“If you make one wrong move, your life is forfeit, and so is that of your family. Do I make myself clear?”
She and I are so close I can see the flecks of black and gold in her irises, the way her eyelashes kiss the tops of her cheeks, the smudges of eyeliner and flakes of mascara dusting the dark circles under her eyes.
So close I can feel her rapid breath, pinched though it is, on my skin. My gaze drops to her mouth, to the full curve of her lips. Anger and something else I refuse to name shimmer through me, heating my blood.
“Is that clear?” I repeat the question one syllable at a time, my lips nearly moving against hers, her gaze drilling into mine.
“Yes,” she says, and I step away. She stumbles again from the loss of support and catches herself on the corner of the lone desk in the otherwise empty room.
“You will work here, sleep here, stay here. Your computers are being wiped of all information as we speak and will be delivered to you here. If you try to escape, there is a cliff wall on one side and heavily armed men on the other and you will not survive your attempt. This is what happens when you try to take on the Kucherov Bratva and itspakhan.”
The sweep of my arm encompasses the room, including the door in the side wall that leads to a bedroom and bathroom. “I suggest you learn to get comfortable here, Miss Volkova, because it is your home now.”
The unspoken hangs heavily between us, crackling with promise and threat.And you will never leave.
The last thing I hear as the door slams behind me is a sob.
The last of the sun’s rays make my office glow before I admit defeat and realize I won’t get any more work done today. Seeking silence, I retreat to my room and a shower. Eva has disrupted my equilibrium and concentration.
I can ignore her distress. She made her bed, and now she must lie in it.
What I can’t get out of my head is her eyes, those deep brown eyes blazing with anger, defiance, and fear. The way her lips parted, ready to scream, to yell in my face. The way her hands curled into the fabric of my sleeves, trying to hold me off or pull me closer.
Even after the day’s revelations, Eva Volkova still haunts me. I don’t even know what about her drew me in and now won’t let me go, what has sunk in and burrowed deep under my skin, what I can’t root out.
When was the last time I felt this way about someone? I can’t remember. I don’t understand this obsession. No one has power over me like this. Power like this is dangerous in ways I cannot afford.
And now she’s seen my face, my scars, the monstrous part of me, at least physically. She has seen the head of the Kucherov Bratva, and he is the monster everyone believes him to be.
She makes me furious, trying to take onmyBratva and win. But I know there is a fine line between anger and passion, and I’m not sure I can tell the difference right now.
I cannot tell if the fire pushing heat through my body is anger, passion, or both.
I lean forward, forehead resting against the stone, the cool water from the rain showerheads around me pounding against my back. But none of it eases the fire, the desire making itself known in my dick.
I grasp it with a growl, and a jolt of electricity rips through me, the streams of water washing away the liquid already leaking from the head.
My hand slips up and down, aided by the water and soap. My only thought is to get this out of my system so I can focus on more important things.
Except the warmth of my palm becomes Eva in my mind’s eye, and her soft, warm, wet folds taking me in as she throws her head back with a gasp.
I can feel her skin against mine, hot and dripping with moisture, just as she is around my cock. Eva writhes and moans as I pull out, then cries out as I slam back inside her.
Another crack of electricity bolts through me, and I pound my hand against the shower wall.
Her moans set me on fire until I can barely think. She’s helpless beneath me, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy, unable to end her exquisite torture though she begs me. But that power is mine, not hers.
My hand pumps faster, my breath coming in sharp gasps. I’m in dangerous territory, but the pleasure is too addictive to stop now.
Eva cries out with each pounding thrust, her head thrown back, her hands tangled in her dark hair, spread around her in a wild, glossy mess. Her body stiffens, her hips rising to meet mine, her slick pussy clamping around me.
I’m nearly there, my hand flying, my body tensing until my muscles feel as hard as steel.
She explodes with a scream, her entire body shaking and jerking against mine, her pussy contracting around me, the sensation making sparks flare in front of my eyes.
I come with a shout, pounding against the wall as my dick jerks in my hand until I’ve emptied completely. The intensity of my orgasm leaves me breathless, lightheaded in a way I can’t remember feeling before.
The frustration and anger hit me as I clean myself and the wall, and by the time I’m out of the shower, dry, and dressed, I’m seething. When I storm into the room where Dmitri and a few othervorssit around a table playing cards, my second-in-command takes one look at the storm on my face and scrambles out of his chair after me.
