by Lana Sky
“Children of my own was never something I envisioned.” A cold, slow smile shapes his mouth. “But it seems the universe enjoys taunting me by challenging my past perceptions.”
“How?” I ask hoarsely.
He shakes his head—a topic for another day, I suspect.
“You’d make an amazing father.” I sound mournful as I admit it. To gauge his reaction, I turn around as I sink against him. “You’re patient. Gentle…”
“You can be so sure despite knowing me for only a week?” he questions skeptically, throwing his arm over my hip.
I nod. “Yes. Call it my special gift—” Either that or a major character flaw. “I’m good at reading people. Too good. I knew within two days that Jim was a self-centered, abrasive asshole. I just ignored the warning signs. But you? I find myself trying harder just to ignore the good things. So yes, I have no doubt that you’d make an amazing dad.”
Given the empathy evident in how he cared for his horse alone, a child of his would grow up both spoiled and cherished beyond measure. And he deserves a woman who could give him that future.
“I’ve upset you,” he says as I roll off of him.
“No.” I shake my head as I climb from the bed and stand on shaking legs. “I’m fine. I promise.”
I just feel the need to put distance between us, any way I can. I wind up in the bathroom, slumping over the counter. My eyes are bloodshot, my bottom lip trembling. Self-pity?
No. The pain ripping through my chest has everything to do with guilt. Vadim is such an infuriatingly stubborn, guarded, mysterious man. And the more time I spend around him, the more of him I’m starting to crave. My instincts are warning me to run far and fast. Before it’s too late and I do something stupid.
Like jump into another relationship with someone I barely know.
I splash cool water onto my face and then reenter the bedroom with a lazy grin. He’s still propped up in bed, watching me warily.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” I skip to his end of the bed and climb onto the mattress—directly onto him. He grunts in shock, capturing my waist to keep me steady. I plant a drunk kiss on his jaw and keep kissing my way down his chest until the tension drains from him completely.
“I love being with you,” I confess, somewhere near his navel. “May your future fake wife burn in hell.”
He leans back and meets my gaze, an eyebrow raised. “Is this your way of telling me that you plan on escaping after tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow?” Belatedly I remember dinner with his brother, my supposed reason for staying this long. “I guess our arrangement will be over, then.”
“Will it?” That dangerous gleam ignites in his gaze, setting the hairs on the back of my neck on end. “You’ve been so intent on leaving that you have yet to ask yourself—will I let you go? I think you might very much enjoy bondage play.”
Excitement bubbles in my belly at the mere thought of having him shackle me. Snap out of it, Tiffy.
“You won’t want me around for very long,” I say, shifting my position to nuzzle his neck. “One month of my spending, and you’ll cancel your fancy card and send my ass right back to California.”
“I doubt that.” His voice deepens into a richer, thicker baritone and my toes curl in response. “I’ve had more entertainment watching you squeal in excitement over a few dresses than I’ve ever experienced through my wealth.
“Mmm.” I purr, wiggling against him. “Keep talking dirty to me, and I may let you play with that damn toy again.” I spare a glance at the hated object, resting on his nightstand, freshly cleaned.
“Dirty?” he echoes, pressing me against him. “Stay with me after tomorrow night, and I will show you the world I could offer you.”
My breath catches as my brain spins with a million possibilities. More shopping sprees. More carefree mornings. More impromptu horse rides and casual dinners. An abundance of kinky sex.
“You are considering it,” he accuses while laughing that buttery laugh.
“I am,” I confess. “But you shouldn’t want me to. I think I might be…bad for you.” I frown, even as I say it. A selfish part of me wants to immediately take the words back. Why can’t I chase him, even if our ultimate aims aren’t compatible? Maybe I could change my mind. Maybe…
“Bad for me?” He laughs in that sinful way, and his hands creep up my ribcage, cupping my breasts. He groans as my nipples harden and traces their peeks through the fabric of my negligee. “You have been terrible for me—” He flicks his gaze up to mine, watching my reaction. Something in his heated expression makes me suspect he didn’t intend the confession as an insult. “I’ve been distracted from my work. Rather than just a few hours at a time, I find that I’ve been sleeping through the night these past few days. Not to mention, I’m considering meeting Maxim without the aid of an armed guard. You have thoroughly demolished my routine. I’m sure you are pleased with yourself.”
My grin returns wider than ever. “So pleased.” I brush my lips over his, relishing the feel of him. He’s so soft, but so dominating the second he pushes back, urging my lips apart for his tongue to slip between.
The kiss is sweet at first. Then hungrier until I’m lying naked beneath him, and he’s palming his cock, his eyes unfocused, our breathing labored.
I part my legs, and he easily sinks inside me.
One thrust takes me so high I go right past cloud nine and straight up to ten.
And even as I quake amid the aftermath, I know that I’m already well past the danger zone of becoming addicted to him.
Chapter Twenty
I wake up in his arms, and we spend most of the morning lying in bed, talking about nothing in particular. It’s surprisingly easy to share his space and enjoy his nearness. I could never pass time like this with Jim. Not that he would give me the time of day regardless.
Vadim? He acts as though his business and unknown meetings can wait. As if letting me nuzzle at his throat is worth more than anything else. And the giddy, childish joy goes straight to my head.
“When will you pierce me?” I wonder, nestling against his chest.
A low, shocked grunt resonates from his throat. “You are eager for it?”
I purr and nod, surprised by that fact almost as much as he seems to be. “I’m so eager for it. I’m sure you have it all planned out, and I like where your brain goes when you ‘research.’”
He chuckles, his gaze thoughtful. “I think you will enjoy the ultimate result, but I am not quite ready yet.”
I pout. Then I remember the looming deadline that is tonight, and some of my giddiness diminishes. “Ena warned me about you,” I admit. “He said that your brother makes you crazy, and that I am just a toy in whatever is going on between you two.”
“Is that so?” His tired sigh ruffles my hair, and he gently smooths the stray strands back into place. “Ena is…let’s just say, protective of me. He has earned that right. But I have learned that eighty-percent of the time, he’s as overzealous as a worrisome mother.”
“And the other twenty percent?” I ask.
His mouth twitches into a reluctant frown. “While he may be overzealous, he is usually never wrong. In this case, I believe precedent may be coloring his perception—” He runs his hand down my back as if in reassurance. “Maxim brings out the worst in me, and Ena knows that better than most.”
“How did you meet him?” I inquire next as I trace a path from one perfect nipple to the other. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to stroll into one of your offices wearing a suit with a resume tucked under his arm.”
“No.” His second sigh resonates through my skin, more wistful than the first. “He saved my life. And I don’t mean it in the sense that he stopped a bullet for me, or prevented my murder—which he has, many times. I mean it in the most primal sense of the phrase. He saved my life. I met him at a time when I had nothing. Was nothing. For that reason, I will always humor his quirks. Though I may have to remind him
that not everyone is so tolerant of his bluntness.”
“Tell me?” I risk asking even as he stiffens, his gaze turning distant. “I know I’m prying—and if you don’t want to, I won’t push it. But I want to know. I’m willing to listen.”
I sense his wall wavering, threatening to solidify against me. Driven by an impulse I can’t name, I brush my fingers through his hair and cradle his jaw. Finally, he blinks. When his gaze fixates on mine again, it’s more intense than ever.
“I was property once,” he says bluntly. “Take that as you may. I can’t…” He swallows hard, shaking his head. “Some things I won’t relive in full. Do you still want to hear it?”
“Yes,” I croak without an ounce of hesitation. “I’ll listen to whatever you’re willing to tell.”
“I was property,” he repeats. “Little more than a slave but without the benefit of even that title. My worth registered in the tens of thousands, and yet at my core? I was worthless. Soulless. I was nothing.”
My heart pounds as an ominous foreboding makes me settle against him, pressing my ear to his chest. Despite the obvious pain in his voice, his heartbeat is sluggishly slow. Too slow. As if his body is completely disconnected from the horror in his mind. Tremors ripple through him, reminding me of the way he shook around Maxim. It’s like he’s freezing from the inside out, even as his skin blazes.
“My last ‘owner’ possessed acres of property in some European country, untouchable by the authorities. They called him ‘the collector’ and he more than lived up to that name. Animals. Weapons. Vehicles…people. He loved horses, you see. He had stables filled with them. And when things got unbearable, they were my escape.”
The detachedness of his voice creates a horrific picture. One so sickening, I can’t even envision it fully—a nightmare far beyond my picturesque upbringing in southern California.
“The bastard would send his goons after me, and more often than not, I’d be severely punished,” Vadim says. “But for whatever reason, when all else in life had lost any appeal, that haven remained tempting enough for me to risk seeking it out at every opportunity. One horse, in particular, drew my notice. A young filly who the stable hands had deemed ‘incorrigible’—” He smiles in that rare, genuine way that makes my heart ache. “She retained her spirit despite their attempts to break her, and was prone to lashing out and biting.”
“Zzazza?” I say softly.
He nods. “She never attacked me. Not even the first night I snuck into her stall to hide, bloodied, and broken. Whenever anyone came by looking for me, she’d snarl and bite, but never at me.”
“How did you escape?”
“One day, my ‘owner’ decided that I was a liability worth eliminating. He had me beaten within an inch of my life and called in one of his guards to finish the job…” Something terrible constricts his features. A raw pain, unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. The type of agony that can only be experienced to understand—a loss of yourself. “I begged for my life,” he confesses hoarsely. “Like an animal, I begged. Pleaded. Sobbed. I will never understand why then—I had been through worse before. Never once did I plead. But I did, even though I knew the guard would laugh and kill me anyway. I had resigned myself to death. But I was wrong...” He frowns as if still stunned by that fact. “The guard aimed his gun at me, and then turned it on my bastard owner and pulled the trigger. There was no hesitation in him. No ounce of wavering or struggle. He merely made a decision, and that was that. He helped me escape, and since then, he has never made a decision I do not trust.”
I swallow hard, my eyes burning. “So maybe I can try to be nice to Ena a little,” I say with a watery laugh.
“He is one of the few men I trust in the world,” Vadim swears. “And he makes a mean chocolate cake if you do manage to get in his good graces.”
“Ah, so the man prefers chocolate as well,” I say, filing away the fact for later.
“I enjoy many things,” he says, sliding his arms around my waist, drawing me even closer. Near my ear, he murmurs, “Many of them new revelations.”
“Such as?” I wonder smugly.
“Such as kink,” he says, his voice deepening. “I never knew sex could be so…stimulating.”
My breathing hitches. I can’t shake his previous confession. Did I really push him too far?
“In a good way,” he adds before I can fear the worst. “It can be…pleasurable.” He pauses as if fighting to find the right words. “I am not used to that experience.”
And yet, he hires escorts seemingly on a regular basis. Does the lack of connection—paired with his obvious joy of manipulation—make it easier for him, even if pleasure isn’t his main goal? It’s an admittedly cold way to approach such an intimate act. No wonder he’d been so alarmed by my enthusiasm the first night we met.
“I never knew that research could be involved,” he adds with a rasping laugh. “That, too, I have come to enjoy.”
My grin expands across my face. “Do you love our kink?”
“With you, I do. I may even come to love your filthy mouth. The things you say.”
“Little me?” I turn to face him and flutter my eyelashes. “I would never say anything vulgar! Like that, I really, really want you to fuck me. Now. Hard.”
His eyes narrow as he snatches me to him and promptly rolls over, trapping me beneath him. “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Far too soon, night starts to fall, and we reluctantly leave the safety of the bed for reality. He enters the shower while I comb through the closet and compile two outfits muted in nature—a black suit for him, and an ebony dress for me—fashioned with a modest neckline this time.
I pick out his tie as he gets dressed, and I approach him cautiously, looping it around his neck. “Nervous?” I ask, trying to make my tone more joking than serious.
His eyes darken, gazing into space beyond me. “You asked me once why I did it,” he says, his voice so cold I shiver as I twist the tie in on itself. “Why I brought you across the country just for a dinner. Why? You were unpredictable.” He slowly lowers his eyes to meet mine. “In my world, those who subvert my expectations have been the only ones I can trust… Don’t assume my sole reason was to humiliate you.”
I digest the confession slowly, swallowing hard. “I guess I should take that as a compliment, then?”
But I don’t. Ena. Zzazza. It feels far more than normal praise to join the ranks of those precious few. Far more vital—and terrifying. I’m getting the sense that those Vadim deems worthy of his attention don’t leave his orbit so easily. Like his brother…
“Did Maxim subvert your expectations, too?” I ask softly. Gosh, I can’t even look at him. Psychoanalyzing someone like him is a dangerous game to play—but it makes sense. A man so calculating doesn’t waste his effort on those who he feels aren’t worth the time, family or not.
Not even if they flirt with his hateful side more than most.
Rather than reply, I sense his finger graze my cheek in a simple, lingering caress. When he withdraws, I’m shivering more violently than before. “Get dressed.”
Once I’m ready, we head down to the car, and I sense a shift the second he claims the driver’s seat beside me. The wall is back up, and the contrast in his demeanor is stark—his eyes darken, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel tightly.
“I wonder what’s on the menu?” I say in a last-ditch attempt to spark some of the previous humor that had bubbled between us only a few hours ago.
He doesn’t laugh or respond, for that matter. I suspect he didn’t even hear me. He sits stiffly, hunched over the wheel, his jaw clenched in stubborn silence.
“Baby?” I touch his shoulder, surprised to find him shaking. “Vadim—”
“I’m fine.” He shrugs me off, and I choke down any other attempts at conversation, turning my attention to the road. Rather than his brother’s house, we head toward the city and eventually arrive before a familiar, impressive bu
ilding.
The kinky sex club. A strange place to have a family dinner, that’s for damn sure. Rather than say as much out loud, I follow him inside. It doesn’t register until I spot the familiar surroundings of dark walls and floors that this is the same bar I entered—only now, it’s been completely rearranged.
Gone are the scantily clad patrons and oodles of sensual atmosphere. Instead, a long dining table dominates the center of the room, set for six. The tall man, Milton, stands to greet us, followed by the beautiful blond from the party as well.
I sheepishly offer my contribution—one of my precious bottles of vintage. “We brought wine.” I make my smile as wide and charming as I’m physically able to. The blond hides her answering grin.
But no one else even cracks a smirk. Still, I take it as a small win. At least someone has a sense of normal dinner-party etiquette.
Vadim’s brother remains seated beside his young fiancée. His eyes fixate on us, narrowed to slits. Even while dressed in a suit, he radiates feral energy that makes it shockingly easy to picture him lunging across the table at any moment, fists poised to deal out a blow.
“You had the nerve to show up,” he growls, his accent thick, his voice booming. “I thought proposing this fucking farce was an elaborate joke on Milton’s part.”
“What can I say?” Vadim shrugs, and a cruel smile replaces his playful one. “You could have always rescinded the invitation, dear Maxim,” he counters.
“It wasn’t his bloody invitation to rescind,” Milton cuts in, eyeing Maxim with a heated stare fit to light a fire. “Please, sit.”
I follow Vadim’s lead, taking the seat beside him. As I look up, I realize that we’re on an island unto ourselves. Everyone else is seated on the opposite end.
“This looks lovely,” I rasp, eyeing the steaming trays of food placed at intervals throughout the length of the table. Roasted meat. Vegetables. My fingers twitch as I spot my bottle of wine, but I suppress the urge to lunge for it.
