yikes. What the hell am I doing? Why and how am I playing flirty games with a man like Viktor Komarov? It was just days ago, though it feels like months, that Zoey and I were joking about Chet Brubaker being creepy. But here I am alone in the shadow of an abandoned building with Chicago’s most brutal and fearsome crime kingpin. And I’m desperately wishing he would kiss me. Or do a whole lot more than kiss me. I blush darkly. I wonder if he knows how many “firsts” he’s been so far. I roll my eyes. No, of course he doesn’t. No one normal assumes a twenty-two-year-old is a virgin. Let alone hasn’t ever been kissed before.

I turn, daydreaming as I stroll back around one of the piles of rubble. My imagination takes hold and I visualize Viktor ending his call. He comes back to look for me and then follows me here around the corner. I tremble, imagining his hands clutching me from behind—maybe pinning me against the stone wall in front of me. I picture him slowly peeling my jeans and my panties down and running his hands over my bare skin. I imagine his mouth on me, his hands… and then I imagine him fucking me, right here. I blush as I roll my eyes. Right. My first time. With a Bratva kingpin. In the environmental hazard site of an abandoned factory. How romantic. I bite my lip. But maybe I don’t need or even want romance. Maybe I just want Viktor, knowing that comes with an edge of danger, not a bed of roses and candlelight. Maybe the roses and candles are just a movie thing. When I think about it, and when the heat throbs through my core, I realize I wouldn’t actually be against the idea of my first time being just like my fantasy just now. I exhale and turn to lean against the half-demolished wall. I think that I should go find Viktor again, when suddenly I hear voices. I startle, my ears pricking. It’s coming from the other side of the wall, around the corner. At first, I think it might be Viktor and Oleg. But as they get closer and a little louder, I realize the accents are all wrong. These ones sound like straight up Chicago. “Nah, it’s a win-win. These Russian mafia guys, they want him dead. And that helps out the boss pretty fuckin good

too.” “Wait wait, hang on,” a second voice grunts. “The Russian mafia wants him dead? I thought he was the Russian mafia?” “Fuck, I don’t know how these Russian douchebags work, man. Yeah, he’s mafia. They call it the Bratva. But these other guys… I don’t know. They ain’t Bratva, but they’re made, you get me?” “I think so? Di erent family maybe?” “Yeah, I don’t if that’s how it works, but whatever. They want Komarov gone as bad as Mr. Drucci does.” I sti en. My face pales. “Christ, these Russian fucks got no honor at all, huh?” “Beats me. The boss said Komarov wacked a couple of these other guys’ crew last night. Put ‘em through a fuckin’ woodchipper.” I blanche. So, no, he wasn’t out entertaining other women. Just committing heinous murder, apparently. I suppose those were his “guests of honor” I think with a horrified realization. The second Italian guy swears. “Jesus Christ. A chipper? Fuckin’ Fargo over here.” “For real.” “So Mr. Drucci wants him gone, too?”

“He’s pissed about the deal he made on this shithole. I guess Komarov fucked him—fed him some bullshit about the Feds watching this spot.” “Wait, the Feds are watching?!” “No, you dumb fuck. The Russian and his hot little lawyer side piece lied.” I swallow thickly. Shit. This isn’t good, at all. “And then when these Russian bastards reached out last night, they came to an agreement.” “And how’d the boss know he’d be here?” “Beats me. Someone inside the Russian’s organization maybe?” My eyes widen with realization. Them being here while we are is not awful coincidence. It’s planned. “Anyways, it’s a win for everyone. We take out the Russian, which makes Mr. Drucci happy because he can move in on the Bratva turf. Plus, these other Russians are going to kick him back some ﬁnders cash for bringing them Komarov’s head.” The second guy snickers. “Sounds good. What about the lawyer? I saw her get out of the car too.” The ﬁrst one laughs wickedly. “Dunno what his plans are, but Mr. Drucci wants her alive.” The second one snickers again. “Well, guess we do know what his plans are, then. Lucky bastard.”

Horrible fear knots my stomach. I know Viktor’s not far, and he’s both distracted by his call and totally unprepared for an ambush. Not to mention me. I pull away from the wall, my pulse racing. I turn to ﬂee. I make it four steps before the rubble under my feet shifts and skids out from under me. I gasp, biting back a scream as I go crashing to the rocky ground. Any hope of them not having heard me dashes away when I hear the swearing. I can hear two sets of pounding feet. I gasp when two guys in black tracksuits come rushing around the corner. The both of them instantly recognize me, and I even recognize one of them from the meeting with Joey Drucci before. I go to scream, but he quickly rushes over to me. He grins as he leers over me, pulling out a mean looking knife and brandishing it in front of my face. “Well, well,” he eavesdropping.”

growls.

“Look

who

found

I gasp in blind horror when he yanks me up to my feet. I wince as I settle on my ankle when the pain lances though me. The two of them don’t seem to notice though. They whirl, dragging me between them before they slam me against the very wall I was just hiding behind. “It’s a shame you had to go and hear all that,” the ﬁrst guy sneers. “I—I didn’t hear anything!” I gasp. Fear claws at me, making it hard to breath. The ﬁrst man smiles cruelly and waves the knife in my face again. “Because now, me and

Mikey here have to teach you a lesson. You know,” he grins. “Break you in before the boss gets his turn.” A scream lodges in my throat as they close in on me. Fear slices me like a knife, making me frozen to the spot as the first guy unzips his fly. But then suddenly, his friend groans, and blood drips down from his temples. His eyes roll back, and he slumps to the ground. I barely have time to process what I’ve just seen when huge hands drop the chunk of brick and yanks the other guy around. The blade is wrenched from his hands, and he grunts as the huge force slams him back against the wall next to me, the blade at his throat. I blink and look up, and I realize I’m looking at Viktor. But it’s a snarling, hulking, enraged version of him. He looks like a wild beast, about to tear into his prey. “Wait! Please!” the man begs. “Please, hang on, Mr. Komarov, please!” “Drucci sent you?” Viktor snarls, his voice rasping through his clenched teeth. He looks absolutely twisted with rage. The man nods instantly. “It’s just a job! It ain’t nothin’ personal!” Viktor looks down at the man’s undone fly. The guy pales as the Russian’s face begins to steam with even deeper rage. He turns to look at me, his eyes absolutely ablaze as they drink me in. Then he turns back with a sneer to the man. “You made it personal when you laid a hand on her.”

“Please!” the man begs. “Please, have mercy—” “I’ll pass.” The knife makes a horrible skrnching sound as it plunges into his chest. I gasp, covering my mouth as he grunts once more and falls motionless to the rubble. Viktor turns to me, and suddenly his visage of fury and terror melts into something else. His face looks wracked by concern and worry as he stoops close to me. “Fiona,” he says gently. I take a step, but instantly cry out. Viktor growls, and suddenly, I’m being scooped up e ortlessly into his arms. He cradles me against his chest, looking down into my eyes. “I—I looked away,” he growls. “And then you were gone. And I almost… they…” His jaw clenches. And then suddenly, his mouth crushes to mine. The fear evaporates. The horror melts away. I don’t even feel my ankle when he kisses me like I belong to him. Like I’m his and his alone. He groans into my lips, pulling me close to his body. I melt against him, moaning into his lips. Slowly, he pulls back. “You’re not my prisoner, Fiona,” he growls thickly. My hand clutches his shirt as his eyes burn hotly into mine. “You’re just mine.”

VIKTOR

D OCTOR T URGENEV

SMILES DOWN

at Fiona.

“Just a bruise, not a sprain. Some light medication for the pain and some rest, and you’ll be ﬁne in a day or two.” She wags a ﬁnger. “Just be more careful where you’re jogging, Ms. Murray.” I could have lied to Dr. Turgenev and given her a fake name for Fiona so she wouldn’t make any connections to her father. But it doesn’t matter, not with her. Dr. Turgenev knows me well enough, and I trust her implicitly. “Thank you, Lada,” I nod when she turns back to me. “Oh, anytime. You know that.” She turns back to Fiona. There’s a knock from the open doorway behind me. I turn and catch Lev’s eye before I walk over. He nods us out of the room, his jaw grinding. “I need answers, Lev,” I snarl quietly. My pulse is still racing from the attack back at the factory site. Not from killing the two pieces of shit that would have laid hands on her. I’ve lost

track of the people I’ve killed or had killed over the years. Even these… they’re a footnote. They’re just two more. I know I should be furious that an attack was almost carried out on me, too. Fiona told me their plans in the car on the way back and that they were Drucci’s men. That they knew she and I would be there, and that the plan was to assassinate me. She even mentioned they’d been talking about “other Russians,” and I know who those are, too—the men I cut into pieces the other night. The men who preyed on children. But my enemies wanting me dead is nothing new or special. It’s a constant threat with who I am. It’s part of waking up each day. But my pulse is still racing though because of how close the two men back there got to hurting Fiona. How close I came to losing her. It’s a realization that has my head spinning as much as my pulse racing. I’ve been trying to bury my feelings for her ever since she fell into my world. I’ve been doing everything in my power to convince myself she’s a bargaining chip—a means to an end. Collateral for her father’s debt. But it’s been a war of attrition, and I’ve been losing more ground every day. Every time she goddamn looks at me. Every time I catch the scent of her. And every time I let go and lay hands on her, or kiss her, the line gets shoved back. The walls crumble even more. “We can conﬁrm they were Drucci’s men,” Lev growls. “We could hit back, now, but…”

“But it would be nice to know how the hell they knew I’d be there.” “Exactly,” my friend scowls. “Taking out some of Drucci’s guys in retaliation sounds good. But it won’t help us get to the real problem.” “That we’ve got some loose lips.” His eyes narrow, and he nods. “I don’t want to admit it, because we run a very tight ship. But I think that’s the only explanation. Someone told Drucci we’d be there. Or whatever is left of the tra cking ring.” “Can you look into it?” He nods grimly. “I’ll do a lot more than look into it, Viktor.” “Do what you have to do.” “I always do, brother,” he growls. He nods again and then turns to leave. “Mr. Komarov?” I turn to see Dr. Turgenev approaching. “She’ll be okay?” She nods with a smile. “Yes. Just some bruising. She does need to relax though. She needs rest.” I frown. “Something wrong?” “Oh, no, nothing like that. But she’s…” Dr. Turgenev frowns and glances away before looking back at me. “Mr. Komarov,

part of our arrangement is that I don’t ask questions about your… business interests, outside of the children, I mean.” “It’s for your protection as well as mine, Lada,” I say quietly. “And I appreciate that,” she smiles. “But Fiona didn’t hurt her ankle jogging, did she?” I frown. “How do you mean?” “I’m a doctor, Mr. Komarov. And a pretty damn good one if I do say so myself.” I grin. “No arguments here.” “I know what shock looks like. I know what a hyper-elevated heart rate, and fear, and adrenaline overdose looks like. Unless her ‘jogging’ involved being chased by lions, there’s more to this story.” “It might be best not to get into that chapter, Dr. Turgenev,” I growl. “And I have no interest in reading those pages anyway. But I’m guessing her accident involves your work, or at least the dangers present in your work.” She levels her eyes at me. “I know who she is, Viktor,” she says quietly. “Of course, I’m not saying a thing. It’s none of my business. But she isn’t from your world. Whatever ‘business hazards’ you deal with regularly—and I know they’re there, Viktor. I’ve sewn you up more than a few times.” I shrug.

“She’s not walled o to those dangers like you are. Whatever happened today, she’s shaken. Oh she’s got a brave face on. But she’s terrified. It got to her. She needs rest, Mr. Komarov. She needs her mind taken o of things.” I nod. “I got it. Thank you.” “Any time.” “How are our other guests, by the way?” She smiles. “Doing very well. There’s one boy, Maxim. He’s taken it upon himself to be a real leader with the rest of them. He’s been a huge help in assuring the other children that they’re safe now, which goes a long way with them settling in.” I grin. “That’s good to hear.” Right now, the children we rescued are settling into the temporary housing situations I’ve set up. In about a week, once paperwork is finalized, an organization Dr. Turgenev helped set up that I have no o cial connection with will alert the authorities of the rescue, and that the children will be invoking refugee asylum. “If she needs anything, Mr. Komarov,” she looks back into the bedroom at Fiona lying in the bed. “Just call.” “Thanks again, Lada.” When she leaves, I turn back to Fiona. I close the door behind me and cross the room to the bed. I frown at the way she’s looking away from me, her face darkened. It’s been like this since the attack back at the factory site. At first, we were

kissing deeply, clinging to each other. But since then, she’s pulled away from me. She’s retreated into herself, looking angry and walled-o . “How’s your ankle?” She stays looking away from me. “Fiona—” “I don’t know how to do this, Viktor,” she says quietly. I frown. “Do what?” “This! All of this! Before a few days go, I’d barely been out of my little gilded cage in my entire freaking life! I mean almost never, Viktor. I was protected, and shielded—” “And kept, and denied the world, and—” “I know that!” she snaps. “You think I don’t know that?! That’s exactly what I’m saying, Viktor. But now I’m here. And there’s you, and… things…” She blushes. “And that’s new enough to have my head falling o . But now there’s all of this other stu too!” “Fiona—” “Maybe getting attacked by men with guns who want to hurt you is part of your average day, Viktor!” she spits. “But it’s not part of mine!” I close my mouth. Sometimes, silence is better than trying to force an issue with words. I could promise her the world right now. I could promise to keep her safe and kept away

from it all. But what would that be? Putting her back into a gilded cage? Part of me gravitates to the idea. I could do that. I almost want to. I almost want to tear up the deal with her father and just keep her with me, forever. She could stay in these quarters, like a princess—wanting nothing, having the world at her ﬁngertips. She could be my little crystal bird, locked away from harm. She’d be mine, and mine alone. Here for me for when I wanted to come to her. My hands clench at my sides. My eyes close, and I breathe. I can’t do that. I can’t keep her like that. She may be mine, and she may be my princess—my little crystal bird. But you can’t cage beauty like that. You can’t lock away innocence. Keeping her here like that would make me the very monster I’ve vowed to ﬁght and hunt down. It would make me barely a step above those pieces of shit. What would the plan be? To lock her in these rooms? To keep her as my captive, and fuck her under lock and key until she loves me? “I want to take you somewhere.” Fiona barks out a laugh. “I think I’m good, thanks.” I shake my head. “This is di erent. I want to take you someplace special—someplace safe. A place where you can breathe for a moment after today.” She frowns. “Am I going home?” My jaw ticks. “Do you wish to go home?”

I almost hate to even ask it. But it needs to be asked. And yet, she hesitates. She dwells on it, her lip worrying in her teeth. “Do you wish to go back to that gilded cage of your father’s?” Her eyes narrow. “As opposed to the one you’ve put me in?” “There’s no cage here, Fiona. I want to show that to you tonight by taking you out.” She looks at me curiously, skeptically. “Take me out? You mean like a…” she blushes. “A date?” “If you’re under the impression that I’m giving out back rubs and orgasms all over the place,” I growl with a small smile. “You’re incorrect.” She blushes shyly. “So yes, Fiona. I’d like to take you out.” “Viktor—” “You’ve come on my ﬁngers, Fiona,” I growl, leaning close. Her breath catches, and her eyes widen and spark as they hold mine. “Let me take you out.” She worries her plump bottom lip between her teeth. But then she nods. “Okay.” “Can you be ready in an hour?” She nods, still blushing. “Good.”

I cross the room to her walk-in closet. My ﬁngers trace over a rack of gowns and dresses before they stop at one. I pull it from the rack and let my eyes sweep over the gauzy pink and shimmering silver. The plunging neckline and back. I turn and walk back to her, draping the dress across the foot of the bed. “It would please me if you wore this.” Her mouth purses. Her brows knit as she looks up at me. “Deciding what I’ll be wearing?” “Yes.” “I thought I wasn’t going to be that bird in a cage here.” “There’s no cage, Fiona,” I growl. I suddenly lean over her, and she gasps when I hover an inch from her lips. “But you’re still my little bird.” Her breath catches, her face red. Her eyes dance over mine before I slowly pull away somehow. “One hour,” I growl quietly. I turn and I stride from the room, before I lose all control with her.

FIONA

H E STARES at me with nothing less than hunger in his eyes. They sweep over me slowly, leaving heated tingles in their wake. He growls quietly to himself, and I tremble. I bite my lip to hold back the smile. And at the same time, I want to chastise myself. Why am I happy that he likes how I look? For that matter, why did I do as he asked? I’m wearing the dress he picked for me. I’ve preened and primped in the mirror for the last hour, wanting to look perfect. Which is exactly what he—my captor—wanted. But for whatever messed up reason, I wanted to please him. I wanted to dress up in the dress he picked for me. And now I’m thrilled that he’s looking at me like this. “You’ve come on my ﬁngers, Fiona.” The memory of his words from an hour ago takes my breath away, again. I look up at the man in the dark suit and black dress shirt standing in front of me. The vicious, murderous, notoriously dangerous crime kingpin. The man who’s captured me and locked me away in his lavish mansion. The

man who’s kissed me for the very first time, and who’s touched me where no one else ever has. “You look beautiful,” he growls thickly. I blush, smiling wryly as I look down. “Thank you.” “Are you ready?” “Where are we going?” “Someplace special.” He smiles. “Someplace safe. Come.” He o ers his arm. I feel a flush tingle through my core as I take it. Viktor leads me through his huge home, down to the waiting car out front. In the backseat, his hand slides across the seat and takes mine without question or permission. But I feel a thrill when he does it. We ride in silence into the city. But we’re not going uptown to any of the lavish, famous Michelin restaurants I would think a man of his means would eat at. Instead, we drive down through Wicker Park, into an area I recognize as Ukrainian Village. The car pulls down a small alley, until we stop in front of a tiny little place with just one candlelit window. Viktor steps out of the car and walks around to my side. He reaches in to help me out, and I tremble again when our hands touch. At the door to the tiny little restaurant, an older man smiles warmly and ushers us in, speaking in Russian. Viktor chats back with him as the man leads us to one of the five tables in the place, where we sit. The man places down menus. But Viktor smiles and rattles o some more Russian.

The older man grins widely, turning to me and winking before he disappears through a door into the kitchen. “Karol is an old friend,” Viktor says with a nod towards where the man disappeared. “He helped me greatly when I ﬁrst found myself in this city.” “A fellow crime lord?” I say with a smirk. Viktor looks at me with amusement. Then his gaze slides around the small room. “Criminally under-appreciated, maybe. He’s the best cook I’ve ever met. I’ve tried to give him the means to open a place wherever he wants—hire the best sous chefs in the city, make a real show of it. But…” Viktor shrugs. “He’s happy here with his ﬁve tables.” As if on cue, Karol comes bustling back out of the kitchen holding a big glass bottle of water and two teeny glasses. He sets them down, pours, grins at me again, and head back through the doors. “I hope you like vodka.” I pause with the glass I thought was water halfway to my lips. “Uh…” “Because it’s all he serves.” I eye the glass in my hands. I’ve drank before, just not a lot, and mostly just a glass of champagne here and there. Maybe a glass of wine or two when Zoey’s come over. Viktor smiles at me with amusement in his eyes. “You’ve had vodka before, haven’t you?”

“I…” I blush. “No, actually.” He chuckles. “Well, then only small sips for you.” “And for you?” I grin back. He holds my gaze ﬁrmly, smiling slightly as he lifts his own glass and knocks it back with one gulp. “For me, this is water,” he grins. “But for you, baby sips, printsessa.” I smile curiously. “Printsessa?” “Princess.” I blush and bring the glass to my lips. “Just sip,” he says softly. I trickle some of the chilled alcohol into my mouth. I wince at the burn and swallow quickly. My eyes bug out a little at the unexpected heat it brings to my throat. But I don’t actually hate it, I realize. “Well?” “I think I like it?” He grins. The kitchen door opens again, and Karol waltzes out with small plates of food I’ve never seen before. He sets them down with a ﬂourish and then looks at the glass in my hand. “Da?” smiles. I smile and take another small sip as he beams at me. “Da.” Karol chuckles deeply and pats Viktor heartily on the back. He laughs something in Russian, smiling at me before he

disappears again. “Was that about me?” Viktor chuckles. “Yes.” “Making fun of me?” He smiles. “No, printsessa. He said I’d make a Russian out of you yet.” I blush as I take another sip of my drink. Viktor cuts some of the food up and passes me a small plate of it. I have no idea what I’m eating, but it’s freaking delicious. And the vodka just gets better and better the more of the flavorful food I eat. “Sips, Fiona,” Viktor chuckles as he knocks back another glassful. He’s had like four of them, and I’m still sipping my first one. He’s also twice my size, clearly a seasoned vodka drinker, and of course, Russian. “See I thought a tough guy like you would want his dates getting drunk,” I tease. I’m feeling good. I’m feeling warm and flirty, and a little loose. Yikes, one glass of vodka, and I’m already feeling it. Viktor slowly shakes his head. “No, printsessa. I don’t want you drunk.” “Oh? Why not?” He puts his fork down and steeples his hands. He smiles hungrily at me as he leans across the table, his eyes burning into mine.

“Because I want you to remember every single second of me taking you to bed later.” My heart skips. I gasp as the heat ﬂushes through my face. My core tightens, and a slickness pools between my thighs. Maybe his words make me a little nervous. But they also turn me on like a switch. I look up into the eyes of the mobster sitting across from me. I imagine the restaurant being a bedroom, with those eyes poised above me as he slips between my legs… I blush deeply and quickly take much more than a sip from the glass. “So,” I say quickly. “Is this where you take all of your dates?” He frowns and shakes his head. “No.” My mouth thins. That same jealousy of him with other girls simmers inside of me again. “Oh,” I say icily. “Then where do you take—” “I mean no, I don’t have dates, Fiona.” “Yeah, I’m sure,” I say sarcastically. But Viktor just shrugs. He looks at me impassively. “Ask me whatever you like. I won’t lie to you.” “And how do I know that isn’t a lie?” He chuckles. “Perhaps you’ll just have to trust me.” I run my tongue across my teeth. I eye him for a second before I shrug. “Okay, ﬁne. How many women have you

brought here?” “On a date?” “Yes.” Viktor smiles as he sips his vodka. “None.” “You said you’d tell the truth.” “I am.” I swallow, trembling slightly. The room feels even smaller, and a little warmer. Or maybe that’s just the vodka. “Have you ever killed anyone?” I blurt it out before I can stop myself from saying it. “I mean… besides today, when…” I shiver. “Yes.” My eyes ﬂit to his. “How many?” I whisper. Viktor shakes his head. “That I can’t answer.” “Because you think it’ll scare me?” “Because I don’t know.” I freeze and take a shaky breath. “Does that frighten you, printsessa?” “No,” I lie. I look down. “I mean, maybe a little. Were they all bad people?” Viktor takes a measured breath. “I can’t answer that either.” “Because you don’t know?”

He nods. He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his much bigger one. I ﬂush at the feeling of the power and heat in his grip. “You don’t need to be frightened of me, Fiona,” he growls. “I am…” he frowns. “Incapable of hurting you. Or lying to you.” I wet my lips. “Why?” “Because you do something to me,” he growls. “Something I’ve never felt before. And something no other woman has ever done to me.” I blush. “Is that…” I quickly shake my head. “Never mind.” “No, speak.” “No, Viktor…” “Please.” I swallow. “Is that why you decided to take me, when you caught me eavesdropping at my father’s o ce?” “Yes,” he says bluntly. I frown. “Why does my father owe you?” Viktor’s face darkens. “Fiona…” “Please, tell me,” He sighs. “I did him a favor. A large one. I made sure a political rival wouldn’t hurt his chances of running for Governor.”

I stare at him. A chill teases through me. “How did you make sure?” “Fiona,” he growls. “Did you kill him? The rival, I mean?” Viktor looks right at me, without blinking. “Yes.” I shiver and take a small gasp. “Oh.” He looks down. “I told you, I can’t lie to you. About anything.” I shake my head, trying to clear it of the knowledge that my father had someone killed. A large part of me is horriﬁed. But another part of me isn’t as surprised as I’d have thought I’d be. Deep down, I’ve always known how cutthroat my father is—how his career and his elections come ﬁrst and foremost, beyond anything else. They came before my mom. They’ve always come before me. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I say quickly. Viktor looks up, smirking at me. “Changing the subject?” “Yes.” He smiles. “No, I don’t.” “First kiss?” He laughs. “Really?” I smile. “What? I’m curious. That is, if you can remember—”

“These hordes of mystery women you seem to think I’ve been entertaining,” he chuckles. “Exactly when do you think I’d have had time for them? My work is constant, Fiona. I have no time for or interest in dalliances or ﬂings.” I blush. “And her name was Ekatarina,” he says with a chuckle. “I was thirteen.” “True love?” I tease. “She was a prostitute.” My smile fades into a scowl. But Viktor chuckles and reaches for my hand again. “It was a kiss and nothing more, Fiona. She worked the corner by the group home I was living in. A man came to her and tried to beat her, but I stepped out and beat him instead. She thanked me with a kiss.” The jealousy is still there, but it’s turning to something much more heated. It’s like the idea of him with someone else—anyone else—makes me jealous but also possessive of him. It makes me want to take him all for myself. It’s an insane thought, especially with who he is. But I can’t deny the ﬁre inside of me. I can’t pretend I don’t feel the tingle in his touch with him holding my hand like this. “Did you want me?” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. “When you saw me in the o ce?” His gaze turns hungry. His jaw clenches tight. “Yes,” he growls thickly. I tremble and swallow thickly. “Is that why you took me?”

“Yes.” The heat rises inside of me, simmering in my core and pooling between my thighs. “Have you ever slept with Nina?” He shakes his head. “Not at all.” I swallow again and drag my teeth over my bottom lip. I’m about to jump o the deep end into him. But there’s no turning back now. “Did you mean what you said earlier?” I whisper. Viktor leans forward, “Speciﬁcally?”

his

eyes

burning

into

mine.

“When you said you wanted me to remember every single second of you taking me to bed later.” He growls thickly, his eyes burning into mine. “Yes,” he growls. I gasp quietly. “Then we’d better leave before I have any more of this vodka.” Viktor goes still. My heart skips. But then suddenly, his grip on my hand tightens. I gasp as he stands, pulling me from my seat as he drops cash onto the table. Before I know it, my heart is racing as he pulls me from the tiny restaurant and into the waiting car out front. The door has barely shut when he pushes a button and yanks me into his lap. I whimper as I fall into him. Behind me, I hear a sound, and turn to see a partition going up between us

and his driver. Viktor growls, pulling me down on his lap. I turn back and barely have time to breath before his lips crush to mine. My legs spread to either side of his. I can feel his hardness throbbing against me as my dress hikes up around my waist. He pulls away from my lips, leaving them bruised and aching for more. His gaze drops, and I blush when I see them drop down to where my dress is bunched up. Viktor’s hands slide over my ass. He grips me possessively, like I’m his property. I gasp when I feel the bulge in his pants throb and pulse against me through my thin panties. The car drives through the city as his hands slide over my ass. He pulls my dress up even higher, exposing my panties to his gaze. I whimper, but then he’s silencing me with his lips again. His tongue demands entrance, and I give it. He kisses me deeply, taking my breath away. And when one of his hands begins to slide over my hip towards the front, I moan. His hand slips under my dress. His ﬁngers tease against the skin of my stomach, which hollows under his touch. He pushes them lower, until they slip under the edge of my panties. He twists his hand, palm towards me as he slides it deeper between my legs. I feel his thick ﬁngers slip down. When one rubs across my clit, I gasp sharply into his mouth. “Now it’s your turn to be truthful,” he growls. His hand pushes deeper between my thighs, sliding easily over my slickness as I moan. “Have you been this wet for me since we sat down to dinner?”

I moan wantonly. “Answer me, printsessa,” he growls. “Yes,” I gasp. His fingers drag up through my lips, making me moan again. But then suddenly, he’s flipping us over. I gasp as I find myself on my back across the backseat. Viktor slides to the floor of the limo. His big hands grip my legs and spread them wide as he moves between them. His hand skims up my thigh until his fingers slip under my panties. He tugs them down, and I let him. I’m shaking as he slips them down my legs. He pushes my thighs apart again, and I moan when I feel his gaze center between them. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he groans. He moves closer. His breath teases on my inner thighs, and I whimper. He moves even closer. I gasp as his tongue drags across my pussy, tasting my wetness. I moan loudly, panting at the pure pleasure his mouth brings. He slides it up to my clit. When he circles around the aching little button, I cry out in pleasure. His lips fasten around my clit as he starts to suck. His tongue is relentless on it, wringing the pleasure from my body. His hands tease all over me—up and down my thighs, over my ass. One finger even traces over my most private place, but all I feel is heat and pleasure when he teases my asshole. His mouth devours my pussy. The pleasure grows and swells as I writhe under him. My hips rise, shamelessly wanting more and more as his tongue dances over my clit. He sucks

harder, growling into me. And suddenly, it’s too much. I cry out as my body sti ens. My hips press against his mouth like I’ve been electrified. I fling an arm across my mouth as I start to scream. The orgasm crushes me under like a wave. It feels endless, like I just keep coming for his tongue. Until slowly, Viktor pulls away. He moves over me. Eagerly, I reach for him, needing him close to me. My legs wrap around his waist, and I can feel how hard he is throbbing against my pussy. I tremble. I can feel how big he is, too. His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me. I know it’s my own arousal I can taste on his lips. But it just makes me hotter. It makes me want it all as I kiss him deeply. The car comes to a stop, and I realize we’re back at his house. Viktor grinds against me, making me gasp as his erection rubs over my pussy. “I’m going to ask you another question,” he growls. I nod, moaning as my legs wrap tighter around him. “This is your first time, isn’t it?” I sti en. My answer worries me. Okay, maybe Viktor isn’t out there sleeping with women left and right. But he’s older. He’s clearly had a history before I fell into his life. What if this desire for me evaporates when he finds out how clueless I am? Would a man like him even want a girl who he has to teach— “Answer me, printsessa,” he groans quietly against my lips.

I close my eyes. My heart races. Slowly, painfully, I nod and wait for the groan of displeasure or for him to sigh and call this whole thing o . “Good.” I blink. Wait, what? Viktor kisses me slowly and deeply. His arms wrap around me as he pulls me up from the seat. He smooths my dress down, and I blush when he slips my panties into his jacket pocket. He opens the door, steps out, and then reaches for me. I step out, blushing. But the driver is gone. The guards aren’t at the front door. It’s just us. Viktor suddenly scoops me into him, his muscled arms around my back and behind my knees. I gasp, falling into his chest as I look up into his gorgeous eyes. “You thought I would be unhappy?” I swallow thickly. I nod. Viktor just shakes his head. “Come,” he growls. “Where?” I breathe. “To bed,” he hisses back. “So I can make you all mine.”

FIONA

I GASP when I fall back across Viktor’s bed. I barely have time to look around his room, which I’ve never been in before. But I also don’t care. I wouldn’t care if we were on a cot, or the ﬂoor, or outside with snow under my back. I know what I want. I know at twenty-two, and having never been touched, this is what I want. I know he is what I want. I don’t care if it’s crazy to give myself to a man like Viktor. I know what I feel. And I know no other person has ever made me feel more alive, and more electriﬁed than him. I’ve never felt more dangerous and yet safe. And it’s all because of him. I kiss him eagerly as he moves over me and leans down. His soft, perfect lips bruise to mine, taking my breath away. I can feel his hand slip down, gripping my dress and tugging. My mouth doesn’t leave his as I raise my hips, letting him tug the dress higher. He pushes it all the way up, over my bare skin and breasts. I raise my arms and let him peel it away, before he gathers me

into his arms. His mouth crushes to mine again, his hands skimming over my naked skin. I can feel my nipples dragging over his muscled chest, and his powerful arms clutching me possessively. Viktor pulls away. I pout when he stands from the bed. But then I realize it’s only so he can strip his clothes away. His shirt comes first, and my eyes slide over his chiseled muscles and Bratva tattoos. He loses his pants next, and my eyes drop to the huge bulge tenting his boxers. My heart skips, my desire throbs. He smirks at me as he hooks his thumbs into the waist of them. He tugs them over his hips and drops them to the floor. My breath catches as his thick, long, enormous cock springs against his abs. Viktor’s eyes find mine as he stalks back onto the bed, moving over me as I tremble with desire. He kisses my mouth again, demanding my lips. I moan into him, gasping when his mouth drops to my neck. His teeth rake my skin, his tongue and lips coming next to make me squirm and writhe for him. His lips slip to my ear. “I’m not going to hurt you, printsessa.” “I know,” I gasp. He kisses down my body, licking one aching pink nipple and then the other. His mouth teases down over my stomach, and then lower. My breath comes heaving, my hips rising to him. Viktor pushes me back down with a dark chuckle. “Greedy girl,” he rasps.

But he gives me what I’m so desperate for. His mouth delves between my thighs, and I whimper as his tongue drags through my pussy lips again. Oh my God, I could never get tired of this feeling. My face twists in agonizing pleasure as Viktor’s tongue dances over my pussy. I’m cooing as he licks me slowly, deliberately. He takes me to the edge, leaving me panting as he pulls away. His lips center over my clit. He sucks gently at the little button while his tongue swirls around it. I cry out, and my hips thrust up against his face. He growls into me, his hands sliding over me to grip my ass and my hips. He pulls me tight to his mouth, his tongue like magic on my clit. I throw my head back, and suddenly I cry out as I start to come for him. Viktor groans, keeping his tongue on me and slowly licking my clit until I’m squirming beneath him. I gasp as he slides up over me again. I can feel his throbbing cock pulsing against my lips, bare. He looks into my eyes, and I nod slowly. I’m panting as he pushes, letting his shaft slide over my lips. The swollen head pokes up over my mound, dripping hot, sticky liquid onto my skin. His hands slide down my arms, pinning my wrists to the bed. He leans over me to kiss me again. But he hesitates an inch from my mouth. I whine, moaning as I lean up to close the distance. He growls with a hungry smile and ﬁnally gives me what I seek. He kisses me deeply as he shifts his hips. I feel his head slide between my lips to center at my entrance. “Viktor…”

“Printsessa…” “I want you,” I gasp. “I know.” He pushes, and I gasp as he slides into me. It’s so fucking big, and I feel a second of pinching feeling. But then it’s gone instantly. The pleasure grows and builds in me, swelling as he sinks into me. His thickness opens me wide as he pushes deep. It feels like it keeps going—like there’s constantly more of him to push into me. Until slowly, he’s all the way in, as deep as he can get. I moan, panting and gasping for air. His mouth ﬁnds mine, kissing me deeply. My legs wrap around his hips, and the huge, dangerous, gorgeous Russian starts to move. He grinds into me and then slowly slides his glistening cock out. He thrusts back in, and I cry out in pleasure. It feels so slick and wet, and he feels so big, ﬁlling me so much. Viktor thrusts into me, and I kiss him deeply. My nails drag down his muscled back as I gasp. “Viktor… Viktor…” I moan his name over and over like a chant. He thrusts harder, and I feel his control slipping away. I want him to let go. I want him to truly take me and make me all his. “Don’t hold back,” I moan. Viktor groans. “I have to.” I whimper. “No. you don’t.”

“Careful, little girl,” he snarls. “I’m past being careful.” I lean up and I kiss him feverishly. “Fuck me, Viktor.” I see the control snap in him. He snarls, and suddenly rams into me. I groan, loving the feel of him letting go. The mix of lust and danger as I see the beast in his eyes makes my body clench in pleasure. He growls and rocks his hips hard, pounding his thickness deep. He ruts into me like an animal. I scream in pleasure as my orgasm flashes through me. Viktor keeps thrusting, pounding his thick cock into me as I writhe in pleasure. His lips crush to mine, and suddenly, I’m coming again. I throw my head back and arch my back. The pleasure explodes deep in my core as Viktor growls and sinks deep. His teeth drag sharply over my neck, and suddenly he groans. I feel his cock swelling, throbbing deep inside of me. Something hot and warm spills into me, filling me. I moan and cling to him, squeezing down around him with my body as he claims me. We’re both panting for air as his mouth finds mine. He kisses me deeply, stealing my breath away. “All mine,” he groans, nuzzling my neck. “Are we still being truthful?” He chuckles. “Yes.” “Can we do that again?” He grins down into my eyes. “The trouble, printsessa,” he groans. “Is going to be stopping.”

VIKTOR

F OR A MAN who hasn’t seen daylight in almost four days, I’m surprisingly cheerful as I make my way down to my o ce. But of course, the reason for my being locked away in my quarters for more than half a week has everything to do with my mood. I’ve been with Fiona. For four nights and three days, she’s been with me—in my quarters, in my bed. For four nights, I’ve been completely lost in her. I’ve had her every way I can possibly imagine, and yet, I’m still hungry for more. I can’t get enough of her. She’s like a drug I crave. Fiona is an addiction I never want to cure myself of. My muscles ache from the constant lovemaking. My dick is actually sore as well—my balls utterly drained. One might think it’s my own insatiableness that had us going for days. But in truth, it’s hers. It’s the monster I’ve created in Fiona —an utterly insatiable, tireless, multi-orgasmic little energizer bunny of a sex monster. I grin as I clomp down the stairs to my o ce. I may be sore, dehydrated, and sleep deprived. But I can’t stop smiling. Not

now that I have her. In my o ce, I sink into my chair. Lev, without being prompted, has of course taken the reigns of things once it was clear I wasn’t coming out of my room—and clear who was in there with me. But now I do need to catch up on almost four days of business. I hammer out some emails, make a few quick, perfunctory phone calls, and read up on some reports. Eventually, I pick my phone up to check in with Lev. “The prodigal son returns,” he grunts. “Did you miss me?” He chuckles. “Not you, just your ability to reason with people.” I grin. He means my ability to rationalize with people—to be diplomatic with both threats and coercion. My strength doesn’t just come from my savagery or my willingness to hurt people. It comes from knowing when the carrot will work better than the stick. It’s the reason Lev and I have the positions we do. It’s not that my friend is subservient to me as boss. It’s that he has no wish to be the head of this organization. None. He may be fantastic counsel to me. But he hates negotiating diplomacy when it comes to anyone else. I have a strong idea that after almost four days of running the show without me, he’s ready to knock some heads o . “So are you o

cially back from your honeymoon?”

I roll my eyes. “Very funny.” “I haven’t gotten you a wedding gift yet, Viktor. I’m so sorry.” “Are you done?” He chuckles. “For now, yes. And you? How has your time o been?” “Fine.” He chuckles again. “‘Fine’, he says,” Lev snickers. “Four days of fucking—” “That’s enough,” I snap. He pauses. But I can almost hear him smiling. “So,” he muses. “This one is… important.” “Yes,” I snarl. He chuckles again. “Easy, Viktor. Easy.” He sighs. “I’m happy for you, brother. I’m very happy, actually. And her?” He laughs again. “I like her. And I like that she doesn’t take your shit.” I grumble as Lev laughs. “She is good for you, my friend.” “On that we can agree on.” “So, you’re back now? I can stop biting my tongue and being ‘diplomatic’?” “I’m back.” “Good.”

“Oh, there’s one thing.” I frown, tapping my ﬁngers on my desk as I remember a mental note I made to myself days before. “Da?” “There’s a girl—a close friend of Fiona’s named Zoey.” “And?” “I need you to check in on her.” “What am I checking on?” “Nothing, there’s just…” I frown. “Fiona mentioned there was an older guy sni ng around her, being a creep.” “Do you want him gone” “No. Not yet at least. Just check in on her. Make sure she’s safe. You don’t even have to actually meet her. Just do a perimeter of her apartment maybe. Shadow her, see if anyone is causing problems.” “I can do that.” “Thank you.” He sighs. “Well, drink some water and put your pants on, Viktor. You have work to do now that you’re back.” I chuckle as I hang up. I hammer out one more email, then I consider going back up to my bedroom and crawling back between Fiona’s thighs again. But a knock on the door interrupts that fantasy. “Yes,” I grumble.

The door opens, and Nina steps in. “You look…” she smirks. “I’d say rested, but…” “Did you and Lev coordinate this insubordinate heckling?” She grins widely. “Nope. But now I wish we had.” “Well why don’t you shelve whatever you were coming in here to tease me about. Lev’s already used them all anyway.” She nods, but I can see there’s something bothering her. “Something wrong?” She frowns. “I…” Nina’s brow furrows. “I need to talk to you about something. But I need you to promise to hear me before you react.” My brows knit. “Of course, Nina. Always.” “No, I mean it, Viktor. You might think this is colored by my… opinions of her. Or my less than welcoming disposition towards her since she—” “You’re talking about Fiona,” I growl quietly. She nods. “Yes.” “Nina,” I grunt with a warning tone. “We’ve spoken about this. I know you want what’s best for me. And I know you’re just looking out for me. But you need to—” “I think she’s the leak.” I freeze. My anger swells, roiling like a storm in my chest. My eyes narrow at her as my lips curl into a snarl.

“Careful, Nina,” I hiss. “Viktor, I know how it sounds, especially coming from me. I don’t want it to be her, but—” “Then what?!” I snap. “Then why tell me this garbage!?” “Because you’re not you with her!” She yells back. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I’m sorry that Lev doesn’t see it, or anyone else. But you’re…” she shakes her head. “Your guard is down with her. Your suspicions aren’t raised as they should be.” “Nina…” “Sacriﬁce the rook so that the king may fall.” She glares at me. “You taught me that yourself when you were teaching me chess, Victor. Look at Joey Drucci. He stalls you for months, and then one meeting with the cute little miss lawyer, and he gives it to you for less than half of what you were o ering before?” “She tricked him. She used his paranoia of Federal surveillance to—” “Or she tricked you, Viktor. Or she was perfectly set up to fall into your lap back at Thomas’s o ce. Young, beautiful, innocent, doe-eyed? She’s perfect for you, Viktor. If you see it, so do your enemies.” I stand slowly. I’m angry, but I’m at least trying to see this from the perspective of Nina trying to protect me. “I always appreciate your counsel, Nina. You know that. But I think we’re done here—”

“Who ‘stumbled across’ the two men at the factory site the other day?” I snarl. “She was being threatened, Nina. They were going to —” “They looked like they were going to.” She glares at me. “Sacriﬁce the rook so that the king may fall. The factory? Those low-level stooges? Those were Joey’s rook. He’ll get the land back when the king…” she jabs a ﬁnger at me. “Falls.” I stare at her. “You honestly think Fiona Murray, daughter of the District Attorney and probably our next Mayor, is somehow working with a mid-level thug like Joey Drucci to take me out? Are you listening to yourself?” “Are you!?” she snaps back. “Maybe it’s not just Joey. Maybe she and her father are working with him to get to you. I mean you’re hanging a sword above his fucking head, Viktor. At some point, the idea has to have crossed Thomas’s mind that getting rid of you would get rid of a whole lot of his problems.” My jaw grinds. My eyes level with her. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I don’t relish hammering this theory. But who knew you were even visiting the factory the other day?” “Lev is looking into it.” “I’m sure he is. But we both know that your people are loyal to the death to you.” She pauses. “Me included.” I look down. “I know that, Nina.”

“So what’s the variable. Who’s the variable?” I glare at the desk. My teeth grind, and my hands grip the edge of it with a dangerous strength. “I need a moment, Nina.” She nods quietly. “I’m really sorry. I mean that. I just…” “I know,” I growl quietly. When Nina quietly files out of my o ce, I snarl. I pace the floor behind my desk, seething. I know she’s just doing what she does. But I hate that she’s planted this seed of doubt in my head. I hate that it’s taking root, too. I pace the floor another minute, before the ticking time bomb in my head finally clicks, and pops. I sit down at the computer and bring up the software that has Fiona’s phone mirrored on to it. I look through her history, her texts, her call logs—anything I might have missed. There’s nothing in her texts. No emails, nothing sketchy in her browsing history. But then my eyes narrow on the call log. She’s called her father—five times in the last few days. All while I’ve been… preoccupied with her. I was monitoring her phone before. But I haven’t been since the night I took her to bed. When I think about it, I haven’t really been monitoring it all that much before that, either. I look further back, and my heart grows harder. There’s another two calls to her father from the very day of the attack at the factory. And they’re both from right before we

left. My jaw clenches. My eyes burn into the screen before I swear violently. I storm out of the o ce. My mood on the way back up the stairs is the polar opposite of what it was when I came down. I’m snarling when I get to Fiona’s quarters. She’s still in my room, probably waiting for me. I know this is a gross violation of trust. But the seed has been planted. The doubt is there, like it or not. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for. But I look nevertheless. I root around her bathroom, dumping out toiletries and poking under towels. I tear clothes from the closet and empty drawers, fury on my face. I want to be wrong. I want to find nothing. But those calls to her father, and Drucci’s men waiting for us? It’s too much of a coincidence, even if it’s a painful one. I finally storm back into the bedroom. My eyes land on the vanity she’s been using as a desk. I ru e violently through the papers and files on the top before I yank the drawer out. I’m about to dump it entirely. But my eyes land on the first thing they see, and I freeze. “What the fuck…” I pull out the legal pad covered in her handwriting and stare at it. It’s… evidence, for lack of a better word. Testimony. It’s a list of things she’s seen being under my roof—everything from her being here against her will to minute little bullshit like my guards carrying illegal, fully automatic guns. I glare at it, seething. It might not be the smoking gun, but it’s one more bullet to my heart.

“Viktor?” I whirl on her, a snarl on my face. “What the fuck is this?” I hiss, brandishing the notepad. Her face turns white. “Viktor… I…” “Answer me!” “It’s just words!” She yells back. “I was angry!” “Angry?” I snarl. “You were angry, so you—” “I was angry because you kidnapped me! Viktor, you took me, against my will, to settle a fucking Bratva debt! That’s it! Full stop! What happened since then is…” she blushes and looks down. “It’s changed things, even since I wrote that.” “But at the end of the day,” I growl quietly. “You’re still a prisoner. Is that it? And I’m just the Bratva bad guy?” “I didn’t say that—” “No, you wrote it the fuck down!” I seethe. I glare at her. “You talked to your father, the day of the attack.” She stares at me, frowning. “Were you—” “You knew I was tapping your phone, Fiona.” “Yeah? Then did you see how he doesn’t respond? How my own father—the reason I’m even here, settling his fucking debt—doesn’t call me back?” she asks, her voice tightening. “I saw that you called him, and then mysteriously, Drucci’s men—”

“Tried to hurt me!” she yells. “They tried to hurt me, and then you stopped them. Do you seriously think that was part of some fucking master plan?!” My jaw tightens. “I’m going to ask you this very plainly.” “Ask away,” she snap, glaring at me. “Did you plot with your father and or Joey Drucci to have me killed?” She stares at me in horror. “You are un-fucking-believable —” “Answer me!” I boom, striding across the room in fury. She gasps, retreating until her back hits the wall. “Answer me, Fiona,” I hiss. “No!” she barks back. “I didn’t!” “I’m going to ask you again—” “What are you going to do, Viktor,” she sneers up at my face. “Torture me?” I sti en. The sass, the scent of her… it’ s fucking with my head. I want her—I’m lusting for her even if I’m furious with her. But the end result is the same. It makes me want to savage her—to make her scream for me. I snarl and grab her, pinning her to the wall. “Viktor—!” I growl deeply as I whip her round, pushing her back to the wall again. She gasps when I grab the yoga pants she’s

wearing by the back and suddenly yank them down to midthigh. “Oh fuck, Viktor,” she moans. I’m so fucking hard for her. I’m still furious, too. But the nearness of her, the feel of her skin, the scent of her—all of it is too much to resist. “Tell me,” I hiss. “Tell you what?” “Did you betray me?” “No—oh!” Fiona yelps as my palm suddenly spanks her ass. She trembles, panting as a ﬂush creeps into her cheeks. “How about now?” She shakes her head. I growl, and my hand spanks against her tight little ass again. Fiona makes a whimpering mewling sound. “Did you?” She turns her head to look at me through a tangle of her hair, panting. “Maybe you’ll have to do it again to see if I change my—” My palm spanks her ass again, and she cries out. But it’s not a cry of pain. It’s a moan. And it sends me over the edge. I growl, yanking her panties down and then spanking her bare ass again. I groan, my cock surging as I drink in the

sight of her pink cheeks shaking under my punishment. I yank my pants down, and she moans. I stroke my ﬁst up and down my shaft and then use my knee to spread her legs. Fiona pushes back eagerly when my head slips over her lips. I center, grab her hips, and ram my cock deep into her eager little cunt. Fiona howls in pleasure, moaning. I snarl, and my ﬁngers dig into her skin. I pound into her, fucking her savagely— mercilessly against the wall. But she’s reaching back to grab my hips, urging me on. I slam into her, almost fucking her onto the balls of her toes with the force of my thrusts. She’s so fucking wet that I can feel it dripping over my balls. Her tight little pussy clenches and ripples on my dick. Suddenly, her body wrenches and shudders. She screams as she starts to come for me, moaning loudly with her cheek against the wall. I groan. The feel of her release is more than I can resist. I sink my dick deep in her hot little cunt and let go. My balls surge, pumping my hot cum deep in her pussy. I’m gripping her so tightly, panting. Against her neck as the both of us sag against the wall. I’m still sucking in air when she turns her face to me. Our eyes lock, and we suddenly hungrily seek each other’s mouths. I kiss her deeply against the wall, my heart racing and swelling for this girl. “Viktor,” she moans. “I didn’t—”

“I know,” I groan, panting into her lips. “I know, printsessa, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She twists in my arms. Hers wrap around my neck as she climbs up into my embrace. “Don’t be,” she hums happily, blushing. She kisses me again. “Viktor, I really never betrayed—” “I know,” I whisper. I gather her in my arms. I carry her to the vanity, grab the goddamn notepad, and toss it in the trash. My lips ﬁnd hers, and I kiss her the whole way back to my room.

FIONA

T HE HAND over my mouth wakes me with a jolt. My panic surges, and I scream into the soft palm before her face leans over me with wide eyes. “Shhh!” I blink in shock with Nina hovering over me. She pulls her hand away, her face white. “Nina?” I gasp. “What the hell is going…” The lights playing and flicking through the curtains from outside catch my eye. Red and blue flashing lights. My heart lurches as I sit upright in the bed. “What the hell is—” “We need to go, now,” she hisses. She stands away from the bed, and for the first time, I realize she’s got a gun in her hand. She glances back at me and narrows her eyes. “Now, Fiona!” “Is that the police?”

Her mouth tightens. “Yes. Viktor is being arrested outside. They haven’t—” “He what?!” Her mouth tightens. “It would be best if you weren’t here when they sweep the house.” I frown. “Why—” “Because you can help him, but only if you’re on the outside, not rounded up when they break down the front door.” I purse my lips, glaring at her. “Come on, Fiona!” When I don’t budge, she sighs heavily. “I need you to trust me, okay?” “Why the hell should I do that?” “Do you love him?” I blink. “I—” “Forget that. Do you want to help him not go to prison?” I nod. “Yes.” “Then you need to fucking trust me, and we need to go, right now. Do you understand?” I nod, my head spinning as I try and take this all in. “Good, get dressed, quickly.” In the week since Viktor carried me half naked from my room to his, this has basically become my room too. Which means half of my clothes are already here. I throw on jeans

and hoodie quickly while Nina glances outside through a slit in the shades. “Okay, ready.” She glances back at me and nods. “This way.” She leads me through the lavish master bathroom and into Viktor’s closet. At the far end, she reaches inside and opens a little hutch and slides out an elegant tray of expensive looking watches. I stare as she reaches under it and clicks something. Suddenly, the wall behind the hutch slides open, revealing a spiral staircase down. Nina glances back at me and nods. “This way.” I don’t question her, I just follow. We dash down the staircase, down more than a few stories, into what must be the sub-basement of the house. At the bottom, a long stonelined hallway disappears into the darkness. Nina points her phone’s ﬂashlight down it and starts jogging. I swallow my fear and rush after her, until ﬁnally, I can feel air. Quietly, Nina opens the wrought-iron gate at the end of the tunnel. She steps out and pulls me after her. I glance around and realize we’re standing in a thicket of trees at the very back of Viktor’s property, with a little dirt maintenance road running past us. “Nina, what the hell happened?!” Her face is grim as she glances at her cellphone. “Viktor’s contacts in the Chicago PD were only able to give him a

three-minute warning. He made the call to go meet them at the front gate, giving the rest of us enough time to shred anything that needed shredding and get out.” She looks up from her phone, her lips thin. “He’s being arrested on racketeering charges, guns, drugs, kidnapping…” her eyes narrow at me. “Holy shit,” I breathe, whirling as my head spins. “Oleg is on his way to get us. There’s a rendezvous elsewhere where we can meet up with Lev and plan the next move.” I nod. But then I look at her curiously. “Why are you helping me?” Nina frowns. “Because he loves you.” My heart skips. My jaw drops as I blink. “What?” Nina rolls her eyes. “I said because he loves you. Obviously.” I blush, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth. “Nina, I —” “I don’t hate you, Fiona.” Nina looks at me plainly. “I get the impression that you do, but I don’t.” She shrugs, smiling subtly at the corners of her mouth. “I think I kind of like you, actually. I’ve just been skeptical of you.” I hold her eyes ﬁrmly with mine. “Because you’re in love with him.” She smiles. And then she starts to laugh quietly. She throws her head back, shaking it and rubbing her eyes.

“Nina—” “Because I’m his sister, Fiona.” My jaw drops. “What?!” “Well, half-sister.” I stare at her. “Hang on, you’re—” “Get back.” She yanks me into the shadows of the trees as a Range Rover with the headlights o slowly rumbles down the dirt road. It stops about twenty feet away and blink the lights twice. “That’s us. Come on.” I’m still stunned as Nina drags me to the SUV. Oleg nods at me from the driver’s seat as we climb into the back seat. And then we’re o —ﬁrst on dirt roads, then onto the highway back towards the city and away from the blinking lights. And from Viktor.

“H E

FOUND ME EIGHT YEARS AGO .”

Nina is looking out of her window at the city as we drive. “I was in a group home in St. Petersburg. Our father—that’s Viktor and I’s connection—managed to abandon both of his kids. Viktor was looking for him, for answers, I guess. He was dead by then, but that search led him to me. He brought

me back to the US, and I’ve been here with the organization ever since.” I slowly shake my head. “You’re his half-sister…” I murmur incredulously. She turns to look at me. “I love my brother, Fiona. But I am not in love with him,” she smirks. “Just protective of him.” I groan. “Oh my God, I’m such an asshole. I really thought —” “Yeah,” she grins. “I got that impression. And I’m the one who was a bitch to you.” “Because you were looking out for him.” “Always,” she nods. The car pulls through some gates into a seedy looking warehouse and shipping area. We drive down until we get to two warehouses side-by-side with a few other black cars parked out front. At the front doors, two men with riﬂes nod when they recognize Oleg behind the wheel. “This is a remote o ce of ours,” Nina explains as we step out. “Right now, it’s being used for—” “Hey, I know her…” I frown when I see Dr. Turgenev, the woman who helped me with my ankle, stepping out of a car and into the ﬁrst warehouse. Nina pauses. “Viktor wasn’t sure about showing you this.” “Showing me what?”

She frowns. “Come.” The guards step aside for us, and Nina opens the door. Inside, there’s a small o ce area and another door. “Nina, what is this?” “Something you need to see.” She opens the next door, and we step inside. Instantly, my heart jumps into my throat. The large space is built out into a kind of bunkhouse. There are dividing walls and rows of small but cozy looking beds and bunkbeds along one wall. On the other side, there’s what looks like a food pantry kitchen, with picnic tables. There’s also a big jungle gym, swings, a basketball hoop…. And children. My heart swells as I stare at what must be two dozen kids of all di erent ages running around on the playground area, laughing and giggling with each other. Some are playing basketball. Others are sitting at table. Dr. Turgenev looks up from a little boy she’s kneeling in front of and waves at me. “Oh my God,” I breathe. “Nina—” “The land deal you helped with,” she smiles and gestures at the kids playing. “These will be its ﬁrst tenants.” I stare at them. “Who—” “Rescued from tra

cking rings.”

I startle at the rough voice behind me. I whirl and come face to face with Lev, Viktor’s gru but ruggedly handsome

second-in-command. “When Viktor and I were on the streets when we were young, this threat was always around the next corner. Every kid on the streets knew it. The boogeyman—the Baba Yaga— waiting to abduct you and drag you into some sort of hell.” My heart breaks. I turn to look in anguish at the kids laughing and playing. “Viktor is no saint,” Lev growls. “Neither am I. But we do what we can to stamp out true evil in this world.” “You rescued these kids?” “Viktor did, yes,” Lev grunts. A tall boy sitting with a group of the older kids looks over at us. He jumps up and runs over, his face full of worry. “Mr. Nychkov?” Lev turns to him. “Viktor. He is in trouble, yes?” The boy says in heavily accented English. He holds up an iPad with “Breaking News” and a picture of Viktor’s handsome face ﬁlling the screen. Lev scowls, nodding. “Da, Maxim.” The boy’s mouth thins. “You are going to help him?” “Yes,” I say icily. “Yes, we are.” The boy nods. “Good. I want to help you.” Lev smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “You can help him by keeping the other children safe here, Maxim.” “No, I can do more. I can shoot.”

Lev frowns. “You don’t need to shoot anything here, Maxim.” The boy nods. “Back in my hometown, in Russian, my father… he works for a man in charge. How you say…” he frowns, looking for the right word in English. “Mayor? I can try to ﬁnd his phone number—” “Oh holy shit,” I breathe suddenly. Nine frowns. “What?” “He said mayor…” my face goes white. “Oh my God, It’s my father.” “What is?” Lev growls. “The connection with Viktor, Drucci, all of it.” The dots are connecting in my head. And suddenly, I realize this has my father’s political meddling written all over it. “It’s my dad, pulling strings, Viktor backed him into a corner. But his whole professional and personal lives have been him learning how to weasel out of corners.” Nina’s mouth thins. “I knew it,” she mutters. I stare at my hands, connecting the pieces. “I told my dad we were going to the factory that day. He must have passed it along to Joey, who sent those two men for Viktor. He must have known about the fragile truce between them. I mean, he’s the DA. But when that failed….” “He got reckless and used his powers as DA to call in the cavalry,” Nina ﬁnishes tersely.

I nod. “Yeah.” I frown and look up at Nina again. “What are the charges?” “Illegal guns, some random gambling charges, kidnapping, blackmail, racketeering…” She shakes her head. “The part that doesn’t make sense is the timing. If they had enough to get him for this before, why wait and do it now? We’ve always assumed they’re watching the house. But Viktor conducts all business either through a secure internet line, or o -site, elsewhere. Even if they were pawing through our trash, they—” “Shit,” I choke out. “What?” I feel sick; nauseous, like my head is spinning. “I wrote some stu

down.”

Lev growls dangerously. Nina stare at me. “You what?” “I—I wrote stu down. I was hitting the wall about being kept against my will, before…” I blush deeply. Lev smiles thinly but knowingly. “Things change,” he growls. “Viktor knew?” I nod. “He did. He threw the notes I wrote away though. If they were watching the house….” “Then they were searching the trash. They must have found your notes and your dad used it as grounds for arresting him.” I nod. “That has to be it.

Nina frowns. “That would all just be hearsay though, right? Legally speaking?” “It’s circumstantial, yeah. But it’s enough for them to start tacking on real charges.” I feel cold and numb. I hug myself, staring at the ﬂoor. My phone dings. I glance at it, when suddenly, my face lights up. The ding is a text from Zoey—just a funny gif of a cat falling into a bathtub that we like to send each other randomly. But all of a sudden, I realize what I have to do. Even if it’s not going to be easy. “There’s a way to ﬁx this,” I breathe. “I mean all of it.” Lev frowns at me. “How?” My mouth thins grimly. “By backing my father into one corner he can’t weasel out of.”

FIONA

“I

CAN ’ T BELIEVE YOU … UGH !”

“I know, I know!” I turn to Zoey, giving her a pleading look in the back seat of the town car. “I’m sorry, okay? I hated lying to you, I just…” I sigh. “You get why I couldn’t tell you, right?” Zoey glances around the inside of the opulent town car, complete with custom engraved ﬁnishing, leather seats, and crystal tumblers snug in the little bar caddy. She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, ﬁne. Yes.” We’ve barely had time to talk since I surprised her at her apartment. First, she was elated that I was “back from New York” so suddenly. But when I started to tell her the real story, I’m amazed she let me even drag her into the car. But even though I can tell she’s ticked at me for lying to her face, I can see my best friend gets it. She sighs. “So, Viktor Komarov. The Viktor Komarov?” I nod, blushing. “Yep.”

“So, wait, you’re like with him now?” My blush grows deeper, and her grin widens. “Oh my God, I bet your dad loves that.” “I don’t really care what he likes or not,” I mutter. “Not anymore.” “He really gave you to Viktor fucking Komarov for a debt?” I nod. “Wow, what the fuck? No o ense, I always thought your dad was…” “A scumbag?” She shrugs. “Well, yeah, a little. But this is something else.” “Never underestimate Thomas Murray’s ability to throw people under the bus to advance his own career,” I grumble. “So, you and Viktor…I mean is this like a crush, or…” I grin, still blushing. “Fiona!” she shrieks. “You bad girl!” “Zoey—” “Tell me! Did you ﬁnally…” she wags her brows. “You know.” I groan as the blush blooms hot on my face. “It’s not like…” I bite my lip, grinning. Zoey squeals next to me. “Yeah, I’m gonna need details.”

“That is never happening.” “Oh come on! Fiona, just—” “Fine! Okay? Another time?” I lie. “Can we get back to getting him out of police custody?” Her face turns serious. “Right, sorry. Okay, just tell me what you need me to do.” She frowns. “Is it anything illegal?” “No.” I quickly shake my head. “I just need your text messages.” She furrows her brow. “Um… okay?” Zoey glances around outside the windows. “Hey, we’re in your neighborhood.” “When you told me about my dad texting you…” She turns back, her mouth open. “Whoa, you’re not…” She blinks. “Damn, Fiona. This is cold.” “I’m out of options,” I mutter. “And he did what he did.” Zoey scrunches her face. “C’mon, Fiona. You really want to go there?” “Yeah, I do.” She frowns. “Was that really when you were seventeen, Zoey?” I ask quietly. She looks away. “Yeah.” It’s disgusting, but I also know it’s the bullet I need. “Still have those texts?”

She nods. “Yeah. I back up everything constantly. You know that.” She turns to me. “You’re not really doing what I think you’re doing, are you?” “Blackmailing a district attorney and mayoral candidate with his inappropriate text to a high school girl in order to get him to drop the charges against a known Bravta kingpin?” I smile thinly. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” The car stops in front of my dad’s townhouse. I’ve got the bullet. Now it’s time to see if I’m strong enough to pull the trigger.

“F IONA !?” My father rushes out of the living room when he hears the front door slam behind me. He stares at me in shock for a moment before smiling broadly. “What are you— I mean, you’re here!” I smile thinly. “Yeah, dad. I’m here.” “That’s great, honey! Great!” I frown. “Where did you think I was? I mean that was you that sent the cops to Viktor’s house, right?” “Well, I was so worried, honey!” He fumbles out quickly. “When they said you weren’t at the house, I was distraught! We had people looking all over!” I frown. His shirt is half undone. And there’s lipstick on his collar. My eyes roll.

“You raided the house of the man who was holding me, didn’t ﬁnd me, and you… what, came home for a cocktail or something?” I hiss quietly. “A cocktail?” he stammers. “Oh, no! No, honey, I’m just running the operation from my o ce here!” Behind him in the dimly lit living room, I hear a tumbling sound and a crash. Then a woman’s voice swearing in pain. My dad smiles weakly. I just sigh. “Who is she?” “She?” he blurts. “Hi, hello?” I yell past him. “You can come out, it’s just me. I’m his daughter.” A second later, a girl my age with messed up hair and a halfbuttoned blouse stumbles out of the living room holding her heels. “Um, hi,” she says awkwardly. My dad looks frazzled. He clears his throat quickly, trying to cover his ass. “Oh, yeah, honey, this is, uh…” “Trisha,” the girl mumbles. “Yeah, Trisha! She’s one of my secretaries.” “Personal Assistants,” Trisha blurts. “Hi Trisha,” I say icily.

My dad chuckles nervously. “Trisha is just helping me with the uh… the…” “Finding me? The desperate manhunt?” He nods quickly. “Exactly, yeah.” I sigh. “Wow.” I shake my head. “The cliches just don’t stop, do they, dad?” He frowns, switching tracks. “Having an adult relationship with another consenting adult isn’t a crime, Fiona.” “Looks pretty sleazy to be sleeping with your secretary, though.” “Personal assistant.” My eyes slide back to her. “Trisha?” “Yeah?” “I think you should go now.” “Oh, yeah, okay.” She quickly walks past me but stops. “Nice to meet you, Fiona. And congrats on your medical degree!” “Law.” She smiles awkwardly. “Right. Well, um, bye.” She scoots out the door. Then it’s just me and my dad. I sigh. “You need to release Viktor.” He frowns. “I what now?” “You need to release him and drop the charges.”

My dad scowls, buttoning his shirt up. “That isn’t happening, honey. He’s a known criminal element in this town. This bust is huge for me, especially in an election—” “An election year! Oh wow, I totally forgot!” I mutter sarcastically. “How could I possibly forget!?” “Now, honey, listen to me—” “No,” I snap. “No, now you’re going to listen to me, okay?” I jab a ﬁnger at my dad. “What do you have on Viktor?” “Well, that, uh, that’s conﬁdential. Court sealed and all—” “It’s not about what he did for you—the favor he did you?” I frown. “That would implicate you as well. So I’m guessing it’s…” I smile thinly. “Handwritten notes? Found in his trash?” The pale look on his face tells me I’m right. “It’s circumstantial evidence, dad.” “Well, we’re going to nail that prick with it,” he mutters. “Not without the author of those notes testifying.” He smiles thinly. “Like I don’t know that? Honey, I know your handwriting.” He steps towards me. “And I know you’ll take family over some… some… criminal any day of the week!” I shake my head. “Fiona, you’re going to be a lawyer for Christ’s sake!”

“I am, you’re right,” I say with an even tone. “And a really damn good one, too.” “Heck yeah you are!” “I had great schooling.” “I know—” “Great tutors.” “I know that. Hey, I paid for—” “And I paid attention to all of it,” I hiss. “Every nuance, every detail of the law.” I shake my head. “Dad, without my testimony that I meant anything I wrote in those notes, you have no case. Zero.” His look hardens. “And without my generosity,” he grunts. “You have no credit card, no home—” “You’re wrong.” He frowns in confusion. But then suddenly, he looks furious. “With him?!” He balks. “You can’t be serious!” “You’re the one that sent me there,” I sneer. “Did he… oh my God, Fiona! Honey!” “The charges,” I say thinly. “You’re dropping them. Now.” My dad’s jaw grinds. His nose wrinkles as he glares at me and sighs. “I hate to do this, Fiona.” “Do what?” But I already know what his next move is. It’s the card I was hoping he’d play.

“If you don’t testify towards the case, I’ll call it collusion. I’ll rope you right into those charges, honey. Don’t think I won’t.” “That’s how you’re doing this? Really?” “You leave me no choice, honey,” he shrugs. “I’m sorry, but this is too big a step in my career to just let it all fall apart.” I give it a second. Then I start to laugh. “Okay, well, guess we’re doing this.” I walk back to the front door and peek my head out. “Come on in.” I hold the door open, and Zoey walks in. My father sti ens and scowls “I know what this is.” “Do you?” “Yes. I’m not proud of it. I’d…” he frowns. “I’d had some drinks. But Zoey, honey.” He smiles sweetly at her. “You’re a grown woman, and beautiful. You must know that men might get a little caught up in your… well, you know how ﬂirty you get.” I close my eyes in disgust. Zoey laughs coldly. “A grown woman?” “You’re twenty-two, honey. I mean I know what you and my daughter are playing at here. But that’s a scandal I think I’ll weather just ﬁne. I’m not married, you’re an adult. I hardly think voters would—” “And the last time you texted me disgusting naked pictures of yourself, Mr. Murray?”

He freezes. “I—what do you mean?” “I saved them,” Zoey mutters. “All of those texts.” He glances nervously around the room. “I—I was drunk.” He frowns. “You know I had some drinking problems back then, what with my wife passing—” “Don’t you fucking dare,” I hiss, shaking my head. “Don’t.” My dad swallows, looking nervous. He glances at Zoey. “It was wrong of me, okay? But you were…” he swallows. “How, uh, how old were you?” “She’s my age, dad.” I say quietly. “And that was ﬁve years ago. We were seventeen.” His face goes white. “Oh Christ…” “This isn’t a setback, dad,” I snarl. “This isn’t a storm to be weathered. This is what they call a career killer. This is Anthony Weiner times ten. Sending lewd images and texts to seventeen—” “What do you want?” he blurts. “Money? Jobs? Name it, seriously.” “I already told you.” He’s hyperventilating, looking sweaty and terriﬁed. “Fiona, I can’t just—” “Yeah,” I say grimly. “You goddamn well can.” We stare at each other across the room. I’d say this is the moment I know our relationship is over. But I think we

crossed that bridge some time ago. And certainly, when he pawned me o to settle a debt. “All charges dropped,” I say quietly “You can even stay as DA. You can run for mayor if you want, I really don’t give a shit. But if you ever so much as peek over Viktor’s fence again, I will have these leaked. Understand?” My dad is silent. He stares at me, looking grim. “You’re going to make a damn ﬁne lawyer, aren’t you?” “Yeah, I am.” I turn, hook my arm into Zoey’s, and walk to the door. “I’ll be at central booking in ten minutes. If he’s not free and outside waiting, your career is over.” The door slams behind me. Then it’s just Zoey and I outside. I suck in a huge breath of air. I’m shaking all over, but I also feel more alive than ever before. I feel free. “Okay, this new ‘I got laid’ Fiona?” Zoey smirks at me. “Is a fucking badass.”

VIKTOR

T HE DOOR to my cell clangs open behind me. I close my eyes and take a breath. I wait for one of two things, because there’s only two things that happen to men like me when they’re chained in this room. One, either a much bigger government entity comes to take the case to a bigger level. That means federal charges, maximum security jail, and probably life behind bars with no chance of parole. The other option isn’t much better. Because the second thing that happens to crime lords at my level when they’re in lockup is that a rival learns that they’re here. And that means a guard gets paid o , and some guy going away for life anyways earns some commissary cash my gouging my neck. I hear footsteps approaching, and I wait. Either way, this is the end. I know the business will do ﬁne. He’ll hate it, I think with a smirk. But Lev will take over. He’ll learn diplomacy, and he’ll be an excellent boss. He’ll continue our operations

against the tra ckers, too. He has all the paperwork and plans, and Nina will be there to help. I shake my head when I think of my sister. I wish I’d had more time with her. I wish I’d had more years to know her and make memories. But she’ll do fine too. She’s strong— maybe even stronger than I am. And smart. If Lev says fuck it, she’s next to ascend the throne. My thoughts drift to Fiona, and my pulse thuds heavily. It might have taken me my entire life, and it may have only lasted for a handful of weeks. But I found the woman of my dreams. I loved her, and I made her mine. If this is the end, I could be furious that I had such little time with her. Or I could think of that small time as a lifetime unto itself. I let the air out slowly. Maybe Nina was right. Maybe I was distracted by Fiona—perhaps I let my guard down too much, which is why I got blindsided. But to have those few weeks with her again—all mine, in my arms? I’d do it all the same. “Komarov.” It’s a guard’s voice. I sti en, waiting to see which way this will blow. Either he’s letting me know the FBI is here, or he’s “going out for a cigarette” with my holding cell door open for some psycho to come cut me. I’m chained to the goddamn table and the floor. Despite my size, it won’t be much of a fight. But I tense my muscles just in case it is the second. It might not be much of a fight. But I won’t roll over and fucking die.

“Komarov! Viktor!” I scowl, opening my eyes. “What?” I snarl. The guy sco s. “Christ, you got fuckin’ manners over there in Russia?” “Not really.” He approaches me. He’s not leaving. That means I’m not getting shanked. Just put away for life. He leans down behind me. Suddenly, I furrow my brow in confusion as I feel him unlocking my ankle shackles. “What are you doing?” “Shut the fuck up.” He stands and walks around to the front of the table I’m chained to. He glares at me and shakes his head. “You know what? Sometimes the level of bullshit in this town stinks so bad, even I can smell it. And let me tell you somethin’, that’s saying a lot.” I look at him quizzically. “You got sprung, dipshit.” My mind goes numb. He reaches across the table and unlocks my shackles. “I what?” “Sprung, you Russian fuck. Charges were dropped.” I stare at him. “Is this a joke?”

“Am I fuckin’ laughing?” He frowns. “That goddamn liberal DA of ours dropped your charges. Some kinda technicality or some shit.” The DA. Thomas. My heart starts to race. I don’t know how she did it, or how I know it was her. But deep down, I know. This is Fiona. My smile widens as my pulse thuds. “I don’t fuckin’ know. If it was up to me, we’d just hang you,” the guard mutters. “Well, then I suppose I’m glad that it isn’t up to you.” He glares at me. “Get the fuck out of here, Komarov.” “Gladly.” I stand, turn, and I walk out of the cell. A uniformed cop outside nods with his head, gesturing me to follow him. My guard is still up. I’m still waiting for the surprise attack, or the knife in my back. But it doesn’t come. We walk down a long hallway, towards a door with a window in it. The cop unlocks it, glares at me, and nods. “Out, now.” I blink and look around. I frown. Is it seriously that simple? Fiona gets her father to release me somehow, and I just… walk out? “Did you hear me?” I glance at the cop. “I heard you. I’m just curious—” “Viktor!”

My heart surges in my chest. My head whips around, and when I see the frantic looking, gorgeous redhead bolting across the sidewalk towards me, I grin. I step from the prison and charge towards her. We crash together, my arms wrapping tight around her as my mouth crushes to hers. She moans into my lips, sobbing as she kisses me over and over. “What… how…” I groan into her mouth. “How did you—?” “Because I’m a pretty fucking good lawyer,” she shrugs. “Or, well, I will be.” I grin. “Yes, you will.” She beams up at me, wrapped in my arms. “I don’t know if you’re hiring, but—” “I could, you know…” I smile. “Pull some strings.” “Oh gosh,” she gushes sarcastically. “For little ole’ me?” “I’m sure we could come up with an arrangement,” I growl hungrily. Fiona grins, kissing me again. “I cannot believe you pulled this o , printsessa.” She smiles mysteriously. “Sacriﬁce the rook, so the king may fall.” I frown, trying to make sense of it in this context. But Fiona just shrugs. “I’ll be honest, Nina said that. Honestly, I don’t really have any interest in chess.” I groan through a chuckle. “You and Nina are friends now?”

“Yep. She’s great.” “God, help me.” Fiona giggles as I lean close to kiss her again. But then I pull back. “You have no interest in chess? How is that possible?” “I don’t know, I just don’t get it. I mean, I know how it’s played. It’s just never…” she shrugs. “Well, I’ll teach you.” “You could…” She leans close, her body molding to mine. “Or you could spend some more time teaching other things…” I growl deeply. “I hope your schedule is clear.” “It is now,” she whispers. “I love you, Fiona,” I growl against her lips. “I mean I’m in love with you. Just so you know.” She beams, her hands sliding around my neck. “Just so you know,” she whispers. She looks up into my eyes. “I’m in love with you too.” Our lips press hotly together. I kiss her deeply, boldly, and like I’ll never let her go.

EPILOGUE

FIONA

M Y FINGERS GRIP THE SHEETS . I tremble in anticipation. Behind me, I hear the door open, and my heart races. I blink behind the silk blindfold, feeling my skin goosebump under his gaze. Even without seeing him, I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel his jaw clenching and imagine his cock thickening for me. If this is Russia, I could get used to this. It’s my ﬁrst time here, and Viktor’s ﬁrst since he left years and years ago with Lev. We’re doing a bit of sightseeing— it’s heartbreaking and incredible to see the streets and the ghettos where the man I love fought for basic survival as a kid. But we’re also here for business. Both businesses. Viktor is here to ascend to an o cial chair at the Bratva council. His leadership running the Kashenko interests in Chicago all of these years has not gone unnoticed by the high table. And they’re rewarding him with a voice at it. We’ll still

be living in Chicago, of course. But it’s an enormous honor to be welcomed at the table any time. The other business is our more legitimate side of things. That would be the non-profit, Free Them, that Viktor’s foundation started. I co-run most of the day-to-day operations alongside Lada Turgenev, and as of now, we’ve rescued three-hundred-ninety-six children from lives of imprisonment and worse. We’re opening a new o ce here in Moscow that another lawyer/doctor team will be running. The Free Them Organization has been lauded as one of the most e ective anti-child-tra cking nonprofits in operation. We don’t need to advertise that it’s helpful to have the Bratva working behind the scenes on our team. When you can find out where these pieces of human trash are operating out of and send in a team of ruthless Russian killers to “negotiate,” things end up being pretty freaking e ective. Back home, my dad ended up scoring a win. Or at least, a win while it lasted. He went down in the books as the man to take down Joey Drucci, for conspiracy for murder. I don’t know how the hell he got that without implicating himself, but he did it. After all, weaseling out of holes is what my father does best. Taking down Joey didn’t help him in the long run with the election though. And in fact, it was his last act as District Attorney. A month after what happened that night with getting Viktor released, an intern came forward with accusations of inappropriate advances, texts, pictures, and

all of that against my father. Even worse, she was a high school intern. My dad’s chances of being mayor went to subzero after that. But that was the least of his problems after he was terminated as the district attorney. The civil case with the girl and her parents is pending, but even if he walks without jail time, he’s definitely looking at disbarment. On the one side, my dad getting canned and exposed for the creep he was sort of took away the threat of Zoey’s texts. And with that, the leverage to keep him away from Viktor. But with losing his job and all of that, it was no longer a concern. And currently, I have no concern in the world aside from waiting to see where Viktor touches me first. With our business done here, we have one last night before we fly home. And I intend to enjoy it. I gasp when I feel him sink onto the bed behind me. His breath teases over my bare thigh, then across my ass. I whimper, feeling my skin prickle. My arousal pools between my legs, and I can feel how wet I am in anticipation. “Viktor, please,” I whimper. “Greedy girl,” he rasps into my ear. I moan when his hand slips between my thighs. His finger lightly brushes over my lips, and I hear him chuckle. “Feel how fucking wet you are for me.” I moan when his finger sinks into me. He strokes it in and out and then withdraws.

“Now taste how sweet you are.” I whimper softly and open my lips. I suck his ﬁnger inside, tasting my own sweetness. I hear him growl and then move behind me. His breath is on my ass again. Then his tongue drags through my lips. I cry out, pushing back—desperate for more. He groans into me, dragging his tongue up and down my pussy from my clit all the way to my asshole. He makes me squirm and beg, panting for more until my toes are curling. He ﬁnally sucks my clit between his lips, and I groan in satisfaction. His tongue mercilessly swirls over my throbbing button, until suddenly, I’m coming hard. I thrash on the bed, kicking my feet against the sheets. The pleasure explodes through me, leaving me panting and moaning. But I’m hardly down from the high before I feel him move up behind me. He crouches over my ass and sinks the head of his cock between my lips. I moan in pleasure as Viktor drives deep, mounting me from behind. “Oh fuck, printsessa,” he hisses. His cock swells in me, throbbing so deeply. His big hands splay across my ass. He grips my hips tightly as he slides out and then plunges right back in. I cry out into the sheets, moaning eagerly as Viktor starts to pound into me. He knows when I want it slow and teasing. But he also knows when I need him to fuck me into submission. Tonight, is the latter, and I’ve been aching for it all day. He snarls, fucking me like a savage. My legs give out, and I slump into a puddle of pleasure on the sheets. Viktor growls,

pinning me to the bed as he thrusts his fat cock in and out of me, over and over. My body clenches and ripples, until suddenly, I know I can’t stop it. “Viktor!” “Come, baby,” he groans. “Come for me, love. Right now.” He thrusts deep, and I explode. My orgasm thunders through every inch of my body. My hands twist the sheets as I cry out into them. Viktor roars and drives into me. He buries every thick inch of his big dick into my rippling pussy and lets go. I can feel his cum spraying into me, spilling deep where it belongs. He gathers me into his arms, holding me close. I groan in pleasure, snuggling into him. I go to slip the blindfold o of my face, but Viktor stops me with a gentle touch. “Not yet, printsessa,” he growls quietly. He shifts o the bed. I pout, wanting him near me again. But instantly, he’s back, his weight sinking down the mattress next to me. “Okay, take it o .” I slip the mask o , blinking as my eyes adjust from darkness to the glowing light of what must be a hundred ﬂickering candles spread throughout the suite. “Vik—” My breath catches. Viktor is sitting on the edge of the bed facing me. And in his hands is a small, black box. “What…” I swallow. My eyes water as they widen, darting between the box and his face. “What is this?”

“I think you should open it and find out.” I reach for it with shaky hands. It’s hinged on one side, with a tiny clasp on the front part. I pop the clasp, and slowly open the box. My heart skips. Inside, glittering in the candlelight, is a shimmering, gorgeous diamond ring. I look up in shock and realize he’s kneeling on the floor in front of me. “Fiona Murray,” he growls. “Once, you were my prisoner. Then, I fell in love with you.” I swallow as tears of happiness well in the corners of my eyes. “Let me keep you forever, printsessa,” he growls quietly. “Let me make you mine, for always. Marry me, Fiona.” I’m barely aware of throwing myself into his arms. I scream, tears flowing down my cheeks as I crush my mouth to his. “Yes,” I whisper fiercely. “Yes!” “Good,” he grins. “Because if you’d said no, I would have just kept you anyway.” I laugh, tears falling down my cheeks as I kiss him passionately. I hold him tightly, keeping him all for myself, for always and forever.

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Standalones: Her Rough Mechanic Cherished Captivated Roping His Bride Stalker of Mine Hungry For Her Wrapped Up In Her Bosshole Grumpaholic Be Ours Paying The Bratva’s Debt 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

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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