by Nikki Sloane
Vasilije’s expression didn’t change. He looked calm and indifferent, but I knew he was not. His fingers had been brushing over the bare skin of my arm as his hand dangled over my shoulder, and they ceased moving. I felt the temperature of his blood rise.
His tone was dark and skeptical. “If that’s fucking true, why tell him? They take us down and that solves all your problems.”
Because my father didn’t want the Serbians arrested. He wanted to rule them. He needed the Markovics under his control.
My father sneered. “You think if your family disappears, no one else will rise to fill that hole? The need for a steady supply of women is too great. This way is fast and clean. We make this deal today, and that’s the end of it.” He reached for his glass of red wine and took a sip. “Do what you want with the information, Goran. I’m a man of my word, as I know you are. If you strike me again after I’ve saved your legacy, I’ll bury you, and your friends will help me do it.”
Goran considered his options for a long moment, even though he had none. My father was a horrible excuse for a man, but he didn’t tell lies. There was no upside. No other option but to take this deal. If the Markovics struck a shipment again after my father offered an olive branch, the Italians might turn on the Serbs.
It was better when everyone played nicely. There was plenty of crime to go around in Cook County.
“How do you know about the undercover agent?” Goran said, his discerning gaze focused on my father.
“I have a person on the inside.”
Goran Markovic’s face twisted with disappointment, unhappy to give up whatever the club was.
My father drummed his fingers on the table, starting with his index and rolling through to the pinkie finger, then repeated the action over and over. Each series of thumps seemed to make Vasilije tenser.
Impatience got the best of my father. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” Goran snapped. “My people won’t go near your girls from now on.” He took in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, assuming a more confident posture. “Other aspects of our businesses overlap, as you push further into areas you shouldn’t. I worry you’re stretching yourself too much, my friend.”
Was he talking about drugs, or guns? My father’s greed and ambition was insatiable. He’d been undercutting the Serbians every chance he got, and pushed further in on their territory each year. The brief truce had lulled my father into a false sense of security, and it’d come back to bite him by way of a bullet to the shoulder.
“I understand your concern, Goran.”
That was all my father would say on the matter.
If the evening wasn’t surreal enough, the men proceeded to order dinner, and then chat as if they were . . . coworkers. Savage men pretending to be civilized. I was introduced to everyone at the table even though I already knew their names.
I could barely tolerate it when Vasilije struck up a conversation with Konstantine. It looked like my brother felt the same way, but he politely participated while stealing glances at me. He wanted to know if I was all right.
“Is there some reason you’re eye-fucking my girl?” Vasilije said abruptly, and the table went silent mid-conversation.
“No,” my brother answered, looking embarrassed. “I wasn’t.”
Vasilije’s deep eyes were acute. “Yeah, you were. I get that she’s gorgeous, but she’s fucking mine.”
I dry swallowed so hard, it was shocking it wasn’t audible. Wasn’t it obvious to Vasilije that Konstantine wasn’t looking at me with anything other than concern? Or was he too possessive to notice the difference? And . . . he’d just announced to the table he thought I was gorgeous.
“Relax, Vasilije,” my father said. “He’s not interested in your whore. He’s a Petrov. I bet this girl,” his icy gray eyes locked with mine, “is only worth what’s between her legs.”
Bile rose in the back of my throat and I had a vision of spitting in his face. I’d watch the glob of it drip down his cheekbone as rich satisfaction overwhelmed me, but I didn’t get the chance. Vasilije straightened in his seat and his expression turned to steel.
“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sergey Petrov pressed his lips into a thin line, visibly irritated. People didn’t speak to him like that. “I don’t?” he charged back, patronizing.
“First off, she can’t be a whore since she was a virgin until yesterday.”
My face flushed with heat. I wanted to melt down my chair and disappear beneath the tablecloth.
Only, Vasilije wasn’t done. “And second, you should hear her play the piano. The songs she writes? They’re amazing, and that’s coming from me, who could give a fuck when it comes to music.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Vasilije Markovic was defending me against my own father, and his words burrowed into my cold heart when I didn’t want them to. Foreign emotion fluttered in my center, and the friction heated me from the inside out.
My father’s attention snapped to me and his eyes churned like a violent sea. He’d paid for me to go to college, after my stepmother forced him to, and when I’d changed my major to music, he’d been furious. He pulled me out of school and told me I would clean houses with the Russian women he could no longer turn a profit with at the whorehouse. That ‘career’ would make more money, he’d said, than my music.
So, I’d presented the deal to my father. I plant the surveillance devices in a Markovic home, and in return, I could re-enroll next semester at Randhurst University, continuing to pursue my music degree. I was willing to make sacrifices to get what I wanted, and life was too short not to go after my dream. You never knew when it would end. Tomorrow you could perish in a house fire on my father’s orders, or your plane could fall from the sky.
My father let out a joyless laugh. “You fucked her one time, and it sounds like she already has you by the short hairs. Be careful, Vasilije.” He held his glass of wine by the bell and swirled the liquid inside. “Russian women are dangerous.”
Vasilije had been right. My father had no idea what he was talking about.
♪
As I scrubbed my hands under the faucet in the restaurant’s bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. It was like looking at an actress in stage makeup playing the role of Oksana Kuznetsov. She looked and sounded like me, but wasn’t.
I pulled to a stop when I exited the restroom. My father lurked, waiting for me in the dark back hallway.
“I’m impressed,” he said in Russian. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
We were out of view of the table, but I kept my voice low. “We shouldn’t speak to each other. If anyone sees—”
“I want the devices in Goran’s house.”
My blood slowed. “What?”
“Vasilije isn’t involved enough.”
“No. That wasn’t our deal, and how the hell would I do that?”
He looked at me like I was stupid. “You seduce him. Look at how fast you turned Vasilije. The boy is in love with you.”
I wanted to laugh. It had only been four days, and Vasilije didn’t do love. But I didn’t have time to explain any of this. “How am I supposed to seduce Goran? I’ve never met him until tonight, and Vasilije will kill me if I try.”
Not to mention, I didn’t want to seduce Goran. He was the same age as my father. Both the Markovic men scared the hell out of me, but Vasilije . . . the fear I felt around him was different. Tolerable. The unsettling connection between us grew stronger the longer he kept me around.
“It’ll be easy.” My father’s expression was cold and deadly. “Now that Vasilije’s staked his claim, Goran’s going to try to take you away from him.”
My heartbeat sped up. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s what I’d do. Vasilije is all talk. He needs to learn his place in the family.”
My father didn’t know what I did, and I choked back the desire to warn him not to underestimate Vasilije. It was much
better for me if he continued on, blindly unaware of the dangerous people circling around him.
“Our deal was for Vasilije, and you told the table full of men in there that you’re a man of your word.”
His jaw set. “You changed the deal first. Don’t be surprised if Goran makes a play for you before then.” He pushed past me, flinging a hand on the door to the men’s room, but paused. “Good luck, Oksana. You’ll need it, now that you’ve become a pawn in their game.”
He disappeared inside, and didn’t see the dead smile that widened on my lips. He was forgetting how a pawn who survived crossing the board could be promoted to a queen.
I could go from the weakest player to the strongest one in a single move.
24
Vasilije
Oksana was quiet on the drive back to the house. A lot of shit had been said at the table, and it’d been shocking she kept her mouth shut through it. All because I’d told her to. Fuck, the way she obeyed me made my blood run south, straight beneath my zipper.
Taking her to dinner tonight had been a calculated risk. It hadn’t irritated Sergey or the other Russians, but it had definitely gotten under my uncle’s skin, so I would call it a win. I liked poking the bear and was curious what kind of response it’d provoke out of Goran.
Oksana sat in the back seat with her legs crossed, so prim and fucking proper. My gaze started at her ankles and traveled upward, coasting over her long, pale legs. I couldn’t wait to have them wrapped around me. I needed to reward her for being such a good girl, and goddamn . . . when I’d come home to her in the dress and the heels, with her hair up and makeup done, it’d been a punch of lust right in the dick.
I’d considered blowing the meeting off.
That was how good she looked. Sergey hadn’t been wrong when he’d said Russian women were dangerous. This one might be lethal.
“Are you pissed about dinner?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Her head swung slowly toward me. “Why would I be?”
“Because of all the shit that was said.” I hadn’t exactly been nice, and Sergey Petrov was a fucking dickhole.
“Are you asking if my feelings were hurt? I told you, I don’t have any.” Her tone was casual. Hollow. I didn’t like it. She was the most exciting when she was alive, and that seemed to happen whenever I had power over her.
“You’re so full of shit, Oksana.” I’d been able to embarrass her tonight and prove my point, but . . . winning the game hadn’t been as much fun as I’d thought it’d be. When I’d told everyone about the blowjob and she’d stared at her lap, I’d felt like a piece of shit. It was why I’d run my mouth later when Sergey had said she was nothing more than a piece of ass.
My hand had twitched, wanting to reach for my Glock. She was more than a piece of ass.
John pulled into the garage, and as I dismissed him, she got out of the car and hurried inside the house, out of the cold. I was right behind her. I’d taken care of business with some Russians tonight, but was most looking forward to the one who waited for me in the hall.
I peeled off my outer jacket and dropped it on the tile floor. Her eyes widened and she backpedaled. As I moved deeper into the house, chasing her, I shed my suit coat, dropping it on the hardwood. There was enough distance between us that she could hold my gaze and still see the gun in her peripheral vision.
Off the holster came, and it thudded to the countertop in the kitchen.
“I’m gonna fuck you under that dress. Now.”
Oksana’s chest rose with a deep breath, but she’d stopped moving when we reached the kitchen and held her ground as I came at her. I seized her face in my hands and slapped my lips down on hers. I gave her the same violent kiss I’d delivered this afternoon, only this time she was giving it right back to me.
Her soft mouth moving against mine slowed my reaction time like getting wasted on expensive vodka. I both did and didn’t want her to stop. It made it harder to dominate her like this, when her intensity matched mine.
Like a partner.
I broke the kiss and squeezed her cheeks with one hand as I pushed her, stumbling along. There was a large, open arch separating the kitchen from the living area, and I walked her toward it until her back was against the square column base. A gasp burst from her as she collided with it, but it didn’t disrupt her. It didn’t even slow her down.
Her fingers dug at my tie, tearing at the knot with both hands as I stared down into her eyes. Everything else about her was composed and elegant, but her fucking eyes were wild. She got the tie undone in record time, and moved to the buttons.
I slapped her hands away. “Stop.”
This was supposed to be my show, not hers, and definitely not ours. I moved in, shoving myself against her and pinning her to the narrow column. Her hair smelled good. Her eyes looked even better when her lashes were thick and dark. Whatever makeup Jennifer had used had done the trick. I couldn’t stop looking at her.
I ground my lower body against hers, and the nearly silent moan Oksana gave was sexier than if she’d screamed it. I sucked on her neck and wasn’t careful about it, either. I ran the sharp edge of my teeth along the curve of her flesh, and bit down. Hard, and then harder, going until she whimpered.
“Fuck,” I spat out, swiveling my hips away from her. She’d reached down and stroked me over my pants. “Do that again and I’ll tie you to this column.”
Goddamnit. As soon as the warning was out of my mouth, I wanted to do it. If I bound her arms behind her back, securing her to the column, it’d look amazing. But tying her up hadn’t been in my plans for this evening, and I’d have to save it for another time.
Surprise blanketed her face. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
Of course I did, but she was getting ahead of herself. “Only when I tell you to. Pull your dress up.”
She moved immediately, and it gave me a rush as I watched her place her palms on the fabric and start dragging it up.
“Faster,” I barked. Fire raged in my veins, and I cupped her tits through the dress, squeezing them together. Every inch she exposed of her milky white thighs made me burn hotter. She got the skirt of the dress all the way around her hips, revealing unsexy cotton underwear.
“Where’s what I bought you?” I demanded.
Her eyes widened. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”
She had a point. I’d have to do some online shopping tonight and fix that. I’d buy her the sluttiest stuff I could find and make her wear it underneath the classy, expensive clothes I’d bought her. It could be another secret only we shared.
“Tonight, I won’t be holding back,” I said.
Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Good.”
She hooked her thumbs under the waist of her panties and shoved them off. They glided down her legs and fell around her heels, where she stepped out of them. Oksana looked at me with an anxious expression. Nervous, maybe, but not fearful. Like she believed she could handle whatever I’d throw at her.
I was beginning to believe it, too.
Since she was up against the column, it held the dress around her hips. She closed a warm hand around mine and pressed our fingers between her legs. Her pussy was hot as lava, and wet. I clenched my teeth, sucking back a groan. It turned me on, but why was she being so aggressive?
“I guess I need to show you who’s in charge tonight.” I ripped my hand away, and slapped the inside of her thigh. She cried out from the first strike right as I launched the second and smacked her other thigh.
Her pale skin turned a beautiful shade of pink, bright against her lily-white flesh. I loved how I could see the instant proof of my touch. I wanted to paint more of her red. Lay claim over her skin.
“What—”
It was all she got out as I yanked her away from the column and pushed her into the living room. I threw her against the back of couch, and she made a startled noise, but she didn’t cry out. I was rough, but not too rough. Just enough so we’d both like it.
> I shoved her over the couch so her cute, tight ass was in the air, and I spanked her with my open palm. I gave her short, stinging swats. Her head was down, and her hands gripped at the couch cushions, and even though she jolted and flinched, the girl said nothing. She gasped for breath, sure. Sometimes she inhaled so sharply, it sounded like a hiss.
But Oksana never said no.
“You tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” I said over the sound of my fingers slapping against her bare skin.
Tension filled her shoulders, like she was bracing herself. She took it as a challenge, and I grinned darkly. She wasn’t going to give in that easily. This girl wanted to be unbreakable, and I was thrilled to help her test her limits.
I undid the buttons and stripped off my dress shirt. It was good not to have it in the way. I rested my left hand in the small of her back, pushing her hips against the top of the couch, and then I really let her have it.
Slap. She jumped and I watched the reverberation ripple subtly on her skin.
Slap. Oksana’s heart-shaped ass was blotchy. Some of her was pink, while other spots that I’d hit multiple times were fire engine red. It was gorgeous. I dug my phone out of my pocket and took a picture. She flinched worse from the camera’s flash than any time I’d spanked her.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Slap, slap . . . slap. The last one was so hard, it stung my hand, and her foot came up off the floor. Her black heel was up against her ass, as if trying to protect herself. I shoved it out of my way. “Ask me to stop,” I ordered.
“No.” She was breathless.
“Why not?” I was goading her, but couldn’t turn the asshole side of my personality off. My father had activated that part, and then broken the switch so it couldn’t be disabled. She groaned as I spanked her viciously. “Because you like this?”
