by Cole, Jagger
I head back into the bedroom and go to check out the closet. I glance at the size on one of the elegant gowns hanging up, and I frown: it’s my size. The one next to it is, too. My pulse quickens as I check more and more garments. But they’re all that way; they’re all exactly my size. Dresses, tops, jeans…even the freaking shoes lining the shelves are exactly my size.
“How the hell…”
I frown and move across the room. I stop in front of a tall dresser filled with thin drawers. I pull one out and blush at the row upon row of lacy, delicate panties. I quickly shut it. But the drawer beneath is the same. As is the one above it. The whole dresser is filled with elegant lingerie of every possible kind—panties, bras, slips, stockings, and far far more intimate ones. I feel my face burn hotly as I glance at a few of the tags. Unsurprisingly, like everything else, they’re all my size.
I stand there, staring at it all before I slowly back away. I tremble and glance around like I’m being watched. I retreat back into the bedroom and pick up my phone. I remember what Nina said about it being monitored, but I open it anyways. Scrolling to Zoey’s number, I push the call button.
“Where the fuck did you go?!”
I sigh with relief at the sound of her voice.
“Hey! I’m…” I frown. I want to scream and tell her what’s just happened to me—all of it. I mean what are they going to do, shoot me?
“Zoey, the craziest shit just happened—”
“Yeah, you left me in the lurch at your own graduation party! Do you have any idea how many times Chet Brubaker came sniffing around asking me where you were?”
I cringe. “I’m so sorry—”
“And when he finally stopped asking about you, he started asking me what I was doing tonight.”
I grin. “And?”
“Not getting roofied and assaulted by that scuzz bucket, that’s what I’m doing.”
I giggle before I trail off. I glance around at my surroundings.
“Well?”
“Hmm?”
Zoey sighs. “Where the hell are you? I even went and asked your dad. But he gave me that lame politician’s non-answer answer.”
“I—” I close my eyes. I want to tell her. But I know I can’t. Forget my own safety… what’s going to happen to her if I tell her all about what’s going on with me being dragged away to the home of the dangerous Russian kingpin?
“I got a call from the recruiting head of this firm, and they really wanted me to come to dinner.”
Zoey shrieks into the phone. “That’s amazing! Oh my God, congratulations!”
I smile, feeling guilty for lying. “Uh, thanks.”
“So when are you done? I could meet you back at your dad’s for a drink or something?”
I wince. “Yeah, uh… I can’t.”
“Uh, lame. Tomorrow then?”
“Can’t.”
I groan. What am I going to do, keep this up for a month?
“Okay, when does your schedule—”
“The firm is in New York,” I blurt out. “They, uh, they flew me out. For the week.”
“The week!?”
“Two weeks,” I lie through my teeth.
“Holy shit, Fiona! I mean I’m not a lawyer, but that sounds like it’s probably a good thing?”
“Oh, yeah it’s great…” I let my eyes drag across the lavish quarters again. I slowly shake my head, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening to me.
“Anyways, sorry for running out like that. I got the call, and…”
“Oh my God, don’t even stress. I get it. Well, have so much fun in New York! Call me! Tell me about the job when you can you little genius.”
I laugh, but it’s a forced one, with no real emotion behind it. “Yeah, will do.”
“Okay, bye!”
“Bye.”
I hang up, feeling awful for lying to my best friend. I walk across the big room and flop down on the bed. I lay back on it, luxuriating in how soft and perfect it is. Again, I grew up wanting for nothing, with a lot of wealth and nice things. But this whole house is on another level entirely.
Viktor is on another level, too. I blush as my thoughts drift back to the terrifying and yet utterly gorgeous man who has me locked in his home. I’ve read about him in the news, like a lot of people have. He’s the man at the epicenter of a hundred criminal cases—smuggling, illegal weapons trafficking, money laundering, protection rackets, assassinations, and probably worse. And yet, he’s untouchable. He’s forever separated from every crime he’s clearly involved in by just enough space for the law to have nothing on him.
As a lawyer, it’s honestly impressive. As his captive, it’s terrifying.
I run my hands through my hair and then sit up with a sigh. I glance towards the huge bathroom and worry my bottom lip. A shower sounds divine right now. But I pause, glancing nervously around the room. What if there are cameras? What if he’s watching me right this instant?
I imagine Viktor sitting in front of a screen, watching me undress. I blush deeply as the thought turns into more of a daydream—a disturbing fantasy of him slowly undressing before walking in to take me in his arms.
My eyes roll as my face burns hotly. Okay, that’s enough of that. I glance around, frowning. Well, cameras or not, what am I going to do? Not a take a shower for the next month? Never change clothes? I stand and start to unzip my dress. But then I stop and walk over to flip the lights off. But then the thought hits me that if a man like Viktor Komarov wants to spy on me getting undressed, he’s probably got night vision cameras anyways.
I flip the lights back on and quickly shed my clothes. I scamper for the bathroom and turn the water on. Under it, I can feel some of the tension evaporating. Part of me still wonders about Viktor watching me. The thrill it sends creeping through my core makes me roll my eyes at myself though.
Great, thanks, dad. Twenty-two years of being locked away in a tower, with no boyfriends at all, and this is the result: I get the hots for the first sickeningly handsome man to step into my sheltered world. And he happens to be the most ruthlessly dangerous criminal in Chicago. Wonderful.
I step out of the shower and quickly wrap a towel around myself. I wander back into the bedroom, then into the huge walk-in closet. My hands run over the racks and racks of clothes in wonder. I open a few drawers until I find one containing rows of silk and satin pajama sets. I take a pair out, but then I stop.
Underwear, right. I turn to look at the dresser with the thin drawers. I poke around some more, until finally I accept it, there’s no “regular’ underwear in this closet. Just the heaps and heaps of lacy, racy, extra-sexy stuff. I blush for the millionth time as I open the drawers again. I’ve never even owned lingerie like this.
I pull out an especially lacy and see-through pair of thong panties. My jaw drops when I realize the back strip is strung with gleaming white pearls, meant to go right over…
I blush deeply and stuff the panties back in the drawer. I mean, everything here is in my sizes. I’m meant to wear these things. But does that include erotic French pearl-thong lingerie? I bite my lip and paw through more of the stuff in the drawers. I finally pull out what looks like a regular old nightgown. But when I hold it up, I feel my face burn.
Nope. It’s literally see-through all over and looks like it would barely cover my butt. But instead of stuffing it back into the drawer, I keep glancing at it. I feel a flutter of excitement as I run my fingers over it. I mean, I really have never owned anything close to this. And part of me is curious how it would even feel to wear something this sexy.
Screw it, I think. I ditch the towel and quickly slip the teddy on. I feel the thrill of the sheer material brush across my nipples. I suck on my bottom lip as I turn to look into the huge mirror against the far wall. I cringe a little in embarrassment at what I see. But then I take a breath. I let it go and admire myself in the mirror, and I blush. Okay, I look pretty hot, truth be told.
My phone suddenly dings from where I lef
t it on the edge of the bed. When I walk over and pick it up, I smile. It’s a text from Zoey saying, good luck with the job interview tomorrow. I’m about to text her back, when suddenly, the bedroom door slams open behind me.
I gasp, whirling as the scream catches in my throat. Viktor stands frozen in the doorway; his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides, and his eyes both surprised and burning with lust at the same time.
“Mr. Komarov!” I choke. The phone drops from my hands as I yank them up to cover myself.
But Viktor doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink. He lets his gaze shamelessly and openly slide over me, and I feel that gaze as if it’s his hands, not his eyes. I feel a throb of heat deep in my core. My face burns, and I tremble as the huge, gorgeous Russian stares at me like a meal.
“I—I mean…”
“Good,” Viktor growls quietly as his eyes slide over me. “You found your clothes.”
“I—”
“Get comfortable.” His jaw grinds. “You’ll be here for a while.”
Without another word from him, I watch bewildered as he turns and starts to walk out of the bedroom.
“You can’t just keep me here,” I blurt.
Viktor stops so suddenly that my pulse skips. His shoulders tense, and I watch his hands clench to fists at his sides. He turns slowly, his face tense and his eyes narrowed at me. With a snarl, he suddenly storms over to me. I gasp, backing away until the backs of my legs hit the bed. But then suddenly, his hands are sliding over my hips and pulling me against his rock-hard chest. His perfect lips lower, and I moan when they press hotly to mine.
Quite suddenly, I’m having my very first kiss, in the arms of a ruthless killer.
Viktor kisses me until my toes are curling; until my pulse is roaring in my ears, and my very skin is tingling for him. He slowly pulls away. His eyes hold mine fiercely, his lips wet from our kiss.
“I can do whatever I want, Fiona,” he growls thickly. “Whatever I want.” I tremble as he pulls away from me. “Goodnight.”
He turns and strides out of the room, leaving me speechless with my heart racing.
6
Viktor
Back in my office, the door slams behind me. Lev is gone now, mercifully. So I’m alone while I’m throbbing all over, like I might just fucking explode. I stagger over to the bar cart and pour a drink. But before it touches my lips, I pause. I scowl down into it, and slowly place the glass back on the cart.
I need a drink. But not at the expense of erasing the taste of her lips on mine. I prowl back and forth, pacing the floor. My tongue runs over my lips, and I groan as I replay what just happened with Fiona. I went up there to tell her this ridiculous idea was over—to send her home and then deal with Thomas another way.
That was before I saw her like that, though—clad in nothing but a lacy black, see-through slip. The sight of her gorgeous, tight little ass barely covered in that garment is forever burned into my memory. That soft, whimpered gasp as she whirled to me—the mix of fear and desire in her big blue eyes.
And then there’s her mouth—soft and sweet, with plump lips that were made for me to claim. I feel my pulse thunder inside my veins. My cock thickens, and I run my tongue across my lips once more, chasing the memory.
There’s a knock at the door. For a moment, I indulge the fantasy of Fiona dressed in nothing but that little slip coming down here for more from me. But I know that’s not the case. I stalk over to my desk and sink into the chair facing the door.
“Enter.”
The door opens, and Nina slips in. Lev isn’t wrong about her: Nina is a beautiful girl. But that isn’t an option when it comes to her and I. Lev and anyone else can speculate all they want about my young assistant and I. But they’ll never find what they all think they will, no matter how hard they look.
“Evening, Viktor.”
Though formal with me, Nina is the only other besides Lev who refers to me by my first name. When we’re alone, that is. In public, I’m Mr. Komarov to her, as with everyone.
“She’s settling in okay?”
Nina frowns. I don’t have to ask or prod to understand that she’s not a fan of this arrangement of Fiona staying here.
“Yes,” she answers curtly.
I frown, drumming my fingers on my desk, my thoughts weaving.
“These are the reports from various sectors for the week. And this is the notarized contracts for the Elmwood development.” Nina walks smartly over in her heels, placing a few file folders on the side of my desk.
“I want to use her.”
Nina freezes, and then frowns behind her glasses. “Excuse me?”
“Her legal prowess, I mean.”
Nina’s lips purse. “She’s barely just graduated, Viktor. And as I understand it, her classes were entirely remote. She has no courtroom experience at all. She’s been locked in her father’s little uptown tower her entire life.”
“That may be,” I grunt. “And I’m sure Thomas pulled strings for her. But her accomplishment is still no small feat. Have you seen this?” I push the reporting notes Lev left for me across the desk. Nina glances down at it but doesn’t pick it up.
“You have a dossier on her already?” She purses her lips. “That was fast.”
“Relax, Nina,” I sigh. “She’s not just pampered and rich, she’s very smart. And she’s got a specialty with land trust and zoning law.”
Nina arches one thin brow behind her glasses. “You want her to help you with the Grover Street property?”
I smile, nodding. “Yes.”
“You have lawyers, Viktor.”
“And yet here we are, four months later and still stalled on even acquiring it.”
The Grover Street property is currently an abandoned sneaker factory in the Southside of Chicago. It’s a blight on an already blighted, run-down neighborhood. I have plans, but they’re not moving nearly as quickly as I want them to.
Nina takes her glasses off and rubs the bridge of her nose. “You know why it’s stalled. Because Joey Drucci is an asshole and is enjoying making you dance for him.” She frowns. “It’s beneath you, frankly.”
I chuckle darkly. “Perhaps. But it’s important to me, Nina. You know that.”
“And what makes you think Fiona can help?”
“Can’t hurt to try,” I grunt.
My thoughts swirl, like I’m having a flashback. Instantly, I’m sucked back to that room with my hands on her body and my lips on hers. I stiffen, my muscles clenching as the memory breathes fire into me. But I take a breath and push it away. I glance back up at my personal assistant.
“Could you make sure she has all the documents tomorrow morning? I’ll need her as prepped as she can be for the meeting.”
Nina stares at me, barely hiding her frown.
“Yes?”
“You’re bringing her to the meeting with Joey?”
“She wouldn’t be a very good land contracts lawyer to me if I didn’t, would she?”
Nina purses her lips, but just nods. “I’ll have everything brought up tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else, Viktor?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. Go punch out, Nina.”
She nods and turns for the door. But then she pauses to glance back at me. “I almost forgot. Her phone is all wired up through the security system. Calls, text, internet, email, the whole thing.”
I frown. “Who’s monitoring?”
“Bogdan.”
I shake my head. “No. No one else monitors her. Have the feed wired through my personal laptop.”
“Viktor—”
“My decision is final, Nina.”
She purses her lips and sighs. “Very well.” She pulls out her phone and brings it to her ear. “Bogdan. Yes, it’s Nina. Have Ms. Murray’s phone wired through Mr. Komarov’s personal laptop. Yes, only there. No, he doesn’t want it going through the security office. Wonderful.”
She han
gs up and smiles thinly. “It’s done. The feed is all yours now.”
“Thank you.”
“You really think this Grover Street project is going to work out?”
“I do.”
She smiles, genuinely. “Well, I’m glad. Goodnight, Viktor.”
“Night.”
When Nina closes the door behind her, I breathe deeply. I sit back in my chair, drumming my fingers as my thoughts settle on Fiona. I replay the kiss, again and again, until my pulse is thumping in my ears and my cock is straining against my pants.
I growl to myself, shaking my head as I open my laptop. I bring up the security system, and sure enough, there’s Fiona’s phone data, for my eyes only. I let my eyes linger on it, telling myself to close the laptop and go to bed. But I can’t resist. I open the program, and I start snooping.
I look at her text messages first. I scan her past messages. I smile wolfishly when I notice a lack of texts to or from any boys at all. None—not a single exchange. There’s no dating apps either. I shake my head; Thomas really did have her locked in a gilded cage.
Her most recent texts are few—a couple to her father letting him know she’s okay. There’s not a single text back from him though. I shake my head in disgust. What a piece of shit.
The other recent text exchange is with someone named Zoey—from the looks of their past conversations, a friend of hers. I glance over that one. But Fiona has been good—she’s been lying to her friend, telling her she’s in New York for a job thing.
Good girl, I think to myself. I say it again, and my cock throbs at the idea of whispering it into her ear.
My restraint begins to crumble. I snoop deeper, looking into her photo albums. I’m like a teenaged boy, horny and looking for something to satiate my hunger. But there’s nothing. No bathroom mirror selfies, no nudes, nothing.
I frown and pull the notes from Lev towards me. I scan over the bits about her schooling and grades again. Yes, she’s very smart. Gifted, even. But my brow furrows as I look over more of it and start reading between the lines.
