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When she opens the door to the bathroom, I walk into the room with my head bowed down. Dressed in fine clothes like this makes me so uncomfortable, I’d almost prefer being naked. And maybe that’s exactly what he wants.

Kazimir takes me by the elbow so firmly it hurts a little, and barks out something in Russian to Nikita. Without a word, she nods to him, gathers up her things, and walks out the door. Before we leave, his phone dings. When he reads the message, he grunts, mutters to himself, and shoves the phone back in his pocket.

“It seems Dimitri is delayed,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’ll have to attend to something before you join us.”

I finally yank my elbow away from him and stand with my hands on my hips. “Why are you so angry?” I ask.

“Sadie,” he warns, reaching for me.

I step out of his reach. “You wanted me to dress up, and I did. I’ve done everything you said, and yet you act as if you’re half a minute away from a tantrum.”

We stand at the threshold, when he spins me around to him and removes something from his pocket. At first, I think it’s a collar for a dog, a thick leather band with a sturdy metal ring. But I realize it’s for me. A chill, like liquid fear, trickles down my spine.

“I don’t want them to lay eyes on you,” he grits out while he snaps the collar open. “Tilt your head back and bare your neck for me.”

I look at the collar in his hands and purse my lips before I obey. There’s no point in resisting him, though. With a resigned sigh, I tip my head back and let him slide it on me.

“I am not angry with you, krastoka,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m angry they will see you.” I gasp as his teeth clench on my earlobe. He suckles the punished flesh before he continues his confession. “They’ll breathe the same air you breathe.” With a hand around my mid-section, he yanks me to him so that I’m flush against his chest. “If they lay a finger on you, I’ll have to break them. And that complicates things for me.”

“Then leave me in the room,” I gasp, my breath constricted in my chest by his intensity. “I like being alone. Love it, even.”

“I’m expected to show you off,” he says. I shiver when his calloused fingers graze my neck, his thumb throbbing against my pulse. “Therefore, you will wear my collar. When we are seated, you will sit by my feet and a chain will dangle between my fist and your neck. A reminder to them and to you that I own you.”

He wears worn jeans and a faded t-shirt stretched tight over massive biceps. When he flexes his fingers on my neck, I watch his muscles contract beneath the fabric, his jaw firm. He’s no longer the business man of the night before, but a fighter, his tattoos snaking along his neck menacing, and I know when I look at him he forged his way to the top with his fists. Bloodshed. Death. Ruthlessness.

A low throb of arousal makes my cheeks flush. I shouldn’t be attracted to him. I feel shallow and stupid for letting him affect me.

“That’s savage,” I whisper. “Degrading.”

“Krastoka,” he responds, almost apologetically. “That’s only the beginning.”

To my surprise, his forehead touches mine, as if he’s gaining strength from my very presence, which makes no sense to me. But before he speaks again, he leans down and brushes his lips over mine.

“I want to kiss you, Sadie,” his voice, molten lava, simmers with potency. “I want to hold you against me, and plunder your mouth. Own your lips. Taste you. Kiss you so long and so fiercely you forget who you are.” When he brushes a knuckle under my top, he holds his hand against my belly, the top of his finger grazing my breasts. “You taste like honey and sunshine.” My gaze focuses on his full lips, less than in inch from me. I know he could do wanton, wonderful things with that mouth of us. “But we have no time. I’m to meet with Dimitri and the others before I come to you. But I have plans to occupy you in the meantime.”

When he steps back I stumble a little. His eyes look no less angry than they did before, slits that promise punishment and pain to anyone who dares get in his way. More out of curiosity than compliance, I take his hand and go with him. What other choice do I have?

We go to the elevator and ride down in silence, while he holds me so tightly against him, my breath is constricted in my chest. With his collar around my neck and a promise of a chain, I wonder what his plans for me involve? Will he chain me somewhere to wait for him until he’s ready for me? Does he have some type of dungeon ready for me? It wouldn’t surprise me at all. I’ve seen the bars of his cage and know he’s a ruthless man.

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