My squirms ramp up when Asher places a damp cloth between my legs. It’s not the contrasting temperature between my body and the cloth causing my skittish response. It is the heated look Asher gives me while cleaning away the mess he made. It has excitement trumping my pain.
“Still, Zariah, or I’ll send a doctor in to check you over for real.”
I freeze in an instant.He wouldn’t really do that, would he?Just because I let him poke and prod me doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone else do it.
He takes a few minutes checking that he hasn’t damaged me beyond repair before dumping the washcloth into a bin at the side of his desk. After helping me down, he slips my dress over my head. A smirk tugs at my lips. Although it is happening ten times faster, this dressing is more intimate than our earlier one. He’s been inside of me, took something no one else can take. I’ll never look at him in the same light now. I’ll be forever heating up.
He fixes my zipper into place before pulling my unruly hair out of my collar. I’ll have to go sans panties the rest of the night, because not only did he shred them into pieces, they were in my mouth—they’re beyond saving.
My eyes float up from the dangerous slit in my dress to Asher’s eyes when he murmurs, “I’ll remove his fingers if he touches you, but I’ll have a doctor brought in. I’ve had you bare. I can’t go back now. He’ll give you a shot. It will lower the chances of you getting pregnant.” An impish glint darkens his icy gaze. “And will stop any furtherincidentsfrom occurring.”
The way he snickers “incidents” makes his reference easily distinguishable. He’s not talking about unwanted children. He’s referring to my tampon ruse.
Although my spine hackles from him making decisions about my body, his next words extinguish my anger. “Then I can also have you any time I want you.”
When I give him a look, one that announces I hope his wish is granted sooner rather than later, he smirks a deliciously wicked grin. “Don’t worry. I’m not even halfway through with you yet. I just need somewhere more inviting, somewhere where I can take my time with you.”
A memory breaks through the lust-cloud in my head when he slides his index finger down my nose. It’s as hazy as his attentions make my head but potent enough to prick my eyes with tears. He used to do that when we were younger. I’m not referring to my memories before my mother passed. I’m talking about the months following her death.
Before I can ask Asher if the memory is accurate or a pipe dream, a knock sounds at his office door. His visitor’s perfect timing has me wondering if Knox switched off the cameras as requested. If they were five minutes earlier, it would have spelled disaster.
Asher isn’t as worried as me. He stalks to the door, his walk as cocky as ever. When Matvei peers at me over Asher’s shoulder, I swivel to face the opposite wall. There are no mirrors in Asher’s office, but I can’t deny the aroma in the air no matter how hard I try. It smells exactly how you’d expect after vigorous, raunchy sex.
“Tell them to wait for me. I’ll be right there.”
I hear the door softly close before the squeak of Asher’s shoes announce he is approaching me. My stomach twists with worry when he bands his arms around my midsection and tugs me back. “I need to go. I have business to take care of. Lenin will take you home.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond; he just kisses my temple, snags his gun from the floor where it fell during our exchange, then leaves. A cold shiver descends upon me. It’s so brittle, I fasten up my coat Lenin brought in before Asher arrived. I’m not cold, but the confusion surging through me makes it seem that way. Something was off with Asher’s farewell. It was too edgy for a man of his power and strength. It was almost as if he was scared.
I’m snapped from my worry when Lenin calls my name. I was so fixated by my thoughts, I didn’t notice him approaching me. “Are you ready to leave?”
Nodding, I follow him outside. The atmosphere of the party seems different now—more low-key. It’s most likely because Asher has left, but some parts of me wonder if it is that at all. Maybe it is me? I am different now.
Everything is different.
White air puffs from my mouth when Lenin and I break through the double doors of the nightclub Asher owns. There is a sedan waiting for us on the curb. It’s surrounded by four armed guards.
When I slip through the door Lenin is holding open for me, my eyes stray to a pair gawking at me in the rearview mirror. I recognize the dark gaze reflecting back at me. They belong to the man who drove me to the Yury compound last month. He has a scrawny frame with wiry hair and a slim face. I can’t recall his name, but I think it starts with a K.
While Lenin jogs around the vehicle to slip in the other side, my driver takes in my dilated eyes, blushed cheeks, and kiss-swollen lips. “Ah, I see Asher finally got his money’s worth? I didn’t think he was going to after ordering me to gather girls from Khimki last month. I told him he was mad. He paid good money to have fresh meat at the ready, so why did he want ones that have been banged so many times they’re out of shape?”
“I beg your pardon?” I’m shocked. Truly and utterly shocked.
The driver’s dark eyes seek mine. “I know five hundred thousand might be chump change to a man like Asher Yury, but you can be assured if I paid that much for someone’s virginity, I wouldn’t be messing around. Her debt would be paid in full before close of business the day I purchased it.” His tone is laced with humor, as if selling someone’s virginity is funny. I don’t find it amusing. Not one little bit.
Lenin’s slide into the car juts when I hiss, “Did Asher buy my. . .virginity?”
After taking in my slit eyes and the tight clench of my jaw, Lenin shifts his eyes to the driver. His body temperature notches up a few degrees when he too recognizes the eyes staring back at us. They’re no longer brimming with the hilarity they had when he exposed my stupidity. They’re full of panic.
“Drive, Kostya.” Lenin’s command proves driving won’t be the only thing Kostya will be doing tonight.
When our car breaks away from the curb, Lenin’s eyes return to mine. “You can discuss this with Asher later.”
“Discuss what? If he didn’t buy me, there would be nothing to discuss!” He doesn’t deserve my anger, but he’s the only one I can lash out at, so he’s getting the brunt of it. “I chose to be a chambermaid.”
“Your sale was before that.”
The hammering of my heart is heard in my voice. “Mysale? I was sold! By whom? When?”
