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When we get home, she won’t ever doubt what she is to me.
That she is completely and utterly mine.
She isn’t stupid. She knew I would come for her. As I go to possess her mouth again, she moves her head to the side. I growl, bringing her beautiful eyes back to me.
What she doesn’t know is that I belong to her, too.
She juts out that perfect bottom lip. “You let the Bratva tie me up, Frankie!”
I shake my head, a smile tugging at my cheeks.
“You think I’d ever let anyone have their hands on you?” My finger glides down her jaw, gently brushing against her chin and down the graceful curve of her neck.
No matter how much she’s pissed me off with her little stunt, the fact still stays the same—I won’t let anyone else touch her.
“Y-you tied me up?” Her voice starts to shake.
“I did, and you had best get used to it, angel.”
Her green eyes narrow. “What if I don’t want to be yours?”
“Looks like I’ll have to leave you here a little bit longer for you to think about it.” I press a kiss to the tip of her nose, stand, straighten my jacket and turn to leave.
“Frankie! Don’t leave me here!” she screams out in frustration.
I close the door behind me and knock on the room across the hall.
Nikolai greets me. “She’s a feisty one.”
“We are working on it.” I step past him.
Mikhail is leaning back in his chair, his other tatted muscle man behind him, and my very own Grayson and Jax are sitting on the opposite side of the table from him.
"Take a seat," he says in a thick Russian accent, his words rolling off his tongue.
I join my men, resting my hands on the desk.
“Do we really need the mask here?” I ask Mikhail. I like to get a read of people’s face. I assumed in his home city, he’d relax more. Clearly not the case.
“Yes,” is all he says.
After giving him an unamused look, I pull out a cigarette and light it.
He pulls back the cuff of his black sleeve and checks an expensive-looking Rolex. “I don’t have long. We are about to go after the MC’s vice president.”
I nod. “Sounds like a productive afternoon.”
Leaning on his knees, he threads his fingers together. His brother, Nikolai, places a firm hand on his shoulder and leans down, whispering something in Russian to Mikhail.
Jax watches them intently before turning to me and translates quietly. “They’ve had a hit on one of their casinos.”
I pull back, blinking at Jax, registering this new information.
“You speak fucking Russian?” It takes everything in me to keep my voice low after his surprising revelation.
He nods with a sneaky grin.
“My dad,” he says with a shrug.
