by Vi Carter
My gaze trails down across creamy skin, a flat stomach all the way to the white beaded panties that cover her pussy. Light reflects off the beads, and she looks like a goddess.
The panties don’t cover her ass; it’s just a string that’s sucked up in-between perfect round cheeks that I’d love to spank. Her long legs are perfect—a nightgown pools around her feet.
My gaze travels right back up to her face. I take my time since she doesn’t know I’m looking. Then her gaze clashes with mine. Her eyes grow round, but she doesn’t move. I take a step deeper into the room.
Her gaze darts down to my trousers, where my hard-on bulges; I don’t try to hide it. Color pours into her creamy cheeks like molten lava.
I take another step, and her nipples harden. She’s turned on, too.
“You shouldn’t be looking at me.” She holds her head high as she speaks. Her accent has me clenching my jaw. Everything about Evie just wants me to fuck her. Would I pay a million bucks to have her? It didn’t seem such an outrageous price now that I was standing in front of her. Her beauty was almost otherworldly.
“Why not?” I ask and purposely let my eyes roam across her flesh.
She doesn’t move or reach down for her dressing gown. She doesn’t try to cover up her body.
“Only my future husband is allowed to look at me.”
I stop at her tone. “You don’t like the idea of that?”
She flinches like I caught her out on something and bends to gather up her robe. Her long black hair falls away from her shoulders, revealing a scar.
“I thought you had to be flawless.”
My words have her snapping up straight. She drags the dressing gown over her flesh and cuts me off from looking at her any longer. But now that I know what lies under her clothes, I can’t erase that from my mind. I don’t want to.
“We do.” She pulls her long hair out of the back of the dressing gown before fastening it.
“It doesn’t look like a birthmark.” I walk right up to Evie, and she doesn’t as much as blink. She also doesn’t stop me as I drag down the dressing gown just enough so I can examine the scar on her shoulder. My thumb brushes across the puckered flesh, and her sharp inhale has me looking up at her.
“This is a burn mark.”
Her steady gaze never falters. “It is.”
I run my thumb across it again, and her inhale of breath isn’t as sharp, but I still hear it.
“It’s from when I first arrived.” Her accent is getting thicker, telling me she’s upset.
I want to ask where she arrived from, but I don’t interrupt her.
“I wasn’t compliant.” Her lip tugs up, giving me a flash of perfect white teeth. This close, I’d expect to see a blemish on her skin, but she reminds me of a china doll. Flawless except for the one mark. I run my thumb across it one more time before stepping back.
She pulls the dressing gown back up. “It was a lesson I learned the hard way.”
I can still see the defiance in her gaze. The same she displayed towards me, but now that I’m really looking, I think it’s more towards this situation and not just me.
The idea of someone branding or burning her makes my gut tighten.
“This is why I haven’t been selected.” She raises her chin again—a defense mechanism. “You’re flawless in every other way. It’s hard to think one small piece of flesh would do damage.”
“You don’t know the men we are being sold to. They don’t like any flaws. Hard skin, even bad skin, would turn them off. A burn…” She trails off and tightens the belt of her dressing gown.
“It’s odd that they would mark you, then. Devalue you.”
Her gaze snaps up to me. “Well, they did.” Her words are harsh, and I feel there is so much more to this story than she’s telling me, but I drop it.
I step closer to her until we are shoulder to shoulder. She turns her head to face me, her heightened breath fans across my face. “You're beautiful, Evie.”
Her cheeks flame again.
“But something about you doesn’t fit quite right. It’s like the equation is off-kilter.”
She presses her lips together like she can keep all her words deep inside her.
I grin at her. “I like a challenge. I’ll get my truth.” I step away from her and let my words sink in. Being around her, especially after seeing her naked, is hard.
Too hard.
Michail is in the kitchen area. “What did she do while I was gone?” I didn't like the idea of any of them seeing her naked.
“She wanted to be taken to a guest room. So I took her, and Pavel guarded the door.”
I open a bottle of sparkling water and fill a glass.
“She wanted a look around, so we allowed it. Pavel was with her.”
I take out two painkillers and wash them down with water. “At all times?” I ask. It’s a standard question, but when Michail pauses, I turn to him.
He swallows. “No. There would have been a brief time, forty seconds to a minute.”
A lot can happen in that time frame. I’m not fucking happy. I leave the kitchen area and walk back to Pavel. The green light on his headpiece blinks. Michail sent him a warning.
“What took you away from your one duty?” I ask.
“Michail needed me.” Pavel looks nervous, and I don’t want to squeeze the truth out of him. “There was a naked woman in the other building.”
“You left the only witness we have to help us solve this case, so you could look at pussy?”
“It was a minute.” Pavel’s voice lowers.
He’s been with me for years. I step away, and when he tries to defend his stupidity, I raise a hand.
I walk away from Pavel and don’t even look at Michail. I hear a low curse. Yeah, they know they have fucked up. The study door is left open slightly. I push it open fully, and the phone and laptop on the desk have me ready to step back out and hurt Pavel.
I pick up the receiver and redial the last number. It gives me an automatic no longer in service message.
She had tried to ring someone.
I leave the study. “She tried to ring someone,” I tell Pavel.
He pales. “It was a minute.”
“Get the fuck out of my sight.”
Pavel is quick to move.
“Michail,” I call.
He appears. “Guard the door until I find out who she called.”
“Boss…” I cut off his words before I end up cutting off his fucking head for his incompetence.
CHAPTER FOUR
EVIE
I haven’t left the bathroom. Something heavy dropped into my stomach when Lucca called me out on my lie. Now all I feel is the cold of his words.
He had called me beautiful. That thought pressed heat against the cold inside me. It was something I had been called my whole life. It just felt different from his lips. The girls had called me beautiful. Every lady who took care of us called me beautiful. The words from his lips, felt different. It felt like a stamp of approval, which was ridiculous because so was he, just in a different kind of way. His beauty was all the sharp angles of his strong jawline. His deep silver gaze, which when zoned in on me, sends shivers racing across my flesh like an army of small ants.
His beauty was sharp, dark, and alluring.
Dangerous.
I step away from the mirror with the thought of how he had looked at me. I’d never desired to be touched. It’s funny; some of the girls touched each other; I didn’t think it was wrong, but it never interested me. It was a part of me that I refused to explore. I had lost my freedom for it. I’m still losing my freedom for something that we had been taught to put on a high pedestal. On one hand, I valued it because it kept me out of being sent to the brothel like some girls were. On examination, we got our markings. A black tick on the wrist was the one every young girl dreaded.
Yet, I wanted to get rid of my purity, so I had no value to them. It was a silly thought that has me releasing air quickly from my lu
ngs. I would have other uses. We all did.
My mind was damaged, and somewhere in the recesses sat my sanity and understanding of the depth of what I had been brought into.
A shiver snakes across my skin, and I can’t pull the dressing gown any tighter across my flesh to try to shield it off. I start to leave the bathroom but pause over the threshold at the sound of Lucca’s voice.
He’s right outside my open bedroom door. “Guard the door until I find out who she called.” His words are growled.
I’m moving but gather myself at the last second and pause before barging after him. The muscles around my heart squeeze painfully, and I clutch my neck like I can stop the fear and panic that is erasing all logical thoughts from my mind.
My legs start to move as fear clouds my judgment. The one called Michail glares at me. He’s ready to ask me something, but Lucca’s voice fills the hallway.
“Don’t speak to her.”
Dread curls its bony hands around my stomach, and all I can think of is what have I done?
If he traces the number to my home, would he kill my parents? My feet hit the floor hard. I’ve always been obedient. I’ve always had such control but never before was my parents’ existence threatened.
I’m in the hallway, and Michail reaches to stop me.
“Leave her.”
My head snaps up. Lucca stands outside the study. There is a knowing glint in his gaze as he watches me. “You can either tell me who you rang, or I can find out myself.”
The hallway dims, and the world falls out from beneath me, but somehow I manage to stay standing. “The authorities.”
Lucca claps his hands. The noise bounces around the hall. The clap is too severe. His anger pours into his fingers, and I’m tempted to take a step back.
“Final time, Evie.”
Fear crawls up my spine and settles on my shoulders, weighing me down.
“A friend.”
Lucca reaches me. “What a beautiful liar you are.” His hand moves quicker than I could anticipate and envelopes my face. “Now you have me really curious.” He pushes my head back, straining my neck. “I will make a phone call of my own. I shall ring Igor and tell him what a disappointment you have been.”
It’s like a syringe has been injected into my skin and sucked all the blood and life out of me.
Lucca releases my face, I want to rub the aching skin, but I don’t dare move a muscle. He’s waiting for an answer. He’s waiting and not leaving to make that phone call to Igor. That says a lot and gives me a second to calm the sheer loss of control of my mind.
He’s calling my bluff.
I force my head high like I carry all the confidence in the world. “A friend. But their number is not in service. So the phone call was pointless.”
“Nothing, Evie, is pointless. Tell me about this friend.”
I’m thrown off guard at his question.
“A childhood friend, and it doesn’t matter. Like I said, the number was invalid.”
There is a beat when Lucca does nothing. A slow tug of his lip has ice-cold fingers prodding my spine.
“I’ll tell you if it matters. Do you know what I do, beautiful Evie?” Lucca juts his chin at Michail, who steps back and away from us.
“Work for Igor.” I blink before glancing at Michail; why did he have to step back? Was Lucca going to punish me? I’m ready to remind him he can’t touch me, that Igor would be mad, but the dangerous glint in Lucca’s gaze keeps me silent.
“I’m the Handler.”
My core grows hollow, as though everything inside me has been removed, all my organs, and I’m filled right up with ice-cold air.
The Handler.
The Bratva’s assassin. Of course, I knew who he was. I just didn’t know what he looked like or that his name was Lucca.
The Bratva’s personal assassin. My mind keeps circling around this fact. Why was I placed in his care? Why was he on this case?
“Do you know what the Handler does?” He asks.
I nod. Words right now have failed me. I could beg and plead, but I didn’t think to a man like Lucca that would change the outcome of this situation.
“So you know what I am capable of.” He takes a step closer until his cologne surrounds me. It’s a stark reminder that I haven’t been around men much, especially not ones like Lucca.
The Handler.
“Please.” It’s silly. It’s pointless. It’s naïve, but I have to try.
His grin of delight is frightening. “Who did you ring?”
“A friend.”
“Stay in your room.” His departing words have a chill sliding over me. Michail reappears, and I step back into the room, knowing for the first time I’ve really messed up. Before, it was my life on the line; I had known that from the moment I hid behind those crates in the loading bay. Now, it was my parents.
I couldn’t stay here and just wait. I had to escape. I had to find a way home. I had to warn them.
The thought of returning to the shores of County Clare sends too many emotions crashing through me like a storm, orchestrating waves against the rocks.
I stay in my room, and the door remains open. I often hear Pavel’s footsteps; he’s the only one who seems to move around. Michail leaves my door when the third security guard takes his place. Time passes in a blur, and fear keeps squeezing me until I’m mentally exhausted.
It’s Pavel with his soft brown eyes who brings me food. I eat it all. I taste nothing and have to force each swallow down. I make sure nothing is left on the plate.
I’m surprised when clothes arrive. Pavel once again is the one who brings them in.
He doesn’t speak but lays all the bags on the bed and leaves. I check through the bags of colors and find the darkest outfit. Pants weren't something I had been given the privilege to wear. Dresses were all we wore. I don’t think as I take out fresh undergarments. I don’t think about who picked the black lacy material out but put them on before I slip each leg into tight black pants. I’ve done this before.
Before they took my life from me, I don’t allow myself to go back. I need to stay focused. I need to warn my family. Next, I find a dark shirt, it has small white dots, but it is the best out of the sea of blue and purple that was bought for me.
I take out a pair of shoes that have the smallest heel and leave them to the side. I would wait until I was leaving before putting them on. I don’t find a jacket, so I place the bags on the floor, lining them up in front of the wardrobe. I go back to listening to footsteps and anything that can be useful.
No one speaks. There is a static that buzzes in and out between the headsets that I’ve seen the men wear, but that’s it.
More food is offered, and it’s Pavel who brings it to me.
He lays the tray down on a bedside table.
“Thank you,” I whisper while giving him a soft smile. “You’re very kind.”
He pauses and looks at me. He’s unsure, and I let my smile grow wider while half-closing my lids. I’m the image of innocence. It's a look we learned to master.
“Do you want anything else?”
It works. “No, thank you. This is great.” I let my lids flutter closed, and Pavel leaves with hesitation in his steps. Once he’s gone, I start to eat. Michail looks at me, and I don’t think any amount of fluttering eyelids would make him bend, but Pavel has a softness that I’ll take advantage of.
I push aside the Handler’s and Igor’s faces. I was dancing with the devil, and I already understood what it felt like to get burned.
I roll my shoulder like I can feel the lick of flames. I hadn’t lied to Lucca when I told him that I had been disobedient. It just wasn’t something that should have happened. Veronika was the woman’s name. She didn’t like that I refused to strip and bathe. Being ten and terrified out of my wits didn’t ease her harshness; that and the language barrier had me disorientated and terrified.
The food churns in my stomach, and I stand up and wash it down with the glass of milk.
I can do this.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I speak to Michail’s back. He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s heard me.
I go into the bathroom and relieve myself before I start my search. I find nothing useful. I wasn’t a fighter, but I felt I needed something for when I left here tonight. There would be fewer guards, and all I could hope for was Pavel was the one who either volunteered or was left behind.
I listen for his clunky shoes, but I don’t hear anything. Leaving the bathroom, I return to the bedroom and sit and wait for the night to come.
CHAPTER FIVE
LUCCA
I’ve sent the men home, and all I have to do now is wait. She isn’t asleep. I check my watch. It’s two in the morning. She’s moved around the room a few times, even ventured out into the hall. I’ve left a hall light on, so she can see, but not enough that she can see me.
I’m sitting on the couch in the corner of the room, shrouded in darkness and like anything: give a man enough rope, and he’ll hang himself. Evie doesn’t disappoint as she tiptoes down the hall. She pauses in the main room and stays frozen for a few minutes. It’s impressive how she molds herself into the darkness. Closing my eyes, my hearing amplifies, and her shallow, harsh breaths tell me where she is.
I want to stand up and ask her what she is doing. But the chase is more alluring. The elevator doors slide open, and I open my eyes as light floods the hallway. Evie steps in, her finger pressing the buttons repeatedly like she might be able to get the door closed faster than it’s operating.
I gather my suit jacket off the couch and arm myself as I make my way to the elevator. I don’t have to press anything; it automatically comes back up. When the doors open, I step into the empty metal box.
The lobby downstairs is empty. She’s moving faster than I anticipated. Leaving the building, I look left and right through the sheets of rain that fall with one purpose only, to drench anyone stupid enough to step into it.
Movement across from the building has me pausing. She has no jacket, and the light shirt she’s wearing clings to her body. She runs and ducks from one shop awning to the next. Stepping out into the rain, there isn’t much I can do to fend it off. I stay on the opposite side of the road and watch her race from one awning to another.
