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“Thank you, but no.” Raizo eyes me closely as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge just to have something to do with myself. “I came here on business and already lost myself to distraction.”
“Er, right. Well, let me know if you change your mind.”
I want to keep things as casual as possible. I want to keep the distance between us as broad as possible, too. Despite what I remember about him from my childhood, I have this distinct feeling that the Uncle Raizo I knew is not the same man who’s currently scanning my body from head to toe—and not being one bit discreet about it.
“My god, you are breathtaking.” He steps closer to me, ignoring my attempt to keep that distance. I try to casually move toward the futon, but Raizo takes it as an opportunity to grab my wrist and pin the backs of my legs to the cushion. One move and I’ll fall back onto it—and the look in his eyes tells me that’s what he wants. “I recognized your name on the roster, but I almost didn’t believe it. Believe me, I am thrilled to see it’s true.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Raizo tugs my wrist, making me stumble into his chest. He braces a hand against the small of my back, holding me to him, while his other hand combs my hair from my face. I feel his fingers caress my ear, trail down the slope of my neck… and when they linger over the swell of my breast, a rumble of appreciation rolls through his chest.
“A stunning beauty. So warm, so soft…” He smiles. I hate it. “You, my darling girl, are going to make me a very, very wealthy man.”
I hate even more how he says that. Like I’m some piece of meat for sale. I pull away from him. I’d rather fall over the futon than let him continue to touch me.
He clicks his tongue and hedges in closer. There’s no pretense between us now. He knows I’m trying to get away from him and I know he wants things from me I’m not willing to give.
“Come now, Clara. Be a good girl…”
The office door opens right when Raizo manages to grab my arm. Demyen sweeps in and I’m not sure if I want to breathe a sigh of relief or throw myself at him in a panic.
I choose panic.
I tear myself away from Raizo and practically leap at Demyen before he can take another step into this deathtrap. “I don’t know how he got in here, but?—”
“I let him in. Gave him the code.” Demyen shrugs me off and continues to his desk.
“You what?” I rush behind him, trying to keep my voice low. “Do you know he’s Yakuza?”
Raizo chuckles behind me. Demyen just cocks a brow and smirks at me. “I’m well aware. It’s why I invited him here.”
My attempt to reach for him freezes mid-air. And then I can’t back away fast enough. “Wh… what are you talking about?”
I really don’t want him to answer that. I don’t want to know.
I thought things were bad when I found out who Demyen was. Then they were worse when I realizedwhathe is.
But this?
This feels like it’s so much worse.
Demyen’s Bratva is secretly powerful. Raizo’s Yakuza, by reputation alone, is just as powerful and far more publicly feared. Maybe in some alternate universe, I would have stood a chance by grabbing Willow and running for the safety of Raizo’s past compassion for me via my mother.
But from the way Demyen sounds and by the way Raizo leers at me, that’s not an option inthisuniverse.
Which means I’m officially, royally fucked.
“You’re in business together.” I don’t ask it; I’m surprised I even said it aloud.
Again, Demyen smirks. “Gold star to you.”
He settles into his leather chair and pulls out a few files from a locked drawer, flipping through them. I expect him to glance up at me to order me around, tell me to sit down, whatever feeds his need for control over me. But he’s very engrossed in whatever paperwork he needs to attend to.
Raizo relaxes in one of the overstuffed lounge chairs, unbothered by his colleague’s diverted attention. “Mr. Zakrevsky graciously agreed to host one of my antiquities auctions. He’s even contributed to this season’s collection.”
At no point have I ever seen what could qualify as an “antique” in any part of Demyen’s home. It must be part of a side business he’s got going on. And if it’s anything like what my gut suspects it is, I’m better off not asking more about it.
“Come here, beautiful.” Raizo gestures to me with his fingers. I glance over at Demyen, who doesn’t look up from his papers to stop the man—or me. So I take a few cautious steps closer to theYakuza boss, who reaches out to lazily glide his fingertips along my thigh.
