by Holly Bargo
“Gia—Giancarla Bonetti,” she muttered her reply. As though he’d given her leave to speak, she asked, “W-what are you going to do with me?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he replied with disturbing honesty. “But I’ve no intention of hurting you.”
A sob escaped her, but she choked others back. After a moment’s struggle, she managed to ask, “Who are you?”
“Vitaly Synvolka.” He paused, then asked, “Did the Culebras take your purse?”
“I lost it when they kidnapped me. It’s long gone by now.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “I’ll have to get a new driver’s license, Social Security card, student ID, and everything else.”
“You’re a student?”
She sighed and supposed there was no harm in volunteering information. He’d saved her from a fate worse than death, after all. “Yes, I’m in the master’s program at Cleveland State, the marine biology program.”
A small smile crossed Vitaly’s face. He thought he’d caught the glimmer of intelligence and was glad she’d confirmed his hunch. They rode in silence for a while as he drove toward the Cleveland suburb of Beachwood. Inner city gradually gave way to more affluent neighborhoods. The car pulled into the garage of a tidy house, not extravagant, but certainly larger than one man would need. Gia cast him a covert glance. Whatever Vitaly did, he was paid well for it. And maybe he had a wife and children who lived with him in the pretty house.
Gathering her courage, she ventured to quietly rebuke him as the garage door automatically lowered and cut off any chance of escape: “I had hoped you’d be willing to drop me off at home.”
Vitaly nearly grinned at her small display of audacity, knowing she was still frightened. But he kept his expression neutral and said mildly, “You’ll be safe here for the night. We’ll discuss your situation in the morning.”
“In the morning!”
“Da.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the driver’s side door. “Trust me, Giancarla.”
“That’s a little hard to do. You just bought me from those criminals,” she muttered, her tone bitter.
“Would you have preferred I left you with them?”
“No!” Gia took a calming breath. “Look, I’m grateful that you got me out of there, really, I am. I’ll pay you back somehow.” She wasn’t sure how, but she vowed she would pay him back.
Vitaly shrugged and got out of the car. Determined not to be left behind and, strangely enough, seeking comfort from this cold, hard man, Gia scrambled after him. He paused long enough to hold the door open for her and she followed him into a spacious country kitchen. The first thing she noticed was that the kitchen was scrupulously clean, sterile even. There wasn’t even a bunch of bananas ripening on the counter. Did he even cook in that kitchen? Did anyone?
Belatedly, she noticed he hadn’t stopped in the kitchen and she hurried after him, through a dining room, a living room, up a staircase. She paused at the doorway to what was obviously his bedroom. Vitaly looked up, seeing the fear and resentment she could not hide.
“You’ll sleep here tonight,” he said.
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
With a shrug he replied, “I can handcuff you to another bed to sleep alone or you can sleep in my bed. Your choice.”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
His calm rebuttal startled her. Then her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Just because you didn’t ask doesn’t mean you won’t take without my consent.”
“I’m not in the habit of raping women,” he replied, his voice sounding tired. He set down his doctor’s bag and pointed toward another door. “The bathroom is through there. Feel free to take a shower.”
Gia flushed at the indirect hint that she was dirty and stank. But, she realized, she was filthy and she did reek. The sweat of terror had an acrid stench. Not only that, but she desperately wanted to scrub the residue of assault from her body. The memory of the unwanted hands on her body made her stomach churn and her skin crawl. Swallowing another resentful comment, she thanked him and walked toward the bathroom. Then she paused and asked, “Er, do you have a tee shirt I could wear?”
“I have a tee shirt,” he said. “Leave your clothes on the floor. I’ll deal with them.”
She nodded, feeling she’d pushed her luck enough for one evening.
The bathroom door closed behind her. Vitaly stared at it, annoyed that she suspected him of nefarious motives, although he admitted she had little reason to trust him. He waited until he heard the sounds of a woman in the shower, then eased the bathroom door open. He could not help but look at the shadowy image of her body through the frosted glass any more than he could prevent his body’s response. He picked up her clothes from the floor and gently closed the bathroom door. He did not leave a tee shirt. He’d said he had one, not that he would give her one to wear.
Gia frowned as she dried off. The big jerk apparently expected her to parade around naked. She snugly wrapped the towel around her body and held it securely. Stepping cautiously from the bathroom, the fragrance of hot food lured her further.
“You must be hungry, Giancarla. Come downstairs and eat,” he called from the kitchen.
Gia marveled at his apparently supersensitive hearing. Either that or he had spy cameras installed everywhere. The latter thought made her frown again. She briefly considered rummaging through his drawers to find something besides a damp towel to wear, but decided against it. If she delayed too long, he might deny her supper. And he might decide to embark upon a career of beating and raping women if he were sufficiently annoyed by her intrusive rummaging.
Vitaly hardly spared his rescue a glance as he set a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast on the kitchen table. He poured a glass of juice and set it down next to her plate. He avoided looking at her, knowing that a long stare at her satin skin so easily accessible would rev up his libido even further.
Gia gingerly sat on the chair, the cool, polished wood uncomfortable against her bare bottom. She picked up a fork and warily picked up a bit of egg.
“I haven’t poisoned or drugged it,” he said as he sat down across the table.
She blinked and tried to dim her awareness of him as a man. The removal of his coat made that impossible, though. His broad shoulders strained the white fabric of his dress shirt. The rolled-up sleeves displayed thick forearms roped with muscle and colorful with tattoos. He’d taken off his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. She could see more tattoos where the shirt opened at his throat.
Nervously, she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was barely eight o’clock and already full dark. She glanced back down at her plate and tried to figure a way out of this mess. Even an unseasonably warm fall holiday was too cold to go wandering about in nothing but a damp towel. If she made a dash for the front door, she was sure to be apprehended before she touched the doorknob.
“Thank you for making supper,” she said politely.
“I thought you could use something to eat,” he replied with simple kindness.
Gia thought back to his leather bag full of sharp, shiny things, and asked, “What is it, exactly, you do?”
He chewed and swallowed as he thought, then gave her his mild reply, “I’m something of a jack of all trades. Today, I was to interrogate a thief.”
“Interrogate?” she repeated faintly. He could have agreed with those thugs who had kidnapped her and interrogated her with knives and who knew what else? She pushed her glasses back up her nose and forced herself to take another bite of egg.
“You should not have been dragged into this,” he said truthfully.
No kidding, she thought, but was prudent enough not to say aloud. The ink covering his arms and chest suddenly took on a more sinister meaning. Vitaly Synvolka wasn’t a rebel, he was a criminal. Instead she merely said in a tone faint with horror, “I’ve never even had a speeding ticket.”
“Neither have I,” he replied with a small smile.
&n
bsp; Apparently, the expression wasn’t friendly, because Giancarla turned very pale. He quickly fixed it, composing himself to mild neutrality. She’d never know how much that cost him when every cell in his body urged him to throw her over his shoulder and haul her to his bed. He was glad the tabletop hid the rigid bulge behind the zipper of his pants.
“Finish your meal,” he gently ordered. “You need to rest. I will ensure your safety tonight.”
Reassured, she ate. She focused her eyes on the plate and pointedly ignored the man staring at her like she was some particularly tasty treat. When she finished, he ordered her to go back to his room.
“There’s a new toothbrush still in the package in the upper left drawer of the sink cabinet in my bathroom. Use that,” he instructed, forcibly keeping his tone mild and even.
She made her escape, fleeing on wobbly knees and rubbery ankles. Just as he had promised, she found the fresh toothbrush. She used his toothpaste, grimacing at the taste of baking soda. Why couldn’t he use a mint flavored gel like everyone else? She reminded herself to be grateful for the concession of good oral hygiene and crawled into his bed, still clutching the towel around her body.
Stress, adrenaline, or whatever hit her like the proverbial truck and she failed the struggle to keep her eyes open, to wait alert and ready for a chance to retrieve her clothing and escape. She never heard him enter the room. She slept through the noise of his shower that filtered through the bathroom door. He felt the damp lump of the towel she had used to cover herself and pulled it out to toss it on the floor. When he slid beneath the covers and snuggled close to her from behind, she sighed unconsciously and relaxed even further into his embrace.
As a concession to the woman’s sensibilities, Vitaly wore his underwear to bed. The thin layer of cloth irked him, but he hoped it would be a sufficient barrier to his cock. Tucking her against him, he slowly drifted to sleep.
Weak, early morning sunlight streamed through the half-open blinds drawn over the bedroom’s eastern facing window and roused Gia from a very restful sleep. As she wakened she realized that, 1) she was not in her own bed; 2) something large and toasty warm was practically wrapped around her; and, 3) something long and hard poked her in the butt. The events of the previous evening flooded back to her mind as she glanced down at the tattooed hands splayed over her belly and possessively cupping one breast. Immediately, she registered a heavy, achy, swollen feeling from that breast. Obviously, the towel had gone missing.
The man within whose arms she had slept breathed deeply and easily. Perhaps, she thought, she could sneak out. Escape. She slowly rolled forward, got maybe a couple of inches before those muscular arms all too easily pulled her back against Vitaly’s big, equally muscular body.
Okay, Gia thought, so subtle wasn’t going to work. Taking a slow, deep breath to gather her strength, she rolled decisively. Or, she tried to roll decisively. But those damned arms only let her get a couple of inches before hauling her right back where he wanted her.
“You’re awake, aren’t you?” she muttered.
Vitaly pressed his face into her hair and inhaled the warm, womanly scent of her. He smiled and answered, “Da.”
With a disgruntled huff, she squirmed against him. His arms tightened around her and his hips rocked against her, a reaction he could not quite control.
“Lie still if you don’t want me to fuck you,” he warned.
Gia gasped, but went very still. She gurgled a little when his hips rocked against her again, rubbing his cotton-covered cock against the pliant flesh of her buttocks.
“Please don’t,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes closed against the possibility—again—of rape as her first experience with intercourse.
The only thing that stopped him from masturbating against her was the fear in her voice. With a muttered oath, he rolled out of bed, keeping his back to the warm, soft, very naked woman beneath the covers. Gia drew the covers up to her neck and hoped he would leave the room.
It took a moment before Vitaly was sure of his control. Then he rose and walked to his closet. He pulled out a shirt and tossed it on the bed.
“Wear that,” he said and stalked into the bathroom. When he emerged a minute later, Gia had just finished buttoning the shirt and was rolling up the sleeves. The garment hung on her like a tent, the shirttails extending to her cute knees.
Since when had he ever found a woman’s knees cute?
He saw her glance at the bathroom and gestured at her to make use of it. She scampered inside with relief. When she returned, he had dressed in black slacks and light blue shirt that made his piercing eyes seem more blue than gray.
“We need to talk,” he said.
That sounded ominous. Gia sat down, perching at the edge of the mattress. Not knowing what to say, she gestured vaguely with one hand to indicate he should elaborate.
“Giancarla, you have three choices,” he began slowly, his normally light accent thickening. “One, you can leave here a free woman, return to your usual activities, and probably be killed within a week. The Culebras will hunt you down and eliminate you before you can identify any of them to law enforcement.
“Two, you can leave here a free woman and go very far away, never to return. Distance should protect you from the Culebras.”
“Never return?” she repeated faintly. Her breath grew shallow.
“No, all trace of your life here must be wiped out so there is nothing for them to follow.”
“And the third choice?” she rasped.
“Marry me, accept my protection.”
“Marry you?” Her voice grew even fainter. She began to pant.
His intense gaze burned. “They already think you are my property, but I do not buy women. If you are my wife, then you are truly mine and I protect what is mine.”
“H-how can you protect me against them?”
“I’m dangerous in my own right,” he said, but the smile that bared his teeth was no happy expression. “And anything that is mine also has the protection of Maksim Andrupovich. As my wife, you’ll be able to continue your studies.”
“And who is—?” she began, then stopped. She finally fit the pieces together and whispered, “My God, I’ve fallen in with the Russian mob.”
He did not react, which was confirmation enough. But Gia’s hands flew to her chest and she gasped for air, hyperventilating in her fear. Vitaly rushed forward, dropped to his knees in front of her, reached around the back of her head, and crushed her mouth to his. The shock of his kiss stopped the hyperventilation. He pressed his tongue into her mouth and invaded, stroked her tongue with his own, tasted her. A moan welled up from deep within her. She kissed him back, tongue twining with his, her body surging against his. The lusty response encouraged him; she was not indifferent to him after all. When he finally ended the kiss, she breathed hard, but from passion, not fear.
“M-may I think about it for a while?” she asked, after licking her reddened, swollen lips and wondering just what the hell had happened. She’d never reacted like that to a kiss before.
Her request was reasonable enough, but he did not want to give her time. “You have one hour. Then I must withdraw the funds to pay your ransom.”
One hour? Gia wanted to protest as she followed him downstairs to the kitchen, but was aware that this man, this criminal, was honorable in his own way and had sufficient respect for her to lay out her options and let her make the choice. She knew she did not want to die. She did not want to move to the other side of the country and leave behind her friends and family. She did not want to marry him, although that kiss had blown her away. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth; her lips still tingled; she could still taste him on her tongue.
Vitaly efficiently brewed coffee and made French toast while the woman whom he already considered his silently mulled over her choices at the kitchen table.
“Vitaly?”
“Da?”
“What would you expect from me as your wife?”
Head
y anticipation fizzed through his veins. “Everything.”
Silence.
“You said I could finish my studies.”
He nodded, understanding the delicate negotiation taking place. “I do not want a slave.”
“And a job, a career?”
He shrugged. “If you wish to pursue a career in marine biology, I would not stop you.” He lips stretched in a small, closed smile and did not tell her that he could easily support a wife. “It is good for an intelligent woman to exercise her mind and be busy. She has less time or motivation to deceive her husband.”
Gia’s jaw threatened to drop in astonishment. This huge Neanderthal actually approved of his wife having a career? But then, he ruined that astounding image of the modern alpha male.
“But you’ll have to cut back when the children come. Family takes priority, always.”
“Children?” she squeaked, eyes wide with the realization that, usually, with marriage came children and the making of them.
“This will not be a marriage in name only.”
Desire pooled low in her belly. The growling undertone made her want to squeeze her thighs together at the thought of the big, virile male making love to her every night. Surely, unless she did something to prevent conception, he would quickly impregnate her. Vitaly did not give the impression of a man with weak swimmers. Gia could look forward to a very short career.
“What about my family?”
“What about them?”
“You wouldn’t cut me off from them?”
Vitaly grew irritated at her distrust, but tried to be fair-minded about it. The young woman who fired his blood and libido had reservations about the choices available to her and he needed to understand, to be patient, to coax her into making the choice that he preferred. Why, he wondered, could she not remember that he was the one who had saved her from the Culebras?
“Why would I do that?” he countered, the tone mild, the undercurrent steely.
She paled, but held her ground and said, “One of my friends married a man like that. He seemed like a real prince until they got married. Then he started isolating her, restricting where she went and when, what she wore, even what she ate and how much. It wasn’t long before he began hitting her.” She took a deep breath and concluded, her voice shaky with lingering grief. “She died last year. He beat her to death.”
