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“Isn’t it a little soon?” I’m hoping he’ll see reason. “Why the rush?”
He smirks, dark and devilish. I’m going to need so much therapy to sort through the way my body reacts to him. He steps forward until we’re chest to chest. He’s so close, it’s suffocating. My lungs seize inside of my rib cage and my heart is thumping wildly out of control. Adrian captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to stare up at him. We’re so close that the angle causes the muscles at the back of my neck to strain.
I relish the pain. A reminder that it is all he is capable of.
Pain and destruction.
“The sooner we are married, malen’kaya mysh’...” he growls seductively, leaning in to nip at my earlobe. Tingling sensations light up my nether regions. So much therapy. So much. I’m going to be drowning in them by the time this is all over. If I live that long. “The sooner I can sink my cock into that tight virgin pussy of yours.”
Yep. Death by internal combustion.
Twenty-One
Vanya’s cheeks are still heated from my earlier comments as I lead her to the basement that houses my medical team. She’s going to be turning red for an entirely different reason here in a few seconds. I’m even betting on whether or not she takes a swing at me. No matter. It won’t change the outcome of what has to be done.
If anything, she should be grateful that I am keeping such a close eye on her. Hell, she should feel treasured. I never even did this for my late wife. Her comings and goings were her business. Not mine. Everything is different with the Greek princess. Obsession burns in my veins whenever she is out of my sight. When I see her, when she’s in my presence, the need to possess her lights a fire in my gut that can’t be ignored.
It's why I couldn’t give her away.
Well, it’s one of the reasons.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice unsteady as I pull her along behind me. Jesus, she is always so full of fucking questions. It’s a miracle I didn’t hand her over. Normally the constant questioning would annoy me. I’ve killed men for constantly pestering me with inane chatter but when it comes to her, I can’t help but feel a little less homicidal.
A little.
“Always questioning,” I sneer. “Just do as I say and follow me.” I hear her huff behind me, and I smile. She doesn’t like being kept in the dark.
We continue in silence until I open the door to the small medical bay that keeps my men and me from taking unnecessary trips to the hospital. I may own most of Vegas but so do my enemies. Not every cop or doctor is on my payroll. All it would take is one paid-off doctor or nurse to slip something into an IV, make a wrong cut on the operating table, and I’d be done for. One of my men would be done for.
I won’t stand for that.
“Boss,” Eric greets me as we walk into the open space. It’s state of the art. Whether it’s the flu, scrapes, diabetes, delivery, you name it, Dr. Madsen has the tools for it. For the most part, he makes house calls for the families of my men. That way none of the family members have to travel here and be in my space unnecessarily. We started that a couple of years ago when one of my men’s wives brought her kid in for breaking his finger while one of my men lay spread out on the table with a gunshot wound.
The kid was fascinated. The mother was not.
“Everything ready?” I ask him as I tighten my grip on her wrist. I don’t want her to make a run for it. Not that she will get very far. He nods his head and motions for Jonah, his assistant, to roll a tray to the side of one of the examination lounges. I don’t miss Jonah’s narrowed eyes, but I ignore it. The man has always had a bad attitude. I’m not sure why Eric puts up with him honestly.
“We’re all set.” His gaze falls on Vanya. “Please come sit over here, Miss Castellanos. I assure you this won’t take long.”
She pulls back against my hold as predicted, eyes widening. “What won’t take long?”
My grip on her doesn’t waver as I pull her into my side and lead her struggling form over to the good doctor. “Eric here is going to give you a shot,” I tell her. “You will barely feel it.” She shakes her head.
“Not until you tell me what it is,” she hisses at me, still fighting.
“A tracking device,” I deadpan as I force her to sit.
“Fuck you.” She lunges to the side, spilling the contents of the tray, sending them clanging to the ground. Her foot shoots out to connect with Eric’s thigh. He winces but otherwise remains steadfast.
“Enough, Vanya,” I bark, pinning her to the lounger. But she doesn’t stop. Her movements grow frantic, and she claws and bites at anything that comes close to her.
Fuck, her teeth are sharp, I think as they bear down on my arm. Doing what needs to be done, I straddle her waist on the lounger. I grasp both her wrists in my left hand and lean over her until her arms are stretched above her head. My free hand comes down on the side of her face, forcing her to look to one side. She’s a firecracker and it takes nearly all my strength to keep her that way until Eric manages to pop the tracker under a layer of sub-dermal skin at the back of her neck.
Vanya whimpers and stills but I don’t ease up.
When Eric is done, he slides the needle from her neck and places a small band-aid over the insertion site. “It should already be transmitting,” he tells me as he backs away to clean up the mess my soon-to-be wife created in his pristine working environment. He hates messes.
“Thank you, Eric,” I say as I release Vanya from my hold. Surprise hits me when her tiny fist connects with the side of my face. Iron floods my mouth with a bitter taste.
