by Nikki Sloane
But if I killed his uncle, Vasilije was going to be pissed. Mostly, because he wanted to do it himself.
Could I make it to the drawer in time? I’d have to fire as soon as I had the gun, before Goran could pull his own. Don’t forget to check the safety. If it was still on when I tried to shoot, I’d lose valuable time. Thank God Konstantine had agreed to take me to the firing range when I’d asked years ago.
“Did you hear me?” His voice was annoyed because I’d stood stock-still, trying to figure out what to do.
I wasn’t ready to make the decision where either option could end my life. “I don’t feel like sitting.”
“I don’t remember asking.” Irritation flared in his cruel eyes and burned greater than the fire.
When it was clear I wasn’t going to move from my spot beside the desk, his expression hardened, and every molecule of air evaporated from the room as he charged forward.
“Please, don’t touch me,” I gasped, hating how weak I sounded, but my request did nothing to stop him. He dug a hand under my arm, squeezing the pressure point right above my elbow, and I wilted. His grip was intense, and nothing like Vasilije’s. The pain was flat, aching misery.
I was so stupid, and my inaction was going to get me killed. Why hadn’t I moved faster? Now that he had ahold of me, my opportunity was slipping away. I wasn’t going to waste one more second, or let another man put his hands on me when I didn’t want him to. As Goran began to tug me toward the couch, I struggled to break loose and latched my free hand on the edge of the solid desk.
“No!” I cried loudly. “Stop!”
I gripped so hard on the wood, my hand ached, and his squeeze on my arm tightened until it took every ounce of strength to keep from screaming. Footsteps pounded on the hardwood and approached rapidly. Whitney, coming to save me. If I could reach the gun, she’d witness the whole fucking thing.
The door swung open and—
Blyad!
Vasilije—not Whitney—rushed in. His gun was in hand and hung ready at his side, and his face was a mask of aggression. Goran and I froze at the same moment, and I watched as the younger Markovic took in the scene. He noted his uncle’s hand on my arm, switched the gun to his left, and then swung his right fist into the side of Goran’s head with a loud crack of flesh hitting flesh.
The impact knocked me free and I slammed both hands on the desk, stabilizing to stay on my feet. Goran said something in Serbian, which had to be a swear or two, as he stumbled to the side.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Vasilije demanded.
Goran cradled his head in his hand. The blow had shaken him, and done the same to me. Watching Vasilije punch his uncle had rocked my foundation. As he recovered, Goran reached for his gun.
“Before you do that,” Vasilije said, putting his own back in his dominant hand, “maybe consider how Luka’s gonna react.”
Whatever that meant, it did the trick, and Goran abandoned the idea of going for his weapon. But he was still full of rage. “You think you can put your hands on me, you little shit?”
“Well, you put your hands on my property first.”
His uncle’s eyes went so narrow they were mere slits. “Your property has no loyalty. The girl came on to me. She was all over my stick from the moment I got here.”
I choked at hearing the lie. “I didn’t!”
Vasilije didn’t look at me and he didn’t hesitate. “Not a chance.”
“You’re going to believe your Russian whore over me?”
Vasilije’s dark eyes sharpened. “When you’re lying? Yeah.” He squared his shoulders and widened his stance, preparing for a punch to be headed his direction. Yet, none came. “What the fuck are you doing in my house? Did you forget the system tells me when someone keys in?”
I suspected Goran hadn’t forgotten. He wanted Vasilije to come home and either find me gone, or catch me with his uncle. Goran took a long moment to respond. “I was curious how serious you are about her, or if Wednesday night was just an act for the Russians.”
“Are you fucking kidding? You could’ve just asked.”
“And I told you to get rid of her.”
Vasilije sighed. “Yeah, you did, but I don’t want to. I’m having fun, so she stays.” His voice was pointed. “I’ve always done what you wanted, and I deserve this. You owe me.” Unexpected amusement flickered over his face. “Come on, look at her. She’s harmless.”
I was so tense, I was fighting to keep my lunch down and couldn’t acknowledge his hidden meaning.
Goran’s expression was rigid. “I don’t owe you anything after that punch. You’re lucky I’m willing to let it go, but you need to stop thinking with your dick, and start using that brain your father gave you.”
Vasilije had some choice words simmering under the surface, but he reined them in and stayed quiet.
Goran let out a noise of deep frustration. “I allow this and you fucking fall in line. You have a place in this family, and it’s beneath me.” He rubbed the tender spot where he’d been hit. “Beneath me, or nowhere at all.”
“I get it,” Vasilije spat out.
His uncle’s calculating gaze swung to me like I was garbage, and back to his nephew. “A Russian girl. I’m embarrassed for you.”
“Do your eyes not work? Why would I be embarrassed?”
Goran smiled, and alarm spiraled once more through my system. “All right,” he said. “Since you’re so proud of her, I expect you’ll be bringing her to Christmas Eve?”
Vasilije hesitated. Only long enough for us to see his reluctance. Then, an easy smile snapped into place, complete with his dimple. “Of course.”
“Wonderful.” His tone was full of sarcasm. He cast a final hard look at me, said something else in Serbian, and left. I remained in place, my hands supporting myself on the desk, and stared at Vasilije while we listened to the front door open and slam shut.
He jammed his gun back in the holster, but didn’t move otherwise. His posture was tense. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Except my voice was shaky, and I worried if I took my hands off the desk, I’d collapse. My heart was still pounding like a war drum. It’d been life and death in this room a few minutes ago, and I hadn’t recovered.
A concerned female voice rang out from beyond the office doorway. “Vasilije?”
“Everything’s all right,” he answered to Whitney. He took a cautious step, and somehow didn’t seem threatening for once. He asked it quietly. “What happened?”
“He said he needed to talk to me in private, and told me I had to do . . .” the words lodged in my throat, “whatever he wanted.” My gaze dropped down to my splayed hands. “There’s a gun in the bottom drawer. I thought I might have to kill him.”
Vasilije took a long moment to contemplate my statement, and . . .
He laughed.
“Fuck, you and me both. Good thing you didn’t. I’d have been pissed.” He delivered his perfect smile, flashing the dimples, but it was menacing. “I’m the one who gets to kill him.”
Should it have bothered me that he was the most attractive when he looked evil? A rush flooded through me. “That was the same thought I had when I went for the gun.”
“Goddamn, Oksana.” He swept toward me and dug a hand in the back of my hair, gently tugging me up to meet his gaze and caused me to peel my hands from the desk. My hair was the only place he physically had a hold of me, but his intense eyes kept me upright. He was touching me, but not really.
Almost . . . as if he were waiting for a signal it was okay to put his hands anywhere else on my body.
“You can touch me,” I said.
His eyes flared with hunger, and something that looked like desperation. “Like I need fucking permission.”
His mouth announced one thing, but his actions said the opposite. As soon as I’d given him approval, his lips sealed over mine and his hands seized my waist. I was fitted to him, pressed against his hardened frame until I could barely breathe.
Everything was spinning out of control.
The burn of his hands on my body was pleasurable and erotic. A strange sensation I enjoyed, and the discomfort made me feel alive. I shouldn’t want his touch, but I was already beginning to crave it.
“He comes near you again,” he said between his rough kisses, “and fuck my plan. I’ll murder him.”
I believed it.
I could have used the opportunity today to get close to Goran and follow my father’s order, but I’d made my choice. I was all in. With Vasilije, we could both get what we wanted. My father underestimated me, just as Vasilije’s uncle underestimated him, and hopefully it would be both their downfalls.
♪
Saturday evening after dinner, Aleksandar showed up at the house. Vasilije had taken me on a second shopping trip during the day, buying me more clothes, some makeup, and—in a shocking move—a cell phone. The only two numbers programmed were John’s and his. Was it to keep tabs on me, or a way to call for help if his uncle came around again?
I was ushered into the back seat of the Lexus with Vasilije, John behind the wheel, and Aleksandar in the front seat like last time.
“Where are we going?” I asked, forcing casualness.
“Out,” Vasilije said.
He didn’t elaborate, withholding the information simply because I wanted it. He loved to keep me off balance.
After I’d calmed down from Goran’s visit yesterday, Vasilije and I had eaten lunch cooked by Whitney, and he’d had to return to the dealership to finish out the day. I’d tried to write, but spent most of the afternoon staring at the keys and trying to forget everything but the way Vasilije’s mouth moved against mine. It’d kept my anxiety away, but wasn’t enough to get the notes flowing again.
He’d taken me to his bedroom after dinner last night and fucked me until I’d shaken with an orgasm so violent, it forced tears in my eyes. He’d groaned out his release and I heard music again, and twenty minutes after he fell asleep, I’d been back at the piano.
During the drive, Aleksandar talked with Vasilije about things I had no interest in. Video games. Sports. Who had the best pair of tits among celebrities. When we arrived at the bar, the bouncer didn’t check any of us for ID. The oversized man at the door gave Vasilije a smile and gestured for us to bypass the line of people waiting.
I wasn’t sure what was more stunning. The fact that Vasilije took me out to meet his friends, or the effortless way he interacted with them. He was so easy to smile, or tell a joke. He listened to conversations without dominating them. We sat in the VIP section, and all the drinks were put on the Markovic tab. His friends, mostly guys but a few of their girlfriends, were his age, and had been his frat brothers in college.
They adored Vasilije.
The guy who had fucked me bent over his bed last night was gone. Seeing him now was like watching a stranger.
I barely spoke the entire night. I drank the drinks he ordered, sat beside him on the couch, and smiled vacantly like a good little whore until I was buzzed enough I didn’t care. It made it possible to ignore Aleksandar’s glares when Vasilije wasn’t looking.
I didn’t like the reminder how I was running out of time. It was possible I could stall Aleksandar a few more days once the new devices arrived, but eventually he’d realize I was double-crossing my own people, and he’d out me in a heartbeat.
“I’m drunk,” I announced to Vasilije, loud enough for his friends to hear. “I want to go home and fuck.”
A few of them snickered, and some looked at him with envious eyes. I wasn’t drunk. I’d said it because I wanted to be alone with him, and sex was the fastest way to connect.
Vasilije smirked. “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”
John delivered us back to the house, and Aleksandar left without saying a word, and when I finished hanging up my coat, I discovered Vasilije in the kitchen, a box in his hands.
“This is for you.” He flashed his dangerous smile.
I swallowed hard, took the small, unwrapped box from him, and opened the flaps. Inside was black lingerie, the opposite of the virginal stuff he’d bought me before.
His eyes were electrified with desire. “Time to go upstairs and see how it fits.”
30
Vasilije sat on the bed and played on his phone while I carried the box into his bathroom and changed. It wasn’t just a black bra and panties, it was also thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. I was as careful as possible while sliding the silky stockings on, determined not to get a run in them. Would he punish me if I did? I put on the garter belt next, and hooked the straps to the lacy band near the top of each thigh.
The underwear and bra were similar to the white ones I had. The sheer mesh and lace obscured just enough, only teasing nudity. When I was finally dressed, I gazed at my reflection and watched a flush color my face.
It was amazing what a few scraps of lace could do. I was confident when I walked out into the bedroom, Vasilije was going to like what he saw. I grabbed a tube of the new bright red lipstick he’d bought me and smeared it on. The blue undertone of my pale skin made the color even more dramatic. I combed my fingers through my blonde hair, fluffing it out, and sauntered into the bedroom.
“Puši kurac,” he said.
His heavy gaze etched over the skimpy bits of fabric covering me, and I half expected drool to leak out of one side of his mouth. He stood and ran a hand over his crotch, massaging himself through his jeans. “Stay here.”
He left, only to return moments later with my black heels, which he thrust at me.
“What does that mean? The Serbian you said?” I asked as I stepped into the shoes, completing the look.
He smirked. “Suck my dick.”
I blinked.
Slowly, I knelt, folding one knee and then the other as I reached for the button of his jeans, but he swung his hips away.
“It’s an expression, not an order.” He scooped a hand under my arm and tugged me to my feet. “We’ll get to that, don’t worry, but I want to take pictures first.”
“Do you have any space left on your phone?” He’d taken a lot of pictures last night.
He rewarded me with a swat on my ass, and I was sure it left a perfect red impression of his hand. I bit my bottom lip. Wearing the lingerie turned me on, and his aggressive touch was the foreplay I desired.
His photoshoot didn’t last long. He was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself, and when he kissed me, his erection dug low against my belly.
“Pull your panties to the side,” he commanded, stepping back and pointing the phone at me. I darted my fingers to the crotch of my underwear and tugged it aside, and when he made a noise of approval, it sent a current of desire thrumming through me.
“I want you to fuck me,” I said. It wasn’t an act. The raw need in my voice was real.
“Do you?” he mocked. “Just a second and I will.” He looked down at the phone in his hand, scrolling through the screens. “I want to make sure Petrov gets this first.”
His words cast me into a pool of ice, and I strangled it out. “What?”
Vasilije’s expression was devious. “I’m in a giving mood.”
“You’re sending those pictures to Sergey Petrov?” I didn’t feel shame about most things, but even this was beyond my limit. The man was my father.
“No.” He said it like I was ridiculous. “They’re going to the other Petrov, Konstantine. The shithead who was staring at you, remember?”
“Ahuyet!” I reached for the phone to stop him. “You can’t.”
Vasilije drew back with surprise. “What do you care? You’ll never see him again.”
Panic was whirring so loud in my mind, it was deafening. “You can’t know that.”
When I scrambled for his phone a second time, he stepped away and distrust clouded in his eyes. “I do, because he’ll be dead by the end of the week.”
“What?”
“The Russians pushed my uncle too fa
r. He gave the order last night. The Russians want to control us, but instead? They’re getting war.” Vasilije acted like he was talking about a simple thing. “I’ll give him a few dirty pics and send him out with a bang.”
I latched my hands onto his forearm, half needing him for support. I was shaking with fear for my brother as my mind raced. “No. Vasilije, no. Please.”
“What the hell?” Confusion ate at his expression.
I closed my eyes and dry swallowed, unable to see any other way out of my situation. “You have to stop this. You can’t kill Konstantine.”
“Why the fuck not? The Russians are—”
“He’s my brother.”
The statement hung, suspended in time while Vasilije processed it.
I felt a connection to him, stronger and more real than I thought possible. Did he feel any of it, or would he kill me now that I’d shattered the trust?
Finally, he gave me a dubious look. “I’ve seen Konstantine’s sister, and you aren’t her.”
I knew my next statement could be the nail in my coffin, but said it anyway. “Tatiana is my half-sister. Konstantine is my half-brother.”
Doubt washed away and left a hard look in its place. I could see him trying to put it together in his head. He was looking for a way to connect me to the family without going through my father, but I needed to get the whole truth out.
“When my mother died, I was sent to Sergey Petrov.” My voice cracked with stress. “My father.”
Had I broken him? Vasilije simply stared at me. He didn’t seem to be breathing.
The room grew colder than Siberian winter.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, but he was lying. I watched his gaze flit to the dresser drawer where we both knew his gun was stored, and pain stabbed at the hole where my heart was supposed to be. He was considering murdering me. “If Sergey had another daughter,” he said, “I’d know.”
I shook my head. “No one knows. It’d be an embarrassment to my family, especially my stepmother, if it got out. I’m sorry I lied to you, but—”
He sneered. “I don’t believe you.”
“—most of what I said is true. I hate my father. I’m not the enemy, Vasilije. I’m your ally.”
