by Renee Rose
I lift a sloppy finger and point. “Watch how you speak to me,” I slur. My lids close again to block out the glare.
“Lucy is getting an ultrasound today. And she invited you to come,” Dima intones pointedly.
I crack a lid. “How do you know that?”
“I’m still monitoring all her devices. She texted you last night.”
“And you didn’t bother to answer,” Nikolai supplies.
I wave my hand like I’m shooing a fly. “Get outtahere.” I would tell him to stop monitoring her, but I can’t stand the thought of not knowing what’s going on in her life. It’s unbearable enough to let her go.
They don’t move. I know because I crack an eye again. “Yob vas.” Fuck you.
“Ravil.” It’s Nikolai this time. “Why are you being a dick to her? She literally has done nothing to you. You kidnapped her and forced her to fall in love with you, and now you treat her like dirt?”
I snarl and sit up. “Who said she’s in love with me?”
Dima gives me an are you stupid look. “When her friend gets her rescued, she lies to make sure you don’t go down for it. Even after what you did. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
“And now she’s reaching out to you. She came here to the building for birth class. She invited you to go see your goddamn baby swim around in utero, and you fucking ignore her? You’re being a govnosos.”
“I let her go.” In my head, it explains everything. “She wanted to be let go, and I let her go.”
Nikolai shakes his head. “Letting her go and being a govnosos are two different things.”
“She wanted you at that ultrasound,” Dima says. “Are you going to let her have this baby on her own?”
“That’s what she wanted.” I make a wide gesture with my hand, sloshing more Beluga over my chest. I hiss because it stings where it hits my sunburn.
“Jesus, Ravil, you’re getting burnt. Get off the fucking roof.” Dima speaks, but they both move in concert, grasping the sides of my chaise lounge and tipping it over, so I tumble off.
“Now you’re both dead,” I mutter, lumbering to climb to my feet, which takes more effort than I expected.
“You gotta sleep that shit off,” Nikolai says, ducking when I swing at him and catching my arm instead.
“And take a fucking shower.” Dima grabs my other arm.
I make a half-hearted attempt to shake them off. “Yob vas.” Cursing in Russian is about all I’m capable of at the moment.
“Trust me, boss, you’re gonna thank us later,” Nikolai says.
“No,” I mumble. “I won’t.” I stumble to the door. Or maybe they drag me. It’s hard to tell. There are stairs that are very difficult to navigate.
I’m not going to call Lucy. It’s fucking killing me, but I let her go. If I open that door again, I won’t stop. I’ll claim her as mine, and I’ll never, ever let go.
And Lucy’s not the type of woman who can be held. She can’t be kept.
She’s a bird, and she needs to—
I hit my bed with a thud, and then all thought disappears.
Chapter 20
Lucy
I was a fool. I was a fool to hope and wish and expect Ravil to show up at the ultrasound yesterday even though he didn’t answer my text.
And I’m an even bigger fool now.
But I don’t care.
The pain I felt when he didn’t come, the emptiness, made it all too clear.
I don’t want to do this alone.
Ravil is my baby’s father, and he’s going to be a damn good one. The evidence of that was everywhere, I just was too judgemental to see it. The loyalty of his men speaks to it. The way he handled the teenager in the pool. The soccer kid in the elevator. The way he’s supported and invested in all the businesses of his tenants.
And the most obvious—the way he treated me. Even as his prisoner, he treated me like gold. I was a pampered princess in that penthouse.
But that’s not why I’m going back.
I miss Ravil. I miss his touch. I miss his affectionate smile. I want to know him better, without judging this time. I want to hear about his awful childhood and comfort him instead of setting off his defenses.
I want to give something back to him after all he’s given to me.
I love him.
That’s reason enough.
No, he may not be the partner I would’ve picked if I got to pick a man out of a catalogue, but he’s perfect for me. I can’t imagine a man any better.
And I’m going to go get him.
With my suitcase packed, I take a cab to the Kremlin. It’s past nine and dark out, the city lights flashing on the windows as we drive by. I get out and pay the cab and walk into the lobby.
I don’t recognize the guard at the door. He has tattoos on his forearms, and he looks scary as hell. I swallow and lift my chin.
“I’m going up to the penthouse,” I tell him, trying to breeze past.
“Show me your keycard,” he says in a thick Russian accent.
I stop. Dammit. The upper floors require keycard entry to access in the elevator. Of course, I don’t have one. I lift my chin. “Tell Ravil I’m down here. Tell him I won’t eat until he comes to get me.”
The guy frowns. “Get out.”
Okay, apparently, he doesn’t know this baby is Ravil’s.
I pull out my phone. Fine. I’ll call Ravil myself. Not that I’m sure he’ll even answer.
Crap.
He doesn’t.
“Out,” the guard repeats.
A heavy hand drops on my back. “Oh!” I startle and turn around. Oleg is standing there. He must’ve come in behind me. “Oleg! Zdravstvuyte,” I say, as if by speaking Russian, I’ll magically be able to communicate with him.
He picks up my suitcase and pushes gently on my back, directing me toward the elevator.
The guard says something to Oleg in Russian, and the giant nods without looking back, propelling me gently away from him. We get in the elevator, and I blink up at him.
“Thank you. Blagodaryu vas.”
He doesn’t nod or do anything but stare blankly back at me. If I didn’t already trust the guy, I’d find being alone in an elevator with him extremely intimidating.
He opens the door to the penthouse.
Everything is as normal—Dima, Nikolai and Pavel lounge in the living room, the television on.
Except then I see Ravil standing at the bank of windows that overlook the water. Staring out at the blackness.
Pavel sees me first and lunges for the remote, turning the television off. “Did you go and get her?” he asks Oleg, as if in awe.
Ravil turns around. The moment his eyes land on me, he says, “leave us,” and everyone in the room evacuates.
His expression is dead. Blue eyes cold.
“Why are you here?” he demands.
Okay. So much for a warm welcome. He must be angry over the arrests, then.
Normally, I’d put a little more starch in my backbone to square off against my adversary. But I don’t want to be adversaries anymore. I want us to be lovers. Partners.
So I say, “I had a craving for perogies.”
It doesn’t soften him. “I’m sorry. I think we’re all out.”
My stomach twists, and Benjamin kicks back.
He walks slowly toward me, and as he does, I see his expression isn’t cold. It’s tortured. He has dark circles under his eyes, and he hasn’t shaved in a couple days, at least. “I let you go, Lucy. You shouldn’t have come back.”
I blink back tears. What is he saying? He doesn’t want me anymore? Actually, he’d never said he did—he’d just wanted the baby. But he’d acted like he did. Had I read it all wrong? “Maybe…” I struggle to control the wobble in my voice. “Maybe I didn’t want to be let go.”
He comes closer. His expression is shadowed with pain. “Don’t say it if it’s not true.”
“It’s true.”
He stops in front of m
e, taking in my suitcase, which Oleg left out here. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles across my cheekbone. “I won’t settle for partway. I want all of you.” Pain radiates from him.
I reach out and cup his cheek. “I’m here, Ravil. This is where I want to be. With you. Raising our son.”
Ravil lets out a wounded sound and attacks my mouth, his lips and teeth and tongue devouring me with a searing kiss. “Are you sure?” He scoops me up, honeymoon style, even though I’m way too big now.
“I need you,” I tell him.
His smile is feral. He carries me to his bedroom and kicks the door open. Deposits me on the bed.
“I missed you,” I tell him as I pull off my maternity top.
“I fucking died without you,” he swears, helping me slide off my yoga pants.
“I love you, Ravil.” There. I told him. No more holding back. It’s long past the time for vulnerability.
He stops what he’s doing as if he’s listening to be sure he heard me right.
“I love you,” I repeat.
“Ya lyublyu tebya. I’m fucking crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you since the moment I saw you in that red dress at Black Light. You know something?” He trails kisses up the outside of my arm.
“What?”
“I had a plan that night. I didn’t think you’d get paired with me by the roulette wheel because I don’t believe in luck.” He gives me a wicked grin. “I believe in plans. And my plan was to pay off the man lucky enough to be paired with you.”
“But I landed on you,” I say with a smile, remembering how horrified I’d been.
“Yes, my Lady Luck,” he says, referring to the name I’d taken for the night.
“You frightened me at first,” I admit. “Only because of the tattoos. But you knew how to handle my nerves. You were wonderful. Exactly what I needed.” I slide my hand over my baby bump.
He kisses it. “Exactly what we both needed.” He spreads my legs and drags his tongue through my folds. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the ultrasound yesterday. I just didn’t think I could handle seeing you. I was too broken.”
I catch his head and massage his scalp.
“Was he perfect?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“I will come to the next one.”
“I’m having this baby at home. In the tub. With you.”
Ravil smiles. His face has transformed from the haunted mask in the living room. Now he appears almost boyish. “You don’t have to, kotyonok. I was never going to force it. I was pushing your boundaries, that’s all.”
It all settles in. Ravil’s grand bluff. I think some part of me knew it all along. It’s why I wasn’t scared of him. How I knew I was safe, and he’d take care of me. Why I didn’t rebel. He was toying with me. But my needs, my happiness were never at stake.
“I want to. I think it will be perfect.” I gasp and catch Ravil’s head again as he flicks his tongue rapidly over my clit.
“Anything you want,” he says. “I mean it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give you.” He lifts his head. “Except for your freedom.” His blue eyes shine with wicked promise.
“How about perogies?”
“I’ll have them made for you by midnight.” He stands and reaches for his phone.
“No, no—wait. Sex first. Then food. They’re closely tied, but I need you first.”
His smile is so warm it heats my entire body from the inside out. “You need me?”
I nod. “Please. Pozhaluysta.”
He quickly strips out of his clothes, holding my gaze. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He kneels on the bed behind me. “Hands and knees.” He gives my ass a swat.
Satisfaction ricochets through me. Like I’d forgotten in such a short time how much I liked his dominance, but my body hasn’t. It celebrates the spank. The heat and tingle of the print he surely left on my skin. The shock of sensation. The surrender, knowing he’s in charge now, and whatever he chooses will be amazing.
I climb onto my hands and knees, and he enters me from behind. He steadies me with one hand on my hip as he wraps the other around my long hair. “I never liked missionary, but I would’ve picked it this time if we could.” He tugs my hair back to lift my head. “After Benjamin comes, I will put you in every position possible,” he promises.
He pumps in and out, gathering steam, then rolls me to my side, catching my face between his fingers. “I need to see this beautiful face,” he says. “I want to watch you come, kitten.”
I grab his firm ass to help slam him in deeper, harder. My nails score his skin.
He snarls and leverages higher over me, pressing my top knee to my shoulder. It’s delicious. Deep and perfect. And then he starts rubbing my clit.
“Pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta,” I moan.
Ravil roars and slams in deep, rubbing faster against my clit with the tip of his finger. I come at once, waves of pleasure rolling over me, bathing me in love, in contentment, in warmth.
“I love you, Lucy. I love your adorable American accent. I love that you started learning Russian the day I moved you in here.” He nibbles my shoulder. I turn my face up to pull his mouth down for a kiss. “I love your strength. Your perfectionism. Most of all, I love it when you submit.”
“I love it when you master me,” I whisper. Words I never thought I’d say. But so true. He’s the conquering Viking who carried me off. And I’m the heroine who let herself be claimed—but not without struggle. And in the end, like in any good Viking romance, I brought the bad-ass hero to his knees.
Chapter 21
Ravil
“I told you no more heels.” I gently massage Lucy’s swollen feet. We’re on the sofa in the penthouse, her feet in my lap where I can rub them as she eats her bedtime snack of perogies and milk.
I’ve already fucked her thoroughly, both in the bed and in the shower afterwards, and her resulting glow makes me smug.
“They weren’t that high.” Lucy leans forward to feed me a bite of her meat pastry. She moved in with me but insisted on going back to work this week, her bedrest magically ending. “Will you hand me that pillow?” she points at one of the throw pillows, and when I hand it to her, she shoves it behind her lower back.
I shake my head. “I don’t like it, kotyonok. You work too hard. All for what—to prove yourself to a bunch of assholes who are idiots not to realize your true brilliance?”
“I’m thinking about quitting.” Her brown gaze skims over my face, as if she’s gauging my reaction.
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Quit. Rest. Swim. Enjoy the rest of your pregnancy.”
“I didn’t like being back,” she admits. “Everything felt wrong. The people, the environment. I don’t know—I just didn’t care as much about the things I used to.”
“Quit. Or work from home. Start your own business. Work part-time. You can do what you like, Lucy. Anything at all. When you’re my wife, you’ll be rich, kotyonok. You’ll own half of everything. So don’t let money factor into any choice in the matter.”
Her lids droop in the way I’ve grown addicted to seeing. The look when I can tell she feels loved. “I don’t recall you asking me to marry you.” A teasing smile curls her soft lips.
I tsk. “I told you I wouldn’t settle for partway. You’re marrying me, Lucy Lawrence. Don’t pretend you’re not.”
She laughs. “Is this your proposal?”
I shake my head. “No. The ring is still on order.”
I’m having a gorgeous ring custom made. It’s a trio of pink diamonds. Tasteful and elegant—like her. It’s supposed to be ready by next week. “But I’m warning you, it won’t be a proposal. What’s done is done. You’re already mine.”
“This is not very romantic, Ravil.”
“You never wanted romance, kitten. You wanted conquering.” I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it.
The lids droop again. “Only the way you conquer.”
My chest grows warm, and my dick gets hard, but before I can
ravish my bride, the door bursts open and the guys all parade in, talking too loud and smelling of alcohol.
“Hi guys,” Lucy greets them.
“And if you want me to kick these bastards out, it’s done,” I say, jerking an irritated thumb their way.
“No way. I love communal living. It’s entertaining.” She grins. “Plus, we’ll have lots of nannies when Benjamin comes.”
Pavel groans. Dima looks like a deer in headlights. Oleg, of course, shows no—
“Oleg!” I exclaim. “Is that lipstick on your collar?”
“Yes,” Nikolai purrs. “We’ve been to see his girlfriend at her club.”
Oleg smacks him with the back of his hand, which isn’t meant to be hard, but makes Nikolai stumble back. He fake wheezes and hunches over like he can’t breathe. “Not so hard, asshole.”
Lucy sits up taller. “Oleg, you have a girlfriend?”
His expression grows thunderous.
I’m even more interested. It’s rare to see any reaction at all out of him.
“He hasn’t sealed the deal yet,” Dima confides to Lucy in a conspiratorial tone. “But if he would ask her out she would say yes, for sure. She literally crawls all over him during her show.”
Oleg glowers, and with a twist of my gut, I realize his dilemma. He asks for so little, we sometimes minimize his very real disability. With us, he can at least write or text if he needs to communicate something. But while he may understand it, he doesn’t write in English. Asking a girl out would be impossible.
“Well, why the fuck didn’t you help him with that?” I demand.
Dima appears surprised. He looks at Nikolai for support. “Because I didn’t want to get my skull smashed?”
Oleg nods in agreement, like he would’ve smashed skulls.
“I’ll go with you next time,” I promise Oleg, but he shakes his head.
“See?” Dima protests. “He doesn’t want help. I definitely would’ve worked it if he did.”
“Hmm.” I file that away. I’m definitely going with next time, so I can see what’s going on.
