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SWEET CRUELTY A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE

ZOE BLAKE

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Epilogue About Zoe Blake Also by Zoe Blake

Thank you!

Copyright © 2020 by Stormy Night Publications and Zoe Blake All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC. www.StormyNightPublications.com Blake, Zoe Sweet Cruelty Cover Design by Dark City Designs Image by James Critchley Photography This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

CHAPTER 1

N

o one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be a heroine. - Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

Emma

I

out of time… and options.

Tuition was due next week.

I had no choice but to beg for the money tonight, or I’d be kicked out of school.

I gripped the cold, wrought-iron fence railing and tried to calm my breathing. I reached up to straighten my bangs as I checked to make sure the topknot securing my hair was still in place. Normally, I just threw my hair up in a messy bun with two twists of a scrunchy, but today I had taken the care to smooth it into a tight, elegant bun. I had hoped it would make me look older and studious. The e ect was almost worth the headache the tight hairband and bobby pins were giving me. I couldn’t wait for this to be over. The first thing I would do would be to take my hair down.

Giving myself one last inspection, I bent down to wipe a small smudge o the toe of my Doc Marten Mary Janes HAD RUN

before straightening my pink plaid skirt.

Hefting my leather backpack onto my shoulder, I swung open the gate. Wincing as it squeaked, I paused, waiting for…

I’m not sure what. The sounds of angry dogs barking? A warning gunshot over my head?

Sliding first one foot along the brick-paved walkway, then the other, I forced myself to walk up the short set of stairs.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. The house would have an imposing glossy black door with a massive brass lion’s head clasping a heavy ring in its jaws for a door knocker. All I was missing was some misty fog and the sound of the Thames lapping at the shore and I’d be in some Dickens novel with me playing the part of the poor urchin begging for scraps.

No! I wasn’t the poor urchin.

Squaring my shoulders, I reminded myself I was the heroine of my story. And like most of Austen’s heroines, this particular heroine desperately needed this man’s money! As Lizzie Bennet said to the arrogant Mr. Darcy: My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.

With more boldness than I felt, I raised my arm to grasp the metal ring. Before I could, the door swung open with such force, a blast of air ru ed my bangs.

With a small cry, I took a step back.

In my vivid imagination, the person seemed more beast than man.

With his legs planted wide, his shaved head barely missed hitting the top of the doorway. The black goatee covering his upper lip and chin only highlighted the sharp planes of his jaw and nose. Beneath his right eye there was some sort of slash mark or scar, which gave the already pretty freaking scary-looking man an even more ominous appearance.

Naked from the waist up, his muscled chest was covered in

brightly colored tattoos. Good Lord! Was that an image of a dagger dripping with blood on his neck?

A grim scowl clouded his features as he stared down at me with cold, stormy eyes.

“I… I… I…” My brain froze. My jaw was too sti to form any words.

“You’re late.”

In reality, I knew he had spoken some normal, Englishlanguage words, but all I heard emanating from his lips was the deep, threatening growl of a beast. It didn’t help that he had the distinctive guttural purr of a Russian accent.

This man was definitely not Mr. Linus Fitzgerald III, elderly son of my former benefactor!

My tongue felt thick and awkward in my mouth. “I’m so sorry. There’s been a mistake.”

My body jerked o -balance as my heel slid out over the edge of the top step in my e ort to back slowly away from the angry, bear-like man.

His giant paw snatched me by the upper arm and dragged me over the threshold. I fell against the hard heat of his body.

“There is no mistake, моя крошка. You’re mine for the night.”

The heavy black door swung shut, cutting me o from the safe sounds of civilization.

“No! Wait!”

It was too late.

I was alone with the Russian beast… inside his lair.

CHAPTER 2

I

f adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad. - Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

Emma

T HIS WAS BAD … really bad.

Stunned, I stood there pressed against his chest. I must have been out of my mind because for the briefest moment, all I could think about was how warm and oddly safe it felt.

There was just something about the protective feel of a powerful man’s arms wrapped around me. I had never experienced it before, but I’d read about it in countless books. It was jarring to realize that what I had read in books didn’t come close to how it truly felt.

The heat of his skin. The steady thump of his heartbeat.

The way his hands pressed against my lower back. The spicy scent of sandalwood cologne mixed with tobacco. It was all so… intoxicating.

This was madness.

This man was a stranger.

A tattooed stranger with a freaking scar on his face like a freaking pirate!

He had the image of a bloody dagger sticking through his throat, for heaven’s sake!

What was I doing?

Placing my hands against a solid wall of muscle, I pushed free… or at least tried to.

His arms tightened around me. A frisson of alarm ran up my spine like the crawl of cold fingertips over my skin.

“There’s been a mistake.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. My eyes stayed trained on the center of his chest.

“What is your name, моя крошка?”

Shaking my head, my heart raced as my gaze darted about the entry hall. Everywhere I looked there was Chantilly cream-colored marble, from the floors to the sweeping staircase o to the side. There was a lit fireplace, which under any other circumstances would have seemed warm and inviting. Except for a hastily added Persian rug, the space was bare with no artwork or any other furniture, as if someone had just moved in.

It also felt empty. There were no indistinct noises coming from a television in another room or the close of a cabinet or clink of a glass from the unseen kitchen. The bustling soft sounds you normally heard when other people were in a house.

Strong fingers cupped my jaw as he turned my head back to him, forcing my gaze to meet his own.

I had never seen eyes the color of his before. They were a stark steel grey, but with tiny flecks of dark blue. The directness of his stare was unsettling. “моя крошка, I’m not a patient man. Tell me your name.”

His Russian accent was unmistakable. The inflection midsentence, with softly rolling vowels. The way each word

sounded like melting dark chocolate.

“What is that phrase you keep saying? Moya kroshka?”

The pad of his thumb caressed my bottom lip as if he wanted to feel as well as hear the words on my lips. “моя крошка? It means my little one.”

Watching his lips as they moved, the corners turned up ever so slightly as he softened the harsh English vowels to a purr, leetle une.

I pulled my lip between my teeth, tasting the salty tang from his touch. It was odd how such an innocent endearment could sound so sensual. My stomach twisted. I may never have had a boyfriend, but I wasn’t so naïve as to not recognize the hidden sexual threat of his words.

“That is the game you are playing tonight, no? Naughty little schoolgirl.”

His gaze lowered to my chest. Looking down, my mouth opened on a horrified gasp. The neckline of my pink cashmere sweater, one of my favorite thrift store finds, had shifted as I pressed against him. The deep V-neck now exposed the top of my white lace bra. Even worse, the delicate weave did nothing to hide the sharp buds of my erect nipples.

Shocked and humiliated that I would respond so blatantly to the touch of a complete stranger—and a very scary criminal-looking one at that—I tried to escape his embrace once more.

His hand on my jaw forced my head all the way back as his long fingers wrapped around my throat. “Stop your struggles.”

Without warning, his mouth claimed mine. The hard press of his lips forced my own against my teeth. The tips of his fingers dug into my jaw till my mouth opened for his assault. When his tongue swept in, I could taste a hint of tobacco and mint mixed with the sharp tang of my blood. I

had never been kissed like this in my life. The bold sweep of his tongue swirled and teased my own. It was as if he were pulling the very breath from my body till it forced me to breathe in his own air to live. The hard bristle of his goatee scraped against the delicate skin of my cheeks and chin, increasing the powerful masculine feel of his embrace. If it hadn’t been for the press of his body, I didn’t think I would still be standing. The taste and touch of him was overwhelming. It consumed me.

This must be what it felt like to be kissed by a pirate rogue. To know that you were in a threatening situation and to know that it was terribly, terribly wrong… and yet to respond to his touch anyway. It was as if all reason and logic had fled, leaving me at the mercy of my primal self. The dark portion of my soul that craved adventure, passion, and yes… maybe even a little danger. The part of me that responded to a powerful man just reaching out and taking what he wanted and the thrill of knowing that what he wanted was me!

No one ever wanted me before… not like this.

A warm, dizzying sensation crept over me to settle between my legs as a soft mew escaped my lips. I was a taut bowstring humming with tension just waiting to be stroked.

Was it madness to actually want this powerful stranger to ease the building ache inside of me? My rational mind warred with my a ection-starved body.

Finally, he took mercy on me and released my mouth, but not before pulling the scrunchy and bobby pins out of my hair. The tight bun released and the soft curls tumbled over my shoulders and down my back.

Driving his fingers into my hair, he pulled tight as his lips pressed lightly against my cheek before moving to my earlobe. The sharp edges of his teeth along the delicate shell of my ear had me clenching my thighs.

“Such a chaste kiss. You play the innocent very well. I will let the agency know I’m pleased.”

Chaste? He called that chaste?

Wait… agency? What agency?

Before I could even force my shattered senses to respond, the hard press of his erect cock against my abdomen set alarms bells o .

This is bad… really bad.

“Please. You don’t understand. I’m just here for the money,” I blurted out.

His head snapped back. His grey gaze turned cold and stormy. “Well then, I better see you earn it.”

Snatching my forgotten backpack o my shoulder, he tossed it onto the floor near the door.

For the briefest of seconds, his arms set me free. My body swayed, as if I had forgotten how to support myself without the help of his firm grip. Before I could do anything else, he bent in half and pressed his heavy shoulder against my stomach and lifted me high.

I cried out as I splayed my hands across his back, hoping to get some purchase as the room rocked and spun.

“What are you doing? Wait! Stop!” I tried to push the hair out of my eyes to see where he was taking me.

My cheeks flamed as a hot band of iron pressed under my skirt to wrap tightly around my upper thighs.

My world teetered as he moved toward the staircase.

“Stop!”

My legs kicked out. I could hear the beast grunt as the heavy rubber sole of one of my Doc Marten Mary Janes connected with his midsection.

With his free hand, he easily captured my left foot and pulled first that shoe, then my right shoe, o . As he tossed them aside, I watched as my only pitiful weapons tumbled down the marble steps to land uselessly at the bottom.

In desperation, I reached out to grasp the black wroughtiron railing that curved alongside the staircase.

For my e orts, I received a sharp slap on my ass. Even through the wool fabric of my skirt, it stung and burned.

Tears blurred my vision. Several fell to stain the denim of his jeans a darker blue. We arrived at the top of the stairs. My chances of escape were dwindling, especially if he got me inside his bedroom.

With renewed ferocity, I tried clawing at his back. It did nothing. I stared at my bright pink nails in dismay. Why did I always have to keep my nails short?

He only laughed at my attempts. “мой маленький котенок trying to use her little claws. Don’t worry. You can draw your nails down my back all you want once my cock is deep inside you.”

The dizzying sway of his body as his hard shoulder pressed into my stomach made me feel sick and disoriented.

My world tilted again as he swung me onto the bed.

My body sank deep into the luxurious thickness of his bedcovers. The emerald and gold down was so heavy it took some e ort to rise onto my knees.

His back was turned to me as I heard the unmistakable click of the door lock. Panicked, my eyes searched the room for some other escape route. Like the hallway below, the room was in warm creams with an added touch of gold and dark emerald on both the bed and the upholstered chairs that sat before another roaring fire.

There was an open doorway to the right, but from the rows of hanging suits, I could easily see that it must lead to a walk-in closet. Another door across the room was slightly ajar. I didn’t have to see inside to know it was probably a bathroom. It wasn’t an escape, but perhaps I could lock myself in and call for help?

Stumbling o the bed, I threw my body forward as I tried to reach that door.

The breath was knocked out of my lungs with a sudden swoosh as his arm wrapped tightly around my middle. He pressed my back against the naked warmth of his chest.

His hand stole around my throat, pushing my head back against him. I wasn’t considered tall, but I was by no means short, and yet this man made me feel like the little girl endearment he called me. My height was no match for his towering frame. The top of my head barely reached his shoulder.

The open palm of his other hand ran down my belly to settle under my skirts. Cupping me between the legs, he growled into my ear, “So you want to play the shy virgin game? Then let’s play.”

His grip shifted till his skin was against my own. The tips of his fingers moved beneath the waistband of my panties.

A high-pitched whimper escaped my lips as I stood, too shocked from my fierce arousal at his touch to move.

One long finger pressed between the seam of my lower lips to tease my clit.

Pressing my eyes tightly closed, a tear ran down my cheek. Whether it was from fear, or the humiliation of this stranger feeling the warm wetness of my arousal, I didn’t know.

How could this possibly be arousing me?

I had dreamt of this moment countless times, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had wanted it to be special, with a man who cared about me. It seemed my body was tired of waiting for the book boyfriend who would probably never appear.

Wetting my dry lips, my voice sounded weak and breathless to my ears. “Please, you don’t understand. I’m not who you think I am.”

“I know precisely who… and what… you are, моя крошка.

Mine for the night.” He ran his mouth along the column of my neck, punctuating his possessive claim by pushing the tip of his finger inside of me.

Rising up on my toes, I tried to escape the invasive touch, but his arm around my waist prevented it.

Lifting me up, he walked a few steps backwards and tossed me once more onto the bed. Getting on my hands and knees facing away from him, I looked over my shoulder.

He was standing at the end of the bed, unbuttoning his jeans. His gaze on my ass. I knew I must look like a wanton spectacle. I could feel the hem of my skirt as it rode up high on my thighs. From his angle, he could probably even see the white silk of my panties.

Reaching out an arm, the back of his knuckles caressed my upper thigh. “No thong? Just the innocent panties of a Catholic schoolgirl. Has my little schoolgirl earned a spanking from the headmaster?”

Spanking?

Clawing at the heavy covers, I fell onto my belly as I tried to clamber away.

His hand wrapped around my right ankle and pulled me back. My legs were now splayed wide on either side of his.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a naughty girl.”

His fingers reached for the waistband of my panties and ruthlessly pulled them down to just under the curve of my ass.

Oh, my God. This was happening.

He was going to… going to… oh, my God. “Raise up onto your knees.”

“Please, you must listen to me. There’s been a mistake!

You have to let me go!”

My entire body jerked as his warm hand caressed my bare ass cheek.

“Such ugly lies, out of such pretty lips. Perhaps I will punish your mouth later. For now, I want this ass bright red so I can feel the heat from your punished skin as I fuck you.”

“No!” My cry was lost over the ring of his first slap against my vulnerable bottom.

The sound echoed around the room as I felt the hot pins and needles from his strike. Before I could cry out again, he spanked the other cheek.

“No! Stop!”

Mercilessly, he abused my ass with the palm of his hand.

Each strike more painful than the last. Knowing I could never fight him o , I buried my head, biting down hard on the soft downy bedcovers.

My knees buckled as my body rocked upward with each hit, the movement pushing my hips against the bed. A groan escaped my lips as it put pressure on my pussy. Shocking myself to the core, I ground my hips against the mattress, the hot sensation of pain from his spanking somehow increasing the pleasurable pressure against my clit. Shifting my shoulders, I rubbed my swollen nipples against the covers as my hand crept beneath my body to rub the sensitive nub of my clit even harder.

This is madness.

Absolute madness.

After an eternity, the punishment stopped.

Somewhere past the buzzing in my ears, I could hear the muted opening and closing of a drawer. Then the rattle of foil packaging. Too wrapped up in the warring sensations of pain and pleasure, I didn’t register what was happening till it was too late.

His enormous hands spanned my hips as he pulled me back onto my knees and shifted me until my feet hung over the edge of the bed.

His fingers bumped into my own as I continued to rub my clit furiously. Forced to masturbate previously with only my imaginings of a man’s hands on my body, it was too much now to feel the rough, warm touch of a real man on my skin.

Something hard pressed against my entrance. I tried to shift my knees forward to move away from the insistent pressure, but his grip on my hips prevented me.

My eyes flew open. Gone was the heady, opium-like embrace of passion.

His hand ran up my back under my sweater as he murmured, “Jesus, you’re tight. Almost like a real virgin.”

My mouth opened, a denial lodging in my throat.

The pressure increased till I felt my body relent. The tip of his cock popped past the tight ring of muscle desperately trying to keep him out.

Sinking his fingers into my soft flesh, he thrust in deep.

Burying himself inside of me.

Tearing through my maidenhead as he filled me with every thick, painful inch of his cock.

“What the hell?” he roared.

CHAPTER 3

S

tars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. William Shakespeare, Macbeth

D IMITRI

W HAT THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING ?

With extreme willpower, I pulled free of her sweet, tight cunt.

Leaning up, I grabbed her around her narrow waist and easily flipped her body till she was on her back.

Small fists pounded on my chest and arms. She was like an angry butterfly trying to attack a lion with the flutter of her pretty wings.

Snatching her flailing arms, I secured both her wrists in my left hand and dragged them above her head.

Her body twisted and bucked beneath my own. It only settled me deeper between her legs. The sensitive underside of my cock brushed against the soft down of her pussy. My balls were tight and almost painful as my entire body screamed to once more thrust deeply into her wet heat. If she kept moving under me like this, I wouldn’t be responsible for

my actions. There was only so much a man could take before his baser needs took over.

“Enough!” I barked.

Her eyes widened as she stilled, frozen with fear.

For such a little thing, with a small face and tiny pert nose, she had impossibly large eyes. They were a beautiful dark brown with hints of gold. They turned down slightly at the edges, giving her the look of an innocent doe.

Too bad a hunter had captured her.

“Tell me, now.”

Her slight body trembled beneath the heavy weight of my own and at the harsh sound of my command.

A gentleman would have talked in a more soothing voice.

Would have petted her head and given her soft kisses on her cheeks as he gently pressed for an explanation.

I was no gentleman.

I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.

There had to be a reason as to why the high-class escort I had hired for the night was a fucking virgin.

The knowledge that all her earlier feigned innocence was not a game or a well-practiced seductive act, but the genuine reactions of an untried woman, twisted my stomach with unease. How was this even possible? How could an American girl her age still be a virgin? Unless she wasn’t of age. Jesus Christ.

My right hand gripped her jaw and tilted her head back to force her gaze to mine. I searched her gamine features for signs of age. “How old are you?”

Her eyes filled with tears. A small amount of eyeliner had streaked down her cheeks. Pale pink lipstick was smudged over her swollen lips. Her long brown hair a tangled mess of curls as it spread across my pillow. Damn me if she didn’t still look beautiful as hell. My cock, which was still semihard, swelled.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind I would finish what we had started, but before I sank deep into her again, I needed answers. “моя крошка, tell me. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” came her whispered response. Her voice so soft and low I had to strain to hear it.

Still, it was all I needed to know. Despite her delicate young features, she was of age.

I would get the rest of the answers I needed later.

Shifting my hips, I pushed my right thigh against her own, opening her wider as I raised my torso up higher.

Reaching between our bodies, I gripped my shaft and positioned it once more at her entrance.

She mewed as her body tried to twist and turn beneath me.

“Please…” Her beautiful doe eyes pleaded for sympathy and compassion.

If she knew who I was… what I was… she’d know it was pointless.

Everything I possessed in this world I had taken through some form of force. She would be no di erent.

And make no mistake, I now possessed her as well.

The moment I had felt my cock breach her maidenhead, she became mine.

Mine.

It was an indescribable feeling, this primal surge from deep within me. Knowing that no man had come before me… and at least for now, no man ever would. A virgin, the embodiment of innocence. A gnawing hunger arose deep inside my black and twisted soul, a need to devour all her purity and light for my own. As if by simply touching her, I would be redeemed from my sins.

I don’t know what circumstances had brought her to my doorstep this night, but obviously a woman this naïve

needed a powerful protector. She had mentioned a need for money. I had plenty of it. Whatever trouble she was in, I would buy her out of it… and collect my fee in other, more pleasurable ways.

Yes, this little treasure was all mine now.

So she had better get used to the feel of my cock.

The heavy bulbous head pushed inside. I released the breath I was holding as her body squeezed around my flesh.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you… I’ve never had… I’ve never been with…” she stammered.

I cradled her delicate jaw in my right hand as the pad of my thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away the dark smudge of makeup.

With a tight grip on her wrists, I leaned down to gently kiss her lips as my free hand cupped the heavy weight of one perfect breast. Rolling the nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I pinched it roughly. Her lush mouth opened on a gasp.

My tongue swept in, with an overpowering need to taste her sweet honey again.

As my tongue swirled and danced with her own, my hand moved to caress the nip in her waist before sliding over her hip and down the silky skin of her thigh. Wrapping my long fingers around the underside of her knee, I pushed her leg up high, trapping her more e ectively underneath my weight.

Her body tensed as my cock thrust more deeply into her.

Inch by inch.

I swallowed her cries as my hips thrust forward.

Her tight pussy fought the intrusion. Clenching and grasping at my flesh as I drove in deeper. Only when my balls brushed against the underside of her ass did I stop and finally release her lips. My mouth skimmed over her jaw and cheek, tasting her salty tears.

She trembled as she inhaled a shaky breath. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Why? Did she really have to ask why?

Did she have no concept of how she looked lying beneath me, in my bed? That her beautiful vulnerability and innocence mixed with such a stunning made-for-sex body was an irresistible drug to a man like me?

Leaning over, I flicked her earlobe with the tip of my tongue before rasping, “This is happening because you knocked on the door of a very… bad… man.”

I shifted my hips to pull out halfway before thrusting in deep. I could feel her inner pulse as it vibrated up my shaft.

Her body’s resistance was weakening, submitting to the domination of my cock.

“Ow! Ow! It hurts!” Her arms pulled on my grasp as her back arched, pressing her breasts against my chest.

Unable to resist the temptation, I sucked one erect nipple into my mouth, needing to taste its berry sweetness. After licking and laving one nipple, I moved to the other.

Deliberately capturing her shocked gaze with my own as I opened my mouth to flick the pert nub.

The music of her soft moan was the only answer I needed.

Releasing her wrists, I lifted my torso and placed both forearms on either side of her head, bracing myself.

My restraint had snapped. I could no longer hold back. “моя крошка, whether you let go and enjoy the pleasure I can give is up to you, but you are not leaving this bed,” I threatened through clenched teeth as I fought for my last shred of control, not wanting to tear her with the ferocity of my thrusts.

“I don’t know… what… I don’t…”

“Let me show you.”

Swiveling my hips relentlessly, I thrust forward and back, opening her body to me. Her slick heat coated my cock as I kept a steady rhythm. Her body telling me more than her lips ever could. I increased my pace, pressing down on her as I buried my face into sweet-smelling curls cascading around her, the color of soft mink.

Those tiny fists that once fought me o now wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer.

The moment her hips unwittingly tilted up to match my thrusts, all was lost.

Reaching between us, the pad of my thumb put pressure on her clit as I increased the pace of my thrusts, bottoming out inside her tight heat each time.

The force of my violent thrusts shifted her up on the mattress. I had to place a protective hand on her head so it wouldn’t bang against the heavy mahogany headboard.

“Oh, God!” “That’s it, baby, take it. Take it all,” I ground out as sweat dripped between my shoulder blades.

It was a marvel my massive cock was fitting inside her tiny body at all. Her untried pussy would feel bruised and swollen tomorrow from the brutality of this fucking, but that didn’t stop me. I hammered at her till my balls tightened.

“Oh, God! Don’t stop!” she breathed as I felt a ripple of arousal from deep inside of her.

My sweet little doe was coming. Her first orgasm from feeling a man’s cock inside of her and it was mine, all mine.

As impossible as it might seem, my cock swelled even harder at the possessive thought.

Mine.

All mine.

I felt the rush of her arousal around my cock as her head tossed from side to side on the pillow and her fingertips dug into my upper arms.

The moment her orgasm ebbed, I unleashed the beast.

Pounding into her as if the dogs of hell were on my heels and her body held my only redemption. One of the most allconsuming orgasms of my life tore through my body as come poured from me.

I had a flash of irrational regret knowing my hot seed would not be coating the walls of her cunt, would not truly be a part of her, but was wasted inside the rubber confines of a condom.

Next time.

Next time, I would know the pleasure of a true release inside of her with nothing to separate us.

Next time, nothing would come between me and the woman I now called mine.

B REATHING HEAVILY , I slipped out of her body and climbed out of the bed. After discreetly tossing away the used condom, I padded barefoot across the bedroom to the well-stocked bar cabinet.

Never in my life had I needed a sti drink more.

Reaching for the black and gold bottle of Stoli Elit: Himalayan Edition, I unscrewed the cap. Pulling the long gold-plated ice pick that was secured to the inside of the cap free from the bottle, I poured a generous amount into a waiting crystal tumbler. Raising the glass to my lips, I tilted my head back and drained the contents in one swallow. I poured another.

After kicking that one back, I poured a third and turned back to face my captured little doe.

After awkwardly wrapping the thick coverlet around her body, she was tiptoeing across the chamber toward her discarded pile of clothes.

Not giving a fuck about my naked state or my still semihard cock as it swung between my legs, I stormed across the room. “Where do you think you’re going?” I demanded as I kicked her belongings out of her reach.

“I… I… I thought you were… finished with me.” Her gaze refused to meet mine. It stayed on the ominous-looking ice pick still clutched in my right fist.

Gesturing with that same arm, I growled, “Get your ass back in that bed. We’re not done.”

Her body trembled as she backed away from me on shaking limbs. As she neared the bed, I issued another command. “Drop the blanket.”

She clasped it harder to her chest, twisting the silk between her breasts. “Please… I…” “Drop. The. Blanket.”

Straight pearl-white teeth dug into the lush fullness of her bottom lip as she stood there undecided. Then with a cry, she dropped the blanket. As she lunged for the bed, she lifted the top sheet up and scrambled beneath it.

It really was adorable how she thought she could fight me, even on this trivial thing, and win.

Approaching the bed, I climbed on top, straddling her narrow waist. My hard cock rested against her abdomen, her pussy only protected by a thin piece of cotton. As if she thought it might bite her, she scrambled to sit up, resting her shoulders against the headboard.

Handing her the glass of vodka, I ordered, “Drink.”

She shook her head. Her pretty lips pouted as her eyebrows creased. “I don’t want to.”

I placed a hand on the headboard high above her head and leaned in. Lifting my other arm, I placed the tip of the ice pick beneath her chin and raised her head. It wasn’t a real ice pick, more a marketing gimmick than anything else, but it was threatening enough for her. I could see her big brown

eyes widen as the muscles in her throat contracted with her hard swallow.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. Now drink.”

The crystal clattered against her teeth as she brought a shaking hand to her mouth. The glass barely tipped toward her lips. Using the tip of the ice pick, I placed it under the bottom rim of the glass and tilted it up, forcing her to swallow the total amount. It was only a splash or two of vodka, enough to brace her for what was about to come.

She coughed and choked. Clear liquid coated her lips.

An open invitation.

Leaning down, I licked the errant drops of vodka from the corner of her mouth before flicking my tongue along her bottom lip. The head of my cock pushed against her stomach.

The glass dropped from her fingers as she curled them into a fist, futilely trying to push me away.

Her fighting me was only arousing me further. I knew only a barbarian would force their attentions on a virgin so soon after taking her maidenhead. Since I knew I was barely better than a barbarian, I needed to remove myself from the temptation of her open thighs.

So I shifted till I was sitting to one side of her with my feet on the floor. As I grasped her jaw with my free hand, she stilled. “You are very adorable when you’re angry but I assure you, моя крошка, it will not be as cute when I am angry.”

She buried her hands into the sheet and raised it protectively to her chin. “You got what you wanted. Just let me go.”

She really was naïve.

Too naïve.

It would be almost criminal for me to send such an innocent, vulnerable girl back out into the world.

Good thing I had no intention of doing so.

Holding the ice pick lightly in my hand, I placed the tip against the base of her throat.

She inhaled sharply.

“I haven’t begun to take what I want, моя крошка.”

CHAPTER 4

I

am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

HE

WOULD KILL ME .

This was the price I would pay for my misadventure.

I didn’t dare breathe or even tear my gaze away from his stormy one. The metal point of the ice pick pressed against my skin. It then traced a line down to just between my breasts. I kept my fists clasped there, the sheet twisted between my fingers.

His eyes hardened to the color of dark steel.

The sharp edge of the ice pick sank slightly into my flesh.

Not su cient to break skin, but just enough to threaten.

With a cry, I dropped my hands. The tip of the makeshift blade pressed down against the balled-up sheets, pushing the fabric to my lap and exposing my breasts. Looking down, a rush of fresh humiliation washed over me at the sight of my erect nipples.

Wasn’t it enough I had practically clawed at him like a cat in heat once my body had adjusted to the feel of his cock? I didn’t recognize the wanton being I had become. It was as if all rational thought had abandoned me, leaving me a quivering tangle of sensitive nerves.

He was just so big and powerful. It was as if he had stepped out of the pages of one of those bodice-rippers I secretly kept stashed in a box beneath my bed. A marauding pirate or pillaging Viking. And that accent! Oh, God, his accent. It was a deep, sexual purr of dark promises and deeds.

Could I be blamed if I thought for once in my life I would make a poor decision?

For once, I would let myself lose control and give in.

It was not like I had a line of men banging on my door hoping to be my boyfriend.

It wasn’t true what they said in the movies. The nerdy, shy girl doesn’t get the boy.

What she gets is to be in her twenties and still a virgin.

While this wouldn’t have been my first choice, I couldn’t regret what had happened.

Finally!

Finally, I had experienced in life what I had only until this point read about.

Passion.

True, unadulterated passion.

I’d now experienced what it felt like to be wanted and taken by a man… a real man.

Except now the heat of passion had worn o , leaving me feeling chilled and vulnerable.

Cold, hard reasoning had returned.

What the hell was I thinking?

I’d be lucky if he didn’t kill me!

“You owe me an explanation,” he intoned, his gaze still on my exposed breasts as he circled each erect nipple with the metal tip of the ice pick. On his knuckles I could see tattoos representing each suit from a deck of cards. Even I knew only very dangerous people had both neck and hand tattoos. It meant they didn’t care what society thought or how they were judged. It meant they didn’t live by or obey society’s rules.

Still, he said I owed him an explanation for how tonight had gone so horribly sideways.

Owed him?

I think I had paid enough already.

Besides, some rebellious part of me wanted him to continue thinking I was some femme fatale playing a sexy Catholic schoolgirl game. Instead of admitting I was a deadbroke student here begging for tuition money. I didn’t want to think about how humiliating it would be to admit I was some stupid, sheltered virgin who had gotten swept away at the first authentic touch of a man.

I opened my mouth to say something to appease him. Tell him enough of a lie to convince him to just let me grab my clothes and slink o with recriminations and guilt over what I had allowed to happen.

“If you open that mouth to lie to me, I will put it to better use.”

My eyes widened. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to, but I wasn’t so naïve as to not pick up on the sexual threat. With his Russian accent, everything sounded like a sexual threat.

My mouth snapped shut.

“I take it you are not from the escort agency?”

If this hadn’t been such a dangerous situation, I would have almost laughed at little mousy me being mistaken for an exotic escort. Knowing he was expecting an answer but

unable to speak past my suddenly dry tongue, I just shook my head.

“You said you were here for the money. What money?”

I lowered my head, realizing my foolish outburst about needing money had sealed my fate over this dreadful miscommunication. He would not let me go with my dignity intact. I would have to admit the truth.

He reached over and gave my nipple a quick pinch.

I sat up straighter as I covered my breasts with my arms.

“Ow!” He dropped his hand onto the bed, pressing it against my hip as he leaned in closer. His dark brow lowered as his jaw tightened. “Answer me. Why do you need money? Are you in trouble?”

More trouble than I’m in now? Naked in this man’s bed?

This would be the moment to channel some witty, sassy retort like the heroines in my books. To put him in his place as I brazenly talked my way out. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of those heroines. I was just me. And this man frightened and intimidated me as much as he enthralled me.

My voice sounded weak and pathetic to my ears as I hesitantly said, “I thought this was the house of Mr. Linus Fitzgerald III. I came here tonight to beg him to give me the grant tuition money promised to me so I could finish my degree.”

He abruptly rose. Raising his arm, he threw the metal ice pick across the room till it smashed against a mirror, cracking its surface as he spit out something in Russian that sounded like proklyat. Before I could wonder what he’d just said, he repeated it in English. “Goddamn it.”

His heavy footfalls took him back to the bar cabinet.

His entire back was covered in a massive dragon tattoo. It looked like a piece of Russian folk art and was colored in with crimson reds and rich greens and golds. The jewel tones

shifted as his heavily muscled back moved with his arms as he poured himself another drink. Among his super-scary tattoos, he had one that didn’t make sense. High on his left shoulder there was a tattoo of a cute cartoon bear holding an orange. It seemed out of place with the dragons, symbols, and dagger. I didn’t have the courage to boldly ask him about it.

Unable to stop myself, I peeked lower. He had a great ass.

He pivoted, and without warning my view was filled with the sight of his heavily engorged cock. I couldn’t believe that thing fit inside of me. Without thinking, I pressed a protective palm between my legs.

“So you just knocked on a strange man’s door in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? A little girl like you all alone?

Unprotected!” he raged as he swallowed the contents of his glass before slamming it down onto the counter so hard I heard the crystal crack.

Was he serious?

Forgetting all about my fear, my humiliation, and my naked state, I rose onto my knees. “You!” I accused, pointing a finger at him. “You happened to me! And it wasn’t in the middle of the night!” I finished petulantly, my lower lip sticking out as I put my hands on my hips.

He moved so swiftly I didn’t have a chance to escape.

Wrapping his fist in my curls, he wrenched my head back as he pulled me against his warm body. Aware of my naked breasts brushing against the dark hair on his chest, my heart thumped wildly.

His dark eyes narrowed as his lips twisted into a sneer.

“And what were you going to do, детка? Beg him prettily on your knees for the money?” The angrier he got, the thicker his Russian accent became. His voice was nothing but a low

guttural growl to my untrained ears, but I understood enough.

With a cry of rage, my arm flew up, ready to slap him and damn the consequences.

A vise snapped around my thin wrist. In one smooth move, he had my arm locked behind my back.

“Perhaps I should make you beg me for the money?”

My vision blurred.

“Would you do that, детка, my sweet little baby girl?

Would you get on your knees and open that beautiful mouth for me?”

My body’s reaction to his dark threat was nothing short of sick and twisted. I felt the rush of heat between my legs. I clenched my thighs at the thought of being submissively prostrate in front of this dangerously powerful man. My mouth open and begging for his… his… oh, God! Heat rose on my cheeks as the wanton image played behind my eyes.

Without thinking, my tongue darted out to wet my lips.

Pressed close to his chest, I felt the vibrations from his growl.

His other arm swept against my upper thighs just under my ass as he lifted me o the bed. Carrying me before him, he strode across the room. Pressing my hands against his shoulders, I squirmed in his embrace. “Where are you taking me?” I demanded.

Ignoring my question, he carried me over the threshold of the bathroom. Like the entryway, the full space was covered in creamy white marble. Shifting my weight to one arm as if I were nothing more than a small sack of sugar, he opened a massive glass door and stepped inside. My gaze darting around, I realized we were in some sort of shower chamber.

There were marble benches and countless brass showerheads and nozzles. The entire space was bigger than my apartment bedroom.

He pressed me against the chilled marble wall. I cried out at the impact of the cold stone and arched my back. The movement only inflamed him more as it pushed my breasts against him. Stretching his arm out to the right, he slammed his palm against a large metal button.

With a loud hiss, water burst from the showerheads lined along the wall and ceiling.

His massive body curved over mine, protecting me from the initially frigid spray of water.

As the water warmed, his lips skimmed across my cheek to my mouth.

In desperation, I shifted my head to the right.

I didn’t want him to kiss me.

If he kissed me, I would respond and forget all the very real reasons I shouldn’t.

Steam rose to fill the glass chamber. His hand slid around my waist as he pulled my hips against his own. I could feel the threatening press of his cock against my stomach. His teeth scraped along the column of my neck. My heart beat faster. Between the vodka, the scalding water, and his touch, my head spun.

“Don’t make me force you, моя крошка, because I will.”

My fingers splayed across his chest, feeling the water as it skimmed over his skin, making his tattoos glisten. I looked at the ominous dagger that appeared to strike him through the throat, the point dripping with blood. A person didn’t get a tattoo like that unless it had some kind of meaning. A deadly meaning.

A rush of fear coursed over my body to settle in my belly.

It was strange how fear could make arousal feel even more intense. Perhaps that’s why books called an orgasm the little death?

Unable to fight him, I submitted. His mouth claimed mine in a bruising kiss filled with dark promise.

As I leaned weakly against the now warm, wet-slicked shower wall, I watched through half-closed lids as he poured body wash into his palm. The creamy sandalwood-scented lather bubbled up as he rubbed his palms together.

Placing his hands on my shoulders, he turned me till my back was pressed against his front. With one hand on my breast, his other hand skimmed over my belly to cup my sex.

My head fell back as I rose on my toes, unable to stifle a whimper of pain as he caressed my bruised flesh. He shifted our bodies to the right till we were under a massive circular showerhead directly above us. The water falling down like rain, he caressed my skin as his hands moved over every inch of my body, washing away the last remnants of soap that was tinged slightly pink, evidence of my now lost virginity.

He guided me back to the shower wall as if I were only a doll for him to manipulate and move. Towering over me, his gaze was fierce and intense as it captured my own.

“I’ll kiss the pain away.”

His head lowered, but instead of capturing my mouth as I assumed he would, he bent lower. Suddenly this beast of a man was on his knees before me, yet there was nothing submissive about him.

My arms flew out to grip the slippery walls for purchase as he draped one leg then the other over his massive shoulders. His hands cupped my ass.

Startled, I looked down my body to see his face nestled between my now stretched-open thighs.

“Oh, God!” His sensuous mouth twisted into a slight smile. “That’s right, little one. Keep crying out my name.”

With humiliating horror, I watched the tip of his tongue flick out to trace the seam of my pussy lips.

This isn’t happening.

Oh, God! “Please! You can’t! This is… please!”

The rough touch of his goatee against my sensitive clit as he pushed his tongue inside my still-swollen cunt nearly sent me over the edge. It was such a decadent mixture of pleasure and pain. My fingertips clawed uselessly at the marble tiles as he played my body like an instrument.

He thrust one thick finger inside of me, and I was lost.

My orgasmic scream echoed around the steam-filled chamber.

Just as my spent and weak body slid to the side, he rose and swept me into his arms. Taking a few steps to the left, he sat down on the marble bench, nestling me on his lap.

Using his fingertips to push the wet curls away from my cheeks and neck, he murmured against my forehead, “Ты мой, мой маленький.”

I did not understand what he said. It sounded like Ty moy, moy malen’kiy.

Whatever it was… it probably wasn’t good.

This was bad… really bad.

AN

HOUR LATER ,

I was finally allowed to dress.

It was the middle of the night. My roommate was probably worried sick and had already called the cops since I never stayed out this late. How pathetic was that? That my roommate would freak out over me staying out past midnight on a Friday night. Still, I guess I wouldn’t be able to claim my life was sheltered and boring after the events of tonight.

A quick inspection showed there was no food in the kitchen. Apparently he traveled quite a bit with whatever business he was in. He announced he was taking me to the

Golden Apple, an all-night diner down the street o Lincoln Avenue.

Like Cinderella, I knew this strange night must end.

This wasn’t the real me.

I didn’t have sex with random, criminal-looking strangers!

I was a librarian student, for heaven’s sake!

Besides, who was to say he was taking me out for something to eat? Maybe he was taking me some place to kill me with that evil-looking ice pick and then dump my body in Lake Michigan.

He was Russian. Russians knew about these sorts of things if basically every book and every movie I had ever seen with a Russian villain was to be believed.

So when he said he needed to retrieve his car keys from upstairs, I didn’t think twice. I grabbed my abandoned backpack from the hallway and threw the front door open.

“Don’t take one more step, моя крошка,” he warned from the top of the stairs.

Busted!

After throwing a frightened look over my shoulder, I took flight.

I tore down the dark street, the sound of his heavy footfalls in pursuit pounding in my ears.

CHAPTER 5

H

e’s always, always in my mind—not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself—but, as my own being. - Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Emma

M Y CLUNKY M ARY J ANES slowed me down as I tore down Burling Street toward Halsted. I knew that street would be busy despite the late hour and my best chance of getting a cab. I didn’t dare risk a glance back. I could no longer hear him shout but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he still pursued me… silently, like a hunter.

“Taxi! Taxi! Taxi!” I frantically waved my arms in the air as I screamed for a taxi.

As one pulled over to the curb, a couple who were both unsteady on their feet hobbled toward it. Shouldering them out of the way, I wrenched the back passenger door open and hopped in.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” I shouted at the confused pair of drunks through the closed window. My heavy breathing fogged up the glass as the cab pulled away.

“Where to, miss?”

“Edgewater. Winthrop Avenue.”

A taxi all the way to my apartment was an extravagance I couldn’t a ord, but I had no choice. Twisting at the waist, I stared out through the grimy rear window, half expecting to see him clinging to the trunk hood like some action movie hero.

The cacophony of red, green, and white lights of the city blurred as I squinted at every car that pulled up behind my cab.

The car took a left-hand turn onto my quiet residential street. Overgrown trees smothered most of the light from the street lamps.

Digging into the front pocket of my backpack, I pulled out a few crumpled bills and tossed them to the driver. “Keep the change,” I tossed over my shoulder as if I could a ord it.

What I really couldn’t a ord was staying out on the street for one minute longer than necessary.

Hugging my backpack to my chest, my gaze darted down both sides of the street. Everything was quiet and still.

As I stepped onto the weed-littered walkway leading to my apartment building, careful not to trip over the parts of the cement that had cracked and raised up, I tried to listen past the pounding of my heart for any unusual sounds.

Just as I reached the outer door, there was a muted roar of an engine as a large black SUV turned onto my street.

Transfixed, I stared at the bright headlights as it rolled closer and closer to me. Visions of the SUV careening up onto the lawn, the door swinging open and my being pulled into the dark interior by a pissed-o Russian, never to be seen again, taunted me.

The SUV slowed as it approached my building.

My lungs screamed for air as I forgot to breathe.

My limbs went numb as a cold shiver of fear ran its fingertips up my spine.

The SUV drove past.

I braced a hand against the stone threshold as my knees almost buckled with relief.

The outer door always had a broken lock, so I swung it open and stepped inside the dimly lit corridor. The dingy grey cracked tile floor, smoke-stained walls, and flickering yellowed dome ceiling light felt like Buckingham Palace to me.

Making my way to my first-floor apartment, my hands shook so badly I couldn’t get the key in the lock. Thankfully, after a few tries, it swung open wide.

“Thank God! Where the hell have you been, Emma?”

Shoving Mary aside, I slammed the door shut.

Turning, I slid the bolt lock in place, then put on the chain that we rarely used. And just for good measure, I turned the little button lock on the doorknob.

“Emma? What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

Tossing my backpack onto our worn sofa, I ran over to the two small windows on the other side of our tiny living room, which overlooked the front yard. Putting my thumb and forefinger between the metal slats, I peered through the blinds. The only signs of life outside on the street were the occasional lights in the apartment buildings across the way.

“Emma! What the fuck? I was going out of my mind with worry! I even called the cops! Where have you been? Why is your hair wet?”

Despite the late hour, Mary still had her glossy black hair done up in her signature rockabilly victory rolls with a bright red bandana, and matching matte lipstick. Although she had changed into one of her favorite Bu y the Vampire Slayer tshirts and a pair of leopard print tights.

Stumbling over a pile of books haphazardly stacked near our secondhand co ee table, I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her waist, laying my head on her shoulder. “I could really use a whiskey tea.”

A HALF HOUR LATER , my hair wrapped in a towel and wearing my Pride & Prejudice Limited Edition t-shirt, I was curled up on the sofa with a pot of tea generously spiked with whiskey and sweetened with orange marmalade. Mary sat across from me. Our feet shared the same brightly colored pink and green crocheted afghan.

Mary waved her hands in the air as she shook her head.

“Wait! Wait! I’m confused. Dodgy old Mr. Fitzgerald’s son kissed you?”

She knew about my current predicament. That if I didn’t come up with tuition by the end of next week, I’d be kicked out of the Librarian Sciences Master’s program.

I couldn’t imagine a better job than being a librarian.

Spending every day surrounded by the thoughts and imaginings of the greatest minds of civilization. Reverently running the tips of my fingers along the smooth gilded lettering on the bindings, the words coming alive in my mind as I pictured each story.

Books had been the only constant companions in my life.

My only genuine friends. Through their pages, I had lived a thousand lives and had had countless adventures.

I had faced down marauding armies, braved thunderous storms on the high seas, sliced an opponent to ribbons with my rapier wit, and dared to kiss the dangerous man who crept out of the shadows to steal a forbidden embrace.

Through books I was beautiful, confident, and brash.

Between these pages, I had filled my life with color, music,

laughter, and passion.

I dared.

I risked it all.

I lived!

Why would anyone settle for the dull drudgery of reality?

In books, the handsome guy saw through the reserve of the shy, unpopular girl and intuitively knew the person she was within. He looked past what others saw and realized she was smart and funny and charming. In books, the wallflower got the guy.

Too bad that didn’t happen in reality… well… at least not until tonight!

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I put my teacup down and hugged my ‘I’d Rather Be Reading’ throw pillow to my chest.

“No! Just listen…”

I then told her the whole sordid, wanton story, leaving nothing out.

About halfway through, after I had described how he’d spanked me, she stopped me to go into our tiny kitchen and grab a bottle of tequila from under the sink and two shot glasses emblazoned with the Loyola University logo. She poured us both a shot. We clinked glasses and belted them down.

After pouring herself a second shot, she nodded to me.

“Okay, I’m ready… continue.”

After I had finished, she said nothing at first. Then her red painted lips opened in a big smile as she leaned forward.

“You slut!” she teased.

I threw my pillow at her. “This isn’t funny, Mary!”

Grabbing the pillow and tossing it back at me, she countered, “Who said anything about it being funny? That is the most fucking amazing sex story I’ve ever heard! I’m jealous!”

“He mistook me for a… for a… lady of the night!” I hu ed.

Pouring us both another shot, she handed my glass to me.

It was slightly overfilled and dripped tequila onto my blanket. Carefully raising it to my lips, I sipped a small amount so it no longer dripped, then clinked glasses with Mary and tossed it back.

“First of all, we are not in nineteenth century London.

They’re called hookers. He thought you were a hooker!”

Peeved, I snapped back, “Actually, he thought I was an escort. They are way more glamorous and high-end than a hooker.”

Mary raised one perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Still…”

“What? You don’t think a man could mistake me for someone sexy?”

“I’ve been telling you for years that men dig that whole innocent schoolgirl vibe you’ve got going on but your nose is too buried in a book to notice. That’s why you’re a virgin at twenty-three.” She stuck her tongue out at me with her last statement.

Once more throwing the pillow at her, I fired back, “Not anymore!” Then stuck my tongue out at her.

“You slut!” she cried out again, laughing.

Curling my knees up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my bent legs. “Do you really think it makes me a slut?”

“Are you serious?”

“I slept with a guy I don’t even know!”

“Yeah? So? It happens all the time! At least you have a fabulous story! I lost my virginity in the back of a beat-up Dodge in an empty parking lot behind a movie theater to a guy who got his balls stuck in his jeans zipper. You lost yours to some sexy-as-fuck Russian dude with a pirate scar.”

I shrugged as I twisted a frayed edge of the afghan around my finger. Now that the adrenaline had worn o , I wasn’t sure what to think. Everything was just a confused jumble.

Mary pulled the blanket out of my hands. “Hey! Don’t you start feeling any bullshit Catholic guilt over this. Seriously, you were long past due. There might be a double standard about girls who sleep around too much, but let’s face it. No guy wants a girlfriend who’s in her mid-twenties and still a freaking virgin. They’ll think you were raised in some cult in the middle of the woods.”

I kept my gaze averted. “It’s just…”

“What?”

My cheeks burned as I inhaled a deep breath before blurting out, “He was kind of… rough and, well… forceful.

There were… parts… that were painful. Not just the virginity part but other times and I… I kind of… well… liked it.”

Mary curled her fingers into a claw. “Meow! Who knew you were into the kinky shit?”

“You don’t think it’s wrong or twisted or something?”

“Hell, no! In fact, I’m relieved. I figured you for a pretty boring missionary girl when you finally got around to it. Who knew you were so sassy and audacious!”

I placed my forehead on my knees, burying my face to hide a smile. It was a rather outrageous story, straight out of a romance book. Maybe I had the moxie to be one of the heroines I admired after all?

“Oh, my God! This is just like ‘Smashed,’ season six, episode nine of Bu y the Vampire Slayer! The one where Bu y finally fucks Spike and they tear the house down around them!” observed Mary excitably.

I remembered the episode. You couldn’t be best friends with Mary and not have seen every episode of Bu y the Vampire Slayer at least three times. I always rooted for the bad boy Spike. Angel was just too nice… and gentle. The ‘Smashed’ episode was hot as hell. The way Spike threw Bu y against the wall and just started fucking her. I bit my

lip as similar memories of tonight and the time in the shower came crashing back.

“So are you going to see him again?” asked Mary, breaking into my sensual reverie.

“Are you crazy? Did you miss the part about the shaved head and tattoos with blood?”

“Don’t judge. For all you know, he’s a proper businessman who owns a string of furniture stores across the Midwest.”

Mary pulled out her laptop and flipped it open. The light from the monitor cast a bluish light over her face, making her lipstick look a dark, gothic purple. “What’s his name? I’ll Google him.”

Both my hands flew to my mouth. My eyes stretched wide open.

“What?” asked Mary.

I shook my head, too horrified to speak.

“Tell me! You told me everything else.”

I mu ed my response behind my hands.

Mary leaned over and grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands down. “Say that again?”

The heat of a humiliating blush crept over my chest and up my cheeks. “I don’t know his name.”

For a moment, the apartment was silent. Then Mary threw her head back and laughed.

“You slut!”

L ATER THAT NIGHT , I was tucked in under a mountain of blankets on my twin bed, staring at the ceiling. With a frustrated sigh, I curled onto my side and winced as a bruising soreness settled between my legs. It wasn’t just

there. Everything felt sore. There was no way I wouldn’t have bruises tomorrow. Yet, I couldn’t regret tonight.

It was crazy and wrong and completely out of character for me… and that was what I liked about it. It was like I had stepped out of the pages of a book and finally lived, if only for a few hours. Years from now, when I worked at some quaint little suburban library, I’d feast on the memories of tonight and know that at least for one night, I had been the heroine of my story.

Reaching for my phone, I brought up Google Translate. It was a long shot, but I knew you could type in the phonetic spelling of a word and sometimes Google would recognize it.

It took several tries and versions, but I finally typed in Ty moy moy malen’kiy.

The actual phrase glowed on the screen in Russian Cyrillic. Ты мой, мой маленький.

I stared at the English translation, unable to suppress the fluttering in my stomach.

You are mine, my little one.

CHAPTER 6

Y

es, there is something uncanny, demonic and fascinating in her. - Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

D IMITRI

I PRESSED rewind for the fifth time. Reaching for my glass of vodka, I watched the grey-scale footage of her entering the house. Even though I had only just purchased this place a few weeks ago, the first thing I had done was have a top-ofthe-line security system installed.

A man in my line of work couldn’t be too careful.

Pressing the zoom button, I focused in on her face.

She looked so fresh and innocent with her cute bangs and in her pink sweater and plaid skirt. Her face had only the barest bit of makeup. Even though the video was grey, I pictured the pale shade of pink on her lips. Seeing the part where we kissed, I reached down, adjusting my jeans as my cock swelled. The silky feel of her hair was still on my fingertips as I watched it fall over her shoulders and down

her back. Such a crime to hide such beautiful locks in a tight little bun.

There was no explaining why such a small slip of a girl fascinated me.

She was nothing like the women I was accustomed to bedding.

Russian women were glamorous and stylish, always with the heavy perfume and makeup. Draped in designer clothes and fuck-me heels. They were confident and knew what they wanted from a man. And, more important, how to get it.

A high-end escort embodied the same unapologetic sexual confidence.

It was why I preferred them to the… entanglement… of a more traditional arrangement.

Girlfriends asked inconvenient questions. They didn’t appreciate when you disappeared out of the country for weeks at a time to some godforsaken war zone to meet with a vicious dictator. They were a liability. There was no telling when they would suddenly turn on you like a viper and go to the authorities with all the little pieces of information they had learned after months in your bed.

No, it was safer… for all involved… if I kept my fucking as a purely commercial exchange.

An escort knew the score. They also knew that no one would miss them if they suddenly disappeared, so they understood how to keep their mouths shut… unless otherwise dictated.

So why was this woman fascinating me now?

A timid little virgin.

Christ, she’d probably never even given a man a proper blowjob.

With a frustrated growl, I shifted in my seat at the thought of her untutored lips wrapped around my cock as I guided her head down the shaft. Of watching those

mesmerizing brown eyes tear up as it hit the back of her throat. At knowing that just like her sweet, tight cunt, I was the first.

I paused the video on an image of her face. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back as I kissed her neck. This was right before I lifted her into my arms and up to my bed.

I might not be sure why she fascinated me, but I was damn sure I wasn’t done with her.

Deep down, I knew it was dangerous to pursue an innocent such as her.

I would bring nothing but misery and darkness to her life.

She would have been better o if she had never crossed my path.

Now it was too late. She was in my sights.

The scent of her was on my skin. I could still taste her sweetness on my tongue. There was a hunger growing inside of me. Despite only just having her, I needed to fuck her again, and again. I craved it, and now I was on the hunt to find her.

Playing the video, I paused and zoomed in on her discarded backpack in the hallway. It was covered in embroidered patches: Book Nerd, I Read Banned Books, Carpe Librum. Leaning forward in my seat, I set aside my glass and zoomed in even closer on one particular maroon and gold patch: Loyola University. She had mentioned she needed money for tuition.

Found you, моя крошка.

I SAT BACK in the shade, lit a Gurkha Black Dragon cigar… and waited.

I knew the University registrar’s o ce would be highly unlikely to provide me with the information I required.

People tended to look at a six-foot-two Russian with a shaved head and visible tattoos with a little skepticism and plenty of fear, even if he was wearing a five thousand dollar bespoke Brioni suit. After they learned I was hunting down a young female student, they’d be far more likely to call the police than give me her name.

No. This would take a little finesse.

After close to an hour, I spotted my perfect target.

An older woman in an oversized cardigan and an o ciallooking lanyard around her neck exited the o ce and wandered a few steps around the corner, pulling a smooshed packet of cigarettes from a deep pocket as she walked.

Picking up the textbook I had just purchased in the college store, I approached her.

As she raised the smoke to her lips, I reached out my arm with an already lit lighter.

“May I?” I asked with a wink.

The woman blushed. “Oh, my! I mean, yes! Thank you.”

She leaned in and lit her cigarette as she sized me up.

“I was wondering if you might help me.”

“Anything,” she blurted out before casting her eyes down and fussing with the ash end of her cigarette as she stuttered, “I mean, possibly. What do you… need?”

I held up the textbook. “I need to find the owner of this book.”

I then spun a romantic tale of meeting a shy female student on the train and making a connection before we were separated at a crowded stop, but not before I noticed she had left her textbook behind.

I told her I assumed the girl was a graduate student, given her age.

“I might help you but if you don’t know her name that would mean we would have to go through the student IDs,

and that could take over an hour,” she responded as she snubbed out her cigarette against the cement building’s wall.

Placing a hand on the wall, I leaned in close. “An hour by your side sounds like a pleasant way to spend an afternoon to me,” I said, making my accent deliberately thick.

The woman clasped the sides of her sweater over her chest. Motioning with her head, she indicated a small side door.

“Wait over there. I’ll sneak you into my o ce through the back.”

I gave her another wink. “Hurry.”

She tittered again before rushing o .

Less than an hour later, I was staring at the face of my pretty prey.

Emma Katherine Doyle Graduate Student in Library and Information Science According to the displayed schedule, she was at this moment on work study at the Cudahy Library.

Reaching for my money clip, I flicked o a hundreddollar bill and handed it to the woman with my thanks before asking for directions to the library.

As I walked away, she called after me, “Wait! You forgot the textbook!”

Without turning around, I said, “Keep it,” before pushing the door open and stepping back into the sunshine.

“Y OU ’ RE LOOKING FOR M OUSE ?”

Someone had directed me to the Reading Room floor information desk. Despite the massive two-story open hall that was currently filled with students occupying the long community tables, there was only the stilted murmur of hushed voices and the occasional ripple of paper.

Standing before me was a young, bottle-dyed blonde who played with her tightly curled hair as she looked at me through a heavy fan of fake eyelashes.

“Mouse?” I repeated with a raised eyebrow.

She waved a manicured hand in the air. “Sorry, that’s just our nickname for Emma.”

I stood there silently, so she continued.

“You know. Because she’s so small and quiet. You barely know she’s there half the time. And with her boring brown hair, she looks just like a plain little mouse.”

My jaw tightened. I didn’t need to hear more to realize how this woman probably treated my Emma.

And she was my Emma now.

I couldn’t believe that until yesterday, this creature would have been just my type. Haughty and self-absorbed, always with the perfect manicure, styled hair, and heavy perfume.

Now I found the image stifling and uninspired.

“Where can I find… Mouse?”

“Oh, she’s not here. She’s in the stacks.”

“The stacks?”

The woman nodded. “Over in the Sullivan Center just a few blocks south. Down in the basement. It’s where the library stores older material. We usually send her there to dig up the materials requested by professors and other students.”

Translation, they usually sent the shy co-worker unlikely to stand up for herself or complain to do the thankless grunt work.

My right hand curled into a fist. The sound of my knuckles cracking echoed around the quiet room.

As I turned to leave, she grabbed onto my sleeve. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”

I glowered at her until she removed her hand. “Quite sure.”

D USK HAD ALREADY FALLEN as I pulled open the heavy glass door to the Sullivan Center.

After a few more inquiries, I finally made my way down a darkened staircase to the basement level. The low-ceilinged, windowless room seemed to stretch for miles. Heavy metal book stacks reached from floor to ceiling. Several were slammed in together, requiring you to turn a big wheel at the end to move them just enough to squeeze between them into a dark narrow aisle.

The only sound was a low, annoying buzz from the overhead strips of fluorescent lighting. The entire room was dim since only every other strip was lit.

I rubbed my jaw as I inhaled a long, slow breath through my nose.

Trying to calm myself down.

It raised the hackles on the back of my neck. Decades of instinct came to the fore. I didn’t give a fuck that I was in a building in the middle of the campus at a busy, popular university. I knew a dangerous room when I saw one. No windows. Deep below ground. Limited lighting. Only a single entry point. Anyone could trap her down here for an eternity and no one would hear her scream.

The idea she routinely put herself in this level of danger made my blood boil.

First knocking on a strange man’s door, and now this?

It was obvious someone needed to take this woman in hand.

Reaching down to the two buttons on my single-breasted suit, I undid them and slipped out of the jacket, tossing it over a cart filled with books that had been abandoned near the entrance. Twisting o my cu inks, I put them in my pocket before rolling up my sleeves.

Then I went on the hunt.

Walking down the main aisle, I shifted my head from right to left, peering down the narrow, darkened pathways between the stacks. As I approached the end of the room, I could hear the soft shu e of papers.

Placing my hands high on either side of a narrow aisle between two stacks, I stared at Emma as she reached for a book on a tall shelf. Completely oblivious to the danger she was now in.

Similar to last night, she was wearing a schoolgirl outfit with a pleated plaid skirt and cute navy blue sweater. This time her beautiful hair was combed back into a loose ponytail that hung down her back. As she stretched up on her toes, the skirt rode up high on her thighs.

“Hello, Emma.”

Startled, she turned to face me. The small stack of books she was holding crashed to the floor.

“Oh, my God!” My eyebrow rose. “Close, but most people call me Dimitri.”

She fell to her knees and scrambled to pick up the discarded books. Refusing to raise her head, she asked, “How did you… how did you find me?”

I took several steps deeper into the darkness before stopping in front of her. Feet spread, my hands on my hips, I glared down at her kneeling form.

She looked up. Her pretty mouth opened on a shocked gasp as she gazed straight at my swelling cock.

Reaching down, I grasped her silky ponytail and slowly wound the long strands around my fist. I forced her to shu e forward on her knees till I could feel her hot breath against the thin fabric of my suit trousers.

“You were a naughty girl to run away from me like that last night. I wasn’t finished with you.”

CHAPTER 7

I

must have you for my own—entirely my own.

- Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

“I

WASN ’ T

sure I could swallow.”

His eyebrow rose at my unintended sexual innuendo as his fist tightened in my hair. Despite my increasing embarrassment, I could not tear my gaze away from the growing bulge in his pants.

“A bite! I… I… meant I wasn’t very hungry and was sure I couldn’t swallow a bite, so I left.” I quickly straightened my bangs and yanked on the collar of my sweater.

What a pathetic lie! The sardonic twist of his lips proved he didn’t believe a word I had just said.

Desperate to put some distance between him and me, I shifted my body back, ignoring the sting against my scalp as his tight grip pulled on my hair. I reached up to grasp my ponytail at the base and after a moment he finally released it.

I scooted a few feet on my ass till I could rise with what little dignity I still possessed.

Reaching down, I picked up the stack of books I had dropped and turned my attention to the shelves. Irrationally thinking if I ignored him, maybe he would go away. Other women might be better at this sort of thing, but I did not have the skill set to handle a man like him. I knew when I was out of my depth and right now I was drowning in some seriously deep, shark-infested waters.

I could feel the heat of his gaze on me.

With shaking hands, I shoved the books onto the shelves, paying no attention to their proper Library of Congress placement.

Suddenly his arm snatched my left wrist as he yanked me toward him. Unable to stop the momentum, I slammed into his chest.

He was just so… big.

Everything… and I mean everything… about him was so… big!

I wouldn’t have thought he could look more intimidating than he had last night with his naked chest, crazy muscles, and ominous tattoos on display, but somehow seeing him in a clearly very expensive suit was even more intimidating. It made him look both big and powerful, which was yet another reason he was way out of my league, as if that hadn’t already been made clear to me last night.

Shy librarian students like me didn’t attract the attention of rich, influential men like him.

The weight of his arm wrapped securely around my waist as he lifted my left arm high. The pad of his thumb caressed the sensitive inner skin of my wrist, sending delicious shockwaves to my stomach and lower.

His voice was a low growl. “What the hell is this, Emma?”

Eyes wide, I looked from his hand ensnaring my wrist back to his face. His eyes narrowed and there was a small tic high on his right cheek. He was suddenly angry… very angry… and I could not understand why.

Nervously clearing my throat, I asked, “What do you mean?”

He lifted my wrist higher. “This! What the hell is this?

Who marked you? Tell me his name.”

Realization dawned.

It had taken a moment to realize he was talking about my tattoo. “Oh! You mean the numbers?”

His answer came through clenched teeth. “Yes, baby. The numbers on your wrist. The fucking brand. Who did it?”

Brand?

It was 822.33 Q1, written in tiny typeface in purple. My one spark of rebellion in my teenage years. I knew from the news that sex tra ckers often tattooed their victims with barcodes and numbers. He must think…. Oh, for heaven’s sake!

“It’s not what you think! It’s the Dewey Decimal call number for Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.”

He did not seem convinced. His slate-grey eyes were hard and cold as he continued to glare down at me. And he did have to stare way down at me from a rather towering height.

Fuck, he was tall!

“You see, Shakespeare is the only author a orded the honor of his own Dewey Decimal call number, 822.33. It’s kind of a big deal if you think about all the brilliant authors there have been over the course of history. And the Q1 is for Much Ado About Nothing, my favorite of his plays. I just love how Beatrice…”

Dimitri pivoted, pinning me against the heavy bookshelves.

I could feel every inch of him along my frame, especially the intimidating ten inches pressed against my stomach.

His hand caressed the curve of my waist before cupping the underside of my right breast. All reason fled. My head swam. It was like someone had sucked all the air in the room into a void. Every nerve in my body fired o sparks.

Dipping his head, he nuzzled my neck while he murmured something in Russian. “Боже мой, ты станешь моей смертью.”

It sounded like Bozhe moy, ty stanesh’ moyey smert’yu. I would have to remember to Google it later. Somehow I didn’t think he was in the mood for a quick language lesson. All I knew now was it sounded sexy as hell, whatever he was saying. There was something so dark and decadent about the Russian language, especially when he spoke it.

Releasing my wrist, his fingers wrapped around my neck, forcing my head back.

“You and I will have to come to an understanding.” His other hand punctuated his words, giving my breast a threatening squeeze as his thigh pressed between my legs, opening them.

I swallowed, feeling the press of his hand against my throat as I did so. My fingers splayed out along the books behind me, feeling the worn leather spines against my fingertips as I was forced to rise on my toes. My entire body now felt suspended within his grasp as my sensitive core pressed against the top of his thigh.

“There will be certain rules you will need to follow.”

“Rules?”

He unbuttoned the first button of my blue cardigan. “Yes, rules. Rule number one. I never want to see you down here in the stacks again.”

I shook my head, trying to focus on the crazy things he was saying through the sensual fog in my brain. “What are you talking about? I have to come here. It’s part of my workstudy job.”

“No, it is too dangerous.”

He wasn’t making any sense. This was heaven to me.

Alone, surrounded by books. How could this possibly be dangerous?

“Besides,” he undid several more buttons till you could see the simple lace edge of my bra, “you won’t be working from now on.”

“Not work? I can’t pay my tuition and rent as it is, and you think I can stop working? No. That’s not possible. That’s insane. I’m in enough trouble until I talk to Mr. Fitzgerald’s son about my grant money.”

A frustrated sigh escaped through his teeth. “моя крошка, you are not listening to what I’m telling you.”

“Because you are not making sense! Listen. I have to finish stacking these books. Then I have to take a train halfway across the city. I think I found where Mr. Fitzgerald’s son moved to after selling his father’s house to you.”

His eyes rose to the ceiling. “Боже, дай мне сил.”

Then both of his hands grasped the loose material of my open neckline and wrenched down, tearing the remaining buttons o . I could hear them ping as they hit the linoleum floor before scattering. He forced the cups of my bra down till it exposed my naked breasts.

My cry of alarm was cut o as his hot, wet mouth closed over one already erect nipple and pulled it deep into his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue.

My fingers clawed at the fabric covering his shoulders and upper arms. “Stop! We’re in public!”

Rarely did I see anyone down here. Usually I was the only one willing to trudge down into the dusty storage stacks, but that still didn’t mean nobody ever came down here. It was still a public space in the center of a busy university campus! “нет, we are in a dark basement where no one will hear you scream.”

His rough hand traveled up my bare thigh to cup my sex.

His finger pushed aside the silk fabric of my panties to feel my already wet cunt. I hissed from the shock and twinge of

pain as he forced one finger inside of me. I was still sore from last night.

With a growl, he pulled his hand free and spun my body till I was facing the shelves. My naked breasts pressed against the soft leather spines of the books. I could feel a rush of cold air as he lifted the back of my skirt. His fingers tore at my panties, pulling them down to the tops of my thighs.

Before I could protest his brutal handling, a hot sting of pain shot through my body as his palm connected with my bare ass. The sharp sound of skin striking skin reverberated throughout the silent room.

“Ow! What are you doing?”

He spanked my ass several more times. It felt like a thousand hot needles pricking at my skin all at the same time. “You will not be going to another man’s house to beg for money. Do you understand me?”

Salty tears stung my cheeks as I tried to make sense of the warring emotions of pleasure, pain, and fear all battling inside my mind and body. “No! I don’t understand any of this!”

“You are mine now, under my protection. Any money you need will come from me and me alone.”

Even though I knew I risked his anger, I couldn’t accept that. It would make me… make me… what he thought I was last night. Besides, I had been on my own for too long to accept someone’s charity. I worked to earn my way through life and I had earned that grant money. If I couldn’t get it I would find another way. Work longer hours at the Newberry Library. Pick up more work-study shifts. Maybe Mary could get me a few cocktail shifts at the bar she worked at parttime.

With a burst of anger I rarely expressed out loud, I bristled. “No! I’m not your… whore!”

My mouth fell open the moment I uttered the blatantly blunt word. I couldn’t believe I’d actually just said that… and to this man!

His large hand stilled on my right ass cheek. His fingers dug into the bruised flesh as he squeezed it hard.

“Ow! That hurts!”

He gave me several more spanks till I could feel my pulse pounding under my skin as it heated and swelled from his punishment.

Grasping me by the shoulders, he flipped me around again. I hissed the moment my bare skin came into contact with the leather book spines.

His hand spanned my jaw as his thumb rubbed my lower lip. His gaze was molten steel as he glared down at me. “I never want to hear such an ugly word come out of this pretty mouth again. Do you hear me?”

Afraid to move or even speak, I just stood there within his tight grasp.

“You will do as I say. Don’t let me catch you down here alone again. Your co-workers will just have to find another little mouse to order around and you will not be going to that Fitzgerald’s house under any circumstances. Paying your tuition is no longer your concern.”

I bit my lip and lowered my gaze. My humiliation was complete knowing he had learned of the awful nickname I had gained here among the library sta and students. It was awful because it was true. I was a little insignificant mouse who just shyly skittered along the outskirts of life, hoping no one stepped on her.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered hoarsely as I sni ed and tried to wipe away my tears. “Is it… is it because of last night? Because you feel some obligation to me… because I was… was a… virgin? The misunderstanding wasn’t your fault! It was mine! You don’t owe me anything.”

Grasping my face with both hands, his mouth swooped down to claim mine. He tasted of tobacco and mint as his tongue swirled and danced around my own. My hand crept up to grasp the thin soft material of his shirt as I could not stifle a wanton moan. His kisses. My God, his kisses were all-consuming. By the time he lifted his head, I could barely remember my name, let alone what we had been talking about.

“Let’s just say I have a sudden desire to be the wealthy patron of an adorable little library student.”

“But…” “Enough.” He grabbed me by the hand, propelling me down the narrow space between the stacks and into the equally dimly lit main aisle. As I looked around the dreary isolated space, I saw it through his eyes and had to concede he had a point.

I righted my bra and clasped the ends of my sweater over my chest as I struggled to keep up with his long, powerful strides. As we reached the exit to the storage level, he picked up his suit jacket and swung it over my shoulders.

Something hard bumped my elbow. Reaching into the inner pocket, I pulled out a thin, rectangular red leather case with the name Cartier in gold-embossed letters across the top.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry,” I stammered as I tried to put the jewelry case back inside the inner jacket pocket and wondered about the woman who he probably intended the gift for. I bet she wore elegant black cocktail dresses and drank chilled martinis as she dazzled all the men who surrounded her.

Dimitri adjusted the too-big coat over my shoulders and reached into the inside pocket. The back of his knuckles brushed my breast as he did so. I inhaled a shocked gasp as desire once again spiked through me. What was wrong with me? The man was still practically a stranger. My ass was still

hurting from the second spanking he had just given me and here I was mooning over him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“This, my adorable little librarian, is for you. For last night.”

He opened the Cartier case, and my jaw dropped.

I had never seen so many diamonds before in my life. It looked almost like a movie prop from an old Marilyn Monroe film. The art déco bracelet was at least an inch thick with hundreds of sparkling diamonds set in what I could only assume was platinum.

I shook my head as I took several steps backward, holding my flat palm up in a ‘stop’ motion. “No, I couldn’t possibly accept that!” “моя крошка, you will wear this bracelet. I’m not asking.

I’m telling you.”

“And I told you, I’m not a wh—” His eyes narrowed as he stalked toward me. The backs of my thighs bumped into the scarred wooden community table, which took up most of the center aisle, as I tried to back further away.

“Be very careful what you are about to say, I have no issue with bending you over that bench and teaching you another painful lesson.”

Blindly reaching behind me, I grabbed the worn straps of my backpack and held it protectively before me. “I’m not the type of girl men give expensive jewelry to!”

The tips of his fingers stroked my cheek before reaching for my long ponytail. He let the soft curls trail over his palm before saying, “I don’t think you know what type of woman you are… but I do. There is much more to you, my sweet Emma, than meets the eye. I think many people have underestimated and overlooked you… I won’t be one of them.”

Stunned, I didn’t even object as he reached to open the flap of my backpack and placed the jewelry box inside.

“N O , I can’t! You don’t understand.”

“I’m not a patient man, Emma. I am tiring of hearing the word ‘no’ on your lips.”

We were sitting inside his luxury black Mercedes-Benz just outside my apartment. No matter how badly I entreated, he would not take no for an answer and had absolutely insisted on driving me home. Now he was demanding I pack a bag and leave with him.

It was insane.

“I don’t even know your last name!”

“Dimitri Antonovich Kosgov, now get your things. I warn you. Since my plan is to have you naked most of the evening, this minor concession is already stretching my patience.”

This was all too much. I needed time to think. To process everything that had just happened. Last night, I never expected to see this man ever again and here he was demanding I spend the night with him. There was also an enormous part of me that was scared to death to be alone with him. I mean really alone. Look what the man did when we were in public! Granted, we had been in an isolated basement, but it was technically public!

Not to mention, I was still sore from the night before and to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure I would survive another night of rough sex with him.

There was a soft vibration on the console between us.

Dimitri picked up his phone and let out a low curse in Russian. “You are very fortunate, little one. There is some business I need to attend to. This will be your only reprieve.

Tomorrow night I want you here waiting for me at precisely six p.m. Do you understand?”

“You want to take me out on a proper date? Like dinner?”

I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant, but figured I would pretend otherwise.

He touched the tip of his finger to my nose. “Have it your way, моя крошка. I will take you out for a proper date.”

He turned and exited the car. Quickly, before he could see me, I reached into my backpack and pulled out the red leather jewelry case and shoved it deep between the seat and console just as he opened my door.

As soon as I stepped out, he caged me in between his body and the car. “I want you to listen very carefully. From this point forward, you are under my protection. I will explain to you in intimate detail what that means over dinner tomorrow.

Until then, I suggest you behave and not break any more of my rules. Trust me, моя крошка, you won’t like the punishment if you do.”

This isn’t fair!

“How am I supposed to know if I break a rule?”

“You won’t, until it is too late,” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed back to the driver’s side.

I threw my hands up in the air. “So what am I supposed to do until tomorrow?”

He smirked. Then said in his heavy, sexy-as-hell Russian accent, “Be a good girl and read a book.”

“R EAD A BOOK ? He told you to read a book?”

Mary’s reaction wasn’t so much a laugh as a cackle.

“I’m glad you are finding the spectacular mess my life has become so amusing!” I hu ed.

“Your life was boring.”

I pressed my lips together, having no retort for her truthful comeback.

“How did he find you, anyway?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. I didn’t have time to ask him.”

“Didn’t have time to ask? What were you doing? Oh… never mind, I think I have a good idea.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I changed the topic of the now embarrassing conversation. “Oh, yeah, well, Bu y is preachy and derivative!” I teased.

Her jaw dropped with fake a ront. “You take that back.”

I stuck out my tongue.

“Jane Austen is pedantic and trite!” she fired back.

“Blasphemy!” I shouted before tossing my pillow at her as I rose and walked across the room to my bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

I sighed. “To be a good girl and read a book.”

I could still hear her laughter through my door.

CHAPTER 8

T

error made me cruel.

- Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

D IMITRI

I PULLED up to the unassuming dark grey stone building of the Red Square Spa a short while later. As I reached into the console for the valet key, a flash of red caught my eye. I yanked out the Cartier box, which held the two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bracelet I had just purchased, from its hiding place. The little minx. A rare smile crossed my lips as I thought of the pleasurable punishment I would inflict on that gorgeous ass of hers the moment I saw her next.

Of course, that was as far as I could go, at least for one more day. I hadn’t missed her pained reaction when I pushed a single finger inside her still perfectly tight cunt. My baby was sore from the pounding I had given her last night. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She was such a tiny thing, and a virgin at that. If I had been a gentleman, I would have stopped, or at the very least been more gentle with her.

Unfortunately, I was no gentleman.

Giving her a few days to recover would be the extent of my willpower where she was concerned.

The primal, possessive urge I had felt the moment I broke through her maidenhead had not left me. It was undeniably intoxicating knowing you were the only man in a woman’s life. Something I had never experienced before. She was just so adorably innocent and naïve. I had this odd need to protect her, like a treasured doll I wanted to keep locked away, sheltered from the darkness of the world.

The fact that I was part of that darkness was immaterial to me.

I was selfishly claiming her as my own, regardless of the consequences.

As I said, I was no gentleman.

Peter, the usual valet, greeted me as I opened the car door.

“Whoa, is this the new Mercedes-Benz S-Class AMG S 65?”

Handing him the key, I nodded. “Yes, Peter, and I expect it to remain up front,” I instructed as I peeled o a hundreddollar bill from my money clip.

“Yes, Mr. Kosgov. Absolutely. I won’t take my eyes o it.”

I climbed the outside steps and swung open the glass door before climbing the remaining stairs to the dining room floor.

“Dimitri Antonovich!”

Vaska Lukovich clasped me with both hands on either side of my neck and kissed my cheeks.

“Hello, my friend,” I said as I patted him on the shoulder, easily slipping into my native tongue.

“Come, I have a table in the back.”

We walked past the various Americans and other patrons dressed in white spa robes to the more private dining room in the rear. Surrounding the wood-paneled wall were small

television screens flanked by short curtains with a running video of the Russian countryside, meant to mimic the view from a train.

A server brought over a basket of brown bread, a narrow crystal tray of pickles, two shot glasses, and an ice-cold bottle of Moskovskaya Vodka. I picked up the bottle and stared at the white and green label with distaste.

“I can’t believe you drink this shit.”

Vaska sco ed, “That is your problem, my friend. You earned a little money and now have luxurious tastes. This is the vodka of my people!”

I had known Vaska Lukovich Rostov since we were both expat students at Oxford. We had both earned a great deal more than a little money doing business together over the years. None of it legal, of course. Except for the vodka, his taste for extravagant luxury was just as refined as my own.

He poured us both a shot. We lifted our glasses. “Будем здоровы!” we said in unison before exhaling loudly and tossing back the shot.

He reached for a pickle while I broke o a piece of brown bread.

“So what is so important we had to meet immediately?”

Vaska poured us another shot as the server brought over a tray of caviar with blinis, hard-boiled eggs, and onion.

“I could tell by the scowl on your face when you walked through the door I must have interrupted something. A woman, perhaps? That new girl from the agency?”

“A woman, yes, from the agency, no.”

Like me, Vaska found it more convenient given our line of business not to entertain any romantic relationships. A protocol that until recently I had strictly followed as well.

“I will share many things with you, my friend, but not this, not yet.”

“Be careful.”

I nodded before drinking.

“There’s trouble in Morocco. They killed our contact at the port. The government has seized our shipment of the PKP Pecheneg machine guns we intended for our friend in the South. One of us will have to go there soon and… reestablish diplomatic ties,” he said as he scooped a small amount of caviar onto a blini.

I rubbed my jaw. The Moroccan trade route had become problematic over the last year. Perhaps it was time to find an alternative route. Dealing in illegal arms required a constant delicate balance of bribing the correct government o cials while establishing ties with the more unsavory characters on the global market. It was a far cry from the classic concert pianist my mother had hoped I would become when she’d sent me to Oxford, but it paid much better. The irony was the motley crew of royalty, aristocrats, and political sons Vaska and I had met at Oxford was what had allowed us to embark on this lucrative venture.

While we usually operated in the shadows, the average citizen would be surprised by how often their governments came to us for assistance when they needed to deal with certain rogue nations. After all, we were the ones with all the government o cials in our pockets and with the knowledge of all the ways you could sneak past the borders of just about any country. Our connections and usefulness allowed us to operate in a grey area of the law. The Russian government didn’t care, and as long as we didn’t arm anyone currently firing at U.S. soldiers, neither did the American government.

“Very well. Make the arrangements. I will head to Morocco next week,” I conceded.

It would disrupt my plans for Emma, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, she would need to become accustomed to my leaving the country for long stretches of time without notice. I would make sure I had her ensconced in my home

with twenty-four-hour security before I left. I had known her for barely a day and already it bothered me that she was not under my protection, living under my roof and in my bed.

She was too innocent and vulnerable. There was no telling what trouble she would get herself into. That she had somehow stumbled through her first twenty-three years of life without my oversight was of no matter to me. I was in her life now, whether or not she liked it, and would take control.

“There is another situation that may need your special attention.”

I knew what he meant by special.

“Go on.”

Vaska poured us another round. “You will need it.”

We both drank.

“The Petrov brothers are back in town.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s bad.”

“Tell me.”

The Petrov brothers were two idiot wannabes who took with brute force what they could have acquired through more diplomatic means and a well-placed bribe, which was how Vaska and I preferred to operate. We might be dealers in death, but that didn’t mean we had to be the ones pulling the trigger.

“Somehow, those two morons got their hands on two crates of ORSIS-CT20s. They’re here in Chicago looking for a buyer.”

I leaned back in my chair. The ORSIS-CT20 was Russia’s new large caliber sniper rifle. The military would not take too kindly to the embarrassment of learning two crates of their latest toy had wound up in America before they could even announce the acquisition.

“Set up a meeting for tomorrow night.” Then I remembered my date with Emma. “Wait. Make it the night after. Tell them we are interested in making a purchase.”

Vaska nodded. “Consider it done, my friend.”

“Contact General Yahontov in Moscow. Tell him we are about to make him a hero.”

“And that is why you are the brains and I am the good looks of this operation,” said Vaska with a hearty laugh.

Afterwards, we headed down the steep staircase to the men’s lockers. Changing into our robes, we entered the banya. The dry heat hit us like a wave as we made our way past the granite oven to take our places on one of the tiered cedar benches. As the hot air scalded my skin, it did nothing to burn away the memory of Emma’s sweet moans as I’d entered her body.

Soon, моя крошка.

CHAPTER 9

I

think you will learn to be natural with me, as I find it impossible to be conventional with you. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

“I T SAYS HERE , Russian women are known for being gorgeous,” called out Mary from the living room where she was curled up on the sofa with her laptop, a glass of white wine, and a bag of Doritos.

“What?” I shouted back from deep inside the narrow walk-in closet in my bedroom.

“Russian women are gorgeous!” she yelled even louder.

I came out of the bedroom holding up two dresses.

“Which one?”

First, I held up the long black maxi dress I had gotten at Target last summer. Then I held up the purple A-line one I usually wore with my purple Doc Martens.

Mary pulled a face.

With a hu , I flopped down onto the sofa next to her.

Pushing my bangs out of my eyes, I reached into the bag of Doritos as I bemoaned, “This is a terrible idea.”

Mary shrugged. “You’re probably right. I mean why on earth would you want to go out with a sexy, rich man on a night you have absolutely nothing better to do. Probably best to just cancel.”

Leaning over, I dramatically crunched down on one of her Doritos before saying, “Sarcasm isn’t a good color on you.”

She tilted her head while pretending to look in a mirror.

“I disagree. I think it makes my blue eyes pop!”

“Seriously! What am I going to do?” I turned her laptop around to look at the images on the blog post she was reading about Russian women. “I can’t compete with that!

Look at these women! They are all glamorous and… and… glamorous!”

“Well said,” Mary quipped as she pulled the bag of chips closer to grab a handful.

Grabbing the dresses, I stomped back into my room.

There must be something suitable in my wardrobe to wear tonight. Unfortunately, after four years of college and almost two years pursuing a graduate degree, my clothes were decidedly broke student chic. It also didn’t help that I favored plaid skirts and light sweaters.

Since I was a little girl, I had wanted to be a librarian, and I remembered my school librarian always wore plaid skirts, cardigan sweaters, and a single strand of pearls. She wore that outfit so often I mistook it for her librarian uniform. It was small wonder I also gravitated to that style, and until now it had always suited my personality.

Last night, I had barely slept a wink. I just kept playing the events of the last two days over and over in my mind. It almost felt like it hadn’t happened to me. As if I were reading this from the pages of a book. All the passion, drama, and intrigue! The dashing, handsome man searches and finds the poor student he shared a chance passionate encounter with.

I kept thinking about Dimitri and the intense way he looked at me with those stormy grey eyes of his. It was overwhelming and a little confusing to be the subject of such single-minded focus. He made me feel as if I were the only woman in the world. It was silly, of course, but still.

Worse, he made me feel as if I were interesting.

It was impossible, of course.

What would a man like him possibly find interesting in a shy book nerd like me?

Standing in the doorway of my closet, I leaned my head against the doorjamb. Across the room, the framed silhouettes of two elegant women, which hung over my bed, chastised me. White calligraphy overlaid the black with an inspirational quote from Henry James: “It’s time to start living the life you’ve imagined” and another from Jane Austen: “If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad.”

Finally, I was experiencing a real-life romantic adventure worthy of one of my book heroines, and here I was secondguessing everything and desperately wanting to crawl back into the safety between the pages of a book. Back inside the sheltered little bubble of work, school, repeat, which I had created for myself over the years.

Shifting my head to the left, I surveyed the rather naughty poster of a pulp fiction book cover I kept hidden on the interior of my closet door. A blonde in glasses wearing black lingerie straddled a half-naked man as he grasped a book in his hand. In bold gold type across the top it said The Nympho Librarian by Les Turner.

Closing my eyes, I remembered the sensually hypnotic look on Dimitri’s face as he’d gone down on his knees before me in the shower. The feel of his powerful hands as they’d forced my thighs open. And his tongue, oh, my God, the feel of his tongue.

That was quickly replaced by the image of him yesterday.

His white linen shirt stretched taut over his muscled chest.

The dark stain of his tattoos bleeding through the paperthin fabric. Even the sight of his heavy black leather and silver wristwatch exposed by his rolled-up sleeves seemed to scream masculine energy and confidence. Remembering the raw anger that flashed in his eyes when he mistook my Dewey Decimal tattoo for a brand, my hand crept up to claw at the now-stifling feel of my t-shirt collar.

I shimmied in my seat as I recalled the painful sting of his spanking. It was wrong and dirty to allow him to take such liberties. Too bad it was also hot as hell. It was just such a possessive, controlling, over-the-top caveman thing to do. A modern woman like me should recoil from such aggressive male behavior. Too bad it made me want to climb him like a tree as I licked the salty musk from his skin.

This was madness!

Especially after what I had learned today.

Crossing to my bed, I picked up the copy of Russian Criminal Tattoo, Encyclopedia Vol 1 that I had checked out of the Newberry Library while at work earlier. The pale pink cover with the black and white drawing of a crowned skull smoking a cigar mocked me.

This was definitely one instance where a little knowledge was a dangerous thing.

Apparently a dagger piercing the neck with drops of blood signified a murderer in Russian tattoo culture. Each drop of blood represented a kill. There were three drops dripping from Dimitri’s tattoo.

The card symbols on his knuckles indicated a gambler.

I also learned the colorful dragon tattoo on his back was actually a traditional folk art design called Khokhloma.

Unfortunately, I also learned that a dragon tattoo was a big deal in the Russian criminal world. It meant you had been

brash and bold enough to steal from the government or another powerful group.

The book had mentioned nothing about cartoon bears, which had seemed out of character for both him and the rest of his tattoos, but then so did the so-called meaning of his tattoos. Sure, Dimitri seemed like a big, scary Russian to me, but did that mean he was also a murderer and a thief?

Wasn’t I being just a little judgmental and worse… stereotypical?

Just because he was Russian didn’t mean he was a criminal, for heaven’s sake!

People got tattoos regardless of their meanings all the time. Look at all the people walking around with Chinese character tattoos, which they thought meant strength or courage but really meant soup!

Besides, wasn’t it possible I was using this as an excuse to back out of seeing him again because I was being insecure and frankly a big ol’ coward?

The only way to determine if my misgivings about Dimitri were valid, or came from my own timidity, would be to at least go on one proper date with the man.

It was just dinner.

What could happen at dinner in a public restaurant?

Mary broke into my scattered musings. Breezing into my bedroom, she held aloft her heavy metal makeup case, decorated in a bold leopard print with pink bows.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said with a wink.

P ERCHED on the toilet seat with her laptop balanced on my knees, I winced as Mary pulled a brush through a section of my hair, smoothing it out before wrapping it around a neon pink Velcro curler.

“Ow!” “Stop being such a baby!” she mumbled around the hairpins in her mouth before securing the curler.

“It will take a lot more than some curlers and lipstick to get me to look like one of these women,” I grumbled as I pointed to the collage of Russian women I had found on Pinterest.

“First of all, knock it the fuck o . You are a beautiful, intelligent woman that any man would be crazy not to want to date.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts… this makeup stu is all just superficial icing on the cake. Those women have nothing on you.”

Yep. Not a thing.

Except elegance, sophistication, confidence… not to mention killer boobs and big, pouty lips.

Wincing as she pulled my hair to put in the final curler, I asked, “What’s the second thing?”

“What?” she asked distractedly as she turned to dig around in her makeup case before holding up an eyelash curler.

“You said first of all, implying there was a second thing.”

Placing her palm against my forehead, she tilted my head back. “Second of all, knock it the fuck o .”

“You already said that,” I replied petulantly, sticking my lower lip out.

“It bore repeating, now look up and don’t blink.”

An hour later, dressed in one of Mary’s rockabilly pencil dresses, I was ready. Although she’d wanted me to choose one with a bold animal print, I had decided on a simple black dress with a brightly embroidered line of red roses over each hip. With its tucked-in waist, the dress hugged my every curve and the deep scooped neckline made my boobs look

huge. I mean, it wasn’t like I was flat-chested. I had a modest B-cup, but in this dress I looked like a 1950s Hollywood starlet.

She had swooped my hair o my face and arranged it in some stylish liberty curls on top with the rest curling down my back. For my makeup she had done an exaggerated black cat eye with a classic matte red lip.

Staring at my foreign reflection, I couldn’t help but blink several times.

“Stop blinking!” admonished Mary as she walked into our tiny apartment bathroom carrying two pairs of black heels.

“I can’t help it. I’m not used to fake eyelashes.”

“Well, you better get used to it or he will think you’re flirting with every man, woman, and child in the restaurant or signaling to the waiter you are a hostage in need of rescuing.”

I looked back at my reflection. Mary had done an amazing job. I looked like one of the women in the photos. All polished and done up.

The problem was I didn’t look or feel like me.

Sighing, I shrugged. Maybe that was a good thing. Let’s face it. Acting and looking like me hadn’t gotten me a date, let alone a boyfriend, over the years. I wouldn’t even have this date with Dimitri if he hadn’t mistaken me for a highend escort playing a saucy game of schoolgirl and the headmaster.

The simple fact was if I had met Dimitri under any other circumstances, he probably would have looked right past me.

But the strange woman staring back at me in the mirror, she might have a chance with a man like him.

Looking over my shoulder, I quickly turned and held up my palms as I backed out of the bathroom. “No way.”

“Yes,” insisted Mary as she stalked after me into the living room.

“No. I can’t.”

Gesturing with her head, she said, “You are not wearing that dress with a pair of Doc Marten Mary Janes!”

I placed my hands on my hips. “I have other shoes. High heels even!”

She sco ed. “Kitten heels don’t count. Now choose.

Stiletto or platform?”

After a brief argument I had no chance of winning, I chose the black suede platform shoes. Hoping that with the widerbased heel, I at least had a chance of staying upright and not falling on my face.

While Mary transferred the essentials from the front pocket of my backpack into one of her red clutches, which matched the flowers on the dress, I nervously reached for the Doritos bag.

As if she had eyes in the back of her head, she called out, “Don’t you dare get cheese dust on that dress.”

“But…” “Drop it!”

“Fine.”

I wasn’t really hungry anyway. It was more nervous eating.

After she handed me the purse, I toddled toward the door, still uneasy in her heels. “I will wait outside. I’m too anxious to wait in here.”

“You mean I don’t get to see him?” whined Mary as she picked up her now lukewarm glass of white wine and took a sip.

“Peek through the curtains.”

I PRACTICED WALKING in the four-inch platform heels by pacing back and forth along the sidewalk in front of my apartment

as I waited for Dimitri to arrive. It also helped to burn o some of my nervous energy.

At precisely six p.m., a sleek black car rolled onto my residential street and swung into an empty parking space nearby.

Thinking I would just open the passenger door and climb into the car, it surprised me when Dimitri emerged from the driver’s side; slamming the door shut, he came storming toward me. His brow was lowered and his lips were tight as he grabbed me by the upper arm.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled.

CHAPTER 10

I

can see he’s not in your good books,” said the messenger. “No, and if he were I would burn my library. - William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

D IMITRI

I T WAS ALL I could do not to toss her over the warm hood of my car, wrench up that dress, and spank her ass crimson.

“What’s wrong?” Emma bit her lip as her beautiful brown eyes widened with anxious fear.

Barely keeping my anger in check, I ground out through clenched teeth, “Get your ass back inside and change out of that outfit.”

Her hands smoothed over the tight fabric that clung to her hips, a movement that only pushed the top curve of her breasts up higher, putting them even more on display.

“I don’t understand, don’t you like it?”

“It isn’t you. Now go and take it o immediately.”

Her rouged bottom lip stuck out in a pout as her tiny fists rested on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wrapping my arm around her nipped-in waist, I snatched her to me. She stumbled on those ridiculous heels as she fell hard against my chest. Even in those shoes, her head still only barely reached above my shoulder. Placing a curved finger under her chin, I forced her gaze up. My eyes narrowed as I got a good look at the thick fringe of plastic over her eyelashes and heavily kohl-lined eyes.

“Let me explain slowly and carefully so you understand.”

My voice took on a deep, menacing tone. “I never want to see you displaying yourself like a whore again.”

Her artificial red lips opened on a gasp.

“Strutting up and down the sidewalk in this tight dress and fuck-me heels, your face covered with all that crap.

From now on, you will wait inside till I arrive at your door, like a good girl. And you will be dressed appropriately, like the woman I fell in… like yourself.”

I was in such a rage, I had almost blurted out that I was in love with her. It was a ludicrous notion, of course.

In lust with her, yes.

Fascinated by her innocence and unassuming naïveté, absolutely.

Intrigued by the spark of moxie and intelligence I saw behind her gorgeous eyes, fuck, yeah.

But in love? No. Men like me don’t fall in love.

That didn’t mean I didn’t have every intention of claiming this distracting little minx to be mine and mine alone. She belonged to me. Period. End of argument. I may have only known her for a short duration of time, but I hadn’t gotten where I was in the world by not snatching up what I wanted when I wanted it… and I definitely wanted her.

I was overreacting to her appearance, and I knew it… but that would not stop me. It angered me she thought I needed her to become a woman she wasn’t. That somehow I was

such a superficial Neanderthal as to expect her to conform to society’s version of the perfect female.

I was attracted to Emma just as she was… with her cute sweaters, messy ponytails, blushes, and naturally pink lips.

“You are insulting my roommate’s dress, which she was kind enough to lend to me! I’m sorry it doesn’t meet your high standards. I’m sorry I don’t either.” Her lip trembled as her chocolate eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Looking down at the creamy expanse of her exposed cleavage, I sneered, “You definitely meet my former standards.” The jibe was an undisguised reference to my unapologetic use of escorts before meeting her.

Her arm flew up to slap me. My fingers wrapped around her wrist before she had a chance.

“Let me go… you… you… brute!”

Securing her arm behind her back, I shifted my hips till she could feel the hard press of my erect shaft. Just because I didn’t like her displaying herself to the entire neighborhood didn’t mean I didn’t like the show.

“Isn’t this how we first met?” I quipped.

Through the heavy makeup, I could just see the dark pink stain of a blush as it crept over her cheeks.

“I never want to see you again!” she hu ed.

With my free hand, I ran the back of my knuckles down her cheek before slinking my fingers around her neck just beneath her jaw. I leaned down to whisper against her lips, “That will be di cult since I plan on seeing a great deal more of you very soon.”

At my sexual double entendre, her head shifted to the side as she tried to twist out of my grasp. Her movements only inflamed me more.

My determination to not touch her till tomorrow, giving her body a chance to heal from our first rough fucking, was fraying. There were other ways I could possess her. The

image of her on her knees as I smeared her crimson lipstick with my cock had me curling my hands into fists as I suppressed a frustrated groan.

“Now are you going to be a good girl and change or do we have to do this the hard way?”

Her response was to stick out her cute little pink tongue out at me.

The corner of my mouth lifted. “Wrong answer.”

Or right answer, depending on your point of view.

Pulling her arm from behind her back, I hoisted it high while I bent low, pressing my shoulder into her midsection.

“Dimitri!”

The clumsy heels fell o her feet onto the grass as she kicked and cried out. In a few long strides, I reached the outer door of her apartment, taking note of the busted, unsecured lock before swinging it open.

Carrying her wriggling form down the narrow, dimly lit corridor, I asked, “Which apartment?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Such language from a respectable librarian!” I teased before swatting her ass.

“Ow!” I swatted her again. “I can do this all night. Which apartment?”

“Over here!” called out a brunette dressed in rolled-up jeans and a red bandana as she waved at me from the end of the hall.

“Mary! Mary! Call the police!” cried out Emma as she clawed at my shoulders, trying to raise herself up. I spanked her ass a third time.

“Ow!” “I warned you.”

I followed the brunette, who I assumed was Emma’s roommate, around a corner. I had to dip my head and lower

my body to cross the small threshold.

As I stepped into the cozy apartment, I immediately noted the shabby, insu cient locks on their door and the windows with no bars or additional protection. Two beautiful women had no business living in a first-floor apartment in this neighborhood. Let alone one without proper security.

There was no fucking way моя крошка was spending one more night here.

As I straightened to my full height, the roommate took a step back and exclaimed, “Oh, my God.” Knowing the first impression my imposing, muscular frame and shaved head usually made, I gave her a wink and quipped, “I get that a lot. It’s actually Dimitri.”

“Mary! Help! Call the police!” Emma cried again as she continued to struggle in my grasp.

“Sorry, sweetie! Somehow I think this is for your own good,” replied Mary with a smile on her lips as her eyes surveyed me up and down.

Pointing to the two partially open doors to the right of the living room, I asked, “Which one?”

She gestured to Emma’s bedroom. Kicking the door fully open, I carried Emma inside and slammed the door shut with my foot before tossing her onto the tiny bed. After a single bounce, she shimmied her ass to the edge as she climbed o it.

Stretching out my arm, my brow lowered as I warned her in a stern voice, “Move o that bed and I take o my belt.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she stubbornly turned her head to the side. She really was fucking adorable when she was angry, like a little butterfly furiously flapping her wings, but only causing a soft ripple in the air.

Assuming the only other door in the room was her closet, I swung it open.

“No! Don’t!” Emma called out as she moved up to her knees and grasped the worn metal railing at the foot of the bed.

Too late.

My eyebrow rose as I surveyed the sexy poster she had hidden away. Nympho Librarian?

Well, fuck if that didn’t sum her up perfectly.

Prim, proper, and shy on the outside but on the inside she was a little firecracker just waiting for someone to light her spark. Good thing I was the one with all the matches.

Striding back to her, I grabbed her jaw and tilted her head back. Not giving a fuck about the red lipstick, I claimed her mouth in a brutal kiss. Sweeping my tongue inside, needing to taste the innocent sweetness underneath all this paint and theatrics.

She fell back breathless as there was a soft knock on the door.

Giving her a warning glare, I turned the knob and opened it only halfway.

Mary held out a wet washcloth, smirking when she saw me. No doubt I had red lipstick smeared across my own lips.

“Thought you might need this.”

Taking the terrycloth from her grasp, I nodded.

“Thanks.”

Her flat palm came up to stop me as I started to close the door. “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

We both knew it was an empty threat, but still I appreciated and respected the fierce loyalty she was displaying toward my baby girl. I wouldn’t forget it.

My lips thinned as I met her gaze before nodding solemnly. “You have my word.”

Turning back toward Emma, I wiped my face before tossing the warm cloth at her. “Wipe all that shit o your face.”

With a sni , she pulled o the fake eyelashes before using the cloth to rub at her face. I had to twist my shoulders to fit within the tight confines of her closet. Sifting through the various hangers, I selected a pale cream sweater with tiny pearl buttons and a navy blue pleated skirt. Tossing the outfit on the bed, I placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head back. Her ivory skin glowed a fresh pink and her large doe eyes shone bright, unblemished by any heavy black liner.

Using the pad of my thumb, I caressed her lower lip.

“Beautiful,” I murmured.

She cast her gaze down, twisting the ends of the now dirty washcloth between her fingertips. “I thought you’d want me to look like one of those glamorous Russian women you were probably used to.”

I tugged on one silky curl to get her attention. “You thought wrong, моя крошка.”

It was tragic that this darling girl somehow thought she wasn’t enough for a man. Although I guess I should be grateful? If another man had recognized what a hidden diamond she was earlier, then she probably wouldn’t be here with me now. That was the only way someone as innocent and naïve as her could have crossed paths with a dangerous, irredeemable man such as myself.

“Put this on. We will be late for our dinner reservations.”

She climbed o the bed and turned her back to me.

Sweeping her tawny curls over one shoulder, she gave me a shy glance. “Would you help me with the zipper?”

Reaching for the short metal tab, it surprised me to see my hand shake. Jesus Christ, this small slip of a girl tied me in knots. Here I was twitching like a fucking untried

schoolboy. Clearing my throat, I tightened my jaw as I focused on slowly lowering the zipper, trying not to react to the soft expanse of skin it exposed.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she turned, holding the dress over her breasts.

My cock swelled. I was painfully aware of the bed just inches away from us both. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind I would break the frame the moment I thrust furiously into her tight heat, but I didn’t give a damn. I’d buy her a new bed.

Opening and closing my fist, I reined in my lust.

Dinner first.

At least attempt to show this girl you can put on the civilized trappings of a gentleman for a few hours before fucking her like a primal beast.

“Would you mind turning around?”

With a growl, I stomped over to her bedroom door and threw it open. Begrudgingly, knowing she was correct in not wanting to strip fully naked in front of me. Judging by my body’s reaction, my tenuous control would likely have snapped.

Mary was in the kitchen, which opened o the living room, with a bottle of tequila. She poured a shot and held the glass out to me as she cast a pointed look at my crotch. My suit pants did nothing to conceal my painfully swelled cock.

“Looks like you could use this.”

It wasn’t vodka, but it would do. Without saying a word, I kicked back the shot, needing the harsh burn as it coursed down my throat. Slamming the glass on the counter, I nodded.

She poured another.

Raising her glass, her lips lifted with a cheeky smile.

“Cheers!”

Glowering, I muttered, “За женщин!”

“What does za zhén-shsheen mean?”

“It is a common Russian toast. It means to women.” The God help us poor men was implied.

Just then, Emma’s bedroom door opened.

She had brushed out her hair till it hung in soft curls, loose over her shoulders. The ivory sweater I chose made her pink and cream skin glow. She paired the cute blue skirt with a pair of dark brown knee-high boots. Around her neck she had secured a simple strand of pearls. Only a sheer gloss covered her lips.

She looked achingly beautiful.

This was the woman I had fallen in love with…

Dammit.

There was a tap on my shoulder. I peered down to see Mary handing me another shot. “Remember what I said.”

For emphasis, she drew her finger across her throat.

Without a word, I took the glass from her and downed the last shot of tequila.

Stalking toward Emma, I clasped her hand firmly in my own and marched her out the door.

The very second this dinner was over, I was taking her to my bed.

I had reached my limit.

Tonight, I would once more claim her as mine.

And mine alone.

CHAPTER 11

T

hou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

- William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Emma

“W AIT ! I FORGOT MY PURSE .” I tried to turn back, but his hard grip kept propelling me forward.

“You don’t need one.”

Thank God I was no longer in Mary’s platform heels or I would have fallen on my face right now trying to keep up with his determined pace. He raised an arm to unlock the car remotely as we approached.

“But I don’t have any ID or money on me.”

With the look Dimitri shot me over his shoulder, you would have thought I’d said I needed to go back for my parasol and snood.

He turned forward and ground out, “You are with me.”

As if that was all the explanation I required.

Swinging open the passenger car door, he placed a restraining hand on my forearm before I could get in.

Caressing my jaw with his other hand, he leaned down and gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead.

His grey eyes shifted to a hard obsidian black in the soft dusk light. When he spoke his tone was low. His words carefully measured. “You know you have nothing to fear from me.”

I felt a frisson of fear as goosebumps rose on my arms. If my body hadn’t already been pressed against the car, I would have taken a step back. My gaze flitted to the right in an attempt to determine if we were still visible through my apartment window. That Mary was watching would give me some measure of comfort, but even with my modest boot heels, I couldn’t see over his shoulder.

He was just a wall of strength and muscle masked by an expensive suit.

With two fingers, he caressed my strand of pearls along their fragile length. I knew it was irrational, but I wondered that the delicate ivory orbs didn’t turn to dust at his masculine touch. The card suit tattoos on each finger were faded to a watery grey. It was hard to miss the pale pink scars that crisscrossed each knuckle, clear evidence of more than one brutal fight. I wondered if that was how he had gotten the faint scar under his eye?

My gaze rose to his collar. With it buttoned tight and secured by a deep plum silk tie, there was no hint of the dagger tattoo.

Gambler.

Fighter.

Murderer.

My breath came in short, excited bursts as heat crept up my cheeks. I tried to remind myself of all the people walking around with scary tattoos that meant nothing. Yet, somehow, I didn’t think Dimitri was the type of man to get a

meaningless tattoo. Pulling my lips between my teeth, I swallowed hard.

The tip of his finger moved to press against the base of my throat as if he wanted to touch the physical manifestation of my trepidation.

My body jerked at the sound of his voice. I was a cat on a hot tin roof. My nerves stretched taut. I tried to answer, but my mouth had gone dry.

“You are so innocent and sweet. Baby, I’m trying hard to be the gentleman I realize you need me to be. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” He grasped a curled section of my hair and ran it through his fingers till he got to the end.

Then, slowly and methodically, he wrapped the silky strands around his fist.

A whimper escaped my lips.

He stopped when his hand pressed against my neck, just below my ear.

“That is why I need you to be a very good girl for me. When you anger me, I have a harder time keeping my control around you. I just want to throw you on a bed… open your legs… and…” He clenched his jaw as a low rattling growl was stifled deep within his chest.

Oh. My. God. “I didn’t mean to make you angry,” I blurted out, trying to deflect from the sharp pang of need that shot between my legs at the vivid sexual image he had just conjured.

I had to tilt my head to the side to ease the sting caused by his harsh grip on my hair. Later tonight, when I was curled up alone in my bed, I would hash out all the guilty, confused feelings I had for why I found pain… and the man who caused it… so fucking arousing.

“I know, моя крошка. It’s not your fault. I have a feeling you have absolutely no idea the e ect you have on a man like me… or on any man.”

He was making it sound like I was some kind of beautiful seductress. The notion was ludicrous. I knew he had gotten the wrong impression of me the night we met, but he now knew for certain I was obviously very inexperienced with men. You can’t be a practiced flirt and not lose your virginity until you’re twenty-three. Those two characteristics just didn’t go together.

He continued to gaze at me intently. “Боюсь, ты сможешь поставить меня на колени, девочка.”

He spoke the Russian quickly and under his breath; I couldn’t catch any of the phonetics.

“What did you just say?”

Shifting his gaze away, Dimitri seemed to shrug o the ominous moment. “It doesn’t matter. Come, let’s go have a nice dinner.”

H IS M ERCEDES -B ENZ smoothly raced down the highway as the brightly lit outline of Chicago’s skyscrapers came into view.

To the left, the dark waters of Lake Michigan churned. White foam cresting over the rocks and smooth sandy beach. As we left Lake Shore Drive, the lights of the city became brighter as the noise from the hectic streets invaded the quiet interior of the car.

I was expecting some big flashy entrance, but we pulled up to the front of a rather unassuming restaurant. Two valets sprang to attention. One opened my door, while the other crossed around to greet Dimitri.

“Good evening, Mr. Kosgov.”

“Good evening, Mike. You are well?”

The valet nodded. It was hard to miss the pleased smile that broke over his boyish face at the knowledge Dimitri

knew him by name. “Yes, sir. Very well. Shall I keep it up front?”

Dimitri reached into his pocket and pulled out a money clip. My mouth dropped open. I knew I was reacting every bit like an uncouth schoolgirl, but what the hell! It was over an inch thick and filled with what looked like crisp hundreddollar bills. I couldn’t even conceive what it would be like to hold that much cash in my hand. Damn, I feel rich when I find a ten-dollar bill in my jeans after pulling them out of the dryer.

Dimitri handed him what I was certain was a hundreddollar bill and nodded. “That would be fine.”

Walking around the car, he placed a warm hand at my lower back and ushered me toward the door. The second valet sprinted ahead to swing the heavy glass door open.

“Have a nice dinner, folks!”

“Thank you, Tommy,” responded Dimitri o handedly as he guided me over the threshold. “Make sure Mike splits that with you.”

Tommy laughed. “I will, sir.”

Dimitri might think nothing of the exchange but speaking as someone who had worked her fair share of service jobs, putting me through college and now graduate school, I knew what it was like for people to act like you weren’t important.

Like you were only there to do your job and serve them, so your feelings and showing common decency and manners didn’t matter.

So for Dimitri to not only know the valets’ names but to be so generous with his money spoke volumes about his character. More so than any faded ink on his knuckles.

I had to blink to adjust my eyes to the somber interior.

There was only a cramped aisle down the center of the narrow restaurant with a single row of tall tables on the right and a long bar on the left.

Granted, I wasn’t the type of girl who would brazenly order the lobster at some expensive restaurant on a date, but still, this wasn’t exactly what I had been envisioning when he’d asked me out to dinner.

A porter dressed all in black squeezed past us. On his head was a black baseball cap with bright gold-embroidered letters emblazoned across the top: IDGAF. Pretty sure that stood for I Don’t Give a Fuck.

Yep, definitely not the restaurant I had imagined.

Dimitri’s arm wrapped more securely around me as he directed me past the tables and bar to a small back area where there was an elevator, coat check, and hostess stand.

There the gorgeous hostess in a tight gold dress and red lipstick greeted us. I felt a stab of jealousy as her gaze wandered appreciatively over Dimitri’s impressive physique.

“Welcome back to Maple & Ash, Mr. Kosgov,” she purred, completely ignoring me.

The hostess then leaned over to depress the elevator button for us. Her ample breasts brushing his chest.

Without thought, I pressed in closer to his side, lifting my arm to press my flat palm possessively against the side of his chest. Dimitri looked down at me, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he tightened his grip around my waist.

I knew he had caught my moment of insecure jealousy.

The metal doors slid silently open. We stood back as two couples exited before stepping into the confining, woodpaneled interior. The hostess once more leaned in to press the button for the third floor. The gesture gave us both a glimpse of her deep cleavage. “Let me know if you’ll be needing anything else, Mr. Kosgov.”

Seriously, bitch?

“I won’t be.” His voice was low and seductive.

Dimitri’s hand swept up my back to clasp a fistful of curls.

He pulled my hair, snapping my head back as his own swept

down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss just as the elevator doors slid closed.

Forgetting all about the flirtatious hostess, my world tilted. The metal handrail, which stretched around the elevator car, pressed against my lower back as Dimitri pushed the weight of his body against my own, trapping me.

The thick ridge of his cock pressed against my midsection. A heated reminder of what was to come later.

The rough scrape of his goatee chafed my cheeks as his tequila-laced tongue took possession of my mouth. Liquid arousal pooled between my thighs as his hand slipped under the hem of my skirt.

I groaned. My fingers clawed at the lapels of his suit as I shifted my hips forward, wantonly wanting him to touch me there.

A soft ping was our only warning.

The elevator doors slid open.

An elderly woman gasped as a group of businessmen chortled.

Taking my hand, Dimitri shifted me protectively behind his enormous frame as he sent a hard glare at the men, silencing their merriment. We stepped into the lobby entrance of the restaurant, which felt as if we were inside a cigar humidor. It was all leather, wood, and Scotch.

The maître d’ bowed before gesturing for us to follow him to our table.

Looking down at my tiny pale hand, clasped securely in Dimitri’s larger, darkly tanned hand, I shivered.

How the hell was I going to survive dinner?

CHAPTER 12

I

f you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave. - Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Emma

G IVING out a delighted but startled cry of surprise, I clasped Dimitri’s waist from behind as a large flare-up of fire from the massive grill to our right surprised me. It filled the open kitchen with chaotic energy as more employees with black IDGAF caps and crisp white chef coats scrambled to fill the patrons’ orders.

Walking past several linen draped tables with floor-toceiling, raw silk silver curtains that partially concealed the diners, he showed us to our table. They had positioned it at the top of the dining room with a perfect view of the kitchen and showpiece grill.

“Might I recommend a glass of champagne to start o the evening?” asked the maître d’ as he displayed the open, leather-bound wine list.

I gave a little clap at the thought of having a fancy champagne as we sat inside this elegant dining room.

Reaching out, I touched a fingertip to the base of the silver candelabra gracing the center of our table, looking up at the long white tapered candles as if their romantic glow was an illusion.

Dimitri didn’t bother looking at the wine list. “A bottle of your Dom Perignon Plenitude Brut, Joseph.”

Dom Perignon!

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kosgov. We sold our last bottle last night, but I have a nicely chilled bottle of Moet & Chandon Esprit du Seicle Brut. Would that su ce?”

Moet & Chandon!

As someone who was happy with a glass of Andre from the drugstore, I couldn’t let him spend this kind of money on me.

Placing a hand on his forearm, I leaned over to whisper anxiously in his ear, “Dimitri, I’m fine with just a glass of the house wine.”

He tapped a finger to the tip of my nose. “You really are adorable.”

Turning back to the maître d’, he just nodded.

The man gave a curt bow. “I will return with your champagne and to discuss the specials.”

Looking down, I fidgeted with the silverware, keenly aware we were now alone despite the muted hum of dinner conversation taking place around us.

Dimitri placed his hand over mine, stilling it.

I looked up. His eyes glinted a bright platinum as he leaned in close. “Я помню чудное мгновенье: Передо мной явилась ты, Как мимолетное виденье, Как гений чистой красоты.”

Although I didn’t know what he was saying, I could tell by the cadence of his voice he was reciting a poem as a toast.

Dimitri repeated in English. “I still recall the wondrous moment: When you appeared before my sight, As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light.”

He was reciting Alexander Pushkin’s famous poem, ‘I Still Recall the Wondrous Moment.’

This was surreal. That this scary-looking Russian, with the devil’s own good looks, would recite romantic poetry to me, a shy library graduate student, in the middle of a highend steak restaurant, was beyond my wildest imagination.

When I had allowed myself to think about finally finding a guy to date, the furthest I had ever allowed my mind to wander was maybe a simple neighborhood Italian restaurant and movie.

This was beyond anything.

I was in the middle of an Ian Fleming book!

Joseph returned carrying a wooden box and with two servers in tow. One server carried a champagne bucket on a pedestal. Placing it next to the table, he settled the bottle nestled within the ice more firmly before retreating. The second server placed crystal flutes in front of us.

Standing before Dimitri, Joseph leaned over to present the box before dramatically opening the lid.

I gasped.

Nestled on a bed of maroon velvet was a brightly polished saber about a foot and half long.

Dimitri rose and unbuttoned his double-breasted suit coat before shrugging out of it.

With wide eyes, I scanned the rest of the dining room, expecting to see people diving under their tables as the women screamed. Everyone was acting perfectly normal, as if the man I was dating hadn’t just been presented with a freaking sword.

My fingernails dug into the supple leather arms of my chair as my brow wrinkled. “What is happening?”

Dimitri flipped the white cu of his shirt up, exposing his powerful forearm. I noticed the insanely expensive-looking watch on his wrist. There was something so freaking sexy about a man who wore a watch.

He finished rolling up both sleeves and picked up the saber, testing its weight. Turning to the rest of the dining room, he held it aloft.

Everyone cheered.

What the hell was happening?

Joseph had removed the foil and the wire cage from around the top of the champagne bottle and was drying it with a black linen napkin. He presented the bottle to Dimitri, who easily clasped the bottom in one palm, holding it at a slight angle.

“The seam is on top, sir.”

Dimitri nodded solemnly.

A tense hush fell over the other patrons.

Daring a quick glance to my right, I realized the hectic bustle in the kitchen had stopped.

All eyes were on Dimitri.

He placed the blade of the saber against the champagne bottle, with the sharp edge facing him.

We all held our collective breaths.

He scraped the blade slowly along the bottle till the blunt edge stopped just shy of the glass lip.

Then he pulled the blade back toward him.

Dimitri turned and gave me a confident wink.

Next, his arm moved so swiftly it was nothing more than a flash of bright silver. The saber blade had slid along the champagne bottle to smoothly lop o the top glass portion, taking the cork with it.

There was a loud celebratory pop, then an arc of white foam burst from the bottle.

The entire room erupted in a shared cheer as everyone clapped.

Joseph sprang forward. Seizing our glasses from the table, he placed the flutes under the stream of sparkling champagne.

An older woman approached our table and handed me the champagne cork with the smooth green bottle glass still secured around the base. “You’re a lucky girl,” she quipped before returning to her own table.

Dimitri sat down and placed his napkin on his lap before reaching for his flute of champagne as casual as you please, as if he hadn’t just done the coolest fucking thing I had ever seen in my life.

“What… I… I don’t even know… wow!” I stammered as I took a big gulp of champagne to hide my nervousness.

Immediately regretting it as the bubbles tickled my nose and the back of my throat.

“It’s called sabrage. The Hussar cavalrymen would use their sabers to lop o the top of a champagne bottle to drink it while they were still on horseback,” he o ered as he nodded to the server who was moving items around on our table to make a space in the center.

“It’s unbelievably impressive.”

Dimitri’s voice was a deep timbre. “I’m glad you like my swordsmanship.”

My cheeks flamed, catching the double entendre. Placing my hands in my lap, I twined my fingers as I focused on breathing slowly in and out to stop the room from spinning.

Yes, I was definitely inside an Ian Fleming book. The problem was I wasn’t sure if I was having dinner with James Bond… or an infamous Russian villain.

T WO SERVERS RETURNED to the table with a tray. On it was a silver dish with two lion’s-head handles on either side brimming with ice. In the center of it sat a delicate glass pot with a generous portion of caviar, deep brown with a slight golden tint. Surrounding it were additional tiny bowls with diced red onion, scallions, hard-boiled egg, and crème fraiche. Next they placed a platter of warm blinis and potato chips on the table before silently leaving.

Reaching for my champagne flute, I took a sip to hide my nervousness. I’d never had caviar before. I’ve been curious, of course, but now I was afraid I would embarrass myself in front of Dimitri. What if I didn’t like it? What if it tasted fishy? What if I couldn’t swallow it?

Joseph approached our table. “This is our very best caviar, Ossetra. It will have a buttery, almost earthy flavor to it with a nice pop.” He emphasized the word pop with a swish of his hand. “Before I leave you to enjoy, have you decided what you would like for dinner?”

I hadn’t even looked at the menu. Picking up the leatherbacked board with the heavy cream paper, I scanned the options. I could see in the center the IDGAF option, which was basically a chef’s choice menu. That at least would explain the hats. Each dish seemed richer and more decadent than the last. I had absolutely no idea what to order.

Dimitri’s firm hand reached over and pulled the menu from my grasp. He gave me another wink before turning back to the maître d’. “The lady will have the surf and turf.

Ask the chef to make the filet a little over medium with a warm pink center. I’ll have the porterhouse blood rare. Bring whatever sides you think will complement our choices and Joseph, please bring me a Stoli Elit neat.”

“Excellent, Mr. Kosgov. Enjoy your caviar. I’ll be back with your drink.”

He had ordered me the lobster.

The lobster.

I knew what that meant.

Dimitri reached for a warm blini and placed a dab of crème fraiche on it, then topped it with caviar before putting it on the plate before me.

“I know what you’re thinking. If you eat the lobster, I’ll expect you to sleep with me.”

“I… well…” I couldn’t form a witty retort. I was too stunned that he had read my mind.

Brushing my hair back over my shoulder, he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “The answer is you’re damn right I will.”

He then nipped at my earlobe before treating me to a deepthroated chuckle. “Relax, моя крошка. It’s just dinner.”

Forcing the tension from my face, I took a deep breath and concentrated on the first course. Using my thumb and forefinger, I gingerly picked up the blini and caviar.

“Have you had caviar before?”

I shook my head.

“Just take a small bite. The trick is to roll it around on your tongue to catch the first bit of flavor before you press the small beads against the roof of your mouth. They will pop open, giving you a second salty burst of flavor which will enhance the first.”

While he talked, he prepared his own bit of caviar. “We’ll try it together,” he o ered, holding up his bite.

I leaned over, not wanting to be overheard. “What if I don’t like it?”

“Then just spit it out in your napkin.”

My brow creased as my eyes narrowed. That couldn’t be the correct response.

“Trust me, моя крошка. I wouldn’t lie to you. The proper way would be to spit it out discreetly into your napkin.”

Grasping my champagne flute in my left hand just in case I needed to wash the flavor out of my mouth, I raised the bite

to my lips. Taking a deep breath, I sank my teeth into only half of the silver-dollar-sized blini. My eyebrows shot up. It was good. Superb. With the bread, crème fraiche, and earthiness of the caviar, the entire bite was buttery and creamy. Following Dimitri’s instructions, I pressed the small beads to the roof of my mouth and was rewarded with a burst of sea salt that didn’t taste fishy at all.

It was then I noticed Dimitri hadn’t eaten his. At my questioning look, he said, “It is fascinating watching the play of emotions cross your face. You have such an unvarnished, pure reaction to things. It makes me feel as if I am experiencing the same things anew.”

I wiped my mouth with my napkin and took a sip of champagne before responding. “Wow. I think that is the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me.”

There was a charge of energy between us in that moment.

The deep connection you felt with another person, even though you barely knew them. A primal chemistry.

He reached out to brush his knuckles over my cheek, before turning his attention back to the caviar tray to fix me another portion.

Wanting to fill the silence, I scrambled for something normal and date-like to ask him. “So, what do you do for a living?”

He shifted in his seat. Rolling back his shoulders, he sat up straighter. A muscle ticked over his cheekbone. “Never ask me anything about my business a airs,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“But…” His hand reached out to cover my own. “I mean it, Emma.

Never. Knowledge about what I do is o limits to you, do you understand me?”

I stared at his hand, at the pale scars and faded tattoos.

Not understanding where I got the courage, I boldly said, “I

was reading a book about the symbolism of Russian tattoos.”

Alarm bells were going o in my head, and I desperately grasped at the idea that some red flags were false. That it wasn’t all bad. I needed him to tell me, to give me some hope.

He squeezed my fingers painfully tight. Tears sprang to my eyes.

“The symbolism applies, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

Gambler.

Fighter.

Murderer.

How was I supposed to reconcile that image with the man sitting next to me? The man who’d rejected me for trying to be something I wasn’t. The man who knew about champagne, caviar, and sabrage? The man who tipped generously and remembered everyone’s names. There was also the man who had taken my virginity without remorse.

Who had ruthlessly tracked me down, demanding I see him again. Who didn’t take no for an answer.

Lowering my eyes, I nodded. With a shaking hand, I reached for my champagne flute. I brought it to my lips before I realized it was empty.

Dimitri reached for the bottle and poured me another glass. It looked like a perfectly normal romantic gesture, except if you looked closely it wasn’t normal. The champagne bottle was fractured at the top. Its opening was a dangerous shard of glass because he had violently removed the lip with a sword.

My stomach clenched as I realized I was in way over my head.

“How about we talk about you instead? I know you are studying to become a librarian. What of your parents?”

Taking a sip of champagne to wet my dry throat, I croaked out, “Divorced. They don’t talk to one another and neither really talks to me.”

Dimitri’s brow creased. “That isn’t right. You’re their daughter.”

I shrugged. “I’m used to it. What about your parents?”

His lips thinned as his fingers tensed around my own.

I pulled my hand out from under his and put it in my lap.

“Sorry. Never mind. I didn’t mean to ask.”

So everything about him was o limits. Message received.

We fell into an uncomfortable silence as the servers returned to remove the first course. One remained behind to scrape a silver table crumber along the linen before informing us our next course would be up shortly.

Dimitri nodded before taking a long sip from the crystal tumbler of vodka they had brought.

I did the same with my champagne as I searched for something safe to talk about. I needed to be careful. The dizzying e ects of the alcohol were taking hold.

“I talked to the financial aid o ce today. They gave me a list of grants which are still open. I will start filling out the paperwork this week. One would require me to serve as the local school librarian for a small town in Kentucky for six months, but I don’t think it would be too bad,” I rambled.

“Why are you talking to them about money?”

Failing to hear the warning tightness in his voice, I carried on. “Because I need to pay my tuition for this semester. I can’t take out any more loans and my parents have no intention of helping me.”

Dimitri twisted the base of his vodka glass between his finger and thumb. When he finally spoke, his words were low and measured. “I thought you understood that I didn’t want you begging men for money?”

I swallowed, belatedly realizing I had tripped into dangerous territory. The champagne and caviar turned sour in my stomach. Unable to meet his intense glare, I concentrated on rearranging the silverware in front of me.

“You said I shouldn’t still try to reach out to Mr. Fitzgerald’s son, which I haven’t.”

Dimitri leaned in, grasping my chin. “Emma, you defied me. I made myself clear on this subject. I would handle your tuition.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

“I didn’t think you were serious. We have only just met.

We’re practically strangers!”

His lower jaw shifted as if he were grinding my words in between his sharp teeth. “I’ve had my cock buried deep inside your sweet pussy and you’re calling me a stranger?”

My cheeks flamed. I wrenched my head aside. He only moved his hand to wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, forcing me to lean in over the table. His face only inches away.

The champagne buzz made me bold.

Dangerously so.

“We are strangers regardless! I’m not allowed to know what you do, who your parents are, nothing about you! No wonder you prefer to sleep with escorts; I bet they train them to keep their ears shut and mouths open!”

My jaw dropped as I slapped a hand over my mouth in a fruitless e ort to trap the words that had already escaped. I couldn’t believe I had said that!

“Dimitri! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,” I blurted out.

He released his hold on my neck. I fell back against the chair.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his money clip. He withdrew a small fortune in bills and dropped them on the table.

“We’re leaving. Now,” he ground out.

My face crumpled. I lowered my head, allowing my hair to fan out on either side to hide my tears.

Dimitri rose and whipped his suit jacket o the back of the chair. Without even bothering to put it on, he seized my hand and dragged me through the dining room.

Joseph noticed and opened his mouth to ask what was going on. A glare from Dimitri silenced him. He nodded and called out, “Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Kosgov,” as if nothing were amiss.

T HE SILENCE in the car was oppressive. I had wanted to just say I’d take the train home, but then I remembered I had no money or cell phone on me. My throat felt sore as I tried to hold back the tears. As I watched the lights of the city flash by, I realized he had missed the turn for Lake Shore Drive.

“You missed the turn,” I whispered, not wanting to anger him further.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the leather steering wheel harder. “No, I didn’t.”

Hating to have to push the issue, desperately just wishing for this torture to be over, I forced myself to respond, “Lake Shore Drive is the fastest way to my home.”

“I’m not taking you home.”

CHAPTER 13

T

hat one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. - William Shakespeare, Hamlet

D IMITRI

I SLAMMED my car door shut and stormed to the passenger side.

I flipped the handle up. It was locked.

Her big brown eyes stared up at me through the tinted glass.

Raising the key fob, I unlocked the door and opened it before the little minx could lock it again.

“Get out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Take me home.”

I resisted the urge to say she was home.

One fight at a time.

Placing my hands on either side of the open door, I leaned down. “моя крошка, I’m not a patient man. Now. Get. Out.” She pushed out her full bottom lip. “I don’t understand why you won’t take me home. You obviously don’t like me.

Why am I even here?”

I looked at the sky, praying to God for the patience He and I both knew I’d never possessed.

“What makes you think I don’t like you?”

“You’re always scowling whenever you’re around me. I can’t seem to do anything right.”

Enough of this.

Reaching into the car’s interior, I unlocked her seat belt and snagged her by the forearm, dragging her out. “Oh, trust me, baby girl. There is definitely one thing you do right.”

Opening the side door that led into my entryway, I pulled her over the threshold and quickly entered the eight-digit code to disable the alarm system. I locked the same door before re-arming the system. This time she wouldn’t be able to sneak out without me knowing the moment she tried to open a door.

“Take me home!” she demanded a second time.

“No.” She stamped her foot. “You can’t just keep me here against my will!”

I smirked. “Why not? It worked the first time.”

Her beautiful lips opened in shock as the most adorable pink blush crept over her cheeks.

“I’ll scream!”

I shrugged. “Doubt the neighbors would hear.”

“I’ll call the police.”

“You don’t have your cell and there aren’t any landlines in the house.”

She spun on her heel before diving for the front door.

“Locked.”

She held out her hand, palm up. “Key.” “No.” I walked past her as I loosened my tie. “Have you seen the library yet?”

Crossing the marble hallway, I entered the darkened room on the right. Easily maneuvering my way around the

whiskey-colored leather armchairs, I knelt to flip the lever on the gas fireplace. There was a rush of air, then the fake logs burst into flame, filling the space with warmth and a rosy glow. Rising, I headed to the sidebar as I saw her enter through the corner of my eye. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of a private library.

Pouring myself a drink, I walked over to the wide mahogany desk. Pushing aside the Cartier box I had casually tossed there, I leaned against the edge and watched her.

Walking around the room, she reverently ran her fingers over the leather-bound volumes. I filled my shelves with books on philosophy and political theory. There were countless shelves of both English and Russian classic literature and many treatises on the art of war, not to mention the binders filled with piano sheet music.

As someone who also loved to read, I knew she could tell how well-read each book was by the bent spines. This wasn’t some rich man’s showcase library packed with untouched books whose titles were chosen only to impress.

In fact, this room was the reason I had bought the house.

I loved the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined each wall and the beautiful emerald marble fireplace. I had filled it with large, cozy leather chairs for reading and a special table for playing chess.

She had finished circling the room and stood before the fire. I let the silence hang between us as I watched her play with the pleats of her skirt.

She cleared her throat. “What happens now?”

I cocked my head to the side. Took in how the firelight brought out the golden highlights in her tawny hair. How her ivory skin seemed to glow in the soft lighting. “Take o your clothes.”

Her fingers stilled as her head came up to stare at me with wild, wide eyes. “You’re not serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Dimitri…”

“Take o your clothes.”

“We can’t do this.”

“Wrong answer, моя крошка. This is already happening.”

“We’re too di erent. I’m not the right girl for you.”

“Why don’t you let me decide that… now take o your clothes.”

“Dimitri, we need to talk about this first.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes. Wait. What? Why are you asking?”

I took a sip from my drink before setting it on the desk. I stood up and unbuttoned my shirt. “You wanted to talk. Are you on birth control?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Too late, you already told me you were.”

“Well, it’s still none of your business!” she hu ed. Her beautiful eyes were stormy and dark.

Pulling my shirt free from my waistband, I yanked it over my head and tossed it aside as I kicked o my shoes. “As I’m about to sink my cock deep inside you bareback, I’d say it was very much so my business.”

“You’re about to do what?”

“Take o your clothes.”

“You can’t do that! What if the birth control fails?”

“Then I hope our daughter has your eyes.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I. I’m clean,” I quirked an eyebrow, “and we both know you are as well, so that only leaves the birth control matter.”

“You could still wear a condom.”

“Not an option.”

“Why?”

“Because this time I will feel every delicious bit of you and not through a fucking layer of rubber, that’s why.”

She is mine.

I had no intention of ever giving her up, and I meant what I’d said about hoping our daughter had her eyes. As far as I was concerned it settled the matter.

Keeping my gaze on her, I unbuckled my belt and pulled the thick black leather through the pant loops. I watched her throat move as she swallowed before licking her lips.

Raising my arm, I snapped it in the air, the loud cracking sound making her visibly jump.

Stalking toward her, I flicked the belt until it wrapped around her neck. Grasping the other end, I pulled her toward me.

Despite standing before the fire, her hands were cool as they splayed across my naked chest while she struggled to keep her balance. A sure sign of fear.

Releasing the belt from around her neck, I gave her a hard kiss before running my lips over her cheek, tasting her tears.

“Take. O . Your. Clothes.”

“Dimitri…”

Shifting the belt to one hand, I reached around her and lifted her skirt at the back. Raising my arm, I swatted her ass with the belt.

“No!” she cried out as she tried to escape my arms.

Bunching her skirt high on her hip, I pressed her tightly against my body and swatted her again.

“Ow! Stop!”

I gave her cute bottom several more swipes from my leather belt while grinding my hard cock against her stomach.

Leaning in, I inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair before whispering in her ear, “Don’t deny it, Emma. We both

know you get o on the pain. You like it when I order you to obey.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned.

“If I have to ask you one more time, I will drag you by your hair over to the desk and belt your ass raw,” I growled against her neck before biting her earlobe.

“Please…”

“Now, Emma.”

I took a step back as I wrapped the leather belt around my fist.

Visibly shaking, she reached for the hem of her sweater.

Taking a deep breath, she swiped it over her head. Just like before, she was wearing a simple white bra with a lace edge that gently cupped her generous curves. Even in the shadows cast by the fire, I could still make out the dusky outline of her nipples through the thin silk.

The sensual innocence of it all was sexy as hell. If I didn’t sink my cock in her soon, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.

Gesturing with my chin, I commanded roughly, “Now the skirt.”

Emma leaned down to unzip her knee-high leather boots.

“No, leave the boots on.”

Long strands of her hair curled just under her breasts as she lowered her head and reached her arms behind her. The skirt waistband loosened, dipping in front, giving me a glimpse of her panties.

“I’m waiting, Emma.”

The skirt fell to the floor. She was wearing a simple pair of white panties with a tiny lace heart over the right hip.

Fuck, she was beautiful. Standing there in a plain bra and panties with her long, lean legs encased in leather. There was no artifice about her. No practiced moves meant to ensnare and seduce. She made a simple pair of white panties

look sexier than the most expensive piece of scarlet red lingerie.

“Get on your knees.”

She bit her lip. Her shoulders shook, but still she obeyed me, awkwardly dropping to her knees.

I stepped toward her as I lowered the zipper on my pants.

Placing a finger under her chin, I tilted her head back.

Caressing her lower lip with my thumb, I asked, “Have you ever sucked a man’s cock?”

I knew she had been a virgin, and it was clear she was sexually inexperienced, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t tried some things. I braced myself for the wave of rage and hatred that was sure to hit my gut if she answered yes. It was selfish and greedy to want to be her first with everything, but then again, I was never good at sharing.

She licked her lips, sending a bolt of desire straight down my shaft.

“No, I’ve never. I don’t know… how…”

Fuck me. God bless adorable little book nerds and the stupid boys who don’t know their worth.

She was mine.

Truly mine in all things.

The power and surge of primal need almost sent me to my knees.

Men like me didn’t get women like her. Ever.

Their light was kept far away from our darkness.

I don’t know what I had ever done to deserve her knocking on my door that night, probably nothing, but that didn’t mean I would not hold on to her with both hands.

She was mine.

I reached into my pants and pulled out my cock. Stroking its length, I ordered, “Open your mouth.”

Her hands came up to rest against the tops of my thighs.

“Dimitri. I can’t. You’re too big. I don’t know how I could…”

“Open your mouth, baby.”

Her lips opened.

“Wider.”

She opened her mouth wider. I slipped the head in, groaning when the tip of her tongue swept across the sensitive crest.

“That’s it, baby. Swirl your tongue around the head.”

She did as she was told. I pushed in a little further. Her tongue swept the underside of my shaft. I buried my fingers into her hair, twisting her curls in my fist before thrusting forward. I felt the back of her throat as she tried to cry out.

Her teeth gently scraped against my cock as she reacted to the intrusion.

“Careful of your teeth or I’ll have to ring gag you.”

Her enormous eyes widened. She might not have much personal experience, but she knew what a ring gag was and what I could do with unfettered access to her mouth.

I pulled out slightly then thrust in again, keeping her head still with my firm grip on her hair. She gagged and choked. Shifting my hips back, I allowed her one deep breath before diving back into the welcoming warmth of her mouth.

“Brace yourself, моя крошка. I want you to try to swallow me deep.”

Her doe eyes pleaded with me as they filled with tears, and whether they were from her gagging around my cock or out of fear, I didn’t know or care. My need for her to suck my cock was too strong. Just the sight of her pink lips stretched taut around the shaft was enough to send me almost over the edge.

Her fingernails dug into my thighs as I pulled her head forward just as I thrust. She choked and tried to pull back, but I wouldn’t let her.

“Breathe through your nose.”

My teeth clenched so tight I swore one of them cracked as I restrained myself from just fucking her mouth deep and hard. Never in my life had I shown such restraint.

The muscles of her throat clenched around my shaft as her tongue furiously moved back and forth. Christ, the girl was a natural at this. This woman would be the death of me.

My cock glistened with her saliva as I thrust in and out of her mouth. Her resistance was weakening as her throat relaxed. I pushed in another inch deeper. Her shoulders hunched as she gagged. “Вот и все, детка. Соси это крепко. Проглоти мой член,” I growled.

Her eyes stayed trained on me as her right hand dipped between her legs. She rubbed her pussy through the wet silk of her panties. So the little minx got even more turned on when I spoke Russian? “У тебя самая сладкая и самая узкая киска, которую я когда-либо испытывал. Я не могу дождаться, чтобы глубоко погрузить свой член.”

She groaned, sending a shock of vibration up my shaft and straight to my balls. Would she have had the same reaction if she knew I had just told her she had the sweetest, tightest pussy I’d ever experienced and that I couldn’t wait to bury my cock in deep?

I couldn’t hold back much longer. Pulling free from her wet mouth, I fisted my shaft, stroking it violently. Yanking on her hair, I commanded, “Lick my cock,” as I spread my feet wider.

Her pink tongue stretched out to lave at the sensitive skin. “Трахни меня, моя крошка!”

Stepping back, I pulled her up by her hair and crushed my mouth against her swollen lips. Breaking free, I lifted her around the waist and took several steps backwards before swinging around. Standing her before my desk, I reached

down and tore her panties o her body before grabbing her around the middle and lifting her onto the desk.

Her mouth opened on a gasp the moment her punished and fire-heated ass hit the cold, hard surface. Shifting her forward, I positioned my cock at the entrance to her pussy.

Wrapping my hand around her neck, I rested my forehead against her own as I rasped out, “This will probably hurt, baby.”

Emma wrapped her leather-clad legs around my hips.

“Fuck me, Dimitri.” “Боже мой, женщина, ты собираешься убить меня!”

Growling that she would be the death of me in Russian, I pinched her clit just as I eased my cock into her tight sheath.

Emma moaned as she clawed at my chest and shoulders.

The sting of pain only spurred me on. Pushing her down onto the desk, I pounded my hips into her as I leaned over to suck one pert nipple deep into my mouth.

Her back arched. “Yes! Oh, God, yes!”

I pushed harder, my balls slapping against the bottom curve of her ass. The heels of her boots dug into my flesh as she stretched her arms over her head. Her body rocked back and forth with the force of my thrusts.

Reaching between us, I teased her clit, knowing I would taste her sweetness later tonight.

Her body bucked as her inner muscles clenched and tightened around my cock.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come for me now.”

Like the good little girl she was, she came for me. Her unadulterated orgasm one of the purest, most beautiful things I’d ever witnessed.

Shortly after, my cock swelled. Without the slightest regret, I filled her with my hot come. At the time, I had just been taunting her, but now I felt an overwhelming hope that my seed would take root.

It was a selfish, ungentlemanly thing to even ponder, but then again, I never claimed to be otherwise.

My entire life, I had only gotten what I wanted by taking it… why should Emma be any di erent?

And if she didn’t agree… well… her saying no hadn’t stopped me yet.

CHAPTER 14

F

or which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Emma

I

DIDN ’ T DARE MOVE .

I kept my eyes closed and held my breath.

Listening for any sounds of movement.

After several minutes, I peeked through the lashes of one eye. All I could see was a blur of white and gold from the bedcovers. Risking it, I opened and shut both eyes.

Nothing.

No one was beside me in bed.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t in the shower.

Once more I held my breath and listened.

All was quiet and still.

Keeping my eyes closed, I feigned sleep and rolled over.

Again, I flashed my eyes open, then closed.

The door to the bathroom was open. I could glimpse the large glass-enclosed shower chamber, and it was empty.

I didn’t think Dimitri was here.

Still, he could be downstairs.

I wriggled my toes. Fuck. I really needed to pee. Briefly I considered holding it till I got back to my apartment, but tossed that idea aside.

Seriously, how did women do this?

Waking up in a man’s bed.

I was a complete ball of nerves. I had no idea where I had left my clothes. I was certain my hair was a tangled mess of knots and I needed a toothbrush.

I glanced over at the indentation on the pillow next to me.

Sparing another quick glance around the bedroom, I leaned over and sni ed the soft fabric. It smelled like sandalwood and tobacco. It smelled like him.

Maybe this was why women were okay waking up in a strange room unafraid to get out of bed to go pee? Waking up to the masculine musky smell of a man while you laid warm and safe cuddled up in his bed made it all worth it.

The images of last night’s debauchery relentlessly assailed me.

The feel of Dimitri’s goatee against my cunt as he’d licked and laved at my clit till I’d had a second screaming orgasm as I’d laid draped half naked on top of his desk. The snap and sting of pain from his belt as he had playfully swatted at my ass as I ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Him pounding into me from behind as he’d pulled my hair and wrapped his hands around my throat.

It was all so wanton and kinky.

Until Dimitri, I’d had no idea I was even capable of such illicit behavior.

I mean, sure, I’d read about it in romance novels. Pictured myself as the lady captive tied to the pirate’s bed as he ravished me. Or the brazen villager who slapped the face of the Viking raiding her home only to be thrown against a wall and fucked senseless. Or my favorite, the shy governess who

turned out to be a spirited challenge to the moody, reclusive duke.

In my imagination I was always sexually confident, willing to try anything in bed, but never in a million years had I thought I would ever act on that in actual life!

For heaven’s sake, I had begged the man to fuck me last night.

And worse, for him to make it hurt.

That was the part I really couldn’t wrap my mind around.

How turned on I got when he spanked me. Or when he used his superior height and strength to bend me to his will.

Take your clothes o .

Oh, my God! I was getting wet just remembering the outrageous command.

Only an extremely arrogant, sexy-as-hell man like Dimitri could pull o making such a brazen demand from a woman.

In the firelight, with his strong muscular physique, shaved head, and roguish beard, he could easily have passed for a pirate Viking lord.

And when he spoke Russian!

I could not understand what he was saying, and it didn’t matter. The deep guttural growls su ced to send my mind reeling and my body over the edge.

Even after all the rough handling and kinky sex, he’d been thoughtful enough to order us food. It had been surreal sitting up naked in his bed eating a burger and splitting a side of fries like two teenagers. It surprised me when he even got a chocolate milkshake. Somehow it was hard to picture my big scary Russian boyfriend with a sweet tooth.

Was he my boyfriend?

Did I even want him to be?

The man practically admitted he was a criminal, a murderer even. He had made it clear I was not allowed to know anything about his work or family. Could you really have a meaningful relationship with someone like that?

Maybe I was overthinking this.

He was the first man I’d ever slept with, and already I was wondering what kind of china pattern was appropriate for a wedding to a Russian crime boss.

Hadn’t I read countless books in my life to know better than to become the shy girl who fell in love with the first guy who gave her the time of day? That rarely ended well for the girl.

Enough!

I needed to get out of this bed and stop thinking about everything that happened in it and out of it last night.

Slipping out of the bed, I tiptoed across the room to the bathroom. Still not sure if he was somewhere in the house, I pushed the door closed as softly as possible. Flicking the lock, I raced over to the toilet. Second-guessing myself, I ran back to double-check the lock before finally sitting down.

As I reached for the faucet to wash my hands, I noticed the diamond bracelet on my wrist.

Blinking several times, I stared at it as if I expected it to vanish like a mirage.

Careful not to get the bracelet wet, I toyed with it as I walked back into the bedroom. Spinning it around my wrist and watching the early morning sun cast tiny rainbows over the diamond facets.

For the life of me, I couldn’t remember him putting this on my wrist. I couldn’t blame the champagne. At most I had been a little buzzed at the restaurant, which loosened my tongue to devastating results, but I hadn’t drunk enough to not recall someone putting what looked like a crazy expensive bracelet on my wrist!

I kept spinning it, but I couldn’t see where it clasped. It looked like just one continuous thick band of silver and diamonds.

Perplexed, I peered around the room to decide what I should do next.

It was then I noticed a small lounge area with two chairs and a co ee table. Draped over the back of one chair were my belongings.

Grateful not only for the clothes but for something that was familiar and my own, I scrambled to put on the bra, sweater, and skirt, keeping my eye on the open bedroom doorway the entire time, expecting a tall Russian to come sauntering through at any moment.

Despite getting on my hands and knees and looking under the chair, I couldn’t find my panties.

Darn it. This was a full set from Victoria’s Secret. An unusual splurge for me.

It seemed funny that I was complaining about losing a fifteen-dollar pair of panties when I had a bracelet that was probably worth at least a couple thousand on my wrist.

Sitting in the chair to zip up my boots, I belatedly noticed the handwritten note on the table with the Cartier box next to it.

Checking the box to see if there were any instructions on how to remove the bracelet, I picked up the note and gasped when I saw the five crisp hundred-dollar bills under it.

My stomach twisted into a humiliated knot. Feeling angry and sick, I focused on the note, hoping the money didn’t mean what I thought it did.

His handwriting was atrocious!

I could barely make out the heavily slanted scrawl. Plus, it seemed he wrote everything all in lowercase. Walking over to the window, I held the page up for more sunlight and read.

E MMA , You looked too beautiful to waken. I had an early morning meeting I could not reschedule. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I left you money for cab fare and breakfast if you wanted to dine out. I will call you later. I got your cell number from Mary. I’ve already texted you mine.

Dimitri P.S. Don’t take the bracelet o . I want to see you wearing it when I see you tonight.

P.P.S. I’m keeping your panties.

I

at the last line.

How had he gotten Mary’s cell number? Oh, right, as I lay cuddled up in his arms, he had asked me for her number so he could text her that I was spending the night. It was such a thoughtful gesture, I’d fallen asleep with this warm feeling in my belly.

The man really was a frustrating ball of contradictions.

Arrogant super scary bully one minute.

Thoughtful and generous the next.

At least the money wasn’t on the dresser money.

Although someone should sit Dimitri down and explain to him the value of the American dollar. A girl didn’t need five hundred dollars for cab fare and an Egg McMu n! Wishing he had left smaller bills, I reluctantly took one of the hundred-dollar bills, vowing I would pay him back.

After leaving the bedroom, I ran back and snatched up the Cartier box before heading downstairs. Maybe there was an item number somewhere in the packaging that I could look up online. The man couldn’t honestly expect me to walk around with a diamond bracelet on my wrist all day. I wasn’t a Kardashian. Diamonds didn’t go with broke student chic.

BLUSHED

Shaking my head, for the thousandth time I wondered what he saw in me.

Clearly, he saw a di erent, far sexier and adventurous version of me than I did.

P ULLING my sleeve down over my wrist to cover the bracelet, I sheepishly handed the cab driver the hundred-dollar bill as I bit my lip, bracing for the barrage of curse words I knew were coming my way.

“I can’t take this! You have nothing smaller?”

“I’m really sorry! I could run inside and get my purse if you want?”

The man sighed. I cringed. I really hated inconveniencing the driver this way. If it were my money, I might have even been guilted into telling him to keep the change, but I’d already done that once this week and it had cost me my co ee money till next month. Plus, this technically wasn’t my money, it was Dimitri’s.

The man slammed each bill into my palm as he gru y counted out the change.

Holding a fist up to my mouth, my shoulders hunched as I squeaked out, “And a receipt, please.”

After catching the slight slip of paper that he threw at me, I exited the cab with a ‘thank you’ shouted over my shoulder.

Reflexively pulling on my sweater sleeve, I entered my building only to be greeted by complete chaos. Several large gru men with construction tools passed me in the hallway.

The clamor of bodies and activity got louder as I turned the corner.

Our apartment door was wide open, and I could hear Mary shouting.

“Careful with that! It’s an original Bu y the Vampire Slayer signed script!”

Crossing the threshold, my brow creased as my jaw fell.

Our tiny space was filled with men. They had removed the blinds over our windows. There was the sound of electric drills rending the air.

“Heads up, lady,” came a gru , heavily accented voice from above me.

Tilting my head back, I saw a man on a ladder drilling several holes into the drywall. Sitting in a box on top of the ladder seemed to be some sort of security system.

“Emma!” cried out Mary. “Thank God you’re finally here!”

While still cradling her framed Bu y script to her chest, with her free hand she grabbed my arm and pulled me deeper into the apartment. It was too loud to talk in the living room, so she dragged me to her bedroom and shut the door. It was only marginally quieter in there.

Gesturing to the door, I asked, “What is going on?”

Shoving several perfume bottles and scarves aside, Mary propped the script up against her vanity mirror before turning excited blue eyes on me. “It’s the craziest thing. At the ungodly hour of seven o’clock, there’s a knock on our door. I open it to find this drop dead gorgeous man dressed in the most expensive suit I’ve ever seen.”

Mary tilted her chin down and continued in an exaggerated Russian voice. “Iz zees the aparrrtment of Eeema Doyle, he says. I said yes. Then he says, my name iz Vaska.”

Grabbing her hands, I implored her, “You sound like Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle. Just tell me what the hell is going on in your normal voice.”

Mary pouted. “Spoilsport. Fine.”

Apparently, while I was sleeping, Dimitri had arranged for a small army of men to come to our apartment to install new door locks, a security system, and bars on the windows.

“Some men send flowers after a night of passionate sex.

Yours sends a high-tech security system,” giggled Mary.

“This isn’t funny, Mary. This can’t be normal!”

“Sweetie, what about your entire relationship has been normal?”

She had a good point, but still… I wasn’t sure how I felt about all this. It seemed a bit controlling and overreaching to me. First, he demanded he be the only one paying my tuition and now this. I self-consciously tugged on my sweater sleeve, which reminded me of the heavy piece of jewelry shackled to my wrist… oh, yeah… and the diamonds!

I didn’t have much experience with men, but this certainly wasn’t how any of my friends’ relationships ever went.

Looking at the digital clock by her bed, I cried out, “I will be late for class! Crap, I need to shower. I can’t shower with all these men here!”

Mary gestured to the far wall in her bedroom, on the other side of which was our elderly neighbor. “Do what I did.

Go over to Mrs. York’s and use her bathroom.”

“Good idea!”

Mary followed me back to my room, where we both had to step around a pile of wrought-iron bars that were meant for the windows.

As I dove into my closet, searching for something to wear, I called out, “Do you think it will piss the landlord o we did all this?”

Mary waved her hand in the air. “Who cares! The guy’s an asshole. Besides, I’m kind of happy about the additional security.”

She had a point. It thrilled neither of us to be living on a ground-floor apartment, but it was the best we could a ord.

Still…

An hour later, I was racing across the quad to class.

As I took my seat, I finally spared a glance at my phone to shut the ringer o .

There was a text from an unfamiliar number.

Good morning, моя крошка.

There was no doubt who it was from… Dimitri.

Just reading the words sent a shiver up my spine as if he had whispered them in my ear.

Slouching down in my chair, I yanked on my turtleneck sleeve to cover the bracelet I still couldn’t unlatch.

I was in over my head.

Dimitri was playing a sophisticated game of chess, and I was over here playing checkers.

Maybe it was time to end our mismatched game before it was too late?

CHAPTER 15

Y

our hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under ‘t’. - William Shakespeare, Macbeth

D IMITRI

I ACCEPTED the hot cup of co ee Vaska o ered with a scowl.

There were a thousand places I’d rather be than standing inside this cold, filthy warehouse. All of them with Emma.

“What has you in such a foul mood?”

Lifting the plastic lid to make sure the co ee was black how I liked it, I inhaled the earthy aroma before responding, “I left a warm bed to deal with these two morons.”

Vaska rubbed his hands together for warmth. His breath a frosty mist in the air. “At least yours wasn’t empty,” he grumbled.

“Karina mad at you again?” Vaska favored the volatile red-haired escort who had a tendency to throw tantrums… and knives… when she was drunk.

He shrugged. “I’m getting too old for this shit. At first it was fun but now… hell, I don’t know.”

I knew how my friend felt. Since Emma came unexpectedly into my life, my old ways seemed jaded and lackluster. I couldn’t ever remember allowing a woman to spend the night in my bed. Yet when I awoke with her curled up like a little kitten in my arms, I couldn’t imagine waking up any other way for the rest of my life.

I clasped him around the neck and met his eye. “If we are to get old, we will get old together, my friend, and thanks for overseeing that task this morning.”

“Actually I should be thanking you. That roommate of hers is something else.”

“You and she would probably get along. She shares your taste in cheap liquor,” I said, recalling the gasoline tequila shots from last night.

Vaska laughed as he clapped me on the back. “Let’s get this over with. There’s a rare steak and a bottle of Chianti with our name on it at Gibson’s.”

Pushing the sleeve of my wool overcoat up, I checked my watch. “They’re late.”

It was then we heard the roar of an engine. A metallic gold Ferrari Thunderbird roared into the loading dock of the empty warehouse where we were standing.

“Jesus Christ,” hu ed Vaska under his breath as we exchanged an annoyed glance.

The Petrov brothers emerged from the vehicle, wearing matching white and red Adidas tracksuits.

Without turning to look at him, I asked Vaska, “You still carry that .30 caliber Tokarev with you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Shoot me.”

He chuckled. “I’d rather shoot them, but this is a new suit.”

“Vaska Lukovich! Dimitri Antonovich!” the brothers called out in unison as they approached us.

Looking over their shoulders, I observed three more men in equally obnoxious tracksuits emerging from the back of the Ferrari. Vaska’s shoulders shifted as he widened his stance. He had noticed them as well.

Five against two.

Hardly seemed a fair fight.

For them.

“My friends! You are looking good,” said one brother. It didn’t matter which, they shared the same brain.

With a raised eyebrow, I pointedly checked my watch.

Neither Vaska nor I had said a word yet.

The other brother pounded his chest. “We are the same!

See! You look!”

He pushed up his tracksuit sleeve to expose his wrist. He had the same Ulysse Nardin Hannibal Tourbillon watch as me. It was a gift from a high-ranking Russian o cial after I’d made him tens of millions of dollars selling o abandoned military weapons from Russia’s 14th Army in Transnistria. Its watch face depicting the Hannibalic War made it strikingly unique.

It told me the Petrov brothers had no imagination; people who mimicked others rarely did. It also told me they could a ord a half-million dollar watch and an outrageous statussymbol car. They must move more product than we originally thought.

I exchanged a look with Vaska. We didn’t have to speak for me to know he was thinking the same thing. We had assumed the brothers had somehow stumbled upon the two crates of ORSIS-CT20s. After all, how could these two morons possibly have the diplomatic and military connections to get them through the usual backroom channels?

Throwing his arm wide behind him, the other brother asked, “Do you like our ride?”

I nodded. “It’s a great way to spend twice as much as for a Mercedes SL550.”

Vaska chimed in, “With none of that annoying good engineering or sleek style.”

His smile faltered. His eyes clouded over with that empty, vapid look stupid people get when they are not quite certain if they’ve been insulted or not.

I took a sip of my co ee. “As much as I’d love to chat about cars and watches in a freezing warehouse all morning, I really do have other matters to attend to today.”

“Anatoly, Andrei, if you would be so kind as to show us the merchandise? We do have other matters to attend to this morning,” interjected Vaska with an annoyed look at his watch.

With identical smirks, the two brothers turned, gesturing wildly to the men behind them and shouting instructions to pull out the crates.

Two men struggled with a long wooden crate between them as they followed the brothers back to us. I turned to toss my empty co ee cup in a nearby metal trashcan before signaling for the brothers to proceed.

Anatoly or maybe it was Andrei, what the fuck did I care which one, grabbed a crowbar and attempted to unhinge the nailed-down lid without much success.

Since this would obviously be awhile, I turned my back and checked my phone, frowning when I saw no answering text message from Emma. I had already texted her twice and gotten no response.

Glancing over my shoulder to see that the second brother had yanked the crowbar out of the other’s hands and was now also struggling to lift the lid, I took a few steps away and called her.

It went straight to voicemail.

Hello! You’ve reached Emma Doyle.

I’m probably in the library reading, so please leave a message!

“Emma, this is Dimitri. Call me back when you receive this message.”

Trying not to get annoyed, I focused my attention back on the matter at hand.

The brothers were now pushing and shoving at each other, arguing like children.

Their overpriced sneakers squeaked on the cement floor as they shu ed back and forth, trading verbal and physical jabs.

Vaska reached into his coat pocket and drew out a silver flask. Unscrewing the cap, he took a swig before handing it to me. I took a swig. “Damn you and that rotgut Moskovskaya Vodka you like!” I grimaced as I handed the flask back to him.

The brothers now each pulled out gold-plated Desert Eagle handguns and were pointing them at each other as they shouted juvenile insults. A more obnoxious I’m-awannabe-gangster gun could not be found, which meant it was fitting both carried one.

Vaska sighed. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Gentlemen, if I may?” I said as I stepped forward.

I retrieved the crowbar from the icy floor and easily jimmied the lid open. Vaska tossed it aside. I reached past the straw packing and pulled out one of the large caliber sniper rifles.

Flipping the gun on its left side, I looked for the manufacturer’s markings. It was the fastest way to see if I was dealing with a Russian-made gun or a much lowerquality Afghan knock-o . Etched into the metal, where I would have expected to find a stamp with an arrow in a triangle that would have signaled the factory in Izhevsk, or a simple star that would have meant the other factory in Tula, I saw a string of serial numbers with Latin letters.

Without a word, I handed the gun to Vaska. He also looked to the left of the receiver.

We exchanged a knowing look.

The guns were cheap knock-o s from Afghanistan.

“So do we have a deal for both crates?” asked Andrei. “I need to know now. We have many interested buyers, but as a courtesy to the Motherland we are coming to you first.”

“A courtesy,” repeated Vaska. “Did you hear that Dimitri, the Petrov brothers were giving us a courtesy.”

In unison, we both pulled our concealed guns.

Vaska held his .30 caliber Tokarev to Andrei’s head. I held my Glock17 to Anatoly’s head.

Both started shouting and crying.

“Shut the fuck up,” I yelled.

Looking wildly from one to the next, their three henchmen took several hesitant steps forward as they raised their guns.

“Tell your girlfriends to leave,” I snarled.

“Get back! Now!” called Anatoly to his three men as he inched his hand to his waistband.

I reached for his gun first and tossed it aside. Vaska did the same with the other brother’s gun. Not that it worried us.

I doubted the guns were even loaded, let alone that these two morons would know how to shoot such heavy firepower.

The three henchmen each ran from the warehouse.

“Looks like you weren’t a very good fuck in bed,” taunted Vaska.

I smirked. Vaska and I were never worried about extra men. Unlike in the movies, in our experience, hired hands were rarely paid enough to stick around for any actual violence. The moment they were expected to not just look tough but actually throw some lead, they usually fled.

“Gentlemen, you have jeopardized a lucrative business deal of ours.”

Andrei tried to speak.

Vaska cocked his gun. “Did we give you permission to talk?”

Andrei’s face crumpled as he whimpered, then his eyes grew round as he looked at the ground. Vaska jumped back.

“Goddamn it! These are Italian!”

The warehouse now reeked of dirt, oil and piss.

This morning just kept getting better and better.

“As of today, you are no longer in the gunrunning business, have I made myself clear?” I threatened.

“But there’s enough business for everyone,” whined Anatoly.

Vaska shrugged. “I guess you weren’t clear.”

Moving the gun from Anatoly’s head to his knee, I fired.

The man collapsed to the ground, screaming. His brother fell to his knees, crying over his wounded sibling.

Hunching down, I pressed my gun to Andrei’s head. He gaped at me, his entire body shaking.

“Have I made my point, or do I need to repeat myself?”

Vaska shook his head. “He really hates repeating himself.”

Anatoly continued to roll around on the ground, clutching his knee.

Andrei conceded. “Okay! Okay! No more guns.”

“And you’ll leave the city tonight.”

“Yes! Yes!” “Good. Since I know you are sorry for the trouble and inconvenience you’ve caused, we’ll accept these crates as an apology,” I announced as I un-cocked my gun and returned it to the holster concealed under my coat.

“And the Ferrari,” chimed in Vaska.

I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.

“And the Ferrari,” I finished sardonically.

Taking out my phone, I glanced to see if there were any new text messages from Emma.

None.

Dammit.

I then dialed the number for our associate who handled such things for us.

As soon as the phone picked up, I said, “I have a dog that needs to be taken to the vet. 117th and Parnell.” I hung up and looked at my watch. I would have just su cient time to meet the shipment coming into Midway. “Call the general.

Let him know the guns are knock-o s.”

“He’ll be satisfied to know none of the guns in his care walked o the base,” responded Vaska as he pulled out his phone to make the call.

“Hopefully pleased enough to look the other way when a few surface-to-air missiles do take a stroll.”

The moment our men arrived to clean up the mess, Vaska and I left. As we strolled the several blocks away where I had parked my Mercedes, I tried calling Emma again, then texted her.

I’m running out of patience, baby girl. Answer your phone.

“Woman problems?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped.

Maybe I’d pushed her too hard last night? I had been a little rough with her. I had to keep reminding myself she was still an innocent. It was di cult when her cute mouth was sucking my cock dry like a pro. Jesus Christ, that woman would be the death of me. She was so sensual and sexy as fuck. The biggest turn-on was how unaware she was of her own sexual appeal.

My gut twisted. I wasn’t used to caring this much about a woman, let alone giving a damn about how she spent her day away from me. Emma was di erent. It was driving me to

distraction, not knowing where she was or what she was doing.

Rationally, I knew she was probably in class, but what if she wasn’t?

What if she disobeyed me and went back into that basement room to shelve books, alone and unprotected?

I called her again.

No answer.

Damn, the woman had me acting like a schoolboy.

“Can you handle supervising this shipment?” I asked Vaska after we’d pulled into the private hangar at Midway.

He got out of the car and leaned back in to say, “Sure, I’ll hitch a ride back downtown with David. Where are you going?”

“Hunting,” I growled.

CHAPTER 16

I

both wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which followed this sleepless night. I wanted to hear his voice again, yet feared to meet his eye. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

I PUSHED the empty book cart behind the information desk and sat down on the rickety wooden chair with a hu . I had hoped getting lost in the stacks as I re-shelved books would take my mind o Dimitri, but it hadn’t worked. My mind kept wandering back to last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his hands and mouth on my body. My rational side kept screaming that there were too many red flags, that he was dangerous, that I needed to cut and run now before I got in over my head.

Unfortunately, my emotional side kept sing-songing tooooo late!

Pushing up my sleeve, I touched the diamond bracelet.

Earlier today it had felt heavy and foreign on my wrist, but now the metal had warmed. I liked how the diamonds sparkled and danced in any light. I also loved what the

bracelet seemed to represent. My inner heroine. The bold, sassy woman who had the power to capture the attention of a man like Dimitri. Even if it was just an illusion.

Looking around to make sure Old Sour Berry wasn’t watching, I leaned down and opened the rusted metal file drawer where I stashed my backpack while at work.

Digging into the front pocket, I searched for my phone.

Pressing the home button, the screen lit up.

My heart sank.

No new messages or calls from Dimitri.

Just as I was about to put the phone away, a notification pinged.

My earlier responding text message to him had failed to send.

Stupid old phone. I desperately needed a new one. This one was over three years old, which was a lifetime for an iPhone, and it was always acting up and losing service.

Darn it. I had spent half of class thinking up the perfect response, which made me sound sophisticated and aloof yet appreciative.

Good morning to you as well.

Okay, so it wasn’t Shakespeare, but I was new at this.

Just as I was deleting the failed text, my phone notifications started pinging again.

One. Two. Three.

Four.

Missed calls from Dimitri.

Uh oh.

Then the late text messages from him started pinging.

This was bad… really bad.

My head spun as all the blood left my body.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

A text from Mary warning me in her own special way that Dimitri was mad.

Remember Bu y Season Two Episode Fourteen when Angel goes all evil demon after kissing Bu y?

Well, sharpen your spike cause Dimitri’s looking for you.

Now the late voicemails were coming through.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to flee the country?

I heard Canada was lovely this time of year.

Just as my frozen brain came up with the idea to call Mary for advice, there was a tremendous crash as both heavy double doors to the Newberry Library swung open simultaneously.

Dimitri had found me.

I knew it wasn’t possible, but I’d swear it looked like he emerged through a cloud of smoke and dramatic music as he crossed the threshold. Even from across the vast marble hall, I could see the deep scowl etched on his face and his hands clenched into fists.

So I did the mature adult thing… I ran.

Dropping my phone, I took o to the right.

“Emma!” roared Dimitri.

I didn’t look back. Running down the main aisle, I veered to the left between two narrow floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

My breathing came in ragged bursts as I unsuccessfully tried to calm my racing heart as I hunched down low.

Over the pounding in my ears, I heard the soft scrape of a shoe.

At this time of night, the library was mostly deserted.

Usually only a few scholars and graduate students on the upper floors. There was never anyone among the shelves, which is one reason I enjoyed working this later shift. It was my job to re-shelve and straighten the stacks after a day of

countless people pulling out research material. It was peaceful and relaxing to just be with the books… but not tonight.

There was a rustle of clothing.

Peeking out through the space above the books, I glimpsed Dimitri as he shrugged out of his coat. He tossed it over an abandoned book cart.

“Emma, baby. I know you’re in here.”

Hoping the echoes and shadows would conceal my location, I called out, “I’m not coming out till you say you’re not mad!”

Through the slit above the texts, I saw him whip his head in my direction.

With a cry, I took flight just as his enormous form appeared at the other end of the narrow aisle. Zigzagging between the familiar bookcases, I eluded him a second time.

Crouching down in the Library of Congress GR700-860 Section of Folklore—Animals, Plants, and Minerals, I once more listened for signs of his approach. My gaze fell on Theresa Bane’s Encyclopedia of Beasts and Monsters in Myth, Legend, and Folklore. Maybe it contained advice on how to soothe the anger of a beastly Russian giant.

“I will not lie to you, моя крошка. I’m furious and getting angrier. So I suggest you show yourself before your punishment gets worse.”

Punishment?

Visions of him taking o his belt and forcing me to flip up my skirt as I prostrated myself over his desk besieged my conscious mind. The way my body instantly responded to such a possibility felt twisted and wrong.

I listened but didn’t hear any movement.

This was childish and silly, I knew, but I couldn’t help it.

If I could just circle back to the front desk, I’d left the file drawer open with my backpack in it. I could snatch it up and

race through the fire exit to the left. I’d noticed it was not armed because the other employees were always unhooking the wire so they could use that door to go out and smoke. It would give Dimitri time to cool down before I saw him again.

Although really, what was the big deal? It was just a couple of missed calls and texts. My mistake was then saying that out loud.

“That’s not the point,” he ground out. “I associate with dangerous people so I need to know you are safe, which means when I call, I expect you to answer your phone.”

That last bit was said so loudly and with such aggression his words echoed o the marble walls.

He was so mad right now that he had given away a small tidbit of what he did for a living. I had already guessed it was probably something illegal, but now I knew it was dangerous as well.

Red flag!

Red flag!

Red flag!

My rational mind screamed.

That’s bad boy sexxxxxyyyy hot!

Sing-songed my emotional side.

Taking a risk, I bolted across the main aisle.

His enormous form was a dark outline several bookshelves away.

I was now on the same side as the information desk. I just needed to race past ten bookshelves and down the open marble hallway to get my backpack and lunge for the exit.

Lowering to my hands and knees, I cringed as my palms contacted the cold and dusty linoleum floor. My gold and navy blue sweater dress rode up the back of my thighs.

Cringing when the rubber sole of my leather boot squeaked against the floor as I rose up on one knee to sneak another peek, I ducked my head low and continued to crawl to the

end of the aisle. Daring to peek out from the shelves into the side aisle, I looked right and left but saw nothing.

I had a clear path back to the information desk.

“You’re mine now.”

The low, guttural growl of his voice came from directly behind me. Without even bothering to look, I pushed o with my palms as I rose on my toes, ready to launch across the room at a run. A strong band wrapped around my waist. My feet left the floor as a hand clapped over my mouth. I kicked out, sending an entire section of books tumbling o the shelf.

Holding me tight, Dimitri carried me to the secluded back area of the library where along the wall were a series of reading rooms, small soundproof spaces where patrons could listen to classic recordings and lectures.

Carrying me into one of the confined spaces, he slammed the door shut and pulled down the blinds. As long as we were in this room… no one would hear me scream.

The room only had a slab of polished wood as a modified desk and a wooden spindle chair. The moment my feet touched the floor, I tried to place the chair between us.

Dimitri grabbed it by the back, opened the door, and tossed it out.

“Hel—” I didn’t even get the word out before the door slammed shut again.

He was breathing heavily through his nostrils, whether from rage or exertion I couldn’t tell.

“You broke a rule.” His wide shoulders almost took up the entire space as he loomed over me.

“My phone sucks. I didn’t know you were trying to reach me.”

“That’s no excuse. Turn around and lift your dress.”

“You can’t think to punish me here!”

“I said, turn around and lift your dress.”

“This isn’t fair! You still haven’t told me the rules!”

“Rule number one is always answer your phone when I call.”

Feeling peevish, my face twisted into a smirk. “I thought rule number one was don’t go down into the stacks!”

His brow creased as he leaned in. “You really want to test my anger, little girl? Lift your dress and bend over.”

I crossed my arms over my middle. “And if I don’t?”

He wrapped his hand around my throat. “You want to see how furious I can become?”

“This isn’t fair. It was my phone’s fault.”

Releasing my throat, he placed his hands on my hips and spun me around. My palms flattened on the makeshift desk as I steadied my balance while he wrenched my dress up high, exposing my pale pink panties. His thick fingers dug into the waistband. The flimsy fabric easily tore, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

Humid air filled the room as my excited breathing intensified with my fear.

There was a rustle of clothing, then the unmistakable muted clicking sound of a zipper being lowered. He kicked at my feet, widening my stance.

One thick finger pushed between my cunt lips, feeling the traitorous wet warmth.

“That’s my girl.”

The bulbous head of his shaft pushed against my entrance. My ass cheeks clenched as I knew it would hurt when he thrust in deep. It had only been a few times, but every time his cock first entered me it burned as my body tried to stretch to accommodate his girth. It was as if I was a virgin all over again each time he fucked me.

The tip pushed inside. My tight ring of muscle closed around the thick ridge.

His hand ran over the top of my thigh to my stomach to slip under the hem of my dress to grasp my right breast. He squeezed the delicate curve roughly as he pulled me upright, flush to his chest.

I cried out as his cock slipped in a little further.

“Beg me to hurt you,” he ground out against my neck as he scraped his teeth against my skin. “Tell me you deserve the pain.”

The fingertips of his other hand pressed into my hip before shifting to cup my sex. Rolling my clit between his forefinger and thumb, he ruthlessly pinched down.

With a scream, I rose on my toes, vainly trying to escape the pain.

He then squeezed my nipple through the thin bra fabric.

Shocks of electric pain rippled up and down my spine.

“Say it. Beg me to hurt you.”

My agonized arousal was clear. There was no point in denying him what he wanted.

“Hurt me, Dimitri. Hurt me!”

He drove in so hard and fast it lifted me o my feet from the force of it. My mouth opened on a scream right as his fingers, which had been on my cunt, pushed between my lips. I could taste my arousal as he pounded into me. Driving his shaft deep till I felt I was being impaled, body and soul.

The aggressive thrust of his hips rocked me forward till I collapsed on the narrow desktop. It was then he wrapped one of his massive hands around my waist and drove in harder… and harder.

Pain danced with pleasure as I felt filled beyond measure.

I was certain he was bruising my internal organs as he relentlessly fucked me.

He pushed his fingers deeper into my mouth till I gagged and choked.

“Suck on them. Take them in deep.”

My tongue swirled over his salty skin as I tried to breathe through my nose. My hand reached between my legs and furiously rubbed my clit with the same rhythm as his thrusts.

His hand left my hip to spank my right ass cheek.

His three fingers mu ed my shocked scream by gagging me.

He spanked me again. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind I would have the full imprint of his hand on my ass for hours to come. The heat and stinging pain washed over me as I could feel my body crest.

His thumb crept between my ass cheeks till it caressed my dark hole.

I clenched it in response.

“This will be your true punishment later.”

My eyes widened. No! No, he couldn’t possibly think to… no!

He pushed his thumb past my resisting sphincter to the first knuckle.

My hand slammed down on the desk several times as my body adapted to the feel of him dominating me in all my holes as I adjusted to the knowledge this was only the beginning.

His thumb shifted in and out of my ass, opening me.

Sending twisted shocks of pleasurable agony between my legs.

“Come for me, baby. Now,” he commanded.

I obeyed.

Helplessly biting down on his fingers as my body betrayed me with an all-consuming orgasm, I collapsed forward, resting my cheek on the cool surface of the wood plank as he thrust in deep several more times. His cock swelled deep inside of me before he pumped his come into my core.

Our mixed ragged breathing was all that could be heard in the humid room. I could feel the sweat between my breasts and shoulder blades as Dimitri slowly pulled out.

Pulling his fingers from my mouth, he once more cupped my sex.

Dipping his fingers inside, he then returned them to my mouth.

“Lick them clean. Taste the come that’s inside of you.”

It felt dirty and wrong… I did it anyway. Laving my tongue around each fingertip, exalting in the taste of our mutual passion.

It was sometime later, after righting our clothes, that we exited the room, right into the path of Old Sour Berry.

CHAPTER 17

T

here can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness.

- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

D IMITRI

T HE OLDER WOMAN looked like a wet bird. Her neck craned high as her frail body shook with outrage.

“Miss Doyle, what is the meaning of this?”

I pushed Emma behind me. I could feel her nervously clutching at my suit jacket.

Deliberately deepening my accent, I smiled. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had the pleasure.” I held out my hand.

The woman reached for her glasses suspended from her neck by a beaded chain. Putting them on, she looked at my face, then my hand, back to my face. Her ru ed feathers smoothed a bit.

Holding out her pale, blue-veined hand, her thin lips stretched over her teeth. “Hortense Sowerberry.”

Leaning over, I kissed the top of her hand, inhaling the thick aroma of stale rose petals. “Charmed. I am Dimitri Antonovich Kosgov at your service.”

Mrs. Sowerberry’s free hand fluttered to cover her mouth.

“Oh, my!”

Emma breathed a disgusted hu behind me. I gave her booted foot a small kick in warning.

“Your protégé, who I could only assume learned her vast knowledge of this splendid library under your direct tutelage, was just giving me a tour of your collection.”

“Has she shown you the Shakespeare folios yet, Mr. Kosgov?”

My mouth turned down as I shook my head in disappointment. “Alas, I do not have time this evening, but perhaps you could show me the folios another time?”

She giggled like a schoolgirl as a nervous hand reached up to smooth her already tight bun. “I’d be honored.”

“Hortense, may I call you Hortense?”

Fingers fluttered over her heart. “You may.”

“Hortense, I was wondering if I could steal away your protégé for the rest of the evening.”

She turned to look at the two full book carts standing nearby. “Well, Mr. Kosgov, there still is a great deal of work to be done.”

“I’ve already shelved three car—” broke in Emma as she tried to move past me.

I swept out an arm to shove her behind me once more.

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but…” I leaned down to whisper into Hortense’s ear.

Her cheeks bloomed with color. “That sounds so romantic,” she breathed.

“So may I steal Emma away?”

She nodded but craned her neck to see around my shoulder. “Be here an hour earlier tomorrow to make up the time.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sowerberry. Thank you, Mrs. Sowerberry,” came Emma’s obedient response.

On my way to Midway airport earlier today, I had contacted my accountant about paying o the rest of her tuition. Now I would have to look into these side jobs of hers.

I didn’t like her having to answer to this woman or anyone else but me. If a job like this was required for her to obtain her dream job of being a librarian, well then, perhaps I would just contribute substantially to the library in her name. That would guarantee they treated her with respect. But that was a problem for later. Now I had the rest of the evening with Emma.

Reaching behind me, I felt a surge of pleasure when her small hand slipped into mine. I’d never really been the type to hold hands with a woman. That was a little too domestic for a man like me, but there was something about having her hand securely enclosed within my own that pleased me.

“It was a pleasure, madam.”

I pulled Emma down the main aisle, pausing only to retrieve my overcoat and her coat and backpack before exiting the library.

E MMA WAS BUCKLING her seat belt as I slipped into the driver’s seat. Reaching behind her, I grabbed the Apple bag and placed it on her lap.

“What is this?”

“A new phone,” I responded as I checked my mirrors and pulled away from the curb, pointing the car toward Michigan Avenue.

“I don’t need a new…” She stopped at my glare. “Okay, I need a new phone, but I can’t let you buy me one.”

“It’s done.”

She sighed. Setting the bag on the floor at her feet, she turned in her seat. “I think we need to talk.”

I gripped the steering wheel harder. “There is nothing to talk about, Emma. You will do as you’re told.”

“Dimitri, you can’t go around doing these things for me.”

“Why not?”

She threw up her hands as her voice pitched higher.

“Because you can’t! O ering to pay my tuition. Sending a crew of men to install a security system in my apartment.

Buying me a phone. Buying me this! It’s too much!”

She pushed up her sleeve to flash the diamond bracelet I had secured around her wrist while she slept last night. I was pleased she had obeyed me and left my gift on. Not that she had much of a choice. The bracelet had a hidden clasp, di cult to open if you didn’t know where to look.

I’d been taken aback at the vision of her creamy, pinkflushed skin and kiss-swollen lips as she’d lain sated within my arms. Her rich, tawny hair fanned out over my shoulder and pillow. The sight of her wearing the diamonds I had bought her completed the image. моя крошка.

My little one.

She was so small and vulnerable.

I wanted to tie her to my bed and never let her leave to keep her safe by my side.

“You’ve probably spent thousands on me already and it’s just not right. We’ve barely started dating. This just isn’t normal new boyfriend stu ! Even I know that!”

This was not the time to inform her that the bracelet on her wrist was worth a quarter of a million dollars, which was a trifling compared to my net worth, or that I had already paid o her tuition and loans.

I caressed her cheek, brushing her cute bangs aside to get an unobstructed view of her expressive eyes. “Tell you what.

Tonight I will behave like a normal boyfriend. I’ll take you to dinner.”

She leaned back in her seat. Her head tilted as those same beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just dinner and maybe something fun afterwards.”

“No more gifts.”

I thought of what I had tucked inside my suit pocket.

Flashing her a wink, I admitted, “I have one small gift, but I promise, it cost less than ten dollars. Surely that must fall within normal boyfriend territory?”

Her pink lips pursed. “I suppose so.” She lifted her arm and pointed a finger at me. “A normal date. Then I go home.”

“We’ll see about that last part.”

I may have installed security measures at her home after being horrified to learn she lived in a ground-floor apartment, but that wasn’t because I expected her to sleep there. From this point forward, her place was in my bed. I just wanted her to feel better about leaving Mary alone there.

I was already arranging for a suitable house close to campus where I would allow her to stay with her roommate when I was out of town so she wouldn’t be alone. The moment I returned I would expect her back at my home, in my bed.

I had it all planned out.

When the time was right, I would inform Emma.

E MMA SLID into the crimson leather booth as I shrugged out of my suit jacket.

“Dimitri Antonovich, it has been too long!”

I grasped the tuxedoed man who approached us with menus around the neck as he leaned in to kiss both my cheeks. “Sasha, my friend. It has been too long.”

“I see you have brought a charming companion with you this evening.” Sasha bowed. “Sasha Oleg Nikitin at your service.”

Her cheeks blushed sweetly at the gallant introduction as her gaze sought mine.

“Emma, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine, Sasha.”

She nodded before responding in her soft, sweet voice, “It’s nice to meet you.” “Дмитрий, ты везучий пес. Если бы я был моложе.” “Даже не думай об этом, старый друг. Она моя,” I snapped back, only half jesting.

Sasha raised his arms high, palms up. “Я бы не посмел. Я рада за тебя, мой друг.”

Emma looked between us, her brow creased.

I slid into the booth next to her and placed my arm protectively over her shoulders.

“We are being ungentlemanly, my friend.”

Sasha placed a hand over his heart. “A thousand apologies. We shall toast to your good fortune.”

He pointed at me. “A Stoli Elit for you.”

I nodded. “You remembered.”

Sasha smiled. “And I’m thinking a black currant tea for the lady.”

He walked away, and Emma turned to me. “Don’t I get to toast as well?”

I tapped her on the nose. She just looked so adorable. “Of course.”

“But he’s bringing me a tea!”

“He’s bringing you a black currant tea-flavored vodka shot,” I corrected as I picked up a menu. Perusing the contents I already knew by heart. Although I didn’t get here often, The Russian Tea Time restaurant was one of my personal favorites. I liked the cozy atmosphere and the

Russian music playing softly in the background. It was a charming place in the shadow of the Art Institute that always felt like a bit of home.

Emma picked up her own menu. “I thought Russians were prudes about their vodka. I always figured flavored vodkas were an American thing.”

“Russians were making flavored vodkas since before America was a country,” I boasted.

“Do you always drink vodka?”

“Why, does that make me too stereotypically Russian?” I asked with a wink.

She settled her hand on my upper arm. “No, I didn’t mean to imply that, I was just wondering.”

The warmth of her hand permeated through my thin shirt. It was the second time she had willingly touched me.

The first was earlier tonight when she had trustingly placed her hand in mine. All other times I would be the one to grasp her hand or pull her into my embrace. Despite our dubious start and my admittedly high-handed tactics, she was slowly becoming more comfortable around me.

The beast was charming the beauty.

“I like the occasional whiskey or lager, but I prefer vodka.”

“I need to check out a book on Russian culture. I already have one on…” She stopped, biting her lip as she lowered her head. She pulled her hand o my arm and placed it in her lap. I already missed the gentle feel of it.

“A book on what, моя крошка?” I caressed her cheek with the hand wrapped around her shoulders, trying to recapture the ease she had felt just a moment earlier.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

It was then I recalled our conversation over dinner last night. My little librarian had checked out a book on Russian prison tattoos and innocently guessed some of my secrets.

The idea of her learning that much about me before I had secured her a ections alarmed me. I’d overreacted. While it was true I had no intention of telling her the actual nature of my business, that didn’t mean I couldn’t share some details about my life with her.

Feeling the need to make amends, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Would you like to know about my teddy bear tattoo?”

Her face lit up as she bounced in her seat, clapping her hands. “Yes! I’m dying to know!”

Only Vaska knew the story I was about to relate to her. As we waited for our drinks, I told her the drunken tale of how I’d wound up with a tattoo on my left shoulder of Cheburashka, a popular cartoon character from my childhood.

It involved a classmate’s pet monkey and a bet that went horribly wrong. But at least my tattoo wasn’t as embarrassing as Vaska’s.

Emma covered her mouth as she laughed out loud at my schoolboy antics.

“So what is Vaska’s tattoo?”

“You must ask him when you meet him.”

Funny how it just seemed natural to me that I would eventually introduce her to my best friend, considering I had never done so with any other woman, but then, I had known Emma would be di erent from the start.

“I must ask him to show it to me.”

Knowing where his tattoo was placed, I playfully tugged on her hair. “You will do no such thing.”

She giggled. “That bad, huh?”

Before I could answer, Sasha returned with a rectangular wooden tray with three shot glasses balanced on it. Reaching out, I picked up my own and handed the black currant tea one to Emma. Sasha selected the last one and raised it high.

“За нашу дружбу!” Then for Emma’s benefit he repeated in English, “To our friendship!”

We all three drank.

My cock swelled as I watched her lick the sweet drops from her lips. Never in my life had I met such a beautiful temptress so unaware of her sexual appeal. Thank God I had found her before any other man.

After ordering piroshkies, shashlik, and a few cherbureki for our dinner, Sasha left, and I returned my attention to Emma.

“So why haven’t you covered the tattoo up?” she asked.

I looked at my sleeve where I could see the faintest outline of the brown and orange tattoo. “The little guy grew on me. Why, do you think I should cover it up?”

She leaned in, placing a warm hand on the center of my chest, her head tilted up to meet my gaze. I could get lost in her eyes. I loved how they were the color of chocolate and turned down slightly at the ends. It gave her this innocence lost appeal. She gave me a sweet kiss. Running the tip of my tongue over my lower lip, I could taste the vodka on her lips.

“Don’t. I love it. It makes you seem just a little less scary and beastly.”

I bared my teeth and gave her a playful growl.

Just then, our food and another round of shots arrived.

Needing to distract her from asking any more personal questions about me, I quizzed her about becoming a librarian.

“My dream would be to work for the Folger Library in Washington, D.C. They have the largest collection of Shakespeare’s first folios in the world, but it is really competitive. I’d also be fine being in charge of a cute little neighborhood library, organizing reading events for the kids and book clubs for the adults. It would also be nice to travel around the world visiting all the great libraries.”

My hand curled into a fist around the empty shot glass I was holding. I had to force myself to let go before I broke it.

I really was a selfish bastard.

Here was this beautiful, innocent girl describing her bucolic dreams to me, not realizing what a dark shadow had entered her life. If she stayed with me I wasn’t sure such a simple, normal existence would be possible. Eventually she would have to find out I was a dangerous man. I knew she already suspected, but I doubt she realized just how deeply I was involved in the criminal underworld. I had armed entire armies, often both sides of the same conflict.

Sweet, respectable librarians didn’t date ruthless arms dealers.

And I was the worst sort… because I still had no intention of letting her go.

CHAPTER 18

I

love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. - William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Emma

M Y HAND WRAPPED around Dimitri’s hard bicep as I brushed my cheek against the soft wool of his overcoat. I inhaled the sandalwood scent of his cologne that clung to the fabric, as the biting night air chilled my vodka-warmed cheeks.

Was there ever a more perfect moment than this?

Feeling the energy of the city as the tiny lights from the high-rises competed with the bright stars in the sky, we walked down Michigan Avenue past Millennium Park.

Catching the envious glances of other females as we passed, I tightened my grasp. In response, Dimitri put his hand over mine.

“Just a little further,” he whispered against my hair before giving the side of my forehead a kiss.

There was a fluttering in my chest that had nothing to do with the flavored vodka shots I had enjoyed. In only a few days, this man, who had charged into my life like a bull in a

china shop, had completely stolen my heart. There was no point in denying it. Of course, I was a naïve ingénue, falling for the first man to show me a ection, but it was what it was.

I was in love with him.

He was charming and handsome and sexy as hell. I loved how he appeared like this super scary tattooed criminal but was actually an incredibly intelligent and cultured gentleman. There was also the primal, decidedly less feminist side of me that exhilarated in his brute strength and how he would just grab me and take what he wanted when he wanted it. In some twisted way, the fear he inspired somehow increased my arousal. I was defenseless against both the physical power of his grasp and the soulful passion it awoke.

It was like living inside a romance novel. Unfortunately, there would be no happy ending for me.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind he would break my heart.

I was a novelty to him and soon he would tire of me and go back to his sophisticated women who drank champagne and knew how to eat caviar.

I took a deep breath, the frigid air bracing me.

My eyes teared.

It was odd to realize that one day he would think of me as his ex-girlfriend, if even that. Probably just the silly little girl who wore plaid skirts and had barely kissed a boy before meeting him.

And yet to me, he would always be the one.

I couldn’t even imagine anyone ever coming close to competing with Dimitri in my mind.

“What’s wrong, моя крошка?” His brow wrinkled as he looked down at me with concern.

I sni ed. “Nothing. The wind got in my eyes.”

And that unbelievably sexy accent.

How he calls me his little one in Russian.

I think I would miss that most of all.

Dodging a quick-moving cab, Dimitri wrapped an arm securely around my waist as we passed the darkened windows of the Chicago Cultural Center and turned left onto State Street. I could see the iconic gold and red sign of the Chicago Theater loom large as we dashed down the busy thoroughfare. We weren’t close enough for me to read the marquee but I knew it could be anything from a concert, to a play, to a comedy show.

“Are we seeing a performance at the theater?”

Dimitri shook his head. “You’ll see.”

We then crossed the street till we were standing before the Gene Siskel Film Center.

My eyebrows shot up. “You’re taking me to the movies?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

Walking a step back, I gestured with my hand, sweeping him up and down. “Because you don’t look like the movie going type.”

He chucked me under the chin. “Well, my dear Emma, there is a lot about me you don’t know.” He then opened the heavy glass door and gestured for me to enter.

My smile faltered as I passed him.

Yes, there was a lot about him I didn’t know.

More important, there was a lot he didn’t want me to know.

Shaking o the dark thought, I focused on the here and now. I was having a normal date with a man who I could pretend at least for a little while was a normal boyfriend.

We entered the simple white lobby, which was adorned with black-framed movie posters. Dimitri headed to the glass-enclosed ticket booth.

“I’m Mr. Kosgov. I believe you’re expecting us.”

My brow wrinkled. That didn’t sound like the usual movie ticket exchange, but then again this was more of an artistic film center than a regular movie theater, so perhaps the showings were invitation only.

“Yes. Mr. Kosgov. We have made the arrangements.

You’re the first theater to the left.”

Dimitri put his arm around me. Before moving to the theater, he led me over to the concession stand. “Popcorn?

Candy?”

This was fun!

I hadn’t been on a movie date since that one time in high school.

“Yes, please! I’ll take some M&Ms.” Dimitri pulled out his money clip. “One package of M&Ms and one package of JellyBellys.”

“You’re joking.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“The big, scary Russian guy likes jelly beans?”

He opened the bag of brightly colored candy. Rooting around, he chose two jelly beans. “Open your mouth.”

I clenched my thighs at the command, instantly remembering the less than innocent times he would have given that same order. His silver eyes darkened to smoked steel. Seems he remembered too.

Nervously licking my lips, I opened my mouth.

Dimitri stepped close as a low growl rumbled down in his chest. “Don’t think being in public will save you, little minx.” He then placed two jelly beans on my tongue.

I slowly chewed, liking the sweet burst of creamy sarsaparilla.

“That is my favorite combination. Root beer and French vanilla.”

“You truly are a man of many surprises, Dimitri Antonovich,” I said, using the greeting I had heard his

Russian friend use, as I took his arm and let him lead me to the theater doors.

It was cool and dark as we entered the silent room.

Strategically placed spotlights shone over the empty burntorange chairs.

“It looks like we are the first ones here,” I observed as my gaze wondered over all the empty seats.

Dimitri gestured to some larger seats in the first row after the aisle directly in the middle. Unlike the usual movie theater seats, these were slightly wider and reclined back.

Mary and I had experienced them at the Webster Theater when we had gone to see the special showing of BBC’s Sherlock The Abominable Bride. “These seats are the best! It’s like watching a movie in your living room.”

Dimitri shrugged out of his overcoat and suit jacket and laid them to one side before slipping my coat o my shoulders. I adjusted my sweater dress before sitting down.

The first thing he did when he took his seat was to raise the middle arm. My stomach gave a little flip of excitement. Now it was like we were relaxing on our own cozy loveseat. Too bad other people would shortly arrive.

Dimitri opened my M&Ms for me and handed me the bag.

Tucking my legs up to the side, I placed the candy bag in the empty cup holder and took out a few, popping them in my mouth. I finally asked, “What movie are we seeing?”

“Anna Karenina.”

I put my hands over my heart. “I adore that book. There can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness.

Such a tragic love story.”

Dimitri leaned in, his gaze intense and serious. He ran the back of his knuckles along my jawline before stroking my bottom lip with his thumb. “Do you think it was worth it?”

Entranced by his silvery gaze, I didn’t understand the question. I was too busy taking in the hard, masculine planes

of his face with his square jaw and slightly crooked nose and sloping, brooding brow. He was Heathcli from Wuthering Heights brought to life.

“Was what worth it?” I asked, distracted.

“Their love. Would you risk so much unhappiness for a moment of genuine passion?”

My cheeks flushed from the heat of his gaze, knowing he wasn’t asking my opinion on Leo Tolstoy’s classic novel.

“Yes,” I answered with no hesitation.

“Even if you knew there may be no future in it? Or worse, only pain?”

“Yes. As long as I was loved, I think I could bear anything.”

“My sweet baby girl, you really are a treasure.”

I warmed under his approving look.

Was this his way of saying he loved me?

Probably not, I was just being fanciful and letting my imagination get away from me again. It was ridiculously too soon for either of us to admit such a thing.

Even though one of us was pretty sure she was already head over heels.

The theater darkened as the spotlights lowered. A thick velvet curtain was drawn back to reveal the movie screen.

Swiveling my head, I glanced around the seats, realizing all were empty.

“How extraordinary! I think we are the only ones here!”

Dimitri focused on his bag of candy, selecting several colorful jelly beans and popping them in his mouth, avoiding my gaze.

My eyes widened. “Did you really rent out the entire theater just for us?”

He gave me a noncommittal shrug.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned back in my seat. “Just a normal date, huh?”

Setting his candy aside, he put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Shhh. The movie’s about to start.”

Putting my head on his shoulder, I once more inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne as the opening orchestra strains of the film’s score filled the theater.

Cocking my head to the side, I focused on the screen as I leaned up. “Wait. This isn’t the Keira Knightley version.”

Dimitri sco ed. “That version was terrible!”

“Bite your tongue! It was gorgeous! The costumes. The music. The creative way they made the whole thing a play within a film.”

Pointing to the screen, Dimitri admonished, “This. This is the only version of Anna Karenina that is worth anything. A classic. Tatiana Samoilova is the true Anna, not your Keira Knightley.”

As the actors appeared on the screen, they uttered the first opening lines… in Russian.

I laughed. “There’s just one problem. I don’t speak Russian.”

Pulling me back into his embrace, Dimitri nuzzled his nose against my hair as he gru y murmured into my ear, “I’ll translate for you.”

A shiver of excitement coursed up my spine at the prospect of Dimitri whispering Tolstoy’s scandalous prose to me for the rest of the movie.

This really was the most perfect date.

M Y BREATH HITCHED as I ran a hand down the top of my thigh, playing with the hem of my sweater dress. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. The damp fabric of my panties clung to my skin as I bit my lip to suppress a moan.

Dimitri’s deep, gravelly voice continued to seduce me as he translated the more salacious dialogue from the movie for me.

“Take o your panties.”

My head turned to the right, then back to the screen where there was a ballroom scene playing.

“They didn’t say that.”

“No. I’m saying it. Take o your panties.”

I swallowed as my gaze nervously shifted around the darkened theater. “Here?”

“Yes. Here.”

Feeling that dizzying rush of adrenaline you get when you know you are doing something naughty and wrong, I moved my hips up as I reached under my dress hem for the sides of my panties. I pulled them down over my thighs and maneuvered them past the tops of my leather boots till they fell to the floor. Snatching them o the floor, I balled them into my fist as I buried my hand in my lap, still shocked I’d actually done something so risky in public.

“Now straddle me.”

“What if someone comes into the theater?”

“They won’t. Now do as you’re told.”

Rising, I shifted till I was standing before him. Sliding my hands along my hips, I grasped a handful of fabric and shimmied my dress up high on my thighs before slipping one knee to the left side of him. I then hitched my other knee up, straddling him. My head fell back as I groaned from the press of his already hard cock between my legs.

His hands grasped my neck, spearing his fingers into my hair as he pulled me down for a kiss. The bristle of his goatee teased my lips as his tongue swept in to take possession. He tasted sweet, like candy. His strong hands ran over my shoulders to caress my back before sliding over my ass. He lifted the dress up higher, exposing me.

Breaking free from the kiss, I leaned back as I tried to wrestle the fabric from his grasp and push it back over my hips.

“Dimitri! Someone might see!”

“Never. No one sees this beautiful body but me. You have my word. No one is coming through that door.”

Still unsure, I glanced up at the projector room, but could see they had shuttered the window, only leaving room for the projector lens.

Once more, his hands lifted my dress high. One warm hand slipped between my thighs from behind. Digging my fingertips into his shoulders, I cried out as I rose on my knees, the touch of his hand on my already aroused flesh almost too much to take.

Undeterred, he slipped one finger inside me, then a second.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. So hot and wet. Such a naughty girl.”

He gave my ass a spank. The harsh sound echoed around the empty theater. The hot sting of pain only spurred me on.

I forgot all shyness and misgivings. Like a wanton, I bounced my hips, riding his hand, grinding myself into his palm.

The pad of his thumb caressed my dark hole. I clenched, shocked at the illicit touch.

Dimitri chuckled. Leaning over, he reached into his overcoat pocket and drew out something shiny and silver.

Hardly able to form the words, I chided him. “You promised no more jewelry.”

“This isn’t jewelry, моя крошка.”

He held the object up higher. In the dim flickering light, I could finally make out what it was in his hand.

“Oh, no!”

I tried to climb o his lap, but his arms locked around my waist.

“Dimitri! No. You can’t. I’m not that type of girl,” I begged, shaking my head.

“I think you are. Open your mouth. I need you to get it nice and wet for me.”

I slipped both my lips between my teeth.

He twirled the silver toy between his fingers. The bulbous tip was about two thumbs thick, but it might as well have been the size of a tree trunk for all I was concerned.

“I will not ask again.” His voice was low and threatening.

I knew that tone. I knew I would not win.

Inhaling a shaking breath, I opened my mouth. The metal clinked against my front teeth as he pushed the butt plug in.

“Suck on it, baby. Get it nice and wet.”

I whimpered as the fingers of his right hand began to once more pulse in and out of my body as his left hand reached between us to unbuckle his belt.

He pulled his thick cock free, fisting the hard length. My insides clenched at the sight as I had a surge of arousal.

“Lift up your hips.”

I obeyed.

He placed the tip of his cock at my entrance. “Lower yourself onto me.”

I felt the stretch and burn as my body strained to adjust to the intrusion of his heavy shaft. Although we had already had sex several times, it was still a struggle to accept him into my tight sheath.

My tongue swirled around the now warm metal bulb in my mouth as I pushed my hips down, moving past the pain.

My only thought was to please him.

Reaching between us, I stroked my clit as I inhaled through my nose. Finally, the backs of my thighs brushed the tops of his. He was seated fully inside of me.

“Good girl.”

He removed the butt plug from my mouth. He wrapped his other hand around the back of my head and drew me roughly to him till my chin was resting on his shoulder.

“Reach back and open your ass cheeks.”

“Please, don’t make me.”

Letting go of my head, he gave my bare ass several swift and painful spanks. My skin burned as my cheeks flamed with humiliation.

Returning his hand to my head, he pushed my head to the side and whispered harshly into my ear, “Do it now or it won’t be this plug but my cock thrusting into your virgin ass.”

Knowing he didn’t make idle threats, I awkwardly reached my arms back and grasped my ass cheeks.

Swallowing a sob, I pulled them open. There was a rush of chilly air as it exposed my most vulnerable place to the open room.

Dimitri shifted. I felt the brush of cool silk as his arm slid over my hip to reach behind me. Then there was the press of something hard and smooth against my asshole. I clenched.

“Do you want me to use my belt?”

“No,” I whispered as I willed myself to relax.

The uncomfortable pressure increased. I could feel my body relenting as the delicate skin stretched open. There was a piercing sting as the ring of muscle was stretched wide to accommodate the curve of the plug.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” I tried to rise up and away, but his free arm stayed around my waist.

My eyes screwed tight as I breathed through my clenched teeth. The pressure increased. Then as if someone had let the air out of a balloon, it eased away as my body pulled the plug in deep and closed around the narrow neck. I could feel the sharp edges of the rectangular handle press into my cheeks.

Between the plug in my virgin ass and his cock pulsing deep inside of me, I felt full and overtaken by him.

His strong hands wrapped around my narrow waist. He lifted me. His cock slid almost out of my body, the heavy ridge of the head still lodged inside my tight entrance. Then he forced me down hard onto his length, impaling me. I cried out as I clawed at his upper arms.

“Oh, God!” “Hold on, baby girl. This is going to hurt,” he growled against my open lips before biting and sucking down the length of my neck.

With a firm grasp on my hips, he lifted me up and down on his cock. Using the weight of my body to push it deeper and deeper. As his thrusts became more violent, he reached around and ruthlessly twisted the butt plug inside of me.

My body arched in a bow as my head fell back. My mouth opened, a guttural scream torn from my lips as a moment of pure ecstasy eclipsed all reason.

I went limp. Wrapping both arms around me tightly, he fisted his fingers into my hair as he continued to pummel into me, using my pleasure-racked body to achieve his own release.

Feeling empowered and adventurous, I raised my hips and swung one leg back. His still semi-hard cock slipped out from inside of me. The sticky warmth of his come dripped down the insides of my thighs. Keeping my eyes on him, I lowered to my knees. Felt the cool leather of my boots press against my punishment-warmed skin as I settled between his open legs. From this new position, I could feel the pressure and force of the butt plug inside of me even more deeply.

Reaching up, I wrapped my small hand around his girth.

Sticking out my tongue, I flicked the tip over the crown of his cock.

His entire body jolted as if hit by an electric current.

Emboldened, I licked the length, tasting the musky cream of his arousal. His cock twitched in my hand as it lengthened and hardened.

Grasping the hair at the back of my head, his eyes darkened to flint as he ground out, “Иисус Христос, ты собираешься убить меня, малышка.”

I didn’t have to speak Russian to know I had pleased him.

Closing my eyes, I opened my mouth and braced for what was coming next.

CHAPTER 19

R

emorse is the poison of life. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

I WOKE up to the sound of Dimitri arguing with someone in Russian.

Dressed only in a pair of suit slacks, he held the cell to his ear with his shoulder and put on his watch. With his back turned, I got a good look at the ominous dragon tattoo. The one that according to my Russian tattoo symbolism book meant he was a very high-level, dangerous thief.

Unsure of what to do, I slowly sat up, dragging the down cover up to conceal as much of my nakedness as I could. I held a hand to my throat. It hurt to swallow. Flashbacks to last night and Dimitri roughly pushing his cock deep into my throat made me close my eyes in shame. Then a second wave hit me as I recalled how he had forced me to keep the butt plug in till we got home. Then he… then he… put his finger… oh, God! Who was that woman last night?

It wasn’t like me to be so… uninhibited… and… and… sexual.

As he turned, Dimitri’s silver gaze pierced me from across the room.

I held my breath as he stalked toward me.

Was I in trouble for overhearing his conversation?

Was it something criminal I wasn’t supposed to know about?

Oh, God! But I don’t speak Russian. He knows that. I’m no threat. “Ты достаточно облажался. Я сам справлюсь,” he snarled into the phone, his jaw tense with anger.

Holding the phone against his chest, he leaned down and kissed me gently on the forehead. “Good morning, моя крошка.” He gestured to the side table with his head. “There is some hot tea with honey for you. I’ll just be another minute.”

He turned and continued to argue in Russian. His voice became mu ed as he stepped inside his walk-in closet.

When he emerged he was fully dressed, adjusting his tie and no longer on the phone. Shrugging into his suit jacket, he walked back to me. The bed rocked a bit as he sat down near my hip.

He stroked a lock of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“I could get used to waking up with you in my bed.”

I ducked my head as I toyed with the handle on my teacup. It was one of those fancy silver filigree ones that held a clear glass as the cup. I was more than embarrassed about the wanton way I had behaved last night. I wanted nothing more than to throw on my clothes and run away to the safety of my apartment.

Dimitri tapped my nose. I looked up.

“I don’t know what is going on in that beautifully crazy little mind of yours but don’t you dare second-guess what

happened last night. You were amazing. And I plan on repeating every dirty thing I did to that gorgeous body of yours the moment I get back from New York.”

“New York?”

He rose and crossed to a landscape painting across the room. Swinging the frame wide, he exposed a hidden safe.

“Yes. I have some… business to attend to.”

I caught the pause before he said business. I might be new to this whole relationship thing, but I wasn’t stupid enough to ask any more questions.

Dimitri pulled an evil-looking gun from the safe and tucked it behind his back into his waistband. He then withdrew several stacks of cash and dropped them into a small canvas bag on the chair. The second he turned around I averted my eyes, once more staring at the cup in my hand.

“Are you hungry? Can I fix you something to eat before I go?”

I shook my head. After what I had just seen, I wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite.

“What time is your first class?”

“Not till nine.”

“Did you want me to drop you o at home?”

“No!” I answered too loudly. I then forced a smile. “No. I’ll take a cab. I still have the change from the hundred you gave me yesterday.”

Dimitri reached into his pants pocket and withdrew his money clip. “That reminds me. I distinctly remember leaving you several hundred-dollar bills.”

I waved my hand at his o er of more cash. The diamond bracelet still on my wrist flashed in the early morning light.

“I didn’t need nearly that much. The cab was less than thirty dollars.”

He tossed several more hundred-dollar bills onto the bedcovers. “That’s not the point. I won’t have you going

without. I may have to stay overnight in New York. What time is your first class tomorrow?”

“Not until ten.”

He gave me a quick kiss. “Good. I will pick you up at your place. We’ll have breakfast together.”

He turned to go.

“Wait!” I sprang up onto my knees, heedlessly dropping the covers.

His eyes glinted as he crossed back to me. One warm hand closed over my naked breast. “Don’t tempt me, моя крошка. I know you must still be sore from last night.”

I blushed. “Not that.” I held out my wrist with the heavy diamond bracelet on it. “Can you please take this o ? It makes me self-conscious.”

Without even pausing, he said, “No.” “But…” “The answer is no, Emma. I enjoy knowing you have it on.

Now I have to go to work. Be a good girl while I’m gone.”

He kissed me on the top of my head, then turned away and snatched up the black canvas bag as he walked toward the bedroom door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll call you later on your new phone. Make sure you answer it.”

With that, he was gone.

I sat there alone in his bed.

So I guess we are going to pretend my boyfriend didn’t just grab a gun and a shady bag full of cash before heading out to ‘work.’

“Y OU ’ RE OVERREACTING .”

“I am not overreacting.”

“Shhh…!”

Mary and I whispered in unison, “Sorry.”

Snatching a book o the stack of nineteenth century poetry Mary was holding in her hands, I moved further down the aisle till I found its proper place and shoved it on the shelf.

“Don’t you think you are being a little overdramatic here?”

I grabbed another book from her pile and pivoted, shelving it in place before responding.

“He had a gun!”

“Shhh…!” came the agitated rebuke from somewhere in the stacks.

“Sorry!” we both hu ed back to no one in particular.

We were both at the Cudahy Library on campus. Mary was following me around as I sorted and re-shelved the books that had been returned in the overnight bin.

Mary shrugged. “So what? This is Chicago. Everyone has a gun.”

Grabbing Mary by the elbow, I dragged her down the aisle and to the left till we were in Section B108-708; Ancient, medieval, and eastern philosophy next to the skeptic and Neo-Platonism philosophy books where I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed.

Waving my hands in front of my cheeks to cool them, I finally blurted out, “He likes to do certain things in bed.”

Mary dumped the books I had been making her hold on a side table. “Things? Like, what kinds of things?”

Swiveling my head to glance around and make sure we weren’t being overheard, I leaned in. “Kinky things.”

“Like butt sex?”

“Shhh!” Another angry rebuke from the other side of the shelves.

I lowered my head into my hands, humiliated. “Oh, my God, Mary! Could you have said that any louder?”

Holding her hand up to her mouth, she whispered, “Sorry!” Then she lowered her voice even more. “You mean butt sex?”

“Stop saying butt sex!” I mouthed to her, afraid to even whisper it.

“Did you like it?”

While I wasn’t about to go into the details of how we hadn’t actually done full-on butt sex, only a butt plug and some other stu , the truth was, I did like it. I liked all of it, even the kinky stu that frightened me a bit, like when he forced me to suck his cock deep or spanked me with his belt.

He was just so freaking hot and demanding in bed. The man did things to my body that left me bruised and sore, but still begging for more.

“That’s not the point.”

“This is like that episode…”

“I’m warning you, Mary. I cannot take you comparing my life to a Bu y the Vampire Slayer episode right now.”

She threw up her hands. “Fine. Look. I’ll admit. I’ve never really done any of that kinky stu , but it doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with it.”

“Seriously? You haven’t?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I grabbed her hands. “Oh, my God! I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Only that you always seem so confident about men and… things.”

“Don’t let the red lipstick and animal prints fool you. I’m still as much of a book nerd as you. Besides, it takes a special kind of guy to pull that kind of sex o . He has to be strong and dominant with a real presence, you know? When have you ever seen me date a guy who could order me to my knees and not make me giggle at the attempt?”

It was true. Mary was getting her Master’s in Education.

The last guy she’d dated was someone from her department.

She hadn’t made it past the second date when she’d learned he lived with his mother and spent his free time painting action figurines.

And she had just described Dimitri to a tee. He was masterful and arrogant and so freaking big and strong… in every way. Those intense eyes of his practically dared you not to submit to his demands.

“The crazy good sex aside, I’m just worried he might be a… well… a bad man.”

Mary’s red lips flattened. Taking a step closer, she placed a hand over my shoulder and pulled me close. “I’m not going to lie, sweetie. It’s possible. I mean setting aside the whole stereotypical scary Russian villain vibe he’s got going on.

From the things you’ve said, there’s a good chance he’s into some illegal shit.”

“See? Even you think it’s possible.”

“Yeah, but it’s also possible that he’s just a businessman.

Let’s face it. Most uber-rich people get their hands dirty some way or another making their fortunes. There are no squeaky clean billionaires in this world, but especially in a city like Chicago.”

I played with the heavy diamond bracelet, twirling it around on my wrist. “I guess that’s true too.”

“It really comes down to how he treats you, not so much what he does for a living.”

There was no denying he treated me like a princess… well, when he wasn’t calling me his dirty girl and spanking me.

“I think you need to take your mind o things. Why don’t you swing by tonight and help me out at the bar?”

I grimaced. “I don’t think so.”

Dimitri probably wouldn’t like it. The bar Mary worked at tended to be an odd raucous mix of rich students from the di erent nearby colleges, drunk businessmen, and married women who swilled wine and pretended they were

candidates for Real Housewives of Chicago. Her boss knew me and occasionally put me on the payroll during the holiday season or when they were short-sta ed.

“Come on. Joe called out. I could use the help. There’s a party of obnoxious pharma sales reps in tonight.”

“I don’t know. I have to go through my files tonight. The financial a airs online portal is claiming my tuition has been paid o . I know it’s a clerical error and I need to get it fixed before the next payment is due. Plus, I still have all those grant applications to go through.”

When I had tried to make my payment online today and it had shown a zero balance, I briefly suspected Dimitri but quickly dismissed it. He couldn’t possibly have been serious about paying o my tuition. The man spent his money freely and had stated he would do so, but… no… it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. It was a stupid error that if I didn’t clear up now, they’d probably fix it later and charge me a late fee for nonpayment.

“Come on! We’ll sneak tequila shots behind the bar. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine!”

“Yay!” “Shhh!”

“Sorry!”

The moment I agreed I couldn’t shake the feeling Dimitri wouldn’t be happy with my plans for the evening. It was silly, of course. I had helped at the bar a hundred times before. It was no big deal.

Right?

CHAPTER 20

J

ane! will you hear reason? (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear) because, if you won’t, I’ll try violence. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

D IMITRI

“M R . K OSGOV , we need to prepare for landing. Mr. Kosgov?”

Distracted, I finally heard her and looked up from my phone. “Yes. Thank you, Meghan.”

Picking up my glass, I drained the last of the contents and handed it to her. After buckling my seat belt, I once more reached for my phone. Tapping the screen, the Google map reappeared. There was a small red dot showing the GPS on Emma’s phone. It was several miles away from her apartment. Several miles away from where she was supposed to be right now. She was supposed to be safely tucked in her bed.

I should have known something was up. Her voice had sounded strained on the phone when I’d talked to her earlier; I just assumed she was tired. After all, I had kept her up half the night fucking her raw and then she had class and work

today. Never in a million years did I think the little minx was lying to me. Sure, she hadn’t overtly said she was in for the night, but my baby girl damn well knew that was what I’d assumed when I’d ended our call.

A lie by omission is still a lie… and the punishment will be the same.

Goddamn it. She should be home safe in my bed waiting for me right now.

After the urgent phone call I had received from Vaska this morning, there hadn’t been time to prepare for her to remain at my place. Problem was, I didn’t know her class and work schedule yet, and I didn’t want her traveling from the college all the way downtown alone, even if I could arrange for a private car service. With the newly installed security system, I figured it was preferable she reside at her place, which was closer to the college, and where she had Mary for company… for now.

Fucking Moroccan problem.

A few of our military contacts had been in New York at the United Nations under the guise of a peacekeeping meeting. It had been my hope that I could resolve the supply chain issue today and not have to drag my ass to Morocco, but it didn’t go well. They were insisting on a face-to-face where they had the home field advantage. Since we had a shipment of several surface-to-air missiles and over five hundred cases of Winchester Magnum sniper rifles en route and scheduled to arrive secretly at the port they controlled in less than a week, I had no choice.

Which meant the private plane I had just used to fly last minute to New York would barely touch down in Chicago for twenty-four hours before I would head to Morocco—leaving Emma again.

Twenty-four hours would give me time to have Emma’s belongings moved to my house and to arrange for a private

guard and driver.

Staring down at my phone, I tapped on the screen again.

The Last Call Bar. That was where my baby girl was right now.

Unprotected at some dive bar.

My fist closed around the phone till I heard a crack.

Unprotected… but not for long.

T HE MOMENT WE LANDED , I’d barely allowed the air stairs to lower before I was vaulting down them and into our private hangar at Midway.

“You! Is the helicopter gassed up and ready?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Let’s go.”

Crossing through the hangar, I pushed through the metal exit door to the landing pad behind. Waiting on the tarmac was a black and crimson Enstrom 280FX Shark Helicopter.

Vaska and I had chosen it for its light agility and ability to land quickly and take o in smaller spaces and rooftops around Chicago, an asset in our business.

“Where to, boss?”

Pointing to my phone screen, I asked, “How close can you get me to there?”

The pilot nodded as he put on his helmet and adjusted his microphone. I did the same. He started up the propellers before responding. “That bar has a decent-sized parking lot.

If it’s not too full, I could drop you there,” he shouted over the din of the engines and propeller despite the microphones.

I indicated my approval, then watched as the helicopter quickly rose into the night sky.

U NBUCKLING MY SEAT BELT , I lowered myself onto the helicopter skids as we hovered over the parking lot. Not giving him a chance to land, I jumped the several feet to the tarmac then signaled for the pilot to take it up and wait for me.

Brushing aside the aghast onlookers, I stormed through the scarred double wooden doors of the Last Call Bar. Scanning the room, I could see the usual motley crowd you’d expect to see at a bar on a Friday night, including several drunk businessmen with their jackets o and ties askew. The place was laid out simply, large and square with a central bar, one emergency exit to the back right and another door that presumably led to the back-of-the-house area to the left. Tucking my gun more firmly in my back waistband, I shouldered my way through the throng toward the bar, knowing the bartender would be the best place to start.

There was no way an innocent beauty like Emma would escape their scrutiny.

Leaning over the slightly sticky wooden surface, I gestured to get the bartender’s attention. My jaw tightened as Emma’s roommate turned to face me.

“Dimitri! What are you doing here? Does Emma know you’re here?”

“Where is she?” I shouted over the pounding music.

Mary leaned both palms on the bar and raised up onto her toes as she scanned over the crowd. “I don’t see her. Hold on, I’ll ask Mike. She might be dropping o dirty glasses in the back.”

“She’s working here?” My jaw tightened as my fingers closed into a fist.

What the fuck?

I paid her tuition and gave her spending money so she wouldn’t feel the need to work, especially not in some bar.

She knew I thought her working in that basement research library was too isolated and dangerous. There was no fucking way she didn’t realize I would disapprove of this.

Mary held her hands up. “Only for tonight. She’s helping me out.”

“Where is she?” I was about two seconds away from taking out my gun and firing a few shots in the air just to clear out the bar and find her.

“Mike! Mike! Where’s Emma?”

The guy she called out to grabbed a bar towel and wiped his palms as he approached. “Huh?” Mary cupped her hand around her mouth and shouted over the music and crowd. “Where’s Emma?”

Mike motioned with his thumb over his shoulder. “I asked her to pull a couple bottles of rum for me from the liquor cage. She’s taking forever.”

Fuck.

That was all I needed to hear.

Shoving through the crowd, I focused on the battered metal door to the left. It was where Mike had gestured and, I already assessed, probably led to the back area. Bursting through the door, I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent kitchen lights as compared to the dimly lit bar area.

Pointing to the first man I saw, he froze with a fryer basket of fries in his hand, his eyes wide with fear. “Liquor cage?” I ground out, baring my teeth.

He motioned with his head. “Down the hall. Last door on the right.”

The rest of the sta wisely leapt out of my way as I crashed through the kitchen and down the hallway, calling out her name. The last door on the right was a heavy metal door. No longer white, it was covered in scratches and dark

smudges from decades of rubber-soled shoes kicking it closed. I tried the lever handle.

Locked.

By now, both Mary and Mike had caught up to me, standing behind me in the narrow hallway as the rest of the kitchen sta looked on curiously.

Glancing over my shoulder, I asked, “Is this door usually locked?”

Mary’s red lipstick was a bloody slash across her face as her complexion drained of color. “No. Never during service.

There is a caged wall a few feet inside the door where we keep the booze. It’s secured with a padlock.”

Balling my hand into a fist, I pounded on it. “Open the fucking door.”

I thought I heard a mu ed shout, but I couldn’t be certain. There was too much noise around me.

My gaze traveled over the door. It was reinforced steel and opened out, which meant I couldn’t kick it down.

Reaching behind me, I took out my gun.

Mary gasped. Mike muttered a low curse.

“You there,” I called, singling out the closest sta member with obvious prison tattoos. I knew my kind when I saw one. “Make some fucking noise.”

He nodded. Turning to his co-workers, he shouted at them to slam pots together. Mike followed suit, waving his arms and shouting as he grabbed a ladle and beat it against the side of the pizza oven. Between that and the already elevated music inside the bar, I’d be covered.

“Step back and cover your ears,” I ordered Mary.

Careful to angle the gun to only shoot o the lever handle and not hit the metal door, which could cause a deadly ricochet, I fired.

The handle flew clean o to clatter across the tile floor, landing in a corner. Shoving my fingers into the open hole it

left, I pulled the door open.

And saw red.

The room reeked of rum. The dirty cement floor was soaked with liquor and covered in shattered glass. Emma was pinned against the cage wall. Her face was turned to the side as she struggled in the grasp of some drunken businessman in a suit.

Correction, a dead drunken businessman.

“Come on, slut. You know you want it,” he slurred as his hand reached down to his pants.

With an inhuman roar, I grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him o my girl. He spun till his back hit the cage.

His feet then slipped in the rum and he fell on his ass onto the filthy floor.

Wrapping my hand around the dead man’s throat, I forced him back onto his feet.

“What the fuck, man?” His fleshy face was covered in sweat from fear and overindulgence.

I shoved the muzzle of my gun between his teeth. His eyes bulged as his shoulders heaved.

Without taking my eyes o him, I ordered, “Get her out of here.”

“Dimitri,” appealed Emma as she reached out an arm to touch me but pulled back.

Turning, I saw her stricken pale face and torn shirt and wanted to howl in rage. A bullet would be too good for this man; I was going to tear his flesh o his bones with my bare hands.

“I said get her out of here!” I shouted.

I didn’t want Emma to see this side of me. The violent thug I usually hid behind a veneer of expensive suits and cultured tastes. The ruthless criminal who had built an empire not through empty threats but through savage force.

Mary wrapped her arms around Emma and dragged her toward the door.

“Come on, Emma. You don’t need to see this.”

“No! Dimitri! Don’t, please!” she cried out as she struggled in Mary’s grasp.

“Mike! Help me,” called out Mary.

The two of them wrapped their hands around Emma’s upper arms and pulled her out of the room.

“You have to stop him! He can’t do this! Please! Dimitri!

Please!”

I could hear her cries echoing down the hallway. I turned my attention back to the man who had dared to assault my girl. “Я должен покончить с твоей жизнью прямо сейчас за то, что прикоснулся к тому, что принадлежит мне.”

Hearing the Russian language, the man’s face crumpled as he blubbered and cried around the muzzle of my gun. He didn’t need to know I had just told him I could end his life right now for touching what was mine. I knew what a terrifying vision I made, between the neck and hand tattoos, gun, and speaking Russian. He knew he was in far worse trouble than if an American cop had stopped him.

“Dimitri, I need you! Please, don’t do this!”

Her sorrowful cry from outside the door pierced my heart.

One day she was going to have to face the hard truth about who and what I was… but this wasn’t that day. Not for a piece of shit drunken asshole like this.

Releasing his throat, I reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet. Opening the leather flap, I read the name on his driver’s license. “Brad Crenski.”

He cried out and struggled to grab the wrist holding the gun in his mouth.

I cocked the hammer on the Glock.

He let go and held his hands high as he tried to plead with me. The words indistinct and mu ed. Not that I gave a damn what this piece of shit had to say, anyway.

Using my thumb, I slid out a business card from one of the wallet folds. It had his name in gold foil under a long law firm name.

I had all the information I required. I pulled the gun free.

“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he pitifully pled for his life.

Emma was already traumatized. The last thing she needed was me to return to her with this piece of shit’s brain matter and blood all over me. Someone else would get that pleasure tonight.

“Get out of my sight.”

By now two bouncers were standing guard near the threshold. With a respectful nod to me; like I said, I know my kind when I see them. They seized the man by the upper arms and dragged him to the nearest exit.

Taking out my phone, I called Vaska.

“How’d it go in New York?”

“Later. Right now I have a job for you.”

I repeated Brad’s home address and other details, before saying, “He attacked Emma.”

“Fuck. Is she all right?”

“She will be.”

“Consider it handled, my friend. I’ll call Ivan. He’ll make it painful. Go take care of your girl.”

Brad wouldn’t live to see tomorrow, and I didn’t feel even a shred of guilt over that fact.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to rein in my wrath.

Now it was time to deal with Emma.

My baby girl was about to learn there were consequences for lying to me and putting herself in danger like this.

Punishing ones.

CHAPTER 21

I

have to remind myself to breathe—almost to remind my heart to beat!

- Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Emma

I FLATTENED my back against the grimy hallway wall as the bouncers dragged the odious drunk away. Sick relief twisted my stomach. Thank God Dimitri hadn’t killed him. I didn’t think I could live with that on my conscience. The man was bent in half, his head lowered so I couldn’t tell if there were any injuries.

Moments later, Dimitri appeared.

I scanned his appearance, looking for traces of blood or violence.

There was none.

Seeing me, his arms opened. I ran into them. That was when I finally felt safe and knew the worst was over, when his powerful embrace closed around me. He buried his hands in my hair as he whispered in Russian against the top of my head before cupping my jaw and tilting my head back.

His dark gaze pierced my own. Leaning down, he gave me a fierce kiss on the lips before trailing his mouth over my cheekbone to once again hug me close.

Mike cleared his throat. “I disabled the alarm on the emergency door. You can sneak out through the back.”

I didn’t look up but could feel Dimitri shift as he stuck out his arm to shake Mike’s hand. “Any issues?” With my ear pressed to his chest, his words were a low rumble.

“None. No one heard a thing.”

“And the sta ?”

“They saw nothing,” Mike answered pointedly.

Shifting me to his side, with one arm still wrapped securely across my back, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his money clip. Tossing it to Mike, he said, “Count o three bills for each of you.”

Without arguing, Mike opened the clip and counted out the required number of hundred-dollar bills before handing it back to Dimitri. “Thanks, man.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Just then, Mary stroked my back. Her lips trembled. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I didn’t know.”

I moved to hug her, but Dimitri tightened his embrace. I sent him an entreating look. Slowly, he relented, but kept a hand on my lower back as I turned to hug Mary.

“It wasn’t your fault. I should have realized he followed me back here.”

“I’m going to clock out. We’ll go home. I’ll run you a bath and—” Dimitri interrupted Mary. “She’s coming home with me.”

Mary lowered her head as she swiped at the tears and smeared mascara on her cheeks. “Of course. Yes, that would probably be best.”

“But—” I objected.

Dimitri placed a hand under my chin and tilted my head back. “You are in enough trouble as it is, моя крошка. Don’t push me on this. You are coming home with me.”

Trouble?

Uh oh.

In all the drama I’d forgotten I had misled Dimitri about my plans this evening, knowing in my gut he would disapprove.

Mary patted my upper arm. “It’s fine, Emma. You should go with Dimitri.”

Not only for Mary’s sake, but for my own. Suddenly not wanting to be alone with Dimitri, I grasped the lapels of his suit jacket. “Dimitri, Mary has had a scare too. I don’t want her to be alone right now.”

His jaw tightened. Without saying a word, he took out his phone and typed in a quick text one-handed, then placed the phone back in his inside jacket pocket.

“Mary, you remember my friend, Vaska Lukovich?”

She nodded.

“Good. He is on his way over here to escort you home. He will also stay as long as you need.”

Mary shook her head, her cheeks brightening. “That isn’t necessary. I’m fine getting home on my own. Really.”

“It’s done. I recommend you be here when he arrives. He doesn’t have my sweet demeanor and will be upset if he has to… track you down.”

Mary and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

Dimitri held me close as he ushered me through the kitchen and out a side door into the icy darkness. Closing his warm hand over mine, he pulled me through the parked cars till we were in an open space in an upper corner of the lot.

There was the dull roar of an engine, then the wind kicked up, blowing my hair over my face. Brushing it back with my

forearm, I realized it was a red helicopter, hovering dangerously low just above us.

Dimitri motioned for it to lower further down.

“Are you crazy?” I shouted. “I’m not getting in that thing!”

Leaning over me, he said close to my ear so I could hear over the whirring blades, “You don’t have a choice.”

Snatching me around the waist, Dimitri ducked as he stepped up to the helicopter. Grabbing onto a dangling strap, he stepped onto the skids and vaulted through the gaping doorway with me in tow.

I clung to his neck with my head buried in his shoulder as I felt him wrap a restraint around the both of us. His arm shifted as he banged on the roof. Peeking from behind my now hopelessly tossed hair, I saw the pilot give him a thumbs up before the helicopter rose into the air.

My stomach flipped as I felt the g-force against my body.

Digging my fingernails into the fabric of his suit, I clung to him harder.

The roar of the helicopter drowned out my screams and prevented any conversation, not that I would have been capable of forming words. The cabin of the helicopter bobbed and shifted as we headed downtown at a high speed, skirting over the tops of Chicago’s iconic skyscrapers. Hazarding a peek, I could see the dark waters of Lake Michigan below us as whitecaps crashed onto the rocks.

Oh, God! Dimitri held me tighter.

Our velocity slowed as we hovered for a moment and then dropped. It suspended us over a residential rooftop. I could see the cold fire pit and the lounge chairs surrounding it.

Sticking out from the roof to the right was a small brick building with an entire wall of French doors, which reflected the flashing white, yellow, and green lights of the helicopter.

Dimitri released my harness. “There’s no landing pad.

Roof can’t take the weight. Need to jump!” he shouted.

Was he crazy?

As much as I was afraid to get in the helicopter, I was now more afraid to jump out of it.

As the helicopter hovered several feet from the rooftop, Dimitri hopped down first, then turned and held out his arms.

Clinging to the leather bucket seat, I shook my head.

There was no way I was doing this.

Shouting over the commotion, Dimitri said, “Trust me, Emma.”

Prying my fingers o the seat back, I shimmied to the edge of the seat and gingerly put the toes of my boots on the landing skids.

“Push yourself away. I’ll catch you.”

Squeezing my eyes tight, I screamed as I pushed my hips against the seat and thrust out from my knees. I was suspended in the air for one terrifying second before Dimitri’s muscular arms wrapped around me like steel bands. Rounding his shoulders, he ducked and swooped around, moving us farther from the already rising helicopter.

The moment we were clear, Dimitri’s hand cradled my skull as he captured my mouth in a soul-searing kiss. The wind from the propellers swept my curls around both of our shoulders as I lost myself in his taste and touch as his tongue swept in to take possession. Moving his hands down, he clasped my jeans-clad bottom and pulled my hips close till the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against my middle.

Thank God he had arrived in time. I didn’t even want to think about what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t found me when he did. I needed to push those horrifying thoughts from my head and focus on the feel of his arms, but

it seemed impossible. My mind wouldn’t relent with the terrifying images of what could have been.

The helicopter sped away. A strange stillness settled over the surrounding air. It sounded almost unnatural after so much chaos, noise, and light. As if that and the earlier events should have somehow left their scar on the quiet night.

Dimitri wrapped his hands around my jaw, warming my chilled cheeks. His voice matched the darkness that surrounded us. It was a deep, low growl. “Do you have any idea how angry I am with you?”

I blinked, trying to wrap my mind around the sudden dangerous shift in mood.

I surveyed his face. The shadows deepened the sharp planes of his brow and cheekbones giving him an almost sinister appearance. With a gasp, I tried to take a step back.

His hands tightened around my jaw before moving to my throat.

“You lied to me.”

I wrapped my fingers around his wrists. “I didn’t mean to. It was a foolish thing to do.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on my mouth. “Yes, and I’m about to show you just how foolish.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “What are you going to do, Dimitri?”

His hard flinty gaze narrowed. Without saying a word, he took a step back and kept his eyes on me as he reached for his belt buckle.

A traitorous shock of arousal struck between my legs. It was wrong. Twisted.

He slipped the leather belt through his pants’ belt loops.

Hooking his foot around the leg of a nearby square glass table, the metal legs screeched along the hard cement rooftop as he pulled it between us. “Lower your jeans and bend over.”

“Dimitri—” “Now, Emma!”

I jumped at his barked command.

Lowering my head, I stared at the heavy glass surface of the table. I wasn’t seriously thinking about doing this, was I? Lowering my jeans and letting a man belt me like a naughty child?

This was insane.

Probably criminal, even.

“You have a decision to make, Emma. I warned you there would be rules I expected you to obey.”

“Yes, but you never said—” “I didn’t think I had to mention explicitly that not lying to me was one of the fucking rules,” he growled. “Now you have two seconds to bend over and take your punishment. Trust me, you don’t want to know what happens if you defy me in this.”

My lower lip trembled. Towering over me with his brow lowered and dark eyes filled with anger, he looked terrifying.

The angrier he got, the deeper his Russian accent became, which made him even scarier.

With a sob, my hands shook as I felt for the brass button fastening to my jeans.

The metal edge of the cocktail table hit me in the middle as I bent over it. I sucked a breath through my teeth as the frigid glass pressed against my nipples through my thin bra and t-shirt. Reaching back, I grasped the denim over my hips and pushed down till I felt a tight band of material around my upper thighs.

“Panties too.”

I heard a rustle of fabric and turned my head to see him shrugging out of his suit jacket. After unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt and loosening his silk tie, he pulled them both over his head. It was as if he was shedding all

semblance of civility. Even through the dimness, I could make out each of his tattoos. The blade of the dagger piercing his neck seemed to gleam in the moonlight.

He looked like a pirate standing on the deck of a frigate about to whip his helpless captive.

Except this wasn’t between the safe pages of a book, this was real life… and I was his captive.

Not wanting to anger him further, I pulled down the simple white cotton panties till they bunched on top of the denim around my thighs.

I could feel the gooseflesh rise on my arms, but whether it was from the chilly night air or frightened anticipation, I didn’t know.

He snapped the belt, and my body jolted.

Wrapping my fingers around the table’s edge, I braced for the first strike.

I didn’t have to wait long.

His belt struck across both ass cheeks as the tongue whipped around my hip.

I cried out from the shock and pain.

Agonizing pinpricks of heat raced across my skin.

His belt lashed me a second time. I raised high on my toes as I bit my lip, tasting blood.

Oh, God, it burned.

The third strike hit just below the curve of my ass, in the sensitive spot just above my thighs.

“Please, I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for, baby?”

I didn’t answer fast enough. His belt whipped across my ass in rapid succession, striking both cheeks individually. My skin was on fire as pain pulsed over every inch of my vulnerable bottom. My fingers clawed at the table’s cold surface as I desperately reached out… for what I didn’t know.

The lights from the nearby windows taunted me.

Could they see?

Could they hear?

Were faceless eyes watching Dimitri as he stood, legs spread, arm raised high, ready to torment me with more lashes from his belt?

“Why are you sorry?” he ground out.

“I’m sorry for lying!” I cried as my wet cheek slid against the smooth glass surface.

“Do you deserve this punishment?”

This time he struck me with the flat of his palm. The feel of his skin against mine was almost as much of a shock as the pain. This time the searing burn was more intimate… more humiliating. He rubbed his hand in circles over the curves of my ass. The slight pressure only increased my torment.

“Do you deserve this, Emma?”

“Yes! Yes! Punish me! I deserve it,” I choked out as my entire body trembled violently.

Wrenching sobs racked my body as his belt whipped across my swollen skin. It chased everything from my mind.

My entire focus was on his touch and the punishing feel of leather.

As I tumbled down into that dark void, my body took over, transforming with the pain.

Transcending it.

I was aware of everything. The musky scent of his cologne. The kiss of a night breeze on my heated cheeks. The rustle of the tree leaves in the distance. The hard press of the table against my erect nipples. The angry energy radiating o his body as he towered over my prone one like a vengeful god. The tightening of my inner thighs as I became aroused from his rough treatment. My breath came in harsh gasps as I grappled with the tangle of conflicting emotions.

There was something overwhelming and primal about how he was dominating me.

Forcing me to submit under his hand… under his control and rule.

This wasn’t just about me lying.

His anger came from something darker, something more intimate… and dangerous.

I knew that for certain.

I could feel it.

This was about his need to control the world around me.

His fierce need to protect me.

By defying him, I had shattered that world and the illusion that he could keep me from all harm.

Now he needed to take that control back… by force if necessary… by controlling my body.

The metal buckle of the belt rattled as it skidded across the cement floor.

The fabric of his pants brushed the backs of my thighs as he stepped closer.

I didn’t dare turn to look.

My soft sobs could not stifle the harsh metallic sound of him lowering his zipper.

Oh, God. The thick shaft of his cock fell heavily against the crack of my ass. It felt even hotter than my punished skin. Rubbing the head between my cheeks, he probed between my thighs.

My cheeks flamed, knowing he would find me wet and ready for him.

Leaning over my body, his chest hair brushed my back as he wrapped his fist into my tangled curls, wrenching my head back. My body bowed. Running the edge of his teeth along the shell of my ear, he rasped, “I will show no mercy.”

He thrust in to the hilt, piercing my body as he viciously claimed me.

The table screeched as it pitched forward with the power of his thrust.

I struggled to accept his thick girth as he ruthlessly pounded into me. His hips brushed my bruised ass with each movement, sending shockwaves of painful pleasure coursing up my spine.

His right hand flattened against my lower back as his left pulled on my hair, all while his cock kept up a punishing pace, fucking me raw.

Deep inside a dark side of my soul I didn’t even know existed, I wanted this.

Craved it.

“Harder!” I cried out, needing it to hurt, needing to feel possessed by this man.

His hand on my back slid lower. His thumb pressed between my cheeks till he found the tight, puckered hole that guarded my final virginity.

Without warning or even a spark of gentleness, he pushed his thumb in deep. Pulling slightly, stretching me.

“Ow! Ow! Oh, God!” “That’s right, baby. Take it deep like a good girl.”

Between the powerful thrusts of his cock deep inside of me and the taboo feel of his thumb in my ass, my body couldn’t take any more stimulation. Dizzying waves of dark pleasure crashed over me.

His hands enclosed my hips as he pumped me full of his hot seed.

The chilly night air swept over my heated, sweatdrenched skin.

A physical manifestation of the icy fear and humiliation that was unfurling inside my stomach.

As he swept me into his arms and carried me through the French double doors to his bedroom, harsh reality shattered my heart into pieces.

I loved Dimitri more than breath… which was why I had to leave him.

CHAPTER 22

A

ll my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

“Y OU ’ VE BEEN QUIET THIS MORNING .”

The deep timbre of his voice shattered the tense silence in the car.

Blinking back tears, I played with the rolled-up cu of the dark grey hoodie I was wearing. Bold block letters across the front in maroon outlined in white read Oxford University. It was his college hoodie. It had that wonderfully soft, worn-in feel.

My t-shirt from the night before was torn and reeked of rum. After getting a shower together, where Dimitri had spent half the time on his knees with his mouth buried between my legs pulling from me yet another mind-blowing orgasm, he had given me the hoodie to wear.

We stood in the middle of his bedroom as he cu ed each too-long sleeve till my hands poked out. It was cozy and

warm and smelled faintly of his cologne. I just wanted to curl up and hug it to me.

I was wearing his college hoodie.

This was such a quintessential boyfriend moment. I’d dreamed of sharing cute romantic moments like this with someone for as long as I could remember.

It was perfect.

And I was about to ruin it all.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I whispered. Too afraid to look at him, I peeked at his hands on the wheel.

They flexed then tightened into fists as I stared at the heavy black and silver watch on his wrist, the one depicting one of history’s bloodiest military engagements.

There was an agonizingly long pause.

When he finally responded, his voice was tight and controlled. “What are you saying, Emma?”

“I’m not the girl you think I am.”

“I’m going to need more of an explanation than that, моя крошка.”

A tear escaped down my cheek. After swiping it away, I looked down at the dark water stain it had made on the inside cu of his hoodie, the diamond bracelet peeking out beneath its folds. моя крошка.

My little one.

His special endearment for me.

I love it.

After today, I will never hear him call me that again.

I’d always liked the memes that tell you to be the heroine of your own story. I must have had over a hundred saved on my computer. I’d spent my entire life dreaming between the pages of a book. Never letting go of this firmly held belief that all I was missing was the opportunity to experience drama, adventure, and romance. That once it came my way, I

would rise to the occasion. I would become the bold and sassy heroine who could easily match wits with the hero. I would risk it all for love and laugh at danger as I seized life’s adventures.

I would become the heroine of my story.

But now that the time had come, I realized I wasn’t that girl.

I wasn’t heroine material.

I was in way over my head with Dimitri.

Kinky, aggressive sex.

Diamond bracelets and expensive meals.

Guns and bags of cash.

Insane helicopter rides over the city in the dead of night.

Who was I kidding? This wasn’t me.

I wasn’t the sophisticated, confident woman who could hold her own on the arm of a man like Dimitri. Who could command attention as she waltzed into a restaurant and ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne.

I was the nerdy little librarian wannabe. The girl who wore Mary Janes and enjoyed spending Friday nights curled up rereading Jane Austen books.

I mean sure Dimitri liked me now, but what about a few months from now? I was sure the novelty of dating an ingénue like me would wear o . Soon he would want someone more sexually adventurous and cultured. Probably taller, too.

He would go on and be fine.

I was the one in real danger.

I was already in love with him.

The longer I stayed with him, the worse I was going to get my heart broken.

Better to cut and run now.

“You have this vision of me that just isn’t true.”

“And what would that be?”

I blushed to say it out loud. I raised my hands up in frustration as I blurted out, “You think I’m this sexy, interesting woman. Who’s adventurous in bed and someone that you should date… and I’m not! I’m not any of those things.”

The car lurched to the right as Dimitri pulled over and violently shifted it into park. Leaning over, he unsnapped my seat belt and flicked it o my lap so hard the buckle smashed against the window before zipping back into place.

Oh, my God! He is so mad he’s going to toss me out of the car onto the side of the road!

Fuck. I had left my backpack with my wallet, keys, and phone at the bar last night. Although I was certain Mary would grab it and take it home, that didn’t help me now.

“Dimitri, I—” Snatching me up into his arms, he dragged me across the center console to land in his lap. His left arm wrapped around me tightly as his right hand cupped my jaw and angled my head toward him.

“What are you really saying, Emma? Is this about last night? Are you afraid of me now?”

Tight lines of worry etched his mouth as his steel gaze bore into mine.

“Last night? No, Dimitri. No, absolutely not. This is about me.”

My hand rested against his freshly shaved jaw. The faint scar below his eye gave him a roguish, Viking appearance.

The spicy scent of his cologne clung to his skin and suit. He looked so devastatingly handsome in a dangerous bad boy sort of way with his expensive single-breasted suit and the hints of the tattoos and muscles that lay beneath the thin civilized veneer.

“You saved me last night.” I swallowed, pushing down the terrifying memory. “Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t come in time.”

His thumb brushed the curve of my cheek. “And after?”

I bit my lip as I shifted my gaze to the knot of his purple silk tie.

He used his grip on my jaw to tilt my head back up.

“Emma, I asked you a question.”

“Last night was… fine.”

“It was a great deal more than fine, baby girl.”

“Don’t make me say it out loud,” I whined.

“Say what? That you liked when I ordered you to strip and bend over, baring that gorgeous ass to me?”

I groaned.

“That you got o on the feel of my leather belt on your skin as I punished you for being a naughty girl,” he murmured as he trailed his lips along the column of my neck.

I shifted on his lap, feeling the growing press of his cock and an answering twinge between my legs. “Dimitri, please.

You have to stop.”

“That’s not what you said last night. I believe you begged me to fuck you harder,” he growled as his lips teased mine.

The tip of his tongue ran along my bottom lip, tasting my moan.

Placing both hands on his chest, I pushed back till I felt the press of the steering wheel dig into my shoulder blades.

“That’s the point, Dimitri! You’re making me sound like this exciting seductress and I’m not that girl!”

He chuckled. “I’ve got news for you, моя крошка. You are.” His fingers ran up the inside of my denim-clad thigh to squeeze between my legs.

“I don’t fit in your world.”

He scanned my face as his gaze hardened. “Because I’m a criminal?”

My heart skipped a beat at his boldly casual use of the word criminal.

“No. Yes. Maybe,” I stuttered. “Although I don’t really know much about it because you won’t tell me.”

He pushed his fingers in my hair and closed his fist around the curls. “And I never will. I won’t taint your innocence with the dark stain of that side of my life.”

This really was more about me and my insecurities, but there was no denying that if I stayed with him, eventually I would have to come to terms with what he did for a living and whether or not I was able to accept it. Although he had been careful to mention very little about it, there was no doubt in my mind that whatever he did, it involved violence and breaking the law.

Was I okay with that?

If I learned the truth, could I separate the man I was coming to know and love from the criminal?

Just one more reason to end this now.

“That’s the point! You see me as this innocent schoolgirl.

I know I’m a novelty to you. Eventually you’ll want someone you could share all aspects of your life with. Someone who knows about fancy caviar and has a closet full of black cocktail dresses and outfits to match the pretty jewelry you give them.”

“My God. What must it be like in that crazy little head of yours,” he exclaimed. “Have I given you any reason to think that was the type of woman I wanted?”

I smoothed the tie down his shirtfront as I avoided his gaze. “No… but…”

He shifted his hips, the hard proof of his arousal pressing against the backs of my thighs.

“Do I need to pull these jeans down and prove to you how much you are exactly what I want?”

I took a deep breath. “Dimitri, I think I might be falling in love with you. That scares the crap out of me, because I feel like I’m this foolish girl running headlong into a huge mistake.”

“Is that what you think I am? A mistake?”

“I don’t know. I think you’ll break my heart. I think eventually you are going to tire of me and move on and I won’t be able to stand it when you do. I’ll shatter into a million pieces.”

A low vibrating growl rumbled in his chest before he pulled my head down to his to claim my mouth in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. His tongue teased and tasted mine as he nipped at the corner of my lips. The hard bristle of his goatee brushed against my sensitive lips, reminding me of its electrifying feel on my pussy earlier this morning.

We were both breathless when he pulled free. “You’re mine, Emma. Mine. And if I have to go out of my way to convince you each and every day that you are precisely what I want… then I will, but I won’t let you leave me.”

His words were everything I’d wanted to hear, but dark doubt still twisted my gut.

“Maybe I just need a little time to think. It’s been a crazy few days.”

It was hard to believe I had known this amazing man who had burst into my life with the energy and intensity of a thousand suns for less than a week. Everything was happening too fast. I was falling too hard. I needed time to slow things down and think.

“Time?”

“Yes, just a little time.”

His jaw tense, Dimitri nodded. He lifted me back into the passenger seat.

Sensing a chilled change in the atmosphere, I reached for my seat belt and buckled it. Praying we wouldn’t hit too much tra c on the way back to my apartment. The sooner I got away from his powerful presence and cleared my head, the better.

Everything was just spinning in circles right now. Being with Dimitri was like being on one of those Tilt-A-Whirl rides. I loved how o -balance and excited that ride made you feel as it rushed from one compass point to the next, but at the same time it also spun in sickening circles to the point where you couldn’t focus or get your bearings.

Worse, when you got o the ride, all the tantalizing excitement was gone. It usually left you on shaky legs, feeling dizzy and disoriented.

Dimitri pulled the car back onto the road, but instead of driving forward, he made a sharp U-turn.

“My apartment is the other way.”

“I know.”

“Dimitri, I have class in less than an hour. I have to get home.”

“You’re missing class today.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re coming with me.”

We pulled onto the highway going south.

I sighed. “I just told you I needed a little time.”

“And I will give it to you… but that time will be spent with me.”

“That’s not the point of giving someone time!”

“Take it or leave it. It’s my only o er.”

“You can’t keep dictating orders and rules to me like this!”

He cast me a sidelong glance that said the opposite.

“Dimitri, you have to take me home.”

“No.”

“This is kidnapping.”

He shrugged. “Not the worst thing I’ve ever been accused of.”

“This isn’t funny. Where do you think you’re taking me?”

He turned o the highway at the Midway Airport exit.

“Morocco.”

CHAPTER 23

A

nd it is you, spirit—with will and energy, and virtue and purity—that I want…. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

D IMITRI

“G ET OUT OF THE CAR , E MMA .”

“This is crazy!”

I parked the car in my exclusive hangar at Midway. The pilot had already finished the last checks on the Gulfstream, my private plane. They had cleared us for takeo in the next fifteen minutes. I didn’t have time for her tantrum. She was coming with me and that was final.

“Get out of the car.”

“I am not going to Morocco with you!”

“See, that is where you’re wrong.”

She really looked adorable sitting there in my old Oxford hoodie with her arms crossed over her chest like a petulant child. Taking her to Morocco was definitely not part of my plans, but she had given me no choice.

I had felt my heart stop when she’d said our relationship wasn’t working for her anymore.

I wasn’t prepared to let her go… I didn’t think I ever would be.

Of course, I thought it was because of last night. The violence she had witnessed. I’d feared then, as I did now, that it would change her perception of me. I wanted her to be many things, but afraid of me was never one of them. I prayed she’d never find out what I was truly capable of. That she never learned Brad’s fate. What would she think of me then?

Not that I regretted it—not for one moment. He had touched what was mine.

He’d deserved to die.

She needed time. It was a reasonable request. Too bad I wasn’t willing to give it to her. With time, she might realize that an innocent sweet girl like her had no business falling in love with a criminal mafia thug like me.

No, I couldn’t let that happen.

I would keep her by my side, bind her to me, till all doubts were gone.

Till she was completely under my control.

It was selfish.

Dangerous.

If I were a better man, I would let her go. Let her find a more appropriate man to love, a scholar or professor, someone safe and reliable. Someone who wouldn’t drag her light into his shadow.

Too bad I wasn’t a better man.

I was a selfish bastard.

But then again, perhaps I could be forgiven. She had said she was falling in love with me. This beautiful, sweet creature was in love with me. She had brought light and energy into my life. I enjoyed viewing the world through her eyes. It was a better place, full of promise and new adventures. Every new experience she had, whether it was

sex, trying a decadent food, or learning the complex dance between pain and pleasure, it was as if I were also feeling it for the first time, experiencing that heady rush of excitement that can only come from a new discovery.

I didn’t want to return to my bleak existence of guns, war, and money.

I wanted the promise of her kiss and of her love.

She was mine, and I was keeping her.

Leaning down, I placed a crooked finger under her chin.

Lifted her face to mine. “Keep pushing that bottom lip out and I’ll take it as an invitation.”

She pulled both lips between her teeth.

So adorable.

I tapped the sun-warmed top of my Mercedes. “Here’s the situation. I want you to come to Morocco with me and what I want… I get. Now get out of this car. The plane is ready for takeo and I’m on a schedule.”

She hu ed. “You’re a bully.”

I nodded my head. “I’m not denying that.”

“I don’t even have a passport or money… or clothes!”

“I will take care of your passport. You never have to worry about money with me and we will buy whatever you need when we get there, although if it were up to me, I’d keep you naked in my bed the whole time.”

“No. I can’t. I have class, work, responsibilities! There’s a huge mix-up with my tuition and I have an appointment this afternoon with financial aid that I can’t miss.”

My brow wrinkled. “What mix-up? Your tuition is paid.”

Her eyes narrowed. Throwing o her seat belt, she got out of the car and confronted me. I straightened my lips into a grim line, certain her knowing I was finding this amusing would make her even angrier. She looked like a little butterfly trying to take on a bear.

“Dimitri, tell me you didn’t pay my tuition.”

Now it was my turn to cross my arms over my chest as I raised an eyebrow. I said nothing.

She threw her hands up in frustration as she paced a few steps away. Too bad my oversized hoodie obscured the view of her ass in those tight jeans. She then marched back to jam a finger into my chest. “This is not okay! Now I’m obligated to you. Accepting money from you makes me feel like I’m your whore!”

My arms slowly dropped to my sides as my hands curled into fists.

This had ceased to be amusing.

Her large doe eyes widened. She stumbled back a few steps as I advanced.

My baby girl knew she had just crossed a line.

Turning, she tried to run, heading straight for the wide opening of the hangar where sunlight poured in from outside.

I reached out my arm and snatched at the sweatshirt hood, pulling her back into the shadows… with me.

Her body jerked, falling back against my chest. My right arm swept around to press her tightly to me. My hand finding the soft curve of her left breast through the material, I gave it a harsh squeeze. She inhaled sharply. “Я предупреждал вас, что никогда больше не хочу слышать это слово в ваших устах, иначе будут последствия.” I was so angry I accidentally spoke Russian and was forced to repeat myself. Growling in her ear, I said, “I warned you I never wanted to hear that word on your lips again or there would be consequences.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

“Oh, little girl, you’re about to be very sorry.”

Spinning her in my arms, I placed a shoulder to her middle and lifted her high.

“Dimitri! Don’t! Put me down!”

Ignoring her pleas, I headed to the flight of air stairs that had been lowered for boarding. Her weight was slight, so I easily took the steps two at a time. Bending my knees, I ducked low as I hauled her through the narrow oval door opening and onto the plane.

The pilot nodded his head as he greeted me. “Good morning, Mr. Kosgov.”

“Morning, Tom. We’re ready to leave.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned and crossed into the cockpit.

Tom had been with my organization for close to fifteen years. He had seen everything from American presidents to ruthless dictators to unscrupulous Hollywood moguls doing all sorts of unethical escapades on this plane. My carrying an unwilling female, while a first, would not cause so much as a raised eyebrow from him or the rest of his sta .

“Help! I’m being kidnapped!” cried out Emma.

She got a slap on the ass for her troubles, although the excess fabric of the hoodie mu ed the impact. I would soon rectify that.

“Good morning, Mr. Kosgov. Can I get you and your guest some co ee?”

“No, thank you, Meghan. We’ll be in the back and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Are you kidding me with this! Do you not see this man is kidnapping me?” shouted Emma while she tried to brace herself against my back as she leaned up to face Meghan.

In answer, I gave the flight attendant a conspiratorial wink before making my way down the aisle to the back bedroom, one of the perks of owning a plane.

The bedroom was the last cabin in the plane. The roundroofed space contained a king-sized bed in the center with windows on both sides. To be honest, I rarely used the ivory

and gold decorated bedroom, preferring to work during the downtime of travel. I had been considering having it removed to create an additional meeting area. At this moment, I was very pleased I’d never gotten around to it.

Depositing Emma on the bed, I turned and locked the door.

“You have to let me o this plane.”

The engine roared to life as the plane shifted. We began to taxi out onto the runway.

“Too late. You’re my prisoner now,” I warned as I shrugged out of my suit jacket. I reached for the cu ink securing the cu on my right wrist.

She flipped up onto her knees. “I’m mad at you right now.

You’ve kidnapped me, for heaven’s sake! There is no way I’m having sex with you.”

Twisting my left cu ink o , I walked the few steps to the mahogany built-in cabinet and opened the drawer. Dropping the cu inks inside, I picked up a small travel size aloe lotion.

This would work.

I closed the drawer with my hip and tossed the lotion onto the bed.

“What is that for?”

She really was so adorably innocent and naïve.

“The sex we won’t be having,” I teased as I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it o my shoulders.

Her brow furrowed as she stared at the bottle. You could see the precise moment my intentions dawned on her.

“Oh, hell, no!”

She sprang up from the bed and lunged for the door.

Pivoting, I caged her in with my body, pinning her against the door.

Before she could even cry out, I whipped the hoodie over her head and tossed it aside. I then made quick work of her

simple white lace bra. Running my hand down her back, I could feel the aroused tremors ripple over her body as her shoulders tensed and her bottom pushed out. Reaching between us, I flicked open the brass button of her jeans.

Her breath came in short, excited gasps. I just loved the way her hair hung down her back in thick tawny waves. It made me want to wrap it around my fist and push inside her tight cunt till she screamed for release.

Leaning down, I scraped my teeth along the edge of her shoulder. “Tell me you want this.”

She moaned.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me you want to give me your last virginity.”

My mouth teased the side of her throat. I could feel the muscles tense as she swallowed. Looking up, I watched the tip of her pink tongue flick out to wet her bottom lip. “I’m scared it will hurt.”

I caressed the cool skin of her back with the palm of my hand before moving down to her ass. I cupped her generous curve and gave it a hard squeeze. She lifted onto her toes.

“Of course it’s going to hurt but we both know you like the pain. You like it when I make it hurt and then kiss it all better,” I rasped against her neck.

“Oh, God.” Shifting my hand to her stomach, I inched down till I felt the metal tab of her jeans zipper. As I ran my tongue over the delicate curve of her ear, I slowly lowered the zipper. Feeling the brush of her cotton panties against my knuckles as the waist flaps fell open.

Pressing my hips to keep her steady, I put my hands on her hips and pushed her jeans down, unable to suppress a groan as the denim brushed my engorged cock through my suit pants. Her jeans fell to the floor. Flipping her around, I set my forearms against the door on either side of her head.

“Say it,” I demanded. “Tell me to fuck your ass.”

Her beautiful brown eyes pleaded with me. “I can’t.”

I pushed the tip of my tongue between her lips, tasting her before claiming her mouth. My tongue swept in and dueled with hers. Shifting my head from side to side, I devoured her. Licking, biting, and sucking at her gorgeous full lips, I knew I was being rough. I knew the bristle from my goatee would burn her sensitive skin, but I didn’t care.

When I finally pulled back her lips were swollen a bright cherry red.

“Do you want me to make you, baby girl?” I reached between her legs and pushed my finger through her wet warmth deep into her body, “Is that what you want, моя крошка? Do you want me to force you down onto this bed and push my cock deep into your ass as you struggle?”

“Oh, God.” Her knees buckled.

Catching her around the waist, I turned and tossed her onto the center of the bed. Staring down at her, I stepped out of my shoes as I unfastened my pants. When I was as naked as she was, I placed a knee on the bed between her legs.

Shifting it high, I brushed against her cunt. Her head fell back as she moaned. Leaning over, I captured one ripe raspberry nipple in my mouth and sucked deep, scraping her flesh with my teeth.

Her fingernails clawed at my shoulders and upper arms.

After laving her other nipple with the same brutal attention, I kissed my way over her flat abdomen to flick my tongue between her pussy lips. I loved doing this to her in the shower. Feeling the hot water rush over our bodies as I used the tip of my tongue to torture her clit.

Now I pressed my hands against her inner thighs and pushed, displaying her. Rolling my lips over the edges of my teeth, I took her clit into my mouth and punished the

sensitive bundle of nerves till Emma screamed my name in release.

It was not enough for me.

Flipping her onto her stomach, I forced her to her knees.

Spreading her ass cheeks, I leaned down and tongued her cunt from behind. Her shoulders collapsed onto the bed.

Straightening, I rose up on my knees behind her. Using my two middle fingers, I swept over her pussy, collecting her cream. I then swiped it over her tight, puckered hole. The pale pink skin glistened with her arousal.

Emma’s cheeks tried to clench, but I held them open.

“Dimitri. Don’t! I can’t.”

Tilting my head, I softly blew on her hole, watching as it twitched and spasmed from the kiss of cool air.

“I’m a selfish bastard, Emma. I need to be your first in all things.”

And your last.

In a lifetime of cruel and depraved acts this is probably my most cruel, but I am keeping this beautiful sweet creature for my own.

Forever.

She is mine.

Had been mine from the first moment I opened my door and pulled her over the threshold into my arms.

Even though she was slick with her own arousal, I reached for the bottle of lotion. I was a big man, and I didn’t want to tear her. Pulling open the cap with my teeth, I emptied the contents into my palm.

Grasping my cock, I hissed through my teeth as the cool lotion coated my hot skin. Pumping my fist, I spread the lotion up and down the shaft and head before running my fingers over her hole.

Placing my free hand on her lower back, I pushed one finger inside.

Emma cried out. I knew it was more from shock than pain since I had already put my thumb and a butt plug up this cute ass of hers. I drove a second finger in and twisted.

Ignoring her whimpers, I shifted till my hips were closer to her bent form.

Lifting up my cock, I brushed the head against her hole. It clenched and puckered. Shifting, I pressed in, forcing the bulbous tip inside.

Emma screamed and pitched forward.

Grasping her hips, I pulled her back into position and slipped in a few more inches.

Christ, she was tight.

“It hurts! Please, Dimitri! I can’t.”

My hands spread open her heart-shaped ass as I watched my thick shaft violate her. Watched as it slid deeper and deeper inside her body. The skin around her hole turned white as it stretched and strained to accept my girth.

Her shoulder blades tightened together as her feet kicked, shaking the bed.

Once I was halfway inside her ass, I took a deep breath and held it. Relishing this ultimate moment, before ruthlessly thrusting till her ass hit my stomach.

She tried to pitch forward, but I kept her body locked with mine. Emma clawed at the covers as she cried for mercy.

I gave her none.

Thrusting deep into her ass repeatedly, the more she struggled, the harder I fucked her.

A sheen of sweat glistened on both of our bodies as the air became thick with musk and heat. Reaching between her legs, I lightly tapped her clit with the tip of my finger, relishing how she would tighten around my cock with each caress.

“Where’s my cock, Emma?”

She whimpered.

I slapped her ass.

“Where is it?”

“In my ass,” she breathed the words heavily against the ivory bedcovers.

“You’re a dirty girl who likes it when I fuck you hard.”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck. Oh, God, Dimitri. Fuck me.”

Knowing she was close, I shifted my shoulder and leaned into my thrusts as I pushed two fingers into her cunt. I could feel my cock pounding into her through the thin muscle of the wall that separated them. Emma collapsed forward as she cried out. Her orgasm vibrated up my shaft.

Placing my hands flat on the bed on either side of her hips, her ass cheeks closed around my cock, I pushed inside her several more times before roaring my release.

Collapsing beside her, I pulled her sated body into my arms.

Kissing the top of her head, I had to catch my breath before saying, “Never tell me you are not sexy or adventurous in bed, моя крошка. Jesus, ты будешь моей смертью.”

Her breath tickled my chest hair as she asked, “What does ty budesh’ moyey smert’yu mean?” speaking what I had just said phonetically.

I rolled on top of her, balancing my weight on my forearms on either side of her head. Leaning down, I kissed her nose. “It means you will be the death of me!”

Wedged between our two bodies, my still semi-hard cock twitched and lengthened.

“Dimitri! You can’t possibly mean to have sex again?”

I gave her a wink. “What else are we going to do? It’s a nine-hour plane ride.”

Shifting my hips, the head of my cock nudged at her entrance when Emma pressed a kiss to my neck and then

asked, “You’re not really taking me all the way to Morocco, are you?”

CHAPTER 24

S

ome Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. - William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

D IMITRI

“I HEARD a nasty rumor you brought a young female on board the plane to Morocco with you.”

Very little got past Vaska.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

I was lying. He knew it and so did I. I didn’t have to drag Emma halfway across the world with me, but if I were honest with myself, I was afraid to leave her behind. Afraid of what might happen if I gave her the time alone she wanted… the space to think our relationship through and realize an innocent librarian had no business being with a Russian mafia thug like me.

I couldn’t let that happen.

It was cruel and selfish, but I didn’t give a damn.

I didn’t really have a plan beyond keeping her by my side and in my bed long enough to erase all doubts or questions in her mind.

“You do realize that hot-headed spitfire she calls a roommate is threatening to call the cops if I don’t tell her where Emma is?” complained Vaska.

I’d forgotten about Mary. She would be worried. She was a good friend to my girl and deserved better. “Fuck. I’ll call her.”

Emma was sleeping in the bedroom while I headed to the lounge portion of the plane to get some work done before landing. I didn’t want to disturb her, especially after I’d handled her so roughly earlier. Poor thing would have bruises on her hips from my grip while I’d thrust into that amazingly tight ass of hers.

Jesus, this woman would be the death of me. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the notion she believed she wasn’t sexy or adventurous enough in bed for me. The idea was ludicrous. She was by far the most seductive, intoxicating woman I had ever been with… and frankly, that was saying a lot.

Nothing about her was practiced artifice. She had this natural primal energy that drew me like a moth to a flame.

Her innocent responses to my touch were fascinating to behold. They were so pure and unadulterated and yet… dirty, sexy, hot at the same time.

“No, I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure?”

Vaska’s voice took on a peculiar lilt. “It would be my pleasure.”

“You know she’s Emma’s dearest friend,” I said, a warning note in my voice. Vaska was like a blood brother to me, but that didn’t mean I would be okay with him hurting Emma by somehow hurting her friend.

“Understood. I’m handling it.” With that, Vaska deliberately changed the subject. “Mikhail Volkov has already arrived from Washington. Gregor Ivanov was kind

enough to lend him to us to help fix our little… problem. He’s already arranged a meeting with the port master for tomorrow. I’ll tell him you’re having some low level meetings tonight and ask if he has time to swing by the hotel to meet with you after.”

As a former Russian sniper and head of security for the Ivanov crime syndicate, Mikhail Volkov was a good man to have by my side for this.

“Any problems I should be aware of?”

“We found out who was causing us headaches. A disgraced former member of the Royal Guard, trying to get his foot into the smuggling business by throwing around a lot of money and muscle. Mikhail has a watch on him.”

“Fine. I’ll discuss our options with him when we meet.”

Vaska chuckled. “That will be a brief conversation: option one, cut the head o the snake. There is no option two.”

“You know me well, my friend.”

“I’ll see you when you’re back in Chicago.”

“Vaska?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember what I said about Mary.”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t tell you how to handle Emma. You let me worry about Mary.”

“So, it’s like that?”

“It is.”

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had gotten caught in the web of a seemingly innocent but incredibly spirited female.

“Good luck, I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

I disconnected the call, then made arrangements to have a fake passport and some clothes for Emma delivered to my plane by the time we landed.

I STARED down at her sleeping form. I really hated to wake her. She slept so soundly she didn’t even feel us land. She looked adorable all curled up on her side, her tangled hair fanning around her on the pillow. The bedcovers had slipped down, revealing one creamy shoulder. I especially liked the glint from the diamond bracelet on her wrist.

I knew she was still very self-conscious about it, but I hoped she never took it o . It was my mark of ownership.

Soon I would add a matching ring.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I leaned down and placed a kiss on her exposed shoulder. Her dark eyelashes fluttered before they revealed beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

“Did I fall asleep for long?” she asked as she straightened her legs and shifted under the covers.

“For the rest of the flight.”

“Goodness!”

I motioned with my head to the green canvas bag on the edge of the bed. “We’ve already landed. There are some clothes and toiletries in the bag for you.”

Her cheeks warmed with a pretty pink blush. Her lips were still slightly swollen and a dark pink from my aggressive kisses earlier. Damn, she really was the most beautiful creature, almost other-worldly.

“That was thoughtful, thank you. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Take your time. My meeting isn’t till tomorrow. We’ll check into the hotel and grab a bite to eat, then I have a surprise.”

Her eyes lit up. “A surprise!”

“If you’re a good girl,” I teased.

She leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek. The covers slipped as she did so, and one pert nipple brushed my

upper arm. I could feel my cock stir. It would have to wait.

She was probably way too sore after the brutal fucking I had given her earlier. I might not be a gentleman where she was concerned, but I wasn’t a heartless barbarian.

As she sat back, she pushed out her bottom lip in a cute pout. Pulling the bedsheet up to cover her breasts, she hu ed, “I’m still mad at you for basically kidnapping me.”

I furrowed my brow and thinned my lips, trying to look both serious and chastised. “Yes, I know.”

She grabbed a pillow and swiped me with it. “You’re impossible.”

“Yes, but you love me for it.”

Her smile faltered. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

I wasn’t sure if her change in expression was because she had admitted she loved me and I hadn’t said it back… yet… or regret over the fact that she loved me. Either way, I hoped to rectify both situations soon.

Cupping her head, I pulled her close and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Get dressed. I’ll be in the other cabin.”

Less than a half hour later, she emerged clad in a deep purple maxi-dress with a pair of strappy sandals. She had brushed her hair till it fell in smooth waves. My contact had even provided some makeup. Her lips had a pink sheen and her eyes sparkled with a touch of liquid eyeliner.

I motioned for her to twirl around. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Everything fits perfectly. There is even another dress and a cute bathing suit.”

Placing a hand on her lower back, I pulled her close. “I can’t wait to get you to the hotel so I can take this o .”

“You’re so bad.”

If she only knew…

We stepped into the black, bulletproof SUV waiting for us inside the hangar. As soon as we got into the rear seat, I handed her several books.

“What is this?”

“I figured a cute book nerd like you would want to read up on Morocco and Marrakech while we are here.”

She squealed in delight as she eagerly scanned through the books.

For the short ride into the city, past fields filled with neat rows of olive trees, she entertained me with random facts about the history of Marrakech.

“Did you know many of the locals speak French as well as Arabic?”

I nodded that I did.

She flipped to a di erent page. “Oh! It says here we shouldn’t take a picture of a snake charmer without o ering some form of payment. Apparently they get furious if you don’t.”

Her enthusiasm was contagious.

“Would we have time to see one of the famous bazaars?

It’s supposed to be a chaotic scene of bright colors, exotic goods, and piles and piles of spices… and monkeys!” She gave a little bounce in her seat as she chatted on.

I sat back and rubbed my jaw as I watched her. My business frequently took me all around the world, from luxurious cities to cave hovels in the middle of the desert.

Somewhere along the way, I had lost the simple joy to be had from experiencing new places and things. Until Emma, I had been living my life in the shadows, filling it with backroom deals, guns, and blood money.

She was a bright spark of light.

And I was a monster.

If I had learned one thing, it was that darkness swallows the light. Always.

I should have let her run from me when she’d had the chance.

Now it was too late.

CHAPTER 25

S

eldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken. - Jane Austen, Emma

Emma

T HIS ALL SEEMED LIKE A DREAM .

This morning I had awakened to the dreary grey skies of Chicago, and now I was stepping into the warmth and sunshine of Morocco. This was insane! This kind of thing didn’t happen to normal people, or at the very least they didn’t happen to me.

I was grateful for the secure feel of Dimitri’s hand on my lower back as he led me into the hotel. I couldn’t suppress a gasp as we crossed the threshold.

I was inside the pages of the Arabian Nights!

The lobby was flooded with sunlight and bright bold colors. Highly polished mosaic tiles in complicated geometric patterns covered the floor and countless columns.

Massive glass vases filled with gorgeous flowers gave the air a fresh floral scent. As he led me toward the reception desk,

we stepped past a center fountain surrounded by a shallow rectangular pool of cool water.

The hotel sta greeted us warmly. Apparently Dimitri was a frequent guest. Instead of showing us to our room, they mentioned a word I wasn’t familiar with.

Grasping his elbow, I leaned up on my toes and whispered in his ear, “What is a ri-yad?”

He leaned down and whispered back, “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t want them to think I’m uncultured.”

He pulled on one of my curls. “You’re adorable. The Royal Mansour doesn’t have typical hotel rooms or suites; they have riads, which are a traditional Moroccan house that surrounds a private courtyard. They cater to a clientele who prefer their… privacy.”

Despite the warmth of my surroundings, I shivered.

It was a subtle reminder we were not here on some spurof-the-moment romantic getaway. Dimitri was here on business. Shady, criminal business I wasn’t supposed to know anything about. Dangerous business I preferred not to think about. It was easier to be with him and reconcile my love for him if I stayed inside my ignorant bubble.

The only problem was… bubbles were fragile things. They usually burst.

As they showed us into our personal riad, I walked past the living room, which was dimly lit by several hanging iron and stained glass lamps, through the open door to the courtyard. It was stunning. Breezy palm trees shaded the many jewel-toned ottomans and lounges, which surrounded a fountain depicting a large urn pouring water into a circular pool. The cobalt tiles made the water look impossibly blue.

It was a reader’s dream.

I could easily imagine spending hours each afternoon curled up on a lounger, listening to the quiet music of the

running water as I read. Closing my eyes, I inhaled. Just like in the lobby, the air had a fresh floral scent. It felt like the entire city was a brightly colored blossom floating on crystal blue, sun-kissed waters.

Strong arms closed around my middle.

“You must be starving. They are setting up lunch in the dining room.”

Turning, my cheek brushed the soft bristle of his goatee.

“Can we eat out here?”

“Of course. I’ll go tell them.”

I WAS SEATED in an alcove in an upper corner of the courtyard, tucked between two lemon trees. It had a low table with several bejeweled cushions and was hidden from view by silk draping in vivid yellow, orange, and crimson.

A breeze rustled the branches of the lemon tree, sending a sweet citrus scent into the air. Just then, Dimitri appeared.

He had changed out of his suit into a loose-fitting white linen shirt that was partially unbuttoned exposing his colorful tattoos and heavily muscled chest, and a pair of tan linen trousers.

Fuck, he was hot as hell. Even his bare feet were sexy.

Once more I felt a cold fist twist inside my chest. I didn’t really consider myself an insecure person, but it was hard not to feel a little trepidation around someone like Dimitri.

He was older, more cultured, and probably richer than I could ever imagine. Places like this were just a Tuesday business trip for him. Meanwhile, I was gob-smacked at my exotic, luxurious surroundings.

He sat down on one cushion, then leaned over onto his elbow next to me. He looked like a dark sultan, the kind from the movies who seduce gullible virgins into following them

deep into the desert. Looking into his silver eyes, I knew I would definitely willingly be one of those women.

We lounged in the shade while Dimitri explained the di erent dishes and o ered me bites from his fingertips.

There were spicy salads made with shredded carrots and coriander, marinated purple artichokes, poached spiny lobster with a citrus vinaigrette, and lamb with sa ron and almonds.

Every mouthful was a burst of decadent flavor. It felt like I was tasting color. I know it sounds strange, but it was as if everything had a vivid filter on it. Cerulean blues, malachite greens, copper oranges, amethyst purples, and magenta reds, and all of it had a thin thread of metallic gold and silver that made it shimmer and dance in the golden yellow sunshine.

Dimitri reached for a sugared date o one of the tiered platters. Taking a bite of half, he held the other half up to my lips. I ate from his hand, licking the extra sugar from my lips.

He growled. “Don’t you start or I’ll forget to feed you and just take you to my bed like a savage.”

Leaning close, I licked my lips a second time, in what I hoped was a seductive manner.

Dimitri pounced.

The dominating force of his weight pushed me into the cushions. His muscled thighs captured my kicking legs between them. His already hard cock pressed against my stomach.

He leaned over me with one forearm. Stretching his arm out, he reached for an orange half from the silver platter filled with fruits and cheeses.

“Open your mouth.” His voice was low and husky with desire.

I obeyed.

He crushed the delicate fruit in his fist. Squeezed the rind till sweet juice trickled into my mouth and over my lips. His lips then followed, tasting the honeyed nectar on my tongue.

Much later, as I lay naked by his side on the cool mosaic tiles, trailing my fingers in the water and listening to his deep and even breathing, I couldn’t help thinking we were in the Garden of Eden.

Too bad I had forgotten about the evil serpent.

D RESSED in a gorgeous cobalt blue silk dress with slip-on ballet flats, I took Dimitri’s hand as he led me from our exotic oasis.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

We were on our way to Dimitri’s big surprise and I couldn’t contain my excitement.

“If you weren’t so preoccupied with tearing my clothes o , you’d probably have guessed by now,” he teased.

Taking him up on his challenge, I thought about what I knew about Morocco. It wasn’t much, and he had kept me occupied since arriving at the hotel, so the books he had given me were untouched on the table inside.

My mouth fell open. I turned to him with wide eyes.

“No!” He smiled. “Yes!” “Really?”

He nodded.

Oh, my God! This amazing man who had stormed into my life with the force of a hurricane, tossing all my emotions into a chaotic wind and stealing my heart, was about to make one of my biggest dreams come true.

I

CAN ’ T BELIEVE

I was actually here.

I took a deep breath and tried to quiet my beating heart. It was pounding so hard I felt lightheaded. Trying to collect myself, I looked down at the geometric tile of gold and brown under my feet. I then focused on the pristine white arches, then the gorgeous emerald green tiled roof. A simple fountain in the center of the courtyard was the only other decoration.

“Do you want to go inside?” asked Dimitri.

“In a minute. I just want to take it all in.”

I took another deep breath.

I was standing in the courtyard of the University of alQarawiyyin, the world’s oldest library.

The feeling was overwhelming. This was Mecca for any librarian. It was the top item on my bucket list. An item I never thought I’d ever get a chance to check o .

In the rooms surrounding this courtyard were over four thousand rare books and ancient Arabic manuscripts, centuries’ worth of human thought and innovation.

I laid a hand over my heart. “You remembered.”

I could only remember casually mentioning once to him I wanted to see the world’s greatest libraries… and he had remembered.

“I remember every word that has come from your lips, моя крошка.”

My eyes filled with tears. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rested my head against his heart. “Do you have any idea what this means to me?” I asked, my words mu ed against his shirt.

His hand came up to stroke my hair. “I only want to see you happy. Please, always remember that, моя крошка.”

He was a hero straight out of a romance novel. Sure, he had some dark and twisty parts to him, but really, what hero didn’t?

A man approached us from a shaded arch. For the next hour he took us on an exclusive tour of the entire complex, even reading rooms only reserved for scholars and clerics. I marveled at the intricate wood and ironwork as the curate talked about how it was founded by a woman in the ninth century and how women were responsible for the recent renovation.

Standing in one of the library’s temperature-controlled rooms surrounded by gilt and leather-bound volumes and fragile vellum scrolls was awe-inspiring. The curate even brought out an original version of Ibn Khaldun’s famous work, Muqadimmah, dating back to the fourteenth century.

He displayed it on an emerald green and gold velvet pillow.

After putting on a pair of white cotton gloves, I was allowed to flip through a few of the pages. It was like touching God. As we were getting ready to leave, another sta member ran up to Dimitri and handed him a cloth-wrapped package.

“Your purchase, sir.”

“What’s that?”

Dimitri handed it to me. “Open it and see.”

My eyes narrowed. “You promised no more elaborate gifts.”

“I lied.”

“Dimitri…”

He gave me a wink. “Would it help if I promised it wasn’t jewelry?”

My lips tweaked at the corners. He really did have the devil’s own charm.

Pulling back the black velvet, I could only stare in stunned wonder.

It was a three-volume collection of books. They were a beautiful dark green Moroccan leather with heavily gilded spines and moiré silk endpapers.

Carefully opening the cover, I stared down at the intricate title page. The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night by Richard Burton, First Edition 1885, published by the Kamashastra Society. It was the quintessential English translation of the Arabian Nights. I adored rare books. There was something about the electric feeling you got when you touched them. As if you held not only the author’s work in your hand, but the energy and essence of those who had read the book over the centuries. It was an extremely powerful feeling.

“Is this truly for me?” I whispered, touching a single reverent fingertip to the page. “I love it. I’ll treasure it for always and always.”

Stepping up behind me, he wrapped an arm around my waist as he looked over my shoulder down at the book. “You really are a marvel, Emma. I know no other woman in the world who would be happier getting an old book than a quarter of a million dollar diamond bracelet.”

Shocked, I turned in his embrace, hugging the books to my chest. “Wait. What?” I help up my arm, displaying the ever-present diamond bracelet on my wrist. Horrified, I asked, “Dimitri, please tell me I haven’t been walking around with a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bracelet on my arm!”

“Did you know your eyes become flecked with gold when you’re angry… or aroused?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

He looked down at his watch. “It’s getting late. We should head back to the hotel.”

“Dimitri…”

After that he picked me up into his arms and kissed me senseless, so I forgot why I was mad.

“I

WON ’ T BE LONG .”

I looked up from my book. I was in heaven, reading volume one of his gift outside in the courtyard surrounded by the soft glow of several stained glass lamps with the smell of spice and citrus in the air. It felt like I was truly in an Arabian palace, experiencing every word on the page.

He had showered and changed into a suit for his meeting.

I didn’t have to be told I wasn’t invited.

He sat beside me and nuzzled my neck. “Did you know they consider this translation the most sexually explicit?”

I knew that. It had had to be privately printed otherwise they would have thrown Richard Burton in prison for the graphic descriptions of the various Kama Sutra-like positions throughout the text.

“Perhaps when you return, I’ll read some of it to you… naked.”

Dimitri growled and loosened his tie. “Fuck my meeting.”

As he leaned over me, there was a knock on the door.

He hung his head and muttered a curse under his breath.

Rising, he straightened his tie. “Be a good girl. I’ll just be downstairs in the restaurant. Order something from room service while I’m gone.”

He bent down and gave me a quick kiss before leaving.

Moments later there was a knock on the door.

Dimitri must have forgotten something.

Closing my book and holding it against my chest as I headed toward the door, I called out, “Coming.”

“Did you forget your key?” I asked as I opened the door.

There was a sharp pain… then everything went black.

CHAPTER 26

A

man does not recover from such devotion of the heart to such a woman! Jane Austen, Persuasion

D IMITRI

“G ET OFF ME !” I roared as I fought against the three police o cers struggling to restrain me. Swinging my right arm, I sent one man careening straight into a wall. After swinging to my left, the second man pitched forward and tripped over the sofa I had upended.

Bending forward, I reached behind me and grabbed the coat of the o cer with his arm around my neck and flipped him over my head to land on his back at my feet.

A fourth o cer drew his gun.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I eyed my assailant before striking. Grabbing the gun with my left hand, I thrust the palm of my right against the man’s forearm till I heard a crack.

He screamed and dropped the gun.

Taking the butt of the gun, I clocked him on the temple.

He too crumpled at my feet.

Mikhail walked through the door and surveyed the carnage. “I see I missed all the fun.”

I had called him the moment I’d realized something was wrong. Fortunately, he had already been pulling into the hotel parking lot. Unfortunately, I had trashed the place, forcing the hotel’s security to call the police.

“What have you learned?” I asked him as I tore o my now damaged suit coat and loosened my tie.

Emma had been missing for two hours.

When I had returned to the riad, I had fully expected to find her where I’d left her… curled up in the courtyard with the book I had given her, but all was silent and still.

Realizing it had been a long day of travel and excitement for her, even without my sexual attentions, I’d had a vision of her lying naked in our bed, probably sleeping, snuggled under the covers all warm and soft. It was astounding how quickly I had become used to having her in my bed. Never in my life had I looked forward to sharing my bed with a woman more. And it wasn’t just the sex, it was her being there for me to hold close. I wanted that in my life, craved it.

The bedroom was empty. Our bed cold and unslept-in.

It wasn’t until I’d headed back into the living room that I had noticed the book.

The rare book I had just given her was lying face down on the floor with some pages crushed.

Emma would never treat a book that way, let alone one as precious and rare as that.

I knew then they had taken her.

The question was who.

Mikhail ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not Aamir. I’ve had him and his crew on surveillance. As far as I can tell, they didn’t know it was our guns they stole. Aamir freaked out when he learned the Russian connection and that

someone big from the operation was coming to Morocco to investigate.”

Stepping over one of the unconscious police o cers, I paced a few steps away, rubbing my jaw. I couldn’t think straight. My Emma, my sweet baby girl, моя крошка, was in danger and it was all my fault. I should have never brought her with me. I should have never pursued her. I should have left her to carry on with her normal life. Instead, for my selfish reasons, I’d dragged her beautiful light into my darkness and now she was going to pay the price.

I couldn’t let that happen.

If I had to burn this city to the ground, I would find her.

My baby would be safe in my arms before the dawn or there would be hell to pay.

Turning back to Mikhail, I asked, “What about the port master?”

Mikhail kicked a broken vase out of the way before crossing to me. “That makes little sense. He’s on the payroll.”

I continued to pace, my body full of angry energy. “What if he’s playing both sides? That shipment of AR-15s that went missing. He blamed Aamir’s outfit. What if he had made a deal with Aamir?”

Mikhail caught on to where I was going with this. “He uses our guns to jump-start Aamir’s operation, probably getting a piece of the action, while he continues taking bribes from us and blaming the occasional missing shipment on Aamir.”

I shook my head. “What’s his end game? What could he possibly hope to accomplish by taking… Emma?” I swallowed, feeling pressure behind my eyes just saying her name. Goddamn, she was probably terrified right now, and it was all my fucking fault. I felt like putting my fist through a

wall, except I had already done that and it hadn’t solved my problem or calmed my rage.

Mikhail shrugged. “When I set up the meeting, he seemed rattled that we would come to Marrakech over such a small missing shipment. Guess he figured we’d just write it o as a loss. Maybe he was worried we’d learn who really took the guns? Figured he’d distract you by taking Emma. He’s probably planning on blaming Aamir.”

“It’s working.”

“If it helps, he took her for leverage. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to kill her. That would just start a war.”

“It doesn’t help,” I growled, already imagining my hands around the man’s throat as I slowly squeezed the life out of him.

There was the sound of a shoe scrape in the outside hallway.

We both drew guns and pointed them at the open door.

A man entered with his arms held up high. “Mr. Kosgov, a thousand apologies!”

I un-cocked my gun and nodded to Mikhail that it was all right. It was Maurice, the owner of the hotel, who I knew well.

Maurice wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he held out his other hand, palm up, imploring me. “Mr. Kosgov, a thousand apologies,” he repeated nervously. “The idiotic security guard should never have involved the police.”

“Can I trust you to take care of this?” I asked, gesturing to the four knocked-out o cers.

“Yes. Yes. I have already called the commissioner. He is sending people over to collect his men. He will destroy any reports or evidence that a misunderstanding had occurred.”

The commissioner was also on our payroll, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my money clip and sectioned o a substantial number of

large bills. Folding them in half, I handed them to the owner, who bowed and left.

Turning back to Mikhail, I said, “He’ll probably secure her down by the docks.”

He nodded. “He’ll have several men. We’ll need supplies.”

“I have all we need on the plane.”

I hated the delay. Every minute my baby spent in the hands of this bastard was a minute too long. The primal part of me would have preferred to just charge in, but I knew that was the surest way to get her killed in the crossfire. It was better to go in fully armed with a plan.

Hold on, моя крошка, I’m coming for you.

T HE WAREHOUSE WAS DECEPTIVELY QUIET .

Having changed into black fatigues, I easily kept to the shadows and slipped behind the first guard, taking him out with a crack to the skull. Killing him would have made too much noise. Catching his body as he fell, I dragged it behind some crates and moved forward. Knowing Mikhail had more than likely dispatched the second guard and moved into position, I went forward with the more dangerous part of our plan.

Taking a deep breath, I carefully opened the door and crept inside.

The first thing I saw was her tearstained face. Terror had turned her usually pink and cream complexion a deathly pale. Her beautiful brown eyes seemed unnaturally large.

Never in my life would I forget the look on her face. The pain and horror my actions had caused her would be burned into my memory till the day I died.

She was seated at a makeshift table. The man I assumed was Khalid, the port master, sat beside her, his hand resting

on a Glock, which he had pointed straight at her.

He sprang up the moment he saw me. Grabbing the gun, he pulled on Emma’s forearm. She cried out. My guts twisted inside of me as I saw red. It took all my control to rein in the emotion to blindly kill. Khalid roughly forced Emma to her feet, placing her body between him and me.

He then placed the muzzle of his gun against her temple.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Dimitri, I’m so sorry,” she cried as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. “моя крошка, this isn’t your fault.”

She sni ed. “I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. Just hold on. This will all be over soon.”

“Shut up!” yelled Khalid.

Emma flinched as his gun struck her in his agitation.

Before I could react, two men sprang out of the shadows to my left and right. A swift punch to the throat incapacitated the right one. I ducked as the left one swung out; rising swiftly, I threw my fist into his side, aiming for his kidneys. As he bent over in pain, I gripped his partner who was still disoriented and swaying on his feet, and knocked their skulls together. They both fell where they stood, unconscious.

Khalid backed up a few steps, awkwardly dragging Emma with him. “Guards! Guards!”

“If you’re calling for the guards outside, they’re not coming. It’s just you and me now,” I warned, prowling toward them.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot her.”

“You do and you’re dead where you stand,” I growled.

His head tilted as his slack mouth contorted and he gave a high-pitched laugh. “I’m dead anyway no matter what. I know how you Russians operate.”

I took another step closer. “Yes, but you still have a choice.”

Emma flinched again as he pressed the gun muzzle harder into her temple. Khalid licked his lips as his gaze darted spasmodically around the room, searching for an exit we both knew didn’t exist. The only way out of this room was through me.

“What kind of choice?” he sneered.

“Let her go and I’ll kill you quickly. Harm her and not even God will hear your prayers for death. As you’ve said, I’m Russian.”

There wasn’t a criminal in the world who didn’t fear crossing a Russian.

Pain was an art form in my country.

Khalid cocked his gun. “I’m walking out of here with her.

I’ll let her go when I know I’m safely away.”

Emma whimpered.

My eyes narrowed as I ground out, “Not a chance, you’re not going anywhere with her.”

He wiped his sweating brow with his forearm before pressing the gun back to her temple. “You wouldn’t risk it. I saw how you were with her. I’ve been watching you since you arrived. We do this my way or she dies in front of you.”

“I love you, Dimitri,” cried Emma as her body shook from fear.

Goddamn it! This was not supposed to be how I first told her I loved her. I should have said it earlier. I should have been the one to say it first and keep saying it from the moment I met this beautiful sweet creature who stumbled into my dark world bringing light and life. When I got her out of this mess, I would never stop telling her.

“I love you too, моя крошка.”

“Enough!” screamed Khalid, clearing becoming unhinged from the pressure of the situation. “I’ll kill both of you!”

He swung the gun in my direction.

Finally, the moment we had been waiting for.

“Now!” I barked.

There was no sound. No hint of what had just occurred until a red hole appeared between Khalid’s eyes. As his lifeless body fell, I lunged for Emma, crushing her to my chest, shielding her from the gruesome sight.

She burst into tears as she clawed at my clothes. Grasping her by the back of her head, I pressed her close, murmuring repeatedly that I loved her and she was safe. I picked her up in my arms and hurried out of the warehouse. Mikhail was already by the SUV, loading his sniper rifle in the back.

“To the airport,” I demanded.

He nodded as he rushed to open the back passenger door.

I climbed in with Emma still in my arms. He shut it behind us and got behind the wheel.

As we raced to my private plane, I inspected Emma for injuries. There was a red mark on her temple from where Khalid kept pressing the muzzle to her head and a slight bump just above her right ear. He must have knocked her out with a blow to the head the moment she’d opened the hotel door. That was why there hadn’t been any sign of a struggle beyond the thrown book.

With my free hand, I caressed each arm and leg, still wanting to make sure she didn’t have any other unseen injuries. Picking up her arm, I tilted her wrist so I could see it in the light from the passing street lamps. It was red and raw. The diamond bracelet I had given her was gone. The bastard must have ripped it o her wrist.

“I’m sorry. He took it,” she whispered against my chest.

I kissed the top of her head. “I don’t give a damn about the bracelet, baby girl.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have opened the door. I wasn’t thinking. I should have known—”

“Stop. Just stop. Please, baby.”

I held her tighter.

Soul-crushing pain settled inside my chest that she felt she should somehow have known better. How would an innocent woman like her know to even suspect evil lurking behind a door? The only thing she should have known better was to run and keep running from a man like me. I had brought pain and terror into her life.

This was supposed to have been one of my annoying yet simpler business trips. After all, I wasn’t meeting with a warring general contemplating a coup or a ruthless dictator who needed more arms. I was meeting with a goddamn port master. A fucking government flunky.

If she wasn’t safe by my side for something this benign, then she would never be safe standing next to me. This trip was a wake-up call.

No matter how much it hurt.

I had to let her go.

CHAPTER 27

T

hese violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume. - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

D IMITRI

O NCE ON THE PLANE , I carried Emma to the bedroom. She felt so small and fragile in my arms, like a bird with a broken wing. Carefully placing her on the bed, I snatched at the bedcover, draping it over her shoulders. Wrapping her tight, I stroked her cheek.

“I’m going to start the shower. I’ll be right back.”

Her gaze looked haunted as she just nodded.

Leaving her for a moment, I started the shower and laid out a few towels before returning to her side. She hadn’t moved.

Pulling the blanket o her shoulders, I stood her up in my arms. Holding her close, I bunched the fabric of her dress in my hands. Stepping back, I pulled it over her head. Stripping o my own clothes, I stepped close and unhooked her bra. As I pushed one strap o her shoulder, my jaw clenched when I

saw the faint bruises on her upper arm from where Khalid had had his claws into her. Taking o her panties, I lifted her into my arms. Carrying her into the bathroom, I stepped into the shower.

Her lips opened on a soft moan as the scorching water hit her chilled skin. I lathered the soap in my hands, then ran my palms down her arms and hips. With each caress, she showed more signs of life. Her skin warmed to my touch. The deathly pallor of her cheeks faded. She leaned her head against my chest, her arms wrapped around my waist. I ran my hands up and down her back, humming an old Russian love song to try to soothe her.

Turning her in my arms, I filled my palms with shampoo and carefully washed her beautiful thick hair. She leaned back into my embrace, her small hands reaching behind to caress my thighs. There was nothing I wanted more than to lift her high against the slick tiled wall and bury my cock deep inside of her. To show her with actions what my words could never convey, but I kept my desire in check. What she needed now was gentleness at my hands, not a brutish coupling.

Stepping out and drying us o , I wrapped her thick hair in a towel before carrying her back into the bedroom. Pulling the covers aside, I slipped her between the cool sheets and climbed in beside her. Placing my arm around her waist, I kept her close. Closing my eyes, I listened to her quiet breathing as I tried to chase away the image of her terrorized face.

Finally she spoke.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered so low I didn’t think I’d heard her correctly.

My hand flexed over her waist and I pulled her tighter to me. “What did you say?”

She turned in my arms. “I knew you’d come for me.”

I pushed her damp curls away from her face. “Emma, I never for a moment thought I was putting you in any danger.

I would never…”

“Dimitri, you don’t think I blame you for what happened?”

“Don’t you? Emma… I’m not a good man. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened.”

She lowered her face. Her hand spanned the center of my chest. “Don’t say such a thing. It’s not true.”

I grasped her hand and squeezed. “Baby, we can’t keep pretending.”

“What are you saying?”

I swallowed. “I was wrong to pursue you. You were right before. You don’t belong in my world. You should be with someone who is good and decent and would never put you in danger.”

Her fingertip traced the outline of my dagger tattoo, lighting on each drop of blood. She had read her little book on Russian tattoos from the library. She knew what those drops of blood represented. What I represented. I was a criminal who oversaw a corrupt kingdom of guns and blood money. I had killed for my place on the throne and probably would again.

Her big brown eyes filled with tears. “Dimitri, please don’t do this. I was wrong to say that. I want to be with you.”

I cupped her jaw and swiped at her tears with my thumbs.

“I want you to listen very carefully, моя крошка. I love you.

I’ll always love you. I’ve never met a woman so sweet and pure and beautiful inside and out as you. Please forgive me.”

She wrapped her hands around my wrists, clinging to me.

“There is nothing to forgive, Dimitri.”

“Yes, there is. It was cruel of me to bring my… darkness… into your world. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better. I want you! I love you.”

I shook my head. “You only think you love me. I forced you into this… all of this. I never gave you a choice.”

“Are you saying I don’t know my own mind?”

“I’m saying an innocent doe in the forest doesn’t stand a chance when the hunter arrives.”

“Dimitri, don’t do this.”

Unable to retrain myself any further, I claimed her mouth.

Allowing myself one last taste of her sweetness. Shifting, I pulled her under me, spreading her legs and slipping in between her thighs. Leaning up on my forearms, I leaned down to kiss her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her slim neck. Trailing my lips over her collarbone to the gentle curve of her breast, pulling one pebbled nipple into my mouth. Her body arched as her fingernails trailed down my back.

Placing the head of my cock at her entrance, I closed my eyes and thrust deep into her wet heat. Knowing it would be the last time this devil tasted heaven.

M ARY OPENED the door as I approached, alerted to our arrival by the guards I had posted at her door outside the apartment.

Her hands flew to her face. “Oh, my God!” I carried Emma over the threshold and through the living room, kicking her bedroom door open. Placing her on the bed, I stood aside as Mary rushed in. Emma leaned up, and the friends hugged.

“Are you okay? I was so worried. My God, you could have been killed.”

Mary tossed a censoring glare over her shoulder at me. I deserved it and more.

“I’m fine. It sounds more dramatic than it was really,” said Emma as her eyes fluttered to mine then looked away.

She was lying. Trying to appear brave and una ected by the events of the last twelve hours, hoping I would change my mind.

I wouldn’t.

I loved her.

Which was why I had to leave her.

“Mary, can I have a moment alone with Emma?”

Mary refused to look at me. She searched Emma’s face before answering.

Emma gave her a tremulous smile. “It’s fine.”

She patted Emma’s arm. “I’ll fix you some whiskey tea.”

Standing up, she headed to the door, throwing one more glare in my direction before turning and leaving. I pointedly closed the door, not wishing to be overheard.

Sitting next to Emma on the bed, I played with a soft curl.

Running my fingers down its long silky length, I said, “Promise me you will stay in this bed for the rest of the day and let Mary pamper and fawn over you.”

Her eyes teared up. Her lower lip trembled. She only nodded.

I cleared my throat, feeling a lump form there. “I should probably confess that it is not an accounting error. I paid o your tuition.”

“Dimitri…”

“First thing Monday morning, I’m going to have papers delivered here. I’ll be setting up a bank account in your name. I don’t want you to have to work any more side jobs.

Focus on getting your degree.”

“Dimitri, please.”

I kept talking, worried if I stopped to listen to her pleas I might change my mind. “When the time comes, and you decide on what job to take… whether that is in Chicago or elsewhere, I’ll arrange to buy you a nice house in a safe neighborhood. Hopefully you’ll bring Mary with you.”

“I don’t want a house or your money… I want you. I love you.”

I stroked her cheek. Leaning in, I didn’t trust myself to kiss her lips, so I placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Goodbye, моя крошка. My sweet baby girl.”

She clung to my arm as I tried to rise. I pried her fingers loose and rose.

With a sob, Emma collapsed onto her pillows.

I opened the door and stepped out, encountering Mary carrying a cup of tea.

She looked past me into the bedroom where we could both hear Emma’s wrenching cries.

“Take care of her.”

Not waiting for her response, I stormed out of the apartment, my mood as dark as my life had now become.

CHAPTER 28

S

he loves him with an enraged a ection, it is past the infinite of thought.

- William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Emma

“Y OU NEED TO EAT SOMETHING .”

I rolled away from Mary, hugging my ‘I love Mr. Darcy’ pillow to my chest. “I’m not hungry.”

She sighed as she sat on the edge of my bed. “It’s been a week. I’ve covered for you with your professors and Old Sour Berry, but eventually you have to return to the land of the living.”

She was right, of course, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t seem to care about anything right now. All I wanted to do was stay here, curled up on my bed, and cry.

Dimitri was gone.

I kept hoping he would change his mind and come storming through my door at any moment. He would pick me up in his arms and roughly announce he was taking me home in that controlling way I both loved and hated.

I missed him so much it physically hurt. I shivered as I pulled the afghan over my shoulders. I felt cold all the time now. I didn’t think I’d ever feel warm again. My body ached.

I desperately wanted to feel Dimitri’s warmth and strength, wanted to feel his arms wrapped securely around me as I pressed my ear to his chest to listen to his beating heart.

I missed the smell of his cologne. The deep growl of his voice, especially how when he got mad or excited his accent would become thicker and more guttural and so freaking sexy. A few times over the last few days, I’d have sworn I could still feel his firm hand on my lower back.

I missed lying in bed with him. Listening to him talk as I lay cuddled under his arm, absently tracing his various tattoos. Just the thought of that silly little bear tattoo of his would cause me to burst into tears. How he was this big scary Russian who loved JellyBellys of all things.

I lived more in the short time I knew him than in my entire life.

He had shared so many new experiences with me… and I wasn’t just thinking about the mind-blowing sex. Every day with him had been an adventure.

Champagne, caviar, helicopter rides, private movie showings, Morocco.

My stomach twisted. I refused to taint that amazing experience by only remembering the bad. Yes, there were a few hours of terror but not once, not for a single second, had I thought Dimitri wouldn’t save me. I’d known deep in my bones he would rescue me. Our time in Morocco was also filled with romantic, thoughtful moments I would cherish and hold close for always.

I knew he wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me.

I loved him and I couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone else.

Reaching past her, I hit repeat on my phone. Matchbox Twenty’s ‘If You’re Gone’ played again.

Mary shifted closer, picking up the copy of Anna Karenina I was reading and setting it on the nightstand.

“Look, I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ll get over him.”

My eyes teared up. “No, I won’t.”

She stroked my back. “Everyone feels that way about the first guy they’ve loved, but eventually you move on.”

I rolled back to face her. Sitting up, I pulled the pillow onto my lap. Tracing the heart with my fingertips, my lower lip trembled. “I don’t want to move on. I know you think it’s crazy and will probably say I just met the guy and barely know him but….”

“Actually, I think I’d focus more on the whole he’s-adangerous-Russian-mobster angle more than the you-twocrazy-kids-just-met trope,” quipped Mary as she opened a bag of Doritos and placed it by my side before reaching in and grabbing a chip.

Absentmindedly, I grabbed one too. “So he has his faults.

No guy is perfect,” I said, crunching down on a chip.

She handed me a pint glass of iced tea before responding.

I sipped as I listened, then grabbed for another chip.

“Emma. The man is a fucking mobster! A criminal. I’d say that is a pretty big fault.”

“It’s not like he’s out there robbing banks or shooting up restaurants! Besides, from what I’ve seen, he’s mostly a businessman. If you think about it, half of corporate America are criminals in one way or another,” I said, grabbing a handful of Doritos in my agitation, snapping my teeth down into a curled-up one, which gave a satisfyingly loud crunch.

Refusing to meet Mary’s gaze, I brushed at the cheese dust on my blanket.

“Emma, if you are going to accept the man for what he is, then you can’t justify it or paint it a color it isn’t. You have to look at this in black and white terms.”

She was right.

I loved Dimitri for who he was, not what he did to make money. It felt like a lifetime ago that I had wondered if I would be able to separate the two and I now knew I could. I didn’t care what he did.

I loved him… the rest I would just accept as the price I had to pay to be with him.

As far as I was concerned, it was a cheap price to pay to be with a man as intelligent, charming, and exciting as Dimitri.

“Does it make me a bad person if I say I don’t care if he’s a criminal?”

Mary tightened the knot on her red kerchief, which had slipped, exposing her glossy black hair. “A few days ago, I would have said yes. That you couldn’t possibly consider being with a man like that… now I don’t know.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Dimitri’s friend, Vaska?”

From what I had learned, they had been thrown together quite a bit since the night at the restaurant.

Her cheeks flushed. “That man is the most insu erable, brutish, stubborn, obstinate, mule-headed person I’ve ever met,” she hu ed.

“You do realize all those words are technically synonyms?”

“Fuck this iced tea. I’m getting the tequila.”

Mary left and returned with a bottle of cheap Cuervo and two shot glasses. This time they were our Rhett Butler ones that said I Don’t Give a Damn in black scroll. She poured us both a shot. Holding hers high, she said, “To bad choices!”

We drank.

Mary looked down at her glass. “What if he gets you killed?”

I grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured us both another shot. “That’s not a fair question. I could get hit by a bus

tomorrow. Life is random.”

“It most certainly is a fair question! You were kidnapped by a lunatic who held a gun to your head because of him.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“He may not be directly responsible but you have to face facts. If you were there with a boring accountant, the likelihood of something like that happening dramatically decreases.”

We both drank, not bothering to toast.

I thought about what she’d said for a minute, then finally put it in terms she could understand. “Why did Bu y love Angel… or fuck Spike?”

She poured us a third shot. “I get it. He’s your Angel and Spike all rolled into one.” She raised her arm high. “To bad boys!”

“To bad boys!” I repeated before swallowing it down.

Mary rubbed her hands together. “Well, okay. You love him and damn the consequences… so what are you going to do about it?”

I threw my arms into the air. “Hello! He broke up with me!”

“So what? You think Elizabeth or Beatrice or Catherine or Jane or Bathsheba would take that lying down? You think they’d be curled up in bed in their pajamas feeling sorry for themselves? Ask yourself, WWBD?” rallied Mary, rattling o some of my favorite heroines. What Would Bu y Do? I sat up straighter. “No! No, they wouldn’t!”

“You’re damn straight they wouldn’t!”

I felt this charge of energy and purpose.

I was going to get Dimitri back.

I would make him understand that I loved him beyond all reason and I didn’t care about who he was or what he did or the danger. He was worth it.

If he refused to listen to me… well, I would just have to make him.

And I knew just how to do it…

“Mary, I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help.”

“Hell, yeah! Let’s go get that criminal demon vampire bad boy of yours!”

CHAPTER 29

B

e with me always—take any form—drive me mad! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul! - Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

D IMITRI

“G ET THE FUCK OUT !”

“Is that any way to speak to your oldest friend?”

“I’m warning you, Vaska. I’m in no mood.”

“Clearly.”

He sat in the upholstered chair next to mine, in my library. I had lost count how many times I’d imagined Emma sitting in the chair Vaska was in. Her cute feet curled up beneath her as she read a book while I worked nearby.

It was a cozy domestic scene that before Emma I had never really allowed myself to imagine.

More important, it was a cozy domestic scene I had no business wanting.

Men like me didn’t get happy endings.

We didn’t get the sweet heroine in the end.

I stared at the cold fireplace as I raised my glass and drank till it was empty.

Vaska held up a bottle of Moskovskaya Vodka. “I brought reinforcements.”

I swung out my arm, holding the glass for him to fill it.

Once he did I drank deeply, wanting the burn of the alcohol to burn away her memory and knowing that would be impossible.

Emma would haunt me till the day I died.

“Now I know you are in terrible shape if you’re drinking my cheap vodka with no complaint,” quipped Vaska as he poured himself a glass. After taking a sip, he twirled the glass in his hand and looked at me. “Have you talked to her?”

“No.” “Do you plan to?”

“No.” “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?”

I rubbed my jaw. “I nearly got her killed, Vaska. I’ll never forget the look of terror on her face. I did that to her. I brought fear and darkness into her world. I stained her with my violence.”

“Does she feel that way?”

“It doesn’t matter. I was a selfish bastard for starting a relationship with her. The right thing to do was end it.”

Vaska nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“Damn straight I’m right,” I growled as I took another gulp and then snatched the bottle from his hand to pour myself more.

“She deserves better than you.”

“She does.”

Vaska sighed as he leaned further back into the chair. “I have to admit you’re a better man than I, Dimitri

Antonovich. I don’t think I could stand the thought of the woman I loved kissing another man.”

My eyes narrowed as I swung my head to look at him.

Vaska continued, “Or worse, spreading her legs and…”

That was as far as he got.

Flying out of my seat, I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him bodily out of the chair. Pivoting, I slammed him against the nearest bookshelf. “Shut the fuck up or friendship or not, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“You gave her up. Threw her away. You no longer have a say in who she dates… or fucks.”

“Over my dead body does another man touch what’s mine,” I ground out as I released his shirt and pushed away from him to pace across the room.

Vaska smoothed down his shirt. “You can’t have it both ways, my friend. She is either yours… or someone else’s.”

“Goddamn it,” I shouted as I swiped at the contents of my desk, sending the laptop and files crashing to the floor.

“What the fuck do you want me to do? I’m trying to save her from me… from the choices I made. If she stays with me, who knows what kind of danger I might put her in.”

Vaska shrugged. “Life has risks. Either of you could get hit by a car tomorrow. At least with her by your side, you both will be happy and you can protect her… from your choices and life in general. How are you protecting her now?”

I stared straight ahead at the rows of books on a nearby shelf as his words penetrated my dark mood.

My gilded, leather-bound copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina jumped out at me.

I didn’t even hear Vaska leave as I reached for the book.

Flipping through the pages, I found the passage I was looking for. My fingertip ran over the print.

There can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness.

Vaska was right. I wasn’t protecting her by staying away.

No one would ever care for her like I did. She was mine and always would be. Moving forward, I would take every precaution to make sure nothing like what had happened in Morocco ever happened again.

Fuck, I needed to see her… to hold her… now… this very minute.

It was like I hadn’t taken a deep breath since leaving her side.

I needed her sweetness like I needed air.

Grabbing my car keys, I stormed out of the room into the entry hall and reached for the doorknob.

It was time I brought моя крошка home where she belonged.

CHAPTER 30

I

n his presence I thoroughly lived. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

H E ’ LL PROBABLY SAY NO .

Maybe he’ll get angry and refuse to see me.

Oh, hell, what if he starts to yell?

What am I going to do if he won’t listen?

I hadn’t even considered him turning me away!

Biting my lip, I once more went over my plan.

The moment he opened the door I would give him my rehearsed speech about how I loved him for him and how I didn’t care about the rest. I had seen him at his best and his worst, and I was in for all of it. I had seen the ugly side of his business and it was nothing compared to how beautiful and exciting he had made my life and how happy he made me.

That no matter how he may think of himself, he was the hero of my story; a consummate gentleman and sexy pirate Viking all rolled into one, and I loved him.

I straightened my bangs and licked my lips. I gave my short plaid skirt a quick tug and then bent over to pull on one of the knee socks as I glanced up and down the residential street to make sure no one was watching me.

I was more than a little self-conscious.

I had gone to a sex shop and bought a naughty schoolgirl outfit. It was part of my plan to seduce Dimitri into giving us a second chance and a cheeky homage to how we’d first met.

It had a scandalously short black and red plaid skirt with a partially see-through button-up shirt and white knee socks.

I wore it with my own pair of platform Mary Janes. Giving my pigtails a quick tug to tighten them, I reached for the brass knocker clutched in the lion’s mouth.

Before I could knock, the door swung open with such force, a blast of air ru ed my bangs.

Dimitri stood there. He hadn’t shaved in a week. He was wearing a pair of jeans and just a simple white t-shirt. He looked disheveled and tired and handsome as hell.

God, I had missed him.

Raw desire tightened his features as his heated gaze swept over me.

Swallowing, I blurted out, “You once asked if I thought of you as a mistake. The answer is no. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t think our relationship was a mistake. I think the night I showed up on your doorstep was fate. I love you, Dimitri.”

He pulled me over the threshold and against his chest.

“You’re right, there is no mistake, моя крошка. You’re mine now and always.”

The heavy black door swung shut, cutting us o from everything and everyone.

I was alone with my sexy Russian beast.

EPILOGUE

R

eader, I married him. - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Emma

IT

dark and stu y inside the closet where I was hiding.

The crack of splintering wood broke the silence, then a loud crash.

“Where is she?”

A shiver coursed up my spine as I pressed a fist to my lips.

Dimitri had arrived.

Through the closed door, I could hear the sounds of a struggle, then another awful bang.

I covered my mouth to keep from crying out.

Mary yelled back, “You can’t have her!”

Pressing my ear to the wood door, the sound of shattering glass obscured what the shouting voices said next.

There was the scrape of furniture across the floor then another terrible crash.

“Tell me where she is now!” roared Dimitri.

WAS

I jumped a foot as there was another terrific crash that sounded like a door being kicked in.

“Not until you pay! Hand over the ransom,” challenged Vaska, Dimitri’s oldest friend.

Straining to hear, I could only make out several grunts and the sound of a scu e.

“There’s your payment. Now where’s my bride?”

Deafening silence.

A moment later, the closet door swung open.

My eyes adjusted as I gazed at his towering form standing there on the threshold.

Dimitri held out his hand and pulled me from the darkness into the light.

He looked so devilishly handsome in his tailored tuxedo.

He lifted me into his arms and carried me out of my bedroom, my champagne-organza wedding dress train trailing behind us.

“Are you ready to become Mrs. Emma Katherine Kosgova, моя крошка?”

It had been a Herculean task convincing Dimitri to wait till after I had graduated from my Master’s program to get married, but now the day was finally here.

First he had to rescue me from my kidnappers by getting past obstacles thrown in his path and paying a ransom.

A fun Russian wedding tradition.

As we crossed into the living room, I gasped at the destruction on display. The sofa was turned on its side, the apartment door was hanging by only a hinge, and there was shattered glass all over the floor.

These Russians really took their traditions seriously.

In the middle of the chaos stood Mary and Vaska, both beaming with pride. Mary held a bottle of cheap tequila while Vaska held an equally cheap bottle of vodka.

My bridal ransom.

My eyebrows rose. “Is that all I’m worth? Two cheap bottles of liquor?” I teased.

Vaska stepped forward. “Actually, just one bottle of cheap tequila, I brought my own.”

“I refuse to buy that swill,” said Dimitri with a sardonic twist to his lips.

“A toast to the bride and groom before we head to the church,” called out Mary as she held up four shot glasses.

Dimitri put me down while Vaska turned a table back onto its legs. Mary placed the four shot glasses in the center and filled two with tequila. Vaska filled the other two with vodka.

Mary and I reached for the tequila.

Dimitri and Vaska reached for the vodka.

Vaska held up his shot. “За жениха и невесту! To the bride and groom!”

“To the bride and groom!” repeated Mary.

We all drank.

“Gor’ko! Gor’ko! Gor’ko!” chanted Vaska and Mary together.

Mary really was embracing the Russian wedding traditions along with me. They were both chanting bitter.

Tradition held a kiss from the bride and groom would sweeten their drinks.

Dimitri pulled me into his arms for a passionate kiss. “Я тебя люблю, моя крошка.”

“Ya tozhje tebya lyublyu,” I answered.

Telling him I loved him too, in my imperfect Russian.

It was okay; I had a lifetime to learn.

Curious to know how Dimitri proposed to Emma?

Click here.

ABOUT ZOE BLAKE

USA TODAY Bestselling Author in Dark Romance Who delights in writing dark romance books filled with overly possessive billionaires, taboo scenes, and unexpected twists. She usually spends her illgotten gains on martinis, travel and red lipstick. Since she can barely boil water, she’s lucky enough to be married to a sexy Chef.

Check out Zoe’s website here!

Join Zoe’s Facebook Reader Group.

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WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT DIMITRI AND EMMA? Join other readers in Zoe’s Spoiler Room to see photos, locations, fashions, and Russian traditions.

ALSO BY ZOE BLAKE

Dark Obsession Series Free to Read in Kindle Unlimited Ward, Book One It should have been a fairytale…

A billionaire duke sweeps a poor American actress o isolated English estate.

her feet to a romantic,

A grand love a air… except this wasn’t love.

It was obsession.

He had it all planned from the beginning, before I even knew he existed. He chose me.

I’m his unwilling captive, forced to play his sadistic game.

He is playing with my mind as well as my body.

Trying to convince me it is 1895, and I’m his obedient ward, subject to his rules and discipline.

Everywhere I look it is the Victorian era.

He says that my memories of a modern life are delusions that need to be driven from my mind through punishment.

If I don’t submit, he will send me back to the asylum.

I know it’s not true… any of it… at least I think it’s not.

The lines between reality and this nightmare are starting to blur.

If I don’t escape now, I will be lost in his world forever.

It should have been a fairytale…

One Click Ward here!

Gilded Cage, Book Two

He’s controlling, manipulative, dangerous… and I’m in love with him.

Rich and powerful, Richard is used to getting whatever he wants… and he wants me.

This isn’t a romance. It’s a dark and twisted obsession.

A game of ever-increasingly depraved acts.

Every time I fight it, he just pulls me deeper into his deception.

The slightest disobedience to his rules brings swift punishment.

My life as I knew it is gone. He now controls everything.

I’m caught in his web; the harder I struggle, the more entangled I become.

I no longer know my own mind.

He owns my body, making me crave his painful touch.

But the worst deception of all? He’s made me love him.

If I don’t break free soon, there will be no escape for me.

One Click Gilded Cage here!

Toxic, Book Three In every story there is a hero and a villain… I’m both.

I will corrupt her beautiful innocence till her soul is as dark and twisted as my own.

With every caress, every taboo touch, I will captivate and ensnare her.

She’s mine and no one is going to take her from me.

No matter how many times my little bird tries to escape, I will always give chase and bring her back to where she belongs, in my arms.

Each time she defies me, the consequences become more deadly.

I may not be the hero she wanted, but I’m the man she needs.

One Click Toxic here!

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