“Okay,” I whisper.
“You can take your hands down now,” he grunts.
I have to practically force my fingers to release the headboard, letting them run down his arms and wrap around his biceps as I do.
I stare at him, unsure of what to say, but mesmerized by his eyes, and enjoying his weight pressing against me. I feel safe in his arms, in his bed, and in his home. I’ve never felt so safe in my entire life.
“How about some sleep, then I’ll take you out shopping tomorrow,” he murmurs before pressing his lips against mine.
“Okay,” I nod.
Ziven kisses me again and rolls off of me, informing me that he has a few things to handle before he can come to bed. I nod, knowing that this means he’ll most likely be in his office, and he doesn’t want to be bothered.
I clean myself up and change into the shirt of his that I’ve been wearing as pajamas. I’ve washed it several times, and though I could wear something else, or ask him to pick something else up for me, this is what I feel the happiest in.
I crawl between the sheets and turn the lights off, knowing he could be back here in three minutes or three hours. I’m tired. This day has been traumatizing, to say the least.
“What did you find for me?” I ask Oliver.
“Agent Wilson and Oswald don’t seem to be connected in anyway whatsoever—to the naked eye, that is,” he begins. I sit back in my chair and wait for the rest of his news, because he has it. “Once I did some digging, I found out that Oswald Johnson has off-shore accounts, and these off-shore accounts have two signers, him and Wilson. There’ve been wire transfers from Wilson to another name, a name that didn’t exist until just a few months ago. It’s Wilson’s alias.”
“Fuck. Well, that’s good, right? At least Wilson can be traced now?” I ask, my stomach knotting at the news that my suspicions of Wilson and Johnson being connected are confirmed.
“Yeah. Bad news is that it’s going to take me a little more digging, now that I have this new information. Don’t do anything yet,” he mumbles.
“Like?”
“Like taking matters into your own hands, Ziven. Wait until we find out how deep this runs, what they’re doing, why, and how Quinn got messed up in all of this,” he explains.
“Quinn got messed up in this because of her no good, piece of shit father. I already know that,” I announce.
“Yeah, but we don’t know all the details. Her father was given money, and we still don’t know why, exactly.”
“Right, okay,” I grunt. “Keep me updated.”
I hang up the phone and then call Kirill. I explain to him what Oliver is doing, and what information he’s found out.
“Shit is getting twisted,” he mutters.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“What happens when you find out everything?” he asks.
“I start planning my kills,” I grunt, thankful for the safe line that I’m calling from.
“Ziven, this is a Federal Agent and a District Attorney, you can’t just do that,” he warns.
“This is a sick fuck who tried to buy my woman, and another sick fuck who abused my woman. I’ll do what I see fit. Plus, I have a feeling shit is about to get even fucking sicker,” I murmur.
“You’re probably right,” he grunts.
“Fuck.”
“Here I thought Tati was trouble,” he chuckles. “You keep her safe, yeah?”
“It’s my job to protect her. Always has been.”
“I’m not sure she deserves it all,” he says.
“You see her in a week and you might think differently,” I say, trying not to get pissed or offended.
“I hope so; for you, my friend.”
I hang up the phone and stare at my blank computer screen. I think about how Quinn has changed, the trauma she had to go through for that change to come about, and how much of a sick fuck I am because I’m goddamn happy about it.
I’m not happy she was hurt. I’d never wish that on anyone—ever—but I’m happy that her disposition has had a complete shift.
I’m still quite a bit leery that she could go back to the woman she was just a few months ago, but I’m going to relish in this new version of her—this absolutely sweet, loving, adorable, and even soft version of her.
I’M SHOWERED, DRESSED IN one of my cotton dresses, courtesy of Kristy, my blonde hair is straight, and my makeup nonexistent. I know in a matter of minutes, Ziven will be knocking on the bathroom door to tell me that it’s time to leave, but I don’t want to go.
“It’s shopping. What’s the big deal?” I whisper to myself in the mirror. “The big deal is that you haven’t gone outside of the condo in weeks,” I answer myself like a crazy person.
“Katyonak, you ready?” Ziven calls out with a soft knock on the door, just as I knew he would.
I take a look at myself one last time. I don’t know why he still calls me kitten. I no longer have my bitch claws out and sharpened. I’ve been declawed. Maybe I am like a kitten still, a sad little newborn kitten. I shake my head at my silly analogies and open the bathroom door as I turn the light off.
Ziven doesn’t say a word. He simply takes my hand in his, and we walk out of the apartment. I keep my eyes plastered on the cheap flip flops I’m wearing, wondering if I’m going to freeze my ass off in the snow or not. I’m dressed for the summer, not for February in Colorado. Once we’re in the parking garage, a shiver runs through me at the chill in the air.
“I have a coat and some boots for you in the car. I forgot to bring them up,” he announces.
I look up to him in surprise as we continue to make our way toward his vehicle. I stare at the car in almost shock. It isn’t the same one he had when I left. He used to have a fancy sports car, but he’s holding the door open to a Mercedes SUV.
“Can’t have a sports car in the snow, katyonak,” he chuckles, noticing my shock.
“Oh,” I mutter, furrowing my brow.
“Your coat, and your boots,” he says.
I watch as he sets down a pair of Uggs and opens a thigh length, thick coat. I don’t even think about how awful the boots are going to look with my dress, or how my legs will still be mostly exposed. He’s a man. He didn’t buy them for fashion reasons. He was trying to be nice and practical all at the same time. It’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever done for me.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I slide the coat over my arms, once my feet are nestled in the warmth of the boots.
Ziven grabs onto the lapels of my coat and pulls me toward him. My chest presses against his, and his face dips so that his lips press against mine. Then one of his hands leaves my coat and wraps in the back of my hair, gently twisting and tugging as his mouth consumes mine. I make a whimpering noise in the back of my throat as my hands wrap around his toned waist and I hold onto him.
We don’t say anything else after he breaks the kiss and ushers me into the vehicle. I watch as he walks around, and then I keep watching as he fastens his seatbelt and takes off.
I’ve never taken the time to simply appreciate Ziven. Today, I’m going to do just that. I watch every move he makes. When his hand comes off of the steering wheel and his finger touches a button on the radio dash. When he’s checking his mirror while biting the corner of his lip in concentration before he switches lanes. Everything.
“Ready?” he asks as he pulls into a parking spot.
I look up and am surprised to see that we’re parked at the Cherry Creek Shopping Center. Ziven doesn’t say anything as he steps out of the car and walks over to my side to let me out. His hand finds mine as he tucks me into his side, releasing my hand but only so that he can wrap his arm around my back and his fingers around my waist.
“Where are we going?” I ask, looking around.
I’ve never been one to particularly enjoy shopping. I had beautiful things when I lived with Ziven before I left, but they were all things that he had delivered from shops by personal shoppers. I can’t even rememb
er the last time I went into a store and tried something on.
“Neiman Marcus,” he mutters before placing a kiss on the top of my head.
“It sounds too nice,” I point out.
Ziven doesn’t respond as we continue walking. Once we step inside of the department store, I instantly feel out of place and underdressed.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” I urge, tugging on his arm.
He stops and looks down at me with a furrowed brow in complete confusion.
“What’s this?” he asks when I don’t explain myself further.
“I’m not dressed to be in a store like this, Ziven. I don’t belong,” I mutter.
“Quinn,” he rumbles before he shakes his head and tugs on my arm.
I feel like a baby fawn as I almost fall following after him. My eyes water when I see the looks that passerby’s give me—the way their lips curl as they take in my Ugg boots, cotton dress, and coat.
Ziven doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t give the people around us a second glance, he doesn’t care. Then we step into the section of the store where I’m suddenly surrounded by ball gowns. He stops and looks down at me.
“You belong at my side. Anywhere I take you, you belong,” he whispers as he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine.
“I—.”
“How may I help you?” a woman asks, interrupting us.
I look up and see an impeccably dressed woman in a skirt suit smiling in our direction. I wait for her lip to curl, for her eyes to narrow when she takes me in, but they don’t. She continues to smile and shows no judgment toward me, or my Uggs. I instantly relax and smile back at her.
“She needs a dress for a party,” Ziven announces.
“What type of party is this?” she asks, looking from me to Ziven.
“Black tie,” he grunts.
“Okay. Come on, dear, I have a few things that I think would look lovely on you,” she says, linking her arm with mine and looking down at me.
“She also needs clothes and shoes, outfit her with a full wardrobe, yeah?” Ziven announces. My eyes widen as my mouth gapes slightly.
“Yes, sir,” she says.
“No budget.”
I don’t get a chance to respond as she sweeps me away and toward the dresses.
“You’re a very lucky girl. He clearly adores you,” she whispers as we walk.
“I don’t deserve him,” I murmur.
“It’s when someone truly believes that they don’t deserve their partner that I believe they truly do,” she says as she reaches for a navy-blue dress. “I think this is going to look absolutely lovely on you.”
I spend the day with Clarise. She’s absolutely lovely. I know that she probably is being nice to me because she gets commission, but I feel like she’s somebody I could be friends with. I don’t have any of those, except maybe Kristy, so although I feel like I’m grasping at straws with her, it still feels nice.
“I think that this dress is short, but not too short, I would say you could wear it to a nice restaurant,” Clarise explains as I look at myself in the mirror.
The dress I’m wearing is an emerald green, the sleeves three-quarter length but completely lace from shoulder to elbow. The neckline is high cut and skims my collar bones from one side to the other. It hugs my body tightly all the way down to mid thigh, where there is an extra panel of lace that extends the dress to just above my knees, but is completely see-through.
“Do you think I could wear it out of here today?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
“Of course, dear, it would be lovely,” she hums. “With some tights and new shoes?” she asks, arching a brow.
I already have a stack of shoes, twenty at least, but one more pair couldn’t hurt.
I almost roll my eyes, there is no need for me to even look at another pair of shoes, let alone add a pair to my growing pile. I watch as she walks over to the telephone and punches a button. I can hear her talking, but not loud enough to hear her words. Then she walks back to me with a smile.
“Boots. I’m having some pretty pale fawn colored ones brought up,” she smiles. “I also called Mr. Dorosh and told him that you were ready to be checked out.”
My smile drops when I think about how much money is sitting in this dressing room. The clothes are all beautiful, well made, and absolutely sinful, but they’re also extremely expensive.
My eye caught a price tag here and there, and as fun as this has been, I don’t think I can let him spend all of this money on me. Ziven has already done so much, and I had clothes that he’d purchased for me once, clothes that Oswald threw away.
Ziven appears a few minutes later and stops when he sees me standing in the doorway of the dressing room. I watch as his eyes dip down my body and come back up to my face. Then I watch as he gives me a lazy grin. It’s completely breathtaking. He turns to Clarise and murmurs something. She nods with a grin as her eyes flick over to me before she turns and walks away.
“Ven,” I whisper as he walks toward me.
I back up until I’m in the room, and I watch as he locks the door behind him. I’m surrounded by pretty clothes, dresses, skirts, tops, and pants, but I can’t see any of them. They all melt away. Only Ziven fills my vision.
He doesn’t speak as he walks toward me, until my back is pressed to the mirror. Silently, he wraps his hand around my waist and yanks me toward him before turning me around. With my back against his chest, I gasp when his hand wraps around my neck, his fingers pressing to my chin as he forces my head back.
Without a word, I feel the skirt of my new dress being lifted, and then his fingers trail the waistband of my panties before his hand dives inside, cupping my center.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers into my ear.
I gasp when I feel his warm finger begin to gently graze my slit. My eyes move from his hand beneath the lace of my panties to his face as he watches in the mirror. Ziven’s lips press right below my ear before he nips the lobe.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I murmur.
My voice lacks all conviction, because I couldn’t ask him to stop even if I wanted to.
“Hmm, you couldn’t keep me away from this pussy if you tried, Quinn.”
I bite my bottom lip as my hips jerk slightly when he pinches my clit.
“I want to watch you come on my hand, katyonak. You’re stunning when you come,” he murmurs against my neck, his warm breath sending a chill down my body.
“I’m not,” I try to argue as he slips two fingers inside of me.
I bite down hard on my lip to keep from moaning when he moves his fingers inside of me, hitting the exact spot that makes me weak, that makes me cry out in pleasure.
“You’re always beautiful, Quinn. Every breath you take makes my knees weak. When will you understand just how much you affect me?” he asks as his thumb presses against my clit.
“Ven,” I gasp as my thighs shake.
“Look at yourself, watch yourself come. I want you to see just how gorgeous you are.”
My eyes move from his face to my own, and I look at myself in the mirror. My blonde hair is a little wild from all the clothes I tried on today, and my body is jerking from his expert touch.
My cheeks are flush and my eyes are wide. My lips are plump from my teeth biting them, and when I finally come, I open my mouth on a silent cry. I don’t know that I would call myself gorgeous right now, but in this man’s arms, I’ve never felt more beautiful.
I watch as he rights my dress and releases me, taking a step back but keeping his eyes pinned on me through the reflection in the mirror. Then he opens his mouth and sucks on his fingers before grinning.
“You taste almost as good as you look, katyonak,” he chuckles.
“Ziven,” I hiss as my cheeks tint pink with embarrassment.
“You get some clothes?” he asks.
I turn around to face him and grimace. I have a feeling he’s going to fight me.
“They’re
just so expensive. Maybe just this dress and the dress for the party. I don’t need the rest,” I try to explain. He shakes his head.
“You’re my woman, right?” he asks, wrapping his hand around my waist and pulling me into his chest. I lift one of my hands and finger the lapel of his suit jacket. “Quinn.”
“I am. I don’t deserve to be, but I am yours, Ziven,” I admit.
“Then let me buy you things,” he murmurs, dipping his chin to brush his lips over mine. “Let me take care of you, katyonak,” he whispers.
I slide my hands up his shoulders, pressing my body a little closer to him, pressing my lips firmly against his before I release them and then look into his eyes.
“Okay, Ziven. Okay.”
“Good. Now, let’s get some lunch,” he grins.
We walk out of the dressing room only to find Clarise standing a few feet away, a boot box in hand and a smile on her face.
I try on the boots, a pretty beige color with a four-inch heel. They are knee-high, and although I’m still going to be chilly, they’re at least more fashionable then the Uggs Ziven brought me. I go back into the dressing room and slip on my coat before I make my way toward the counter where Ziven and Clarise are chatting.
“Everything will be delivered by five this evening,” Clarise says as I walk up beside Ziven.
“Okay, thank you,” he murmurs.
“It was so great to meet you, Quinn. I hope I get to see you again soon,” Clarise smiles as she reaches for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You too. Thank you so much for all of your help,” I say with a smile.
A few minutes later, Ziven and I are walking back toward his car. It’s odd how much better I feel now that I’m in a pretty dress and even prettier shoes. Maybe it’s because I’ve just had an orgasm after spending all morning trying on pretty dresses; maybe it’s because I’m with the man that I want to be with, after almost losing out on everything he has to offer. I don’t know, but I feel lighter.
When we arrive at Ziven’s car, he unlocks the door but he doesn’t open it. He pushes my back against it and fits himself against me, above me, and all around me.
Protected by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 6) Page 10
