I hadn’t decided to become a slave; he’d made me one.
I’d almost had sex with him. Almost slipped the ring on my finger. Yet I didn’t know him. I didn’t know about his past, his family, or even what he liked to do in his free time.
I didn’t know if we were compatible outside of sex.
“No, no, Natalie.” He reached for me. “Don’t wake up yet.”
Some shadowy part of me didn’t want to wake. I squeezed my forehead, torn. I was dizzy from the heat, from the life-altering pleasure.
When he grasped my hand and began leading me toward the small pool, I allowed it. He wrapped his arms around me, then dropped us in.
I shivered at the temperature, but I needed it, hadn’t realized how overheated I was. He set me on my feet in the waist-high water, then leaned down to press his lips to mine.
I pushed against his chest, but he held me close, savoring my mouth with his, coaxing with his tongue to make me forget myself. . . .
Lost in bliss all over again, I was dimly aware that he was cleaning me, learning me. A big palm caressed between my legs. Another kneaded one of my breasts. Unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.
Right when I was becoming chilled again, he carried me out. Before I could even formulate a protest, he was toweling me off. I wanted to tell him to stop, to leave me alone. To just let me process everything he’d done to me.
But I was distracted by his low growling sounds as he tended to me—drying my breasts, softly rubbing the curls between my legs. His shaft grew stiff again, swaying with his movements.
Were we about to start this all over again? Was I learning nothing? In all these interludes with Sevastyan, I hadn’t been Natalie. I’d been Natalya. And that brainless hussy didn’t seem to know better.
I stepped back from him, turned to search for my clothes. “I need to get dressed. We need to.”
“Don’t do this,” he murmured from behind me.
“Another command?” Snatching up a robe for myself, I tossed him a towel.
He must’ve sensed I was about to freak out, because he covered himself, wrapping it around those narrow hips. “You regret this?” His voice was filled with disbelief. “You can’t. I won’t let you.” As if he hadn’t shocked me enough today, he scooped me up in his arms.
“What are you doing?”
He sat on the bench, cradling me, cupping the back of my head in a protective embrace.
Only fair, since he’d shattered me today.
In the cloak of the steam, I nearly broke down. “How can you change me so much?” I whispered against his ear. “How?” At one point I’d thought I would lose my mind.
“I haven’t. I’ve just shown you a different facet of yourself.”
Clasping him tight, using him like a lifeline, I buried my face in the spot where his neck met his shoulder. “Why are you showing me these things?”
He said nothing.
I pulled back to meet his eyes, found it impossible not to kiss his face. My lips touched upon the askew bridge of his nose, his chin, then smoothed over the lean perfection of his cheeks. He squeezed me tighter against him, seeming to relish this attention, this affection from me.
Between kisses, I asked, “What do you want from me?”
Silence.
“Did you mean what you said about obsession?”
He turned his head away.
“Ugh!” I disentangled myself from him and scrambled to my feet, searching for my undergarments. “You infuriate me!” I found my panties near the fire, half dry from the heat. Dragged them on.
Bra. Where the hell was my—got it. I turned from him, shucked off my robe, then strapped on my bra.
“Damn it, Natalie, I don’t know what to say to you to ease the way you feel.”
“Of course you don’t.” I whirled around on him. “Because we’re all but strangers! I don’t know you!” With difficulty, I pulled my damp pants up my legs.
“What do you want to know?”
I had so many questions. How to decide on a first? “Those tattoos on your knees—they mean you’ll kneel before no one, don’t they?” According to my research. “Which would indicate that you’re a vor yourself.”
“That doesn’t matter. I follow Kovalev.”
Sevastyan was as much of a criminal aristocrat as my father. Yet another detail I’d had no idea about. “That’s all you’re going to say about it?” When I spotted my blouse, I pounced on it.
“I don’t find it easy to talk about myself.”
My fingers paused on my buttons. “Well, it wasn’t easy for me to let you tie me up! But I trusted you in this.”
“Would you take that back? Undo this afternoon, if you could?” He collected his own clothes, beginning to dress.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t understand it, or you.” I shoved my wet hair back, knotting it at my nape. “You ignored me for weeks, then put on the full-court press today. Why now?”
“Paxán thought, and I agreed, that everything would be overwhelming for you here.”
I’d never felt pressure like I had here. Never.
“When I confessed to him that I’d crossed a line with you, he asked me to give you room to breathe for a couple of weeks. He said you were young, and that I needed to let you find your feet. So I gave him my word that I would allow you space.”
“For a couple of weeks.” It all became clear. The countdown I’d sensed.
Today was my fourteenth day at Berezka. The clock had zeroed out.
“I was ordered not to speak to you in Nebraska; here I was forbidden to seek you out for that time.”
I’d never thought about him having to wait to meet me over that month he’d spied on me. He’d already admitted that he’d fantasized about me sexually as he’d stalked me. How frustrating to watch and never be able to touch.
No, no, no, you’re furious with him, remember?
“I think Paxán expected you to want Filip. Perhaps I did as well.”
No wonder Sevastyan had been so angry when he’d thought Filip had been about to kiss me. “So what happens now?”
“Now?” He donned his pants. “Now I’m done allowing you space.”
Was he joking? As I studied his face, I heard something outside. A truck? “Sevastyan, is someone here?”
He sat down to pull on his boots. “While I saw to the horses, I called the groom, told him to retrieve us in no less than two hours.”
“Two hours? He’ll know what we’ve been doing! We’re going to walk out there and a steam cloud will billow out, and he’ll know. Or he’ll think he knows, and he’ll tell everyone! It won’t matter that we didn’t sleep together. Everyone will believe we did.”
“True.”
My eyes went wide. “You did this on purpose. To force my hand. We didn’t have sex, but we might as well have.”
“You’re this upset by the prospect of being with me?”
“I told you that I don’t like making big decisions under pressure.”
“Then we’re fortunate that the decision’s been made for you.” While I gaped, he said, “I made a play for what I want.” His expression so much as said, Your ass is mine, and we both know it. “I made no secret of what I’d do to possess you. If this is the only way, then so be it.”
I stiffened. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of me. He was so cold, so different from how he’d been earlier. Because he’s won. Or he thinks he has. “What happens when the thrill of the chase wears off? And why me? Of all the beautiful women you’ve dated? I mean, you’re in your thirties and never thought to settle down before.”
Instead of answering me, he said, “This is a done thing, Natalie. Everything will work out if you trust me.”
The groom’s voice sounded outside.
Sevastyan tugged his wet shirt on, then reached for his coat. “I will tell your father that we are together. When he speaks to you, you’ll tell him the same.”
Simple. Clean. Permanent.
“Trust you and everything will work out? That’s just another way of saying you know what’s best for me. Or worse, that you know better than me.”
“In this, I do. You don’t have the experience to know that what just happened here—and in the closet, and on the plane—is the rarest exception, not the rule.”
I was bristling. “Again, you’re saying you know better than me.”
“You’re a smart girl. You’re going to replay everything we’ve done, and you’re going to reach the same conclusion I have.” He moved in close, leaning down to kiss my jawline and lower.
“And wh-what conclusion is that?” When had he discovered how sensitive my neck was? With one spot in particular . . .
He pressed his lips directly to my pulse point, making my knees weak. “Eto ne izbezhno dlya nas.” You and I are inevitable.
Focus, Natalie! How could I still desire him when his high-handedness was unbearable? “An asteroid hitting the earth is inevitable! Or an active volcano erupting. Bad things are inevitable.”
Drawing back, he gazed down at me. “No, powerful things are,” he said as he captured my hand—to drag me out into the real world.
At Berezka’s front entrance, Sevastyan walked me to the doors. I was suddenly aware of all the activity around us. Was it just me, or had the groundskeepers paused their raking to watch Sevastyan and me interact?
A couple of brigadiers emerged from the house. They stopped short and stared at my bedraggled appearance—before the warning in Sevastyan’s eyes made them slink away.
Turning back to me, Sevastyan said, “I’m going to speak to Paxán after dinner.”
I was still half-dazed. “I haven’t accepted this. You.”
“Trust me, pet.” He curled his forefinger under my chin, then leaned down to give me a kiss that anyone could see.
Which was his admitted plan. I thought it’d be a brief good-bye kiss, a toll I would grudgingly accept to get into the house as quickly as possible.
Instead, Sevastyan seemed bent on starting that fire in me once more. He took my mouth fiercely, giving me hot, seeking flicks of his tongue. It was a down-and-dirty kiss, with one objective: slay my resistance.
Which it did.
His hands descended to my hips, squeezing me against his body as his mouth consumed mine. Our tongues sparred until I was gripping his shoulders, wanting to get even closer to his unyielding heat.
As ever, his kiss had a way of blanking my mind, of filling me with a sense that all was well—even when I knew all was futhermucked. . . .
When he finally broke away, leaving me panting and shaken, he smirked. “Lie to yourself all you like, but you’ve definitely accepted me.” Masculine satisfaction emanated from him. His bearing wouldn’t have been amiss on an Olympic podium.
Triumphant. Victorious male.
Was that why I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been defeated?
When I opened the door with a wobbling step, he swatted my ass. I tossed a bewildered look over my shoulder, surprised as much by the unexpected love tap as by this playful side.
“Go inside and get warm, Natalie. And relax, this is a good thing.”
Then he was gone, leaving my lips bruised and my mind in turmoil. Lost in my thoughts, I made my way up the stairs—
I started when Filip stepped in front of me on the landing.
There was fury in his eyes. “Have fun with the guard dog?”
Chapter 22
“I’ve been so worried about you!” Jess exclaimed when I called her that night.
“Really?” I’d kind of been worried about myself after Filip’s meltdown just hours ago. “What’s up?”
“Gee, I don’t know, maybe the fact that some mafiya thug wants to off my best friend.”
Oh, that. “Then why didn’t you call me on the new number I gave you?”
“How the hell do you call Russia from Greece? It’s like trying to figure out rela-fucking-tivity. And still, I gave it several shots. Of Ouzo. Seriously, you have no idea how much your situation is affecting me. I’ve been stress-eating my way across Greece.”
I frowned. “You don’t stress-eat—”
“Cock, Natalie. I was stress-eating cock. There, you made me say it, happy now?”
“Opa!”
“Twat.”
“Bitch.” Despite my foul mood, I had to check a grin. “I take it your trip was a success.”
“Of course it was. But I don’t want to talk about me, Richie Rich. I wanna know that you’re safe.”
Define “safe.” “I’ve been perfectly fine.”
She took me at my word. “So give me the details then! Tell me all about your gangster rumspringa.”
How to begin? I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. I was back to my old Natalie self—no hint of Natalya—but if I were fanciful, I’d say my eyes were more . . . knowing. “It might not be just a rumspringa. Kovalev wants me to stay on.” Any other woman would kill for an opportunity to live in a place like this, to get to know her father and study at a new university.
To be with a man as glorious and sexy as Sevastyan.
Radio silence from Jess. Then finally: “And you’re giving the prospect actual thought?”
“I’m feeling, uh, a little pressure to stay.” I told her about the last two weeks, the insane amount of gifts, my growing phobia of mass quantities of money, and the looming danger.
When I’d finished, she said, “You haven’t mentioned the cage-fighter unicorn.”
“I guess you could say we’ve gotten . . . involved.” How to explain this confusing situation? Sevastyan’s complicated nature? “With him, everything is extreme.” Just as Paxán had said. “The man is extremely sexy, complex, infuriating. Sometimes I feel like I’m already in love with him; sometimes I feel like I should be running the other way. Bottom line, I am extremely confused.” I detailed for her the highlights of our relationship and the specter of plight-hood, then gave her a blow-by-blow (har) of what had happened in the banya.
“That is so hot! You just gave me a wetty. Fap, fap, fap.”
“Will you be serious? Talk of bondage and whipping doesn’t even make you raise a brow?”
“Please. Nothing between consenting adults fazes me.” True to form, she zeroed in on her favorite detail: “You’ve STILL got your skin tag? Come on, Nat, this is getting ridiculous. Are you thinking with your vaj?”
“No!”
“There’s your problem right there.”
“Jess, I was hoping to get some real, unvarnished advice. I worry that I’m different because of that encounter, that I’m changed. But here’s the thing: I think . . . I think he might be too.”
“You really held out?”
“Somehow. The guy told me that if he was my first lover, he’d be my last.”
She coughed. “That’s seriously heavy.”
“My thoughts exactly. I’d figured he was perfect for a vacay fling—but mafiya rules say that is not in the cards for Nat.”
“Just so we’re clear—you’re talking about having sex with only one guy for your entire life.”
“It sounds so bad when you put it like that. How many guys have you slept with, Jess? Really.”
“Fourscore? Population of a small midwestern town? Horde?”
“But do you regret any of them?”
“Nope. Each one brought something different to the table.”
I could admit to myself that Sevastyan had brought a banquet. Still . . . “It doesn’t seem very progressive of me to get off on what we did. He ordered me around and basically trussed me up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”
“Visual, Nat, visual. Now my fap, fap, fap fodder is no more. Anyway, I’m of the feminist school of thought that says ‘If mama like, then mama fucking do.’ Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are too.”
I sighed. “I am.�
� I’d never felt more pleasure, so how could I not view it positively? With one niggling misgiving neutralized, I moved on to a larger one. “I understand why Sevastyan doesn’t want to talk about himself—he has a past, to put it mildly—but it leaves me with a whole lot of nothing to go on. A mail-order bride would know more about her intended than I know about my potential . . . plighted, or whatever. I just wish I had more time to sort out what I feel. Jess, tomorrow I have to talk to Paxán, and the pressure is killing me. The money, the danger, this enforcer—they’re all about to make me pull my hair out.”
“I’ve never heard you this freaked out.”
Because I’d never been! “I signed on for this life”—somewhat—“and I suppose I’m obligated to pay the price when I screw up.”
In a way, this crime microcosm was its own country, with its own boundaries and customs, and now I was bound by them. I tried to explain: “I entered into this world, and it’s got its own laws. Doesn’t matter how I feel about them; I tacitly agreed to them. Then on top of that, I was explicitly warned of the consequences. Yet I still broke the rules.”
“Let’s talk about how you entered that world! Some Russian threw you over his shoulder and stole you from our house! He tackled you in a cornfield, dick-glamoured you, and you still somehow resisted—at which point he forced you onto a mafiya plane. So don’t give me this shit about how you agreed to some twatting laws.”
Dick-glamoured? Kind of fitting. “But then I fell right into line.” Dazzled by Sevastyan and Berezka. Lulled by laughter with my father . . .
“You know what? Fuck—this—noise,” Jess declared. “You’re twenty-four, Nat. Leave lifelong commitments to people who have fewer freaking years left. Fifty-year-olds and such. Anybody who tells a girl your age to make a commitment like this must think you won’t live long.” She caught her breath, then said, “Sorry. I forgot you might get capped at any time.”
I swallowed. “Maybe I should view things with that in mind. Act like I only have a month to live. Despite everything, I know I’d want more time with Sevastyan.”
But that didn’t mean I wanted . . . forever.
“Listen to yourself! Put down the Kool-Aid and get some perspective, doll. Sneak away, and I’ll meet you in Europe. We’ll dodge bullets and break hearts.”
The Professional Part 2 Page 3
