by Daiko, SC
The stench of male sweat alerts me to the presence of someone invading my space; I open my eyes. “Back off,” I glare at the random getting a little too up-close-and-personal. Thick red hair slicked back from a domed forehead, he gives me the ‘wanna hook-up?’ look, dark eyes heavy with lust.
Not my type.
I curl my lip with disgust, flip him the bird and head for the bar.
Where the hell is Tamara?
Glancing around for my bestie, I make my way past beautiful people sitting on dark leather chairs at candle-lit tables. I perch on a stool at the far end of the room, the skirt of my black lace dress riding up embarrassingly high. Another thing; it’s not even my dress but Tamara’s. Can’t remember the last time I wore anything other than jeans. I work long hours as a server in an Italian restaurant to pay my way through school, and glamorous outfits are not part of my budget.
I’ll kill Tamara when I find her. Not literally, but I’m so angry I could spit. How dare she bail on me!
Dammit, this was supposed to be my night; it was her idea we came here to celebrate my twenty-first birthday.
With a heavy sigh, I order a second screwdriver and knock it back.
“Can I get you another drink?” the voice is heavily accented, the hard consonants revealing the speaker to be from the country where I was born.
Yikes, the random from the dance floor.
I decline, thanking him in my first language, “Net, spasibo.”
He switches into Russian. “Don’t be like that.” He eyes me up and down. “Name your price, Kitten.”
I move my head away, a strand of dark hair falling across my cheek. “What do you mean?”
“How much for the whole night?” he leans into me.
I let out a gasp. “I’m not a hooker.”
“A sexy girl in here on her own?” His lewd smirk makes me nauseous. “Could have fooled me.”
I fight the urge to grab him by the balls. “Sorry to disappoint you.” I lie sweetly. “My boyfriend will be here in a minute. In the meantime, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Without a backward glance, I slide off the stool and head toward a door to the left of the bar.
The random laughs mockingly behind my back, making the hair on my neck prickle. I pause at the door and turn around to give him the finger, but he’s already gone.
Good riddance.
Letting out a relieved breath, I step over threshold into what I’m fully expecting to be the rest room. Except I find myself in a corridor, plush carpeting under my feet.
Without warning, my head starts to spin. Shit, I shouldn’t have drunk that cocktail so fast. I can’t see any signs indicating the ladies. Maybe I can escape for a few minutes behind one of these doors? I’m not that desperate to use the facilities, just need somewhere peaceful to sit and wait for my mind to clear.
I walk into an office unlike any I’ve been in before. Ritzy, with an executive desk in the center the size of my bed at home. My eyes are immediately drawn to a stack of banknotes on top of the shiny surface. I tiptoe across the room.
Wow, it’s a pile of one-hundred-dollar bills.
I pick one up to examine it.
Surely these can’t be real?
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” booms a baritone voice.
The air around me compresses, and I spin around.
A man in a tux is standing in the doorway, piercing blue eyes glowering at me. He’s so big his shoulders nearly meet the doorjambs.
And he’s drawn a freaking gun!
“I was looking for the bathroom.” I drop the money back on the table, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
Blue Eyes paces up to me; he holsters his firearm and grabs my wrist. “Who sent you to snoop?” His English is good, but I detect a familiar intonation. “Was it Vadim Rayt?” he adds.
“No one sent me,” I blurt out in Russian. “I’m telling the truth.”
I try to squirm out of Blue Eyes’ hold, but he pulls me against his rock-hard chest, towering above me and invading my senses with his spicy sandalwood cologne.
“Let me go.” I struggle and aim a kick at his shin.
His laugh is scornful. “Not before you give me a better explanation.”
I bite my lower lip, trying to come up with something. “I just needed some time out.”
“Time out? You’ve got to be kidding. The only women who come in here on their own are hookers. High-class hookers who bribe the doorman.” His gaze roves over my body. “Either you’re a whore or a spy. Which one is it?”
An idea occurs to me. How I can extricate myself from this situation. “I’m a hooker,” my voice purrs.
I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I’ve never been so blatant... like ever. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Once I’ve gotten his pants down around his legs I’ll make a run for it. I reach for his belt buckle with my free hand.
With a groan he lets go of my wrist and pushes me to my knees. “You better be good.”
I’ve never given a blow-job in my life. It wasn’t something I felt I could offer my ex, the only boyfriend I’ve ever had.
But I’m not gonna suck Blue Eyes off, am I?
This is only a means to an end.
I pull down his suit pants, and he releases his monster cock himself. Oh. My. God. There’s a ring-style piercing at the tip. Is that what they call a Prince Albert? I stare at it, fascinated.
“Like what you see, Kiska?”
Somehow, I don’t mind being called kitten by him.
Mistake, Eva.
Big mistake.
Focus on the task at hand ... You need to get out of here.
I jump to my feet and prepare to run.
But he grabs me by the hair, yanking me against him. “Oh, yes, you are good, little slut. But not as good as you think you are. Time you learned a lesson.”
He steps out of his pants and drags me over to his executive chair.
“What are you doing?” I yelp.
“Punishing you for attempting a fast one. I’m going to spank your ass.”
“And then you’ll let me go.” It’s more a statement than a question.
“One step at a time, Kiska. First, I will punish you... then we negotiate.”
Other Books By SC Daiko
Two Three Four: The complete Trilogy
Game On
Their Virgin Nanny
Their Virgin Brat
Their Virgin PA
BRUTE
BEAST: A Mafia Romance
About the Author
SC Daiko, aka Siobhan, is an award-winning British author of fast-paced international bestselling contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Siobhan loves to swim in the sea, travel around Europe, sample different food and enjoy local wine. She has worked in the City of London and taught languages in a Welsh high school before moving to Italy, where she now lives with her husband and two cats. Nothing makes her happier than connecting with her readers.
You can find Siobhan at:
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Acknowledgments
So many people have supported and helped me with Nanny and the BRATVA BOSS.
I’d like to thank my brilliant content editor, Trenda, for being so helpful and incredibly fast with her feedback. Another book, lovely lady, thank you!
I’d like to thank Helena, my wonderful PA, for all that she does for me. You’re a super star!
I’d like to thank my beta readers, Fiona, Helena G, Joy, Michelle, Nanette and Nico for their invaluable critique. You’re the best!
I’d like to thank Sofie Hartley for her beautiful cover design. I absolutely love it!
I’d like to thank Lesley for managing my street team, as well as Kat, Helena H, and Nancy for tirelessly promoting me on Facebook. Thank you, goddesses!
I’d like to thank the members of my Faceboo
k group, Siobhan’s Courtesans, for keeping me company while I write, and for joining in the takeovers and giveaways as well as spreading the word about my books. I love you all!
I’d like to thank my fellow authors and the bloggers, PAs and promotors who support me. I’m truly humbled. You are amazing!
Finally, and most importantly, I’d like to thank you, dear reader. I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading Nanny and the BRATVA BOSS. I hope you enjoyed it.
Siobhan
xoxo
