“Girl, where have you been? I called you a few weeks ago, and you never called me back.”
“You have no idea…” Haley said. “And it would take more than one bottle of wine and several hours to tell you about it.”
“I like wine. What time should I come over?” Belinda giggled.
“I have a fight tonight, babe,” Mikhail whispered in her other ear, his hands landing on her shoulders. Of course he could hear Belinda through the phone. The apartment was completely silent, and Belinda wasn’t known for her soft tones.
Haley shuddered under his touch, as usual. She wiggled away from him, taking several steps closer to the table.
Something about the way he spoke, the tone of his voice… He made that one simple sentence sound slightly more than informational. It held a hint of ownership in the way he said “babe” and the way he held her shoulders at the same time. It also came out like a demand. You can’t hang with your girl tonight because I’m fighting and you’re coming with me.
Mikhail started emptying bags and putting groceries away. The man might exude an incredibly controlling nature most of the time, but he never acted like any domestic chore was meant to be hers. In fact, he did more than his share every day, including running to the store without her when they needed something.
Was he just being nice? She didn’t think so.
She sighed. “I can’t tonight. I have plans. How about tomorrow night?” She stared straight at Mikhail, daring him to put up an excuse for that plan.
He didn’t even flinch or glance her way.
“You? Plans? There must be a story behind that. I can’t wait. I’ll be there at seven.”
“Perfect.”
Belinda ended the call, and Haley set the phone back on the table, still eyeing Mikhail for his reaction. Did he care if she had her best friend over? It wasn’t as if she had thousands of friends. She didn’t even have many acquaintances. But she’d gone to college with Belinda, and sometimes when their schedules permitted, they got together to catch up.
The question remained—how much could she tell her friend? She needed to at least tell her she’d been kidnaped and held against her will, but where did she draw the line?
She had no doubt Mikhail would draw it for her.
She watched him as he put the last items in the fridge.
“You okay?” he asked when he finished. “Girlfriend, I assume?”
“Yeah. I’m not very social, but I went to college with her. Belinda Gallo. She’s a reporter.”
“Gathered you weren’t very social.” He smiled as he leaned his ass against the counter, keeping his distance. “You have spoken to no one in three weeks.”
She chewed on her lower lip, pondering what she would say tomorrow night.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Chew that lip. Drives me to distraction. You do it when you’re thinking hard. What are you worried about now?”
Her face heated. Good distraction or bad distraction? Was he complaining because her habit irritated him?
As if he read her mind, he spoke again. “Look, I don’t care if you want to chew your lip all day long, but it won’t help if you’re hell-bent on keeping me from kissing you senseless. Every time you do it, I want to bite that lip myself.”
She released her lip, sucking in a breath. Her heart pounded. His tone was so seductive, she had to press her legs together to pinch off the mounting arousal. It didn’t work.
Just being in the same room with him was becoming a challenge.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?” She couldn’t think.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Oh. Right. Belinda. Not sure how much I can tell her.”
“We’ll figure it out before tomorrow night.”
“Okay.”
“Come here.” He didn’t move a muscle as he spoke.
She stared at him, knowing it would be a horrible idea to approach him.
“Haley…” he warned. His voice had the exact effect of making her nipples stiffen and her spine tingle. So demanding.
On the one hand, she should be appalled and tell him to go fuck himself.
On the other hand, he used just the perfect tone that let her know she needed to follow his instructions, but only because she wanted to. Not because he intended to enforce his bossiness if she chose to turn and walk away.
The decision was pivotal. It felt monumental. A defining moment that would set the stage for their newly redefined relationship.
Two words.
Come here.
If she obeyed him, she was telling him he could control her, that she wanted him to.
If she walked away, she would be making the opposite statement, that she wouldn’t be his in that way. Not the way he wanted her to be.
No words had been spoken to confirm any of this. But she knew.
Deep inside, she knew.
And damn if she was capable of walking away.
She inched toward him.
He didn’t move, but she would have sworn he slowly exhaled, his chest deflating as she approached.
She couldn’t bring herself to give in to him completely, however. When she stepped into his space, facing him, she set her hands on her hips and tapped one foot at an angle from her body. “What?”
Slowly, he smiled. “Sassy girl.”
“Don’t you forget it,” she challenged. What was wrong with her?
“Do you have any idea how hard my cock is?”
She gasped, her gaze darting toward his crotch before she could stop herself. Did he really just say that?
He chuckled. “Look, not going to lie. I’m a demanding guy who likes to have my way. I’m sure you’ve picked up on that. I’d love nothing more than to take you over my knee and spank that sassiness right out of you.” He leaned forward.
Her flushed face switched to flaming, and her mouth fell open.
His lips inches from hers, he continued, “But I get the impression if I set my palm on your sweet ass, you’d come in an instant. And then what would I have accomplished?”
Holy shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She licked her lips, holding her breath. How the hell could he be so right about her? She was about to orgasm from the insinuation that he would spank her. That should not get her off. “I’m not a child,” she muttered.
“Oh, I’m so very aware of that, babe. And if I thought for one second you weren’t turned on by my dominance, I’d walk out of this room and never mention the idea again. But I can practically smell your arousal. Your pussy’s so hot and wet, it’s taking all your energy to keep from squirming or squeezing your legs together.”
Damn him.
The intensity was palpable. He was dead serious.
“I know you’re questioning your reactions to me. I get that. And you should. Obviously you’ve been through a lot, and you think that’s shaping your feelings toward me.
“But consider for a moment how you would react if you simply met me somewhere and none of the bad shit that’s gotten under your skin existed. Would you still be attracted? Would you still have that frustrating desire to give in and let me control you?”
She held her breath. Control me?
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. And before you go off into a headspace, no, you aren’t weird or strange. Tons of people enjoy a certain level of submission. It feels good to let someone else take the reins now and then. Keeps you from always having to be on top of every single detail. It’s relaxing.
“It doesn’t mean you’re weak. Just the opposite. It means you’re stronger than you think. It means you trust another person to make choices for you when you aren’t up to the task yourself.
“Once in a while, when the stars are aligned, two people meet whose needs collide perfectly. Sometimes, it’s so exactly right they can feel it in the air around them. They know. With little need for words or the
passage of time, they know.
“I propose that’s what’s happening here. We’ve danced around it for over a week. Hell, I think I recognized it longer than that.” He shrugged, the first movement either of them had made during his little speech. “I’m a controlling guy. It’s in my nature. My friends are all dominant to a certain degree. Some people keep it in the bedroom. For some it extends in some fashion outward.
“I’ve never actually been with a woman who I thought so perfectly fit me. Someone who I sensed could submit to me in bed and to a certain extent in life.
“Not until you.” He held out a hand, palm facing her, before she could protest. “Don’t say anything. Just consider what I’ve said. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t push you. And I won’t disappear because you let me fuck you senseless.” He shook his head. “Not going to happen. I know you’re scared of ruining things, but what if we don’t? What if what we have is simply better? Like out-of-your-mind, rock-your-world better?”
She sucked in a breath, but it was shaky. Her head spun.
“Just think about it.” He righted himself, his body inching away from hers. He never touched her while he spoke.
Seconds ticked by. What should she say?
Finally, he grinned, a lopsided grin he often got when he was about to tease her. “Go change. We need to leave soon for the fight. It’s gonna be cool out tonight. Keep the jeans, but put on a sweater. Maybe those cute boots you have sitting in the corner of your closet you’ve probably never worn.” He lifted a brow.
Jesus. The man missed nothing. And he was right. She bought those darn black leather ankle boots with the three-inch heels months ago, but she’d never had a single reason to wear them. She should have taken them back.
Then again, apparently Mikhail liked them.
Without a word, she turned around and sped from the room.
She rarely shut her door anymore, but this time she did. And then she leaned against the wood with her hand over her racing heart.
Holy shit.
She couldn’t catch her breath, as if she’d been running. His words spun around in her head, a jumble of thoughts racing after them, leaving her even more confused.
What was she going to do?
What else was there to do? She needed to change her shirt, put on her boots, and check her hair and makeup. They were going to a fight. That alone made her nervous. Realizing she played right into his hand made her even more nervous.
But holy hell, she wasn’t able to stop herself.
Mainly because he was right. She would be cold later in the evening if she didn’t put on something thicker. She was in no mood to wear anything dressier than her jeans. And those boots? They were calling to her for this occasion. She’d even be able to see better in a crowd wearing them.
It had nothing to do with his bossiness. It was simply that his instructions were practical.
Yep. Keep telling yourself that.
Chapter Nine
Mikhail led Haley from the Jeep to the speakeasy with a hand on the small of her back. A possessive hand. Not a gentle touch of friends or acquaintances, but a firm pressure on her back he hoped told her both that she was his and that he had her back, literally.
He’d seen the nondescript black Honda Accord following them all the way to their parking spot along the side street. He knew two FBI agents were in their shadow as they exited the Jeep and hurried the short distance to the narrow, dented, rusty, metal side door that led into the back of the speakeasy.
The two men were probably Patrick and Bill. They were frequently on detail when it came to any of the women—Alena, Katie, or Haley. They rarely made their presence known, but they were often in the shadows.
“This is where you fight?” Haley whispered as he nodded to the doorman as the enormous guy opened to his knock.
He glanced at her as he led her down the short, rugged hallway toward the room that had been converted into a sort of locker room for these events. The floor was comprised of uneven stones, dirt having filled in the crevices over almost a hundred years. “I told you we fight under the radar. Usually in speakeasies.”
“Yeah. I know. But I’ve never actually been to one. And I wasn’t picturing anything quite so…”
“Old? Small?” He smiled. “You’re in for a treat.”
“Where will I go while you fight?” She was uneasy about being left alone somewhere. He could read that in her wide expression.
“You’ll be with Nikolav and Sergei. Ivan’s fighting tonight too. I think Leo is with Katie doing something else tonight. But my sister will probably be here. You can get to know her better.”
“Oh, good. She seems sweet.”
“She’s a doll. You’ll love her.”
“She’s quiet.”
He chuckled. “Not when you get to know her.” He pushed open the door to the locker room, finding several guys inside, including Ivan. Ivan waved at Haley and then went back to bouncing in place, tossing fake punches toward the wall.
Sergei stepped from the corner, smiling a little too broadly, his attention solely on Haley.
Mikhail scowled, but no one noticed. Footsteps behind him had him twisting around to find Nikolav and Alena approaching.
“What’s the matter with you?” Alena asked as she kissed her brother on the cheek.
Mikhail returned the gesture, knowing he did so frowning. “Nothing,” he muttered.
She shrugged and set a hand on Haley’s arm. “You ready for this?”
Haley smiled back. “I don’t think so. No matter how many practices I’ve been to, I doubt I’m prepared for the real thing.”
“It can be startling at first, but the adrenaline rush is amazing.”
Sergei chuckled. He’d made his way into the doorway and now stood inches from Haley. “Your adrenaline rush? Or the fighter’s?”
Alena rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s a rush for spectators too, otherwise you wouldn’t be in this business.”
True.
Mikhail watched Sergei closely as his friend set a hand on Haley’s shoulder and squeezed. That’s when he lost his last sliver of control. He set his palm on Sergei’s chest and pushed him back into the room, turning to face the other three in the hall. “Give us a second.” He released the door, letting it slam shut at their backs.
“What the fuck, Mikhail? You look like you want to punch me.” Sergei took a step back, but he stood tall, his biceps flexing.
“Don’t get any ideas, Sergei.”
Sergei’s eyes widened. “Ideas about what?” His brow furrowed, but then a smile spread across his face and he laughed. “Oh, I get it. Haley.” He covered his mouth to stifle his laughter, but failed.
Mikhail continued to scowl, though he hated the way his blood pumped, driving him insane with jealousy. “She’s not one of your playthings, Sergei.”
Sergei sobered, his face going hard. “One of my playthings? What are you saying, Mikhail?” The room around them had gone quiet.
Mikhail paid no attention to anyone, but he knew there were half a dozen guys getting ready to fight. The only person brave enough to approach was Ivan. He stepped right into the space between Mikhail and Sergei and set a hand on each man’s chest. “What the fuck, guys?”
Sergei switched back to laughter. “Oh, I get it. Shit, man. You are so totally doing her.” He slapped his leg. “You totally fucked her.”
Mikhail shook his head. “No, asshole. It’s not like that.”
Sergei lifted an eyebrow. “Damn. You stud. This is worse than I thought.”
Ivan nailed Mikhail with his gaze too, taking a step back and dropping his hands. “Is it true?”
“Not entirely. I’m just telling you to keep your hands to yourself and save your moves for another woman tonight. Not that one.” Mikhail still wanted to punch Sergei. He was being totally unreasonable. After all, he hadn’t told any of his friends Haley was no longer fair territory. Nor had he totally managed to stake his own claim. Bu
t the thought of her in Sergei’s arms drove him crazy.
Sergei lifted both arms in defeat. “I get the message. Don’t worry. She’ll be safe in my care, even from me.” He grinned, his eyes still sparkling with mirth.
Mikhail nodded. “Just so we’re clear.”
“Oh, we’re clear. Crystal.” Sergei rounded them both and made his way to the door.
Before Mikhail managed to spin around to get one last glimpse of Haley, Sergei was gone and the door slammed shut.
Probably for the best. He needed to focus if he intended to win his fight tonight.
∙•∙
Haley followed Sergei through the thick crowd in the main room of what had once been an illegal bar a hundred years ago. The lighting was dim throughout most of the venue, with the exception of the center of the room where two men fought on a raised platform. The ropes she’d been used to seeing at the gym weren’t there, however.
The floor was nothing more than cobblestones and dirt. The bar itself was situated on one side of the room with bartenders running back and forth to serve more people than reasonably possible. They were calm and efficient, however, impressing her with their speed and accuracy.
The bar was made of a dark, rough wood, undoubtedly also original. An enormous mirror in the center showed the wear and tear of years of hanging on that wall with spots all over the corners that no longer permitted reflection because the silver backing had worn off.
It was like stepping back in time. Except drinking was legal now.
Unsanctioned fighting, however, was not.
The air was thick with smoke too, making her eyes water. Smoking wasn’t legal indoors anywhere in Chicago anymore as far as she knew, but again, this wasn’t a party that followed the law.
She leaned toward Alena when they stopped working their way through the crowded room, hoping to be heard over the roar of the crowd. “They fight inside a fence? I thought Abram was kidding when he told me that.”
Alena twisted her neck and smiled. “Nope. It’s called the cage. The square floor with the ropes at the gym is really a boxing ring. This is for MMA.”
She winced. Any sharp metal ends could do some serious damage if a fighter was slammed into the fencing.
Guard (The Underground Book 3) Page 10
