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“Yes. The last time I saw you, do you remember?” He swung me around like I was some errant toddler and plunked me on the edge of my bed.
I blinked, sorting through all the bullshit back home that made me get on a one-way train out of Chicago. The last thing he said to me was in the poker room.
“And what did I say? What instructions did I give you?”
My eyes went wide. He was serious.
“So, you’re not here to kill me?” Wasn’t that why he found me? To take care of the loose end after Janusz Staszek was murdered right in front of me?
“Kill you? No.” He snorted. “What did I promise if you didn’t stay in the office?” His lips tugged a little on the side. Apparently, finally getting his hands on me was making his day.
“You said you’d make me sorry.” My mouth went dry on the words. “You came all this way to yell at me for not staying put?”
He frowned. “No. We’ll get to the other details later. Right now, you have a punishment coming. Better you know what will happen when you disobey now, to make things easier later.”
I had no idea what he’d been talking about two years ago, but now, looking into his dark eyes, I knew exactly what his intentions were.
A long finger pointed in my face.
“Stay here.”
The only way out of my bedroom was through the door, which his entirely too-large frame was blocking, or the window, which was high up and too narrow for me to wiggle out of. I wasn’t going anywhere just yet.
He moved the closed suitcase to the door, then zipped up the second suitcase and put it beside the first. Once the bed was cleared, he looked around the room.
“Is there anything else you need to bring with you?” He asked, noting the empty closet.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The amount of bravery in my voice did not quite match the lack of it inside me. “I’ve done just fine on my own. I don’t need your help. Or your protection.”
He hooked his hands on his hips while staring down at me as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with me. I knew what he could do with me. He could let me go. That’s what he could do with me.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked when the silence started to ramp up my anxiety.
“Later.” He put his hand up. “First, your punishment.”
I laughed. Not that he was funny, but I was astonished the man had said the sentence out loud.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
His eyebrow arched again; such precision with that peak. But something else made me shudder. The pure joy that crossed his features at my unwillingness to participate in his crazy.
“Yes, Aleksandra. It is.”
“No.” I shook my head just in case he needed the visual aid. “I will fight you tooth and nail every step of the way. Every chance I get, I will find a way to get away from you.” I’d spent two years getting away from the Staszek family. I wasn’t going to get anywhere near them now.
More joy lit up his eyes.
Slowly, he pulled his leather jacket off, righting the sleeves before draping it over my suitcases. My mouth dried when his hands went for the buckle of his belt. Maybe I’d been a little hasty with my bravery.
I backed up on the bed, scrambling to get away from him before he even reached for me. The headboard, a flimsy, compressed-wood thing, hit my back.
“You will learn from this, so we don’t have to repeat it.” He fisted the buckle and yanked the entire leather belt free of his jeans in one smooth whoosh. My ass clenched.
“You’re nuts.” I put one hand out to ward him off. “Don’t you dare!” I slid to the side, trying to get off the other side of the bed, but he grabbed my wrist. With one yank, he had me off the bed. I barely had my footing before he twirled me around and planted me face down over the side of the bed.
His knee planted in my back, making escape impossible. I waved my hands behind me, but with his positioning, there was nothing to hit.
He snapped the elastic of my leggings, making me deeply regret taking the two minutes to change out of my waitressing uniform for something more comfortable. They wouldn’t offer me any protection against that belt.
