by SR Jones
She lifts her head for a moment, and her huge eyes are terrified. She’s a doe frozen in a hunter’s crosshairs, waiting for the bullet to hit.
“I don’t need a waitress, but thank you, Sergei. I appreciate the thought, but she can go back to working at the restaurant.”
Allyov smiles at me, and the smile crinkles his eyes in fond amusement, as if I’m his wayward son trying his patience and failing. He comes to sit by me, and the man I was talking to scuttles off, leaving the seat free for Allyov.
“No, she can’t,” Sergei says with a sad sigh. “She’s not exactly here by choice. She has no one, is a lost little lamb.”
She is lost. I see it in her eyes. Whatever weird stuff Violet had going on with the whole disguising her beauty thing, and then slowly letting it shine, this wasn’t part of her game plan. She’s shaking at my feet.
If she’s a cop, she’s not a seasoned one, and I doubt she is law enforcement, which only makes her more of a mystery.
A delectable, beautiful, mystery.
“I looked into her background. She’s a nobody. Apart from at the restaurant, which I can deal with, no one will know she is missing.” Allyov says this as if it makes it all okay. He’s wrong, though; this puts me in danger. Puts us all in danger.
“Everyone has someone,” I say, voice low. “Even if it’s only a waiter they know or a favorite barista. A neighbor. A landlord wanting rent. She’ll be missed by someone. Let her go; she knows to keep her mouth shut. Right, Violet?”
I try to convey how much shit she is in with my gaze, and she gets it because her eyes widen, and she nods so hard she looks like one of those bobble heads.
Allyov sighs again. “You don’t like her? I feel bad. I wanted this to be a great gift. A gift to link us so we’ll be like brothers in all the important ways. No problem, I will send her off to the Middle East with the arms on Sunday. She’ll go down a treat there with her coloring.”
Violet makes a low keening wail, and I will her to shut up as the room goes silent. Fuck, this sort of shit. I do not need this.
I can’t do anything to change this, though. If he sends her off to the Middle East, whatever happens to her is on me. I don’t trust him or her. She’d already put herself on my radar with her odd behavior, and now here she is, in my home. It doesn’t add up.
A thought hits me. Could she be working for Allyov? Is this all an act? No, if she is working for him, it’s clearly under duress. No actress can put on this good a display of being terrified out of her ever-loving mind. She’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and her shaking is genuine.
“I didn’t say she wasn’t to my tastes, Allyov. I simply don’t need the heat that might come from this. It’s messy.” I point to her. My body is still relaxed, but my mind is computing all the different options here. The ways this could go wrong. What it would mean for Violet if I tell Allyov to send her away. What it will mean for me if I don’t. What it could also mean for me if I refuse her. It won’t go down well. At all.
The men fear me, but part of the reason for their fear is their view of me as a superhuman alpha-male. A man who will kill and maim with the cold efficiency of a hardened murderer. If they begin to believe I’m gay, part of my mystique will crumble. It’s wrong, but it’s the way it is with the Eastern crime families I move within. Maybe some are more accepting these days, more modern, but not Allyov and his extended family.
I don’t take her, and I will look weak not strong. I have my rules, and those rules only serve to make me appear stronger, but if I turn this … gift down, it will do the opposite. In their fucked-up eyes at least.
“Trust me, it won’t be messy. No one knows she’s gone.” Allyov is starting to pout a little now, a sure sign he’s getting pissed. “We will sort her rent out with the landlord. And as for any waiters or baristas, they aren’t going to go the police over a waif and stray they sometimes talk to.”
“She is pretty.” I force myself to smile at Allyov. “If I take her, then I want to be the one to sort out her landlord and any other issues.” I hold Allyov’s gaze, letting him see I’m deadly serious.
“Fine by me, one more job off my hands. So … you like her? You know”—Allyov leans in close and lowers his voice—“some of the men, they thought you were maybe, you know … you liked boys. Not that I care.” Allyov leans back and holds his hands up. “I’m a modern man, but the foot soldiers … they talk. You don’t touch the girls in the clubs, don’t fuck Justina and she’s gorgeous. You’re like a monk. But Donna, she asked Justina one day, and Justina laughed and said you like women, but you like them innocent. Untouched. It’s why you don’t mess with the girls in the clubs. I saw you noticed little Violet here. A man like you who pays no one much heed, you noticed her. Yes?”
He laughs low and soft. “We are more alike than I knew, same taste in women. I think I might have wanted her for myself if I didn’t already have a tasty little morsel lined up. But … we like them the same way. Brothers for sure, under the skin.”
He claps me on the back. I smile a slow smile. “Brothers, eh?” Shit, he’s getting what he wanted in a way, me in the family. This ties me to him. Binds us in a terrible secret way more incriminating than any of the hits or beatings I’ve given, and he knows it. Because Violet is a living, breathing witness who can put me and him away if she ever got to talk to the police. She’s not part of his organization, and someone who will take their licks and keep silent if they know what is good for them. She isn’t an idiot who skimmed off the top, got a beating and now knows better. She’s a wildcard. A loose fucking cannon in my locked down, careful life.
“Yes, and this beautiful young girl is my gift to you, brother. Do with her as you wish. When you’re done with her, do as you wish. If you get bored of her and don’t want to … dispose of her yourself, let me send her to the Middle East for you.”
“You don’t run girls,” I say. That’s one of the things bugging me about this. Allyov and his crew don’t run girls. It’s one area they aren’t willing to go. Not because they are princes amongst men, but because as Allyov once said, moving livestock is messy.
“True,” Allyov replies. “But it won’t hurt just this once. I have the contacts. I will send her away if she’s not to your taste; she’ll be welcomed by an associate of mine.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then Allyov leans down and pulls Violet up by her hair.
“Get off your knees, you stupid girl, and come say hello to your new owner.”
She pushes up to stand, but her legs collapse under her. I don’t move. I sit and watch her struggle, my face schooled in a cold mask.
Misha rolls his eyes, plucks her off the carpet, and dumps her in my arms.
Suddenly, my arms are full of a tiny, warm, girl with huge eyes, big tits, full lips and hair so soft against my cheek it could be silk.
Fuck. I don’t know why Justina told Donna shit about me liking innocent virgins. I don’t. Or, I didn’t think I did, but my body is responding to Violet in a way it has to few women before.
I shift and will my cock to behave. I don’t want to terrify her more than she already is.
It takes a lot to turn my head. I have women falling all over themselves for me in any of the Russian run bars I go to. And the Ukrainian and Russian girls are gorgeous. Truly beautiful. This girl, though, she has something about her. Something different. A softness. She’s also terrified. It’s evident in her wide, wild eyes as they search the room.
She’s so slender and ethereal with all her pale skin and ash blonde hair. Natural if her eyebrows are anything to go by. The hair she tried to hide for so long. Why did she start to let her beauty peek out in the last few weeks? Something about her isn’t right. I wonder again if she’s a cop who has been watching Allyov and all of us who work for him.
Maybe she hadn’t got far and decided to try to attract attention. To use her sexuality to get information out of us. Would a cop go so far? Maybe she works for British Intelligence? Some of those wo
men have been known to seduce a man to get the information they need, haven’t they? Certainly, in the past, I’m sure nations did.
If she is intelligence, a spy, she’s a wet dream come true. They couldn’t have picked better. Despite her terror, despite my vows to myself and my code, my cock stirs once more as I hold her shaking form in my arms.
Gregory crosses the room and grins down at her, licking his lips.
“She’s fucking delectable, look at those tits. Jesus.”
He reaches out a hand to grab at her breast, and Violet flinches away from him and closer to me.
I don’t know why, but his actions make me see red. I slap his hand away before I stop to think. He’s higher than me on the totem pole. A senior member of the family and the syndicate, but I swat him away like an annoying insect. These men aren’t turning this girl into their plaything.
“Go find your own toy to play with,” I tell him. “She’s mine, and that means she’s off limits to anyone else. I don’t fucking share.”
I give him a hard look and Allyov too, but he nods in approval. He wants me to take this girl. Whether it’s because she’s working for him, or because he thinks it binds me to him, or simply because he’s a sick fuck who thinks I’ll enjoy this gift. Whatever his reasons, he wants me to make her mine.
Done with her being sat in front of all these men in only underwear, I stand easily with her in my arms. She must only weigh a hundred and ten pounds or so. I cross to the door and stare at Misha who opens it for me. With a wink and a shit-eating grin tossed over my shoulder to the fuckers in the room, I climb the stairs.
On the landing I turn to the guest room and carry her in there, where I throw her with more force than I intend onto the bed.
She’s staring at me with huge eyes, chest heaving, her breath coming in rapid little gasps. She’s beyond scared, but her fear mimics arousal, and I can’t lie—there’s a dark, sick part of me wants to climb onto that bed and take her.
I lock it down and stare at her as I shake my head. She’s a fucking liability. A temptation, a test, and an annoyance I don’t need all in one trembling, sensual package.
“Well, aren’t you the fucking proverbial wrench in the works.”
She doesn’t speak, merely stares at me, her chest still rising and falling rapidly.
I need to question her, but not now. Not with Allyov and the others here. I’ve also got a simmering dose of paranoia going on, and despite the fact I religiously sweep my house for listening devices and cameras, I know I’m going to have to do another sweep tomorrow. I can’t talk to this girl until I know for a fact no one is listening in.
In fact, I think I’ll head to the country house, my true home. Take her there, where we can talk.
“I have a party to get back to,” I tell her. “You seem cold; I’ll ask Justina to get you clothes for tonight. Her stuff will be large on you, but it will have to do for now.”
She nods and bites her lip. Her eyes turn glassy as tears fill them.
I grip her chin as gently as I can. “Don’t cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” She’s wearing pink lipstick I’m sure Allyov put on her.
“I need a kiss though,” I tell her.
I move my head down, but she scrabbles back.
I have my rules, my sworn oath made to another, but I’m a natural born predator and her trying to get away only ignites a desire for me to give chase.
The predator inside is tearing at the chains I’ve wrapped him in. A savage beast trapped in the body of a civilized man.
The Russian state saw the beast within and trained me to be one of their best. An elite killing machine who served them well in Chechnya and other places. Allyov and his men think they know me; they know nothing. I’ve killed so many men I’ve lost count. Seen my brothers in arms die in the most horrific ways. I’ve seen men lose their minds on both sides of the conflict and do things no one would believe.
I’ve spent night after night sleeping in holes dug in the freezing ground. Conditions in which most people would die. They’d simply give up and curl up and die. Not me. I survived it all. And the whole time I was getting information on the people I wanted, working on my plan. Biding my time. Now. I’m in the perfect place, about to put the biggest fucker of all in the ground, and this little morsel has screwed it all up. Made me take my mind off the one-track loop of my hit list and focus on her.
She’s so delectable, and her scent is fucking with my mind.
I lock that shit down, and tell her again, “Violet, I won’t hurt you. I am going to kiss you, but that’s all.”
Before she can get any further away, I wrap my fist in her hair and bring her toward me. Using my grip on her, I angle her head and bring my mouth down to hers. I need the kiss to be passionate, not a mere brush of lips. I need her lipstick all over my face when I go downstairs.
It’s meant to be an exercise in damage limitation. Something to show the men downstairs how much I like my gift. The moment my lips meet hers, and I breathe in her scent and taste the strawberry in the gloss, it becomes something else entirely.
My body hardens to the point of pain. I know I shouldn’t do it, I don’t have to, but I do anyway. I push my tongue in her mouth, shocked when she parts for me with a small gasp. Her hands curl around my shoulders and for a moment, she pulls me in.
We kiss, and my whole shitty fucking world changes.
I close my eyes as colors explode behind my lids. The scent and taste of her, the small, tiny whimper she lets go, and I greedily eat up. It’s all so fucking delicious. I want to make her come. More than anything else in the world, at this moment, in this room, all I care about is hearing her cry my name as I take her over the edge.
Then she seems to snap to her senses, her hands curled at my shoulders move to my chest, and she pushes me away with all her strength.
It wouldn’t be enough to get me off her if I didn’t want to, but I immediately let her go.
Stepping back, I turn to her. “You can go to sleep easy tonight. I told you I only wanted a kiss, and I didn’t lie. Justina will bring you clothes. I’m going to lock this door from the outside, and there isn’t anywhere you can get away to because the whole fucking house is alarmed and wired to the hilt.”
She’s shaking again.
“Violet, listen to me. Justina, she will bring you clothes and food, and you can sleep then tonight, okay? That’s all that’s going to happen.”
“Tonight,” she says. “What about tomorrow and the night after?”
I can’t give her the reassurance she wants. I don’t know if this conversation is being heard by someone. I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on here, really. I don’t know whether all this is an act and she’s working for Allyov.
I give her a smile. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”
I know it isn’t exactly reassuring, but hopefully it tells her I’m not about to force myself on her. I can’t say it explicitly to her in case Allyov is listening in.
I head out the door, lock it behind me, and go downstairs. I need to find Justina, but first I head into the lounge, and make a show of taking out my handkerchief and wiping bright pink lipstick off my mouth. The men cheer and I grin, then I pour myself a huge fucking glass of whiskey and go in search of my housekeeper.
Chapter 2
Violet
I’m in such a state, I think I might faint. My heart is pounding wildly, and my hands won’t stop shaking. In fact, I’m shaking so much my teeth chatter. I’m terrified. The tranquilizer forced on me by the thugs who grabbed me is still in my system, and I’d no doubt be throwing up in terror by now without it.
I have nothing on me, no phone. They took my clothes when they brought me to this house and made me change into this horrible underwear.
My mind is scrambling to catch up with all that’s happened. One moment I’d been leaving the cinema, the next I was being dragged out of the emergency doors and into a waiting car. For a second, I’d felt momentary relief when I saw my
boss from the restaurant, Sergei Allyov, waiting in the car. It was short-lived, however, because he grinned at me and it was cruel, and then he drugged me. Forced me to swallow the pill he gave me and drove here. To give me to the one man I’m absolutely terrified of.
Andrius.
Trying to be rational, I ask myself why is this in any way worse than my original plan?
I was going to give myself to Allyov, wasn’t I? I shake my head and start to cry. What a stupid, crazy plan.
I look back on what I had been about to do and want to punch myself in the face for being such an idiot. I’d taken the job in the restaurant on purpose because it was owned by Sergei Allyov, a mob boss and a man who had taken everything from me.
My plan had been to lurk and watch and learn, and when the time presented itself, to get Allyov to notice me. To want me. Then I would hurt him the way he’d hurt me. I’d use my knowledge of his one vulnerability, an allergy to peanut butter, and I’d somehow kill him.
I’d been prepared to do whatever it took to get him alone and vulnerable even if it meant sleeping with him. Whatever it took to get revenge with my crazed peanut butter murder plot? Well, is this going to be much worse? Now I can still get near Allyov but by using Andrius instead. Allyov’s hitman. A man who makes me shake with desire alongside the fear he creates in me.
My goal in life for months now had been to get close to Allyov, but tonight, I panicked and bottled it. I tell myself this is simply another way of carrying out my original plan. A second chance. A more roundabout way, perhaps, but if I get close to Andrius and get invited with him to these gatherings the men have, then I can get to Allyov.
Can I use Andrius in the same way I had planned for Allyov? Give him my body in order to be kept by his side? I shiver at the thought, half in desire and half in terror.
