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“She speaks.” He chuckles, making me feel slimy and dirty. “Do you think Julian would let me have you for a night? Let me fuck your pussy and ass, let me own your body?” Leaning closer, he whispers, “I mean, he’s not here right now, so who’s to stop me?”
Something bad is going to happen, I just know it. I can’t see his face, mainly because I refuse to look up, but I do see his tattoo-covered hand creeping closer to me. Just the thought of him touching me makes my skin crawl.
Leaning away from him, I try and put distance between us, but he easily reaches me, his fingers almost touching my thigh. I jerk back, twisting in my seat to get away from him, but he just leans in closer.
A scream builds in my throat, but what good would that do? No one would care or try and help me. Here, I’m nothing to no one, not even Julian.
“Playing hard to get, I like it. I love it when they beg me to stop while I fuck them.” His fingers graze my skin this time, his nails raking across my skin, digging into the flesh, and that’s when I lose it. I don’t care what Julian does to me for disobeying. I don’t care if he punishes me. Anything is better than this man touching me.
I scurry off the chair, almost getting my heel stuck on the bar stool. The unknown man snickers at my attempt to get away in a hurry, but at this point, I don’t care. I turn toward Julian and find him arguing with Markus, so involved in his conversation that he is completely oblivious of the conversation I just had.
My feet carry me to him as fast as I can make them move without face-planting on the floor. All I can think about is getting to him because deep down, even if I’m afraid he’ll sell me or give me to someone else, part of me feels protected when I’m in his arms, and that’s what I need right now. His protection. For him to tell me it’s okay because right now, I’m anything but okay.20Julian“What do you mean vacation? You can’t just take a fucking vacation! You are my second in command. You’re in the mob.”
“I can, and I will,” Markus tells me, arms crossed over his chest. Of all of my men, Markus is the last person I expected to fucking do something like this.
What the fuck is he thinking, buying this girl, and going on a vacation? He is in the mob, we don’t go on fucking holiday.
Pinching the bridge on my nose, I grind my teeth and suck in a deep breath. “Markus–” I start, but I’m cut short by someone grabbing my arm. My whole body tenses, and I curl my hands into a tight fist, ready for a fight, but when I look down at my arm, I find Elena’s small hands wrapped around it.
Her face is pale, her big green eyes are glassy and brimming with fear. Immediately, I know something is wrong. Her tiny nails are digging into my skin even through my suit jacket. It’s like she is clawing her way to me, scared that she is going to lose me or something. I look past her, scanning the area for any danger, but there is nothing, there are just people at the bar, drinking and conversing. Lev, one of the heroin suppliers, also the son of one, Vladimir Volcove, is looking in our direction, but he could be looking at anything. He knows that she is mine, and he wouldn’t be dumb enough to touch her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.
“I don’t feel well, can we please go home.”
She might be able to fool someone else, but she can’t fool me. This has nothing to do with her feeling unwell. The way she looks right now is how she looked the night I almost gave into my selfish needs and took from her. Did someone try and hurt her? Talk to her? Touch her? Blind rage festers inside me at the unknown.
“What really happened?!” I growl, refusing to accept her lie.
She shakes her head, her eyes bouncing to Markus and then back to me.
I turn my attention back to Markus, knowing full well that I need to get Elena out of here if I want to figure out what the hell happened.
“We will discuss this further,” I grit out, and Markus’s lips barely twitch.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m taking some time off. Lucca is more than capable of stepping up.”
I want to strangle Markus right now, but that’s not going to happen, not with Elena latching onto my arm like this.
“Call the car for me,” I order, wondering if it’s going to be my last one for a while.
