Page 44

All that power he claims to have, and look what’s happening to me.

Lev marches me through the door, closing it behind us. Only then does he release me.

I watch him carefully, preparing myself for him to make a move on me.

While I stand by the window, he walks over to the dresser, loosening his tie and the top buttons of his shirt. He takes both off and turns to reveal a torso so muscular and sculpted not even I can pretend not to notice.

All I see is muscle and an array of tattoos inked into his taut skin. Apart from a large cross on his bicep, Lev Karsavin has every Bratva tattoo I can think of.

Not one but two eight-pointed thieves’ stars at the top of his chest. The symbols for recognized criminal authority. Epaulettes on the tops of his shoulders, another mark of his authority.

The tattoos below are closer together. What stands out to me amongst the sea of art is a black rose with barbed wire entwined around the stem. It sits just above his navel. That tattoo symbolizes imprisonment before the age of eighteen.

An Arctic shiver clamors down my spine. What did he do?

“Murder,” he fills in easily, as if he can read my mind. “I was seventeen.”

He’s not even looking at me. He’s casually staring at the wardrobe with narrowed eyes, as though assessing it.

He walks over to it, opens the end door, and glances back at me over his shoulder. “Surprised?”

“No.” Of course, I’m not surprised, even if he was seventeen. And I’d bet he’s killed hundreds since. I’m more curious about how he got caught. Men like him don’t usually go into the system. They’re either able to buy their way out when they do something wrong or avoid it entirely because even the justice system is scared of the retaliation. No one wants to fuck with any sort of mafia. Russian, Italian, Irish, Camorra—they’re all as ruthless and awful as each other.

“It was a child rapist.” He turns slowly and looks me up and down, his eyes brimming with curiosity and fascination. Fascination with me. “A fucker who was about to escape jail time because he rubbed shoulders with the right people. I put a bullet between his eyes just as he walked out of the courthouse, and made sure every motherfucker knew it was me.”

God in heaven. My eyes widen, and I swallow past the lump gathered in my throat. I’ve never met anyone so blatant and fearless. Lev acts like he really doesn’t have a care in the world. At the same time, I’m a little impressed at his nobility, if you can call it that.

“Clearly, I rub shoulders with the right people, too.” He grins wide and proud. “I got two years in juvie.”

Most likely because of his father.

An awkward silence fills the space between us for a few heartbeats, and I wonder how I went from fearing that he was going to throw me down and rape me to thinking he’s noble.

Just because he played vigilante doesn’t mean he’ll apply the same bar to himself. And with me. He doesn’t care about me. I’m just a contracted wife and his enemy’s daughter. Not the best combination to stir compassion from a ruthless Pakhan.

Lev returns his gaze to the wardrobe and scans over the clothes neatly folded on the shelves. “Do you want to shower first, or shall I, little mouse?” He keeps his gaze fixed on a stack of towels.

I didn’t realize my breathing had picked up again. “I’m… tired. I just want to go to bed. I’ll shower in the morning.” I would have preferred to wash the day off, but being naked in the shower for any length of time is too vulnerable for me right now.

“Then good night.” He grabs a towel and throws it over his shoulder, then he faces me smiling ruthlessly. “Relax, printsessa. I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”

Oh my God. Someone up there was listening to my pleas.

I should thank my lucky stars, but would I be pushing my luck again if I risked asking one question? I can’t help it. “Why?”

The smile becomes maddening and scary. “Well, well. Look at this. Looks like she wanted me to make good on all my wicked threats.”

“No,” I blurt, unable to hide my panic. “I don’t.”

He stalks toward me, stopping a breath away. His scent wraps around me, stronger now that he’s shirtless. As he leans forward and glares down at me with his sharp blue gaze, the towel sways into me, brushing against my breasts. It feels like he touched me, and my nipples tighten in response.

“When I take you, you’ll want it.” The assessment sounds like a promise.

Infuriated, I shake my head. “No. I won’t.”

He raises his brows and his eyes darken with desire. “Yes, you will, malyshka. You’ll beg me for it.” He nods, looking as sure as if he got the confirmation directly from me. He leans even closer, going right back to the dangerous territory of my lips. “Do you know why?”

“Why?” I search his eyes, which are so close I can see the prism of blue variations that make up the iris.