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She jumps at my voice and her head whips in my direction as though she forgot who she is with. After a beat, she clears her throat. “I told you. I was there for the invoices to reconcile the accounting for last month. The numbers were off and I couldn’t get all the receipts to match.” She gives a small self-deprecating chuckle. “Of course, I know now that they were never going to match since the missing funds were probably part of what my dad took.”
A hint of bitterness creeps into her words.
“Yes, you told me that already, but my question is why were you there for the invoices? Your father is the Bratva’s accountant—or was, rather.” It had been clear back at the deli that Natalya isn’t part of her dad’s thievery. Her emotions are too close to the surface for her to have been faking the shock and anger she exhibited when the truth came out.
Other than the occasional illumination when we pass under a street light, it’s dark inside the car, so I can’t be sure, but I’m almost certain her cheeks redden. She raises and drops a shoulder and tips her head down.
“I’ve always had a knack for numbers, I guess. Ever since I was little. Dad started taking on new businesses about five years ago and it quickly became too much for just him, so I helped. I really enjoyed it. It’s what made me decide to major in accounting.” Natalya laughs although it’s a bit forced and bitter. “I figured it was easier than fighting for leads. There are a lot more jobs available for accountants than there are for a star ballerina plagued by injuries.”
I’d seen her dance only once, but she had kept me captivated, unable to take my eyes off of her. Even at seventeen, she’d possessed so much grace and elegance. It was clear then just how talented she is. I could have stood there all night watching her, but Aleksei had interrupted. He didn’t say anything, but it had been more than obvious he didn’t approve of my fascination with Natalya. And not only because of the sixteen-year age difference between us.
She shifts her body away from me and it’s obvious she’s done sharing. Finally, we reach my high-rise that sits along the lake. I drive into the underground garage beneath the building and park in my personal space. Before I can walk around to the other side, she’s already out of the vehicle with her arms wrapped around her waist. She appears so fragile. It’s an illusion though. My solnishko is far stronger than anyone gives her credit for, including herself. I grab her bag from the backseat and cross the concrete, my footsteps echoing, to the elevator. Soft footsteps follow.
Natalya shifts nervously the longer we ride in silence. As though she can’t take it anymore, she turns to me. “What happens now?”
My brow raises. “What do you think will happen?”
I wait patiently as she bites her lower lip, offering a brief glimpse of the narrow gap between her two front teeth. Something about that sliver of space turns me on. Who am I kidding? There isn’t anything about her that doesn’t. I’ve been semi-hard almost from the moment she stepped into that back room.
“I think you’re going to fuck me.” Natalya whispers it so quietly I have to strain to make out the words.
She has no idea. I close the distance between us, and she stumbles backward until she hits the elevator wall and there’s nowhere else for her to go. Her palms slam against the mirrored surface at her hips, and she closes her eyes tightly. I trace a line down her cheek with my fingertip, once again taking in the softness of her skin. I can’t wait to feel how silken the rest of her is. I’ve imagined her beneath me more often than I can count.
I don’t stop the path my finger takes down Natalya’s neck and between the opening her jacket provides where her shirt is visible. I trace the neckline, which dips down to showcase a hint–a tease, really–of cleavage. Back and forth I caress, barely grazing her skin. A flush climbs from the top of her chest all the way to her cheeks. She’s hot beneath my touch.
“Open your eyes, solnishko.” The command isn’t loud, but most certainly firm, and doesn’t leave room for anything but compliance.
Slowly, her lashes flutter and lift, exposing the bright green irises and dilated pupils.
“I’m most definitely going to fuck you. More importantly, you’re going to love every minute of it.”
CHAPTER THREE
Natalya
My whole body shudders as his words echo inside my head. Sasha takes a step back and I drink him all in. From the muscles bulging against the knit of his sweater to his jeans straining from the thickness of his thighs. His lips are moving, but whatever he’s saying is lost beneath the ricochet of his announcement that I’m going to love him fucking me. There’s no doubt he believes it. I do as well. I’ve dreamed about it often enough.
The elevator glides to a stop and the doors open. Sasha sweeps his arm out and I take a few hesitant steps forward until I’m standing in an open concept entryway. He strides past and for a brief second, I consider darting back into the elevator, but before I gather my nerves, the panels close with a soft whoosh.
I sag against the wall next to it as my fingers curl into fists at my hips. Sasha turns and stares at me with an intensity that causes me to shift my legs and rub my thighs to rub together in order to abate the tingles in my body. I’m burning up with temptation but I’m also ice cold from the reality of my situation.
I’ve been taken by the Bratva’s enforcer.
Unable to look away, the sexual tension between us thickens, as does the silence. Will he fuck me as soon as I move? Throw me down and just take me? Expect some degrading act? Fear laces with arousal. I’ve kissed boys here and there. The closest to touching I’ve gone was before my last recital when Lance Buchannan cupped me inappropriately during a dance lift. I haven’t thought of that in years. He was mugged after the show, injured, and never danced again. My guess is karma had something to do with it, but the memory doesn’t help as I stare into dark eyes intent on devouring me whole.
Sasha closes the short distance between us. His hand moves up into my hair at my nape and squeezes slightly. His thumb gently rubs up and down like I’m a scared pet ready to bolt. I am scared, but exhaustion is closing in. I couldn’t fight him off if I had to. More importantly, do I want to?
“Come, solnishko.”
I lick my dry lips and his attention falls to them. Neither of us move and the question spills from my mouth before I can stop it. “Will you do it now?”
He grunts and takes a step back crossing his arms over his chest. His body continues to block out my view of what I presume is his fuck pad. He probably brings all sorts of women here. I don’t like how that makes me feel. Except, he isn’t mine. I’m not really his, either, and this arrangement isn’t permanent. If I can hold him off for the next thirty days, I might be okay.
“Will I do what, Natalya?” His gaze bores down and the tingles from before intensify.
“F–fuck me?”
Sasha chuckles, a loud booming sound that’s startling. I try to move back, but I’m already pinned against the wall. Trapped in here with a killer and, most likely, a madman. What will he do to my father if he can’t pay in the month he’s given him? What about my mother and my siblings? I bite my bottom lip. His eyes narrow.
