Scarred: A Russian Mob Romance (Anosov Family Mafia) (Scars and Sins Collection Book 1)

by Vivian Gray

  It felt good to say what I’d been thinking, how I felt.

  “I wasn’t,” she said, stepping forward, her eyes burning holes in me. “I didn’t do that, and I wouldn’t. You aren’t holding me captive here. If I want to leave, I can.”

  “I threatened you. I swore to ruin Brendan if you left. I made it so you didn’t have another choice.”

  Bailey opened her mouth to say something, but her phone rang in the other room, pulling her attention.

  “Get it,” I said, hitching my thumb over my shoulder.

  She seemed torn but ultimately went to grab it. As she left, I decided to go back to my office. I’d said enough already. My plan all day had been to distance myself from Bailey, and the conversation we’d been having seemed to be doing the opposite. As I passed her room, however, I overheard her side of the conversation.

  “You treated me like trash. Why are you still calling?” she asked in a low voice. Pause. “I haven’t picked up for the last two days. Take a hint.”

  She was talking to Brendan. I just knew it, and the thought filled me with rage. Without knocking, I pushed her door open and stepped inside. Bailey spun around, looking like a teenager who had been caught smoking marijuana by her parents. In her moment of shock, I plucked the phone out of her hand and pressed it to my ear.

  “Brendan?”

  “Anton,” Brendan said, his voice filled with icy rage.

  “Why are you calling?”

  “Last I checked, this was Bailey’s phone. I can call her whenever I want,” he snapped.

  “Not anymore. She doesn’t want to talk to you again,” I said, looking over at Bailey to be sure that was how she really felt. She nodded in agreement.

  “She is my girlfriend. She’s only with you because you forced her to go with you.”

  “No,” I corrected. “She’s with me because you treated her like shit.”

  “She won’t be with you for long.” Something in Brendan’s voice was ominous, foreboding.

  Then, it clicked.

  “You called the cops.”

  The silence on the other end of the line was all the confirmation I needed.

  “Did you think getting me arrested would force Bailey to run back to you?” I asked.

  “I don’t know how you are still a free man,” Brendan said. “But one of these days your racket will fall apart, and Bailey will come crawling back to me, just like she always does.”

  “Not this time,” I said, hoping it was the truth. The thought of Bailey going back to Brendan made me feel sick.

  Brendan made a noise in the back of his throat that was equivalent to a shrug. “Maybe, maybe not. If she doesn’t, you’ll be hearing from me again.”

  “Is that a threat?” I asked, but the phone beeped in my ear. He’d hung up.

  Bailey grabbed the phone and looked at it, the screen flashing red and then fading to black. “What did he say?”

  The look on her face was a mix between confusion and disappointment that I couldn’t read. I realized then that I needed to lay everything out to Bailey. We couldn’t tiptoe around one another or assume we each understood one another. I grabbed her arm and dragged her across the hallway.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, though I noticed she didn’t fight me.

  I kicked open the door to my office and dropped her into a wooden chair. I sat on the edge of my desk just in front of her, so close our knees were almost touching.

  “Anton, what did Brendan say? What’s going on?”

  “I need to know whether you want to go back to him,” I said all in one breath, the words tumbling out in a rush.

  She shook her head. “Of course not, I—”

  I held up a hand to silence her. “I won’t send my men to attack him. If you leave here, you are free to do what you want. I need you to know that I won’t interfere in your life. Does that change your decision?”

  Bailey reached out and rested a hand on my knee. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Her words seemed sincere, but I needed to be certain. “You don’t have to work for me anymore. You can pack up, leave, and never see me again. Assuming you don’t say anything about my business, I won’t touch you again.”

  Bailey leaned forward, positioning herself so that she was practically sitting between my knees, her hands squeezing my thighs. “Anton,” she said, looking up into my eyes, a small smile pulling her lips upward. “I want to stay here. I want to stay with you.”

  “As my employee?” I asked, looking over her shoulder at the wall behind her.

  She was quiet, and when I looked back, she was gazing up into my face. She shook her head slowly side to side. “I think I could be happy here,” she said, and then after a short pause continued, “With you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I stood in front of her, feeling her hands moving up and down my thighs, and tried to think. But Bailey’s touch burned the thoughts out of my head. When she stood up and spun me around, pushing me down into the chair, I didn’t fight her. Apparently, she thought we’d done enough talking.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bailey

  I’d been looking for a way to tell Anton how I felt, to let him know that his life didn’t scare me and that I didn’t have any plans to leave him. Although I didn’t know him super well, I had a strong sense that he was a kind man. My life with Anton would be better than it ever had with Brendan. It wasn’t just about a roof over my head or food on the table. It was about my emotional wellbeing. Anton treated me well, and I wanted to return the favor.

  I pushed him down in the wooden chair, and he offered no resistance. He could have fought me off or overpowered me, but he was letting me take control. He had his suit pants on, but he’d discarded the jacket as soon as we got home and his button-up was gaping open at the top. I slid my fingers along his exposed chest, unbuttoning the rest of the buttons as I went.

  His skin was warm against my cool fingers, and he shivered, whether from the chill or the pleasure, I didn’t know. Unlike Anton, I had changed into pajamas the moment we got home. I couldn’t spend another minute in my stiff work clothes. So, I was standing in front of him in a thin, cotton tank top, silk shorts that were barely long enough to be classified as shorts, and a small robe that was currently gaping in the front.

  I could tell because Anton’s eyes were glued to my chest. I didn’t have a bra on, so I knew it had to be on full display for him. I swayed slightly from side to side, feeling them swing, and Anton swallowed loudly.

  “You haven’t said anything,” I said, pushing his shirt off of him. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves obediently.

  “About what?” His eyes shifted from my chest up to my face, and I was struck by the icy blueness of them. By how easily they could cut through me, make my heart race.

  “About me. Us.” I leaned forward, my lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.

  “You know you are more than welcome to stay here.” Anton’s hands were folded over his lap in a businesslike manner, but I suspected he was hiding something else beneath his woven fingers. He didn’t want to reveal how much he wanted this.

  Much like I had in the car that morning, I pushed his hands aside and palmed him, massaging the heel of my hand against his stiffness. Anton groaned, his hands moving to the arms of the chair, gripping the wood for support.

  “Do you want me to stay?” I asked.

  Anton had made a big deal of that when I’d first arrived. He wanted me to want him, wanted me to confess how much I wanted him. Now, he would have to do the same. Two could play that game.

  I unbuttoned his trousers and gestured for him to lift his hips. He did, and I slid the material down his legs, letting it pool around his ankles. Now, there was no disguising the bulge in his crotch. He was straining against the material of his boxer briefs. To relieve him, I pulled those down, as well.

  The first time we’d slept together, I hadn’t had much of a chance to take in the sight of him. It had all been so quick and from behi
nd. But now, sitting in front of me, I could admire him. Particularly, how much of him there was to admire. Anton was not a small man. One thing was for sure, no one could ever look at his business or his penthouse and claim he was compensating for something.

  “I told you,” Anton repeated, his voice slightly more shaky than usual, “you are more than welcome to stay here.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not what I asked.”

  I kneeled down in front of him and pushed his knees apart. He exhaled loudly, and I saw his fingers trembling on the arms of the chair.

  “What did you ask again?” he asked, laughing slightly. “I seem to have forgotten everything we’ve been talking about.”

  I smiled up at him. It was sweet to see him so flustered. Anton liked to be in control. He liked to know what to expect. His reactions to things were measured and calm. Now, though, he looked rattled. I decided to reward him for his vulnerability.

  All at once, I leaned forward and sucked on his tip. I took the base in my hand, swirling slightly. Anton bucked his hips, then settled back into the chair, throwing his head back and groaning.

  “I asked whether you want me to stay,” I whispered against him. I swirled my tongue around him and then up and down his length. Finally, after teasing him a little, I wrapped my lips around him and plunged down.

  He rose to meet me, his hips lifting off the chair. I opened my mouth wide, taking in as much as I could before pulling back, sucking as I went. Anton’s hands moved from the arms of the chair to the back of my head. He wasn’t pushing me down or directing me, merely clinging on as though he were afraid I’d pull away.

  He twirled his fingers in my hair and rubbed the top of my neck as I moved up and down in front of him. With each stroke, he grew a little louder, his grunts turning to deep groans and then to long moans. I felt him unraveling beneath me, and I liked it.

  “Bailey,” he whispered, my name lost in another groan.

  I dug my hands into his thighs as I worked him harder, faster. I wanted to bring him to the brink. I wanted to take him to the cliff and let him dangle. I took him in my mouth, but this time I didn’t stop. I opened wider and pushed forward until my nose was pressed against his skin and he was pressed against the back of my throat.

  “Fuck,” he moaned out. Anton bucked his hips slightly against me, unable to help himself, and I let him. I let him have his fun while it lasted.

  His breathing became ragged, and I glanced up to see his eyes glassy and focused. All reason had left his features. He was controlled by his hunger and desire, working entirely on animal instincts. Just as I felt him twitch in my mouth, I pulled away.

  Anton reached out, grabbing for me like I was a life raft and he was drowning. I moved out of his reach and stood up. He looked oddly vulnerable in the chair, naked and pulsing with pleasure. His eyes, blown wide by his pupils, narrowed.

  “I asked you a question,” I said, slipping one shoulder out of my robe and then the other. The thin material fell to the floor around my feet. Anton’s eyes moved down my body, but before he could get far, I was slipping my fingers into the waistband of my shorts and pushing them down. They joined my robe.

  When I’d come home and changed into my pajamas, I’d expected to stay in my room for the rest of the night, hoping distance would drive Anton wild. However, that hadn’t stopped me from putting on a lacy black thong… just in case. I realized now how smart that decision had been. Anton looked at me and actually licked his lips. I bit back a smile.

  He sat up in the chair and reached out for me, but I swatted his hand away. I wanted to do things my way. I ran my hand along the exposed strip of skin between the thong and my tank top, running my hand across my stomach and up my side. Then, I grabbed the hem and pulled it over my head slowly, arching my back. The material caught on my breasts for a second, and I tugged. My breasts dropped back into place, bouncing slightly.

  I stood there in front of him, naked except for a thin triangle of black lace. Under normal circumstances, it would have been romantic, but it felt like a showdown. A “this town isn’t big enough for the both of us” moment. Anton reached out for me again, but I moved out of his reach.

  “Answer the question,” I commanded, the words pouring out of me slowly. My lips moved around every word as if I were savoring them.

  He sat back, looking as though he was moments away from vibrating out of his skin. I could feel the energy pouring off of him and filling the room. My skin felt flushed.

  “Okay,” he said, reaching out to me like a child reaching for their favorite toy. “But come here first.”

  I shook my head, and he pouted, his lower lip jutting out. I wanted to grab it between my teeth.

  “Please.”

  I couldn’t help it. I had a plan, but I had my own set of weaknesses. That pouty lip was one of them. I stepped forward just an inch, but it was enough. Anton lunged for me, wrapping his hand around my waist and pulling me down onto the chair with him. It groaned under our combined weight but didn’t collapse.

  My legs naturally landed on either side of his waist. The lace of my panties was rubbing against him, and he hummed with pleasure. I placed my feet on the floor and stood up, putting an inch of distance between our bodies.

  “No cheating,” I said, wagging a finger at him. “Tell me. Do you want me here?”

  He leaned forward, his lips landing on my chin. It was only then that I realized Anton and I had yet to kiss. Never once had our lips met. Suddenly, my body ached for it. It took everything I had to keep the distance between us and not lean forward and meet his mouth with my own.

  I scooted a little closer and Anton pressed his palm against the lace, rubbing there. I moved my hips in time with the circles he was making. When he used his finger to press the fabric to the side, I scooted away from him.

  “Do you want me here?” I asked, pushing my forehead into his, running a hand through his thick dark hair.

  “I want you,” he growled out.

  I laughed. “Not the same thing.”

  He grabbed my waist and pulled me towards him. He was growing desperate, using his strength to overpower me. He brushed aside the lace and inserted a finger before I could move. I would have pulled away, but once he was pushing in and out of me, my body had taken over control of my brain.

  And my body wanted him.

  When he added another finger, I let my head roll back on my neck, giving myself over to the feel of him inside of me, already thinking how much I wanted all of him. I was already so wet, so ready. And Anton knew it. He pulled out his fingers, and I felt him press himself against my opening. I had enough control left to stand up, to put enough space between us that he couldn’t force himself inside of me and reclaim control.

  “Tell me you want me to stay here,” I said, the words coming out shaky and breathless. “Tell me you want me here, and I’ll stay. Otherwise, I’ll find somewhere else to go. You told me when I first arrived that you didn’t want me to feel forced to be here. I also don’t want you to feel like I’m a charity case who needs your help. I’ve been taking care of myself a long time, and I can continue doing that. I don’t need you. I want you. And I want you to want me, too.”

  The speech left me winded. My heart was hammering against the inside of my rib cage. I didn’t realize until the words were spoken how much I was afraid Anton was only letting me stay because he was a good guy. A good guy who couldn’t bear to see a nice girl live on the streets or with her abusive boyfriend.

  I didn’t want to be his charity case. I wanted to be his. Period.

  We stared at one another, and for a quick second, the passion of the moment was gone. Our heads were clear. We were standing at a fork in the road, deciding which path we would take. Anton closed his eyes quickly, as though preparing himself to deliver bad news, and I braced myself. He took a deep breath.

  Then, he grabbed my hips and pulled me down hard. We collided, and he was filling me instantly.

  “I want you here,”
he said as I screamed out.

  Our hips were rolling together, and Anton was picking me up and dropping me on top of him, our skin slapping together.

  “I donate money to charity,” he said, speaking through his groans. “I don’t fuck charity.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned forward, bouncing my hips on him. The angle rubbed me in just the right way, and I felt a fire growing in my lower half. My legs began to tremble. But I ignored it. My eyes were trained on his lips.

  Our bodies were hungry for one another, colliding in a familiar way, but I wanted more. I leaned forward and, in contrast to the chaos of our lower halves, pressed my lips to his. Instantly, he stilled. His lips were soft and pliant, opening to me. Then, his arms wrapped around my back, his fingers trailed up and down my spine, and he pressed me to him. His tongue danced into my mouth, and it felt more intimate than anything we’d done up to that point. I felt my body go slack, falling forward onto him, giving myself over to him.