by Nikki Sloane
“Who’s this?” His voice was loud and accusing. I wanted to shirk behind Luka’s broad shoulders, but Luka’s insistent hand pulled me forward toward the table.
“This is Addison Drake. We met at Vasilije’s frat party last night.”
Mr. Markovic’s face twisted into a scowl, and he peered at me like I was dirt. “You brought the situation home with you?”
“I didn’t have any other options.” Luka squared his shoulders to me. “Addison, this is my father, Dimitrije Markovic.”
Was I supposed to espouse some sort of pleasantry after he’d just referred to me as a situation? My mouth wouldn’t cooperate, so I stared at Luka’s father and nodded my acknowledgement.
Luka put his hand on the back of one of the dining chairs and his tone was flat. “I see you brought the whore.”
Dimitrije Markovic was so dominating, I hadn’t even noticed the blonde woman sitting to his left until then, and my mouth fell open at Luka’s insult. It was impossible to guess her age. Her casual dress was tight and low-cut. She had flawless makeup, perfectly colored blonde hair, and a wide, bright smile. The ageless woman could have been thirty or fifty, and I suspected she was closer to the latter, maybe with an excellent plastic surgeon at her disposal.
Her laugh was shrill and she grinned, waving away the comment like it was hilarious, her wedding ring glinting in the chandelier light. “Oh, Luka.”
Only there was nothing in Luka’s demeanor that said his statement had been a joke. He looked like he’d meant it exactly as it sounded. He pulled out the chair and pointed to it, wordlessly demanding I sit. I collapsed into the seat, and as he sat, I was thankful Luka was a buffer between me and his father. It put the blonde woman directly across from us, and my gaze naturally went to her.
“I’m Tori,” she said, when it was apparent neither of the Markovic men was going to introduce her. “You’re the first girl Luka’s brought to meet Dimitrije.” Her sharp blue eyes shifted Luka’s direction. “I was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t into girls.” She’d said it with a light tone and a smile on her lips like she was teasing, but I could hear the burn beneath.
There was no love lost between these two.
Beneath the table, I balled my hands into fists. The tension in the room was stifling.
“You met at a party?” Tori asked me.
“We know each other,” Luka answered. “She was a student in the calculus class I was a TA for.”
I stared at the plate in front of me. The china was simple but elegant. White with a silver rim, and I wondered if a single plate cost more than my mother’s entire set of good china.
“Why is she here?” Dimitrije demanded.
There was an excellent question.
Luka drew in a long breath. It was the same as he’d done on the couch at the party, right before he’d forced himself on me. “I drank last night,” he said, “and so did she. We went upstairs and things got out of control.”
Oh my God. I had to breathe through my nose to try to keep myself calm.
“How out of control?” Dimitrije’s voice sliced through the tension-filled silence.
“We fucked. She said I moved too fast.”
I gasped and glared at Luka, my eyes burning with furious rage and my face flushed hot.
There was a terrible crash as Dimitrije brought his fist down on the edge of the table, making the silverware rattle and both Tori and me jump. Then a slew of words burst from Mr. Markovic, but I couldn’t understand a word of it except for Vasilije. Was he speaking nonsense? No. My stunned mind was slow. It was a foreign language, and one I didn’t recognize.
Luka did. His posture snapped straight and his eyes narrowed, and then he was responding in the language with the same vitriol his father had used. From Tori’s blank expression, it seemed doubtful she understood any better than I.
“You don’t think I tried?” Luka said, abruptly switching back to English. “It didn’t work. All it did was make her sick. She remembered everything, and it didn’t matter. She was a virgin.”
I stood up so quickly the chair almost tipped backward. I had no plan, only that I needed to get the hell away from the table before I lost it completely. I couldn’t listen to Luka tell his father all the sordid details of last night.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Dimitrije bellowed. “Sit back down.”
The voice stopped me cold, but I couldn’t get my muscles to comply. I stood as a statue halfway to the front door, facing the illusion of freedom. I was in a sleeveless dress, it was November, and I was barefoot. Plus, it was dark outside and I hadn’t a clue where I was. The cards were stacked against me, and yet every cell in my body was still screaming to run.
“Luka,” Dimitrije said. “There’s a simple solution to this problem.”
A chair squealed as it moved back. “No,” Luka said quickly. “I’m handling it.” Footsteps approached, but I still flinched when Luka grasped my shoulders. “Come back to the table.” His voice dropped low so only I would hear. “Please.”
I would have been less surprised if he’d stabbed me. The single word was a request, and I got the feeling Luka didn’t make requests, not unless it was something extremely important. His strained tone was unsettling, and I allowed him to turn me to face the table, but I kept my focus on him.
“Please,” he whispered again, his face desperate.
It was the most emotion I’d seen from him, and it was heartbreaking. Did he realize he was more powerful than he’d ever been when he was like this? In spite of everything, I wanted to do whatever I could to take his worry away. The desire to please was absolute. I found myself back in my seat, staring at the plate once more.
His father’s voice was deep and booming. “How exactly are you handling it?”
“She’ll stay here.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Until when?”
“Until she changes how she feels about me.” Luka corrected himself quickly. “How she feels about the situation.”
It was achingly silent for a long moment.
Tori laughed softly. “Your plan is to make her fall in love with you?” Her grating laughter swelled until it was a cackle. “Jesus, Luka. You can’t be as smart as your father says you are, because that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Be quiet,” Dimitrije snapped, and the laughter ceased instantly. “Although she has a point.”
“It’ll be fine,” Luka said. “Addison understands who’s in control, and I’m confident I can do this.”
The blasé tone dug under my skin like a splinter, and grew more uncomfortable with each breath, until the words spilled out. “I’m not a puppet you can manipulate.”
Luka’s head snapped my direction and his whole body seemed stressed. “I told you to keep your mouth shut.”
His father’s eyebrow lifted in the same arch all the Markovic men had. “This is under control?”
“Yes.” Luka’s tone was strict and harsh. It commanded me to obey. “It won’t be difficult. Addison’s halfway in love with me already.”
Fire erupted from deep inside me like a volcano. “The fuck I am! You raped me.”
My words pulled the trigger in the already tense room, detonating like a bomb. Dimitrije sneered at my profanity and his face had a violent cast, while Luka launched to his feet.
“I warned you,” he said. He fisted my hair and yanked upward so hard he pulled strands from my scalp. I cried out in pain as I scrambled to stand, only for Luka to slam me down on my stomach, face turned to the side on the flat surface of the dining table. The place settings jumped from the impact.
I stared at Mr. Markovic in shock, my cheek pressed against the polished, smooth wood. Luka grabbed the back of my skirt, flung it to my waist, and the air was cold on my thighs. He exposed my naked lower body for everyone to see, and my heart screeched to a stop.
13
THE ROOM BECAME A VACUUM, lacking oxygen or sound.
Luka’s han
d pressed firmly against my spine, pinning my hips to the edge of the table. I was saying something, but my level of panic had crossed into hysteria, and my brain would only operate on a lower level. Its focus was solely on getting up and decent again.
I slammed my palms on the wood and pushed up, but a sharp crack rang out, followed instantly by acute, stinging pain. The force knocked me into the table and my arms gave out. I flopped down in pure shock. Luka had slapped his hand so hard against my bare skin, I expected it to burst into flames. I locked my teeth and tried to breathe through the burn.
He’d spanked me right in front of his father.
Dimitrije watched the scene with surprise painting his expression. His gaze was on Luka, evaluating and curious.
“You want to behave like a child,” Luka said, his voice verging on a snarl, “I’ll treat you like one.”
His father’s mannerisms were no different than Luka’s. The subtle curl at the corner of Dimitrije’s mouth hinted he was pleased with his son’s actions.
The hand came down again. I heard the slap of skin against skin before the agony thundered up my body.
“Luka,” I cried. Angry, shocked tears sprung into my eyes. I could take the pain, but the humiliation was too much.
A hand latched on my shoulder, yanked me to my feet, and shoved me down. He flung me back into my seat so hard, the chair squealed in protest across the floor. I gripped the sides until my knuckles were white and ached, but I needed something to hold on to. I’d shatter into a million pieces if I didn’t. I sat dumbfounded, staring at Luka.
What had he just done?
“Are you sure,” Dimitrije said, his gaze lingering on Luka, “you want to go to all this trouble? If you’re looking for a girl to have fun with, it can be arranged.” His focus snaked over to me. “This one is messy.”
Luka shook his head as he marched behind my chair and shoved me back up to the table. “I can handle her.”
As he dropped down into his seat beside me, my hands clenched into fists on the armrests and my fingernails dug into my palms. The pain kept me centered and my vision from going red. I’d never been so embarrassed or humiliated in my life.
“Fine. I’ll help you make your point with her,” Dimitrije said. He turned and called out through the arched doorway which lead to the kitchen. “Michael.”
Luka’s voice was tight. “It’s not necessary.”
But it was too late. A brawny-looking man appeared, who seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face and ears too large for his head. He wore slacks, a black polo shirt, and a gray sport coat. When Dimitrije summoned him, he stood right beside his boss’s chair, looking alert and wary.
“Take out your gun,” Dimitrije said, “and set it on the table.”
Michael didn’t hesitate. He reached inside his coat and produced a very black and very scary looking gun. It had heft to it, because it made a deep thud when it was set down with the barrel pointed toward me.
“Do you have a family—” Dimitrije glanced at his son. “What did you say her name was again?”
Luka stared blankly at the weapon. “Addison.”
His father resumed his focus on me. “Do you have a family, Addison?”
My vocal cords pulled as tight as piano wire. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s good. Family is important.” I didn’t miss his thinly veiled threat. He set his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I don’t know what you think happened, and I don’t really give a shit, but you should know I’m not going to let you put my family in jeopardy.”
His face was menacing and almost as scary as the gun that rested between him and Luka. Dimitrije’s gaze was consuming, and the walls of the dining room closed in.
“If you try to destroy my family,” his voice was a low growl, “be assured I’ll return the favor. My family owns Chicago. There’s no escaping. You can’t hide from us.” His head cocked to the side as he scrutinized his son. “And you should keep in mind, Addison,” the long, drawn-out way he said my name was chilling, “Luka is particular. Do what he says, or I’ll make him put a bullet in you.”
The emotional impact was so strong, so overpowering, my shoulders collapsed under the weight. I couldn’t look at anyone, and although my eyes filled with tears, I tipped my head up to the chandelier and blinked them back. I willed the tears back into my body by shear force. Crying wouldn’t help my situation. It would only waste time, and give both of the Markovic men more power over me.
I was smarter. I would survive them.
The final word was a sneering challenge from Luka’s father. “Understood?”
My teeth locked tight together as I pinned my gaze on Luka. I said nothing with words, but hoped my determined look was enough for Dimitrije to receive my confirmation. Luka wouldn’t meet my unforgiving gaze. He sat motionless with a blank expression, not even blinking.
“Fine,” his father snapped. “Michael.” He gestured for the gun to be removed, and then asked for dinner to be served.
I had no appetite, but a meal was placed before me, and Luka ordered me to eat. I did, only so I could keep my strength, but my brain refused to acknowledge the taste. The men spent most of the dinner speaking in the foreign language. Tori drank three glasses of wine and picked at her nails that were painted a garish orange-red.
The gun was gone, but I still felt its looming presence.
My skin had hardened into a shell and I retreated inside until the horrible dinner was over. I didn’t fight Luka’s hand on me as he grasped my wrist and dragged me up the stairs. My feet shuffled over the carpet in the hallway and into the room he’d been keeping me in. It wasn’t until the door was shut that I came back to life, and Luka seemed to fall apart.
His hand remained on the doorknob, his head turned away from me. “Jesus fucking Christ, Addison. I told you not to say anything.” His face was a mystery to me. He looked both angry and relieved at the same time. “Are you all right?”
Was he serious? And . . . when did he start caring about that? He’d hit me so hard, I still felt the dull heat on my skin.
When I had no response, he let go of the door and encased me in his arms. “You don’t know how dangerous that was. I’m sorry if I upset you, but you didn’t leave me a lot of options.”
I pushed his arms away, but they came back, stronger and persistent. They kept me captive in his embrace and pressed the length of my body against his.
“I told you,” he said, his voice like steel, “I’m trying to avoid your death. I had to show him how far I was willing to go to keep you in line. He would have had you killed otherwise, and I . . . don’t want that.”
He admitted it like it was embarrassing, and the idea that not wanting me to die was shameful left me reeling. My eyes had to be impossibly wide as I stared at him.
Luka frowned. He moved, forcing me to backpedal until I hit the bed and fell to sit. His hands braced on my shoulders, steadying me or possibly himself. “Fuck, let’s just do this. We’re going to have an honest conversation.”
He straightened and pulled his shoulders back, making him look confident and comfortable, although I was certain he wasn’t. He began to pace a tight, controlled circuit as if even his unease was metered out carefully.
“Are we?” I said, my voice choked with rage. “What language was that?”
“Serbian.”
“Explain what you meant when you said you ‘tried that with me, but all it did was make me sick.’”
He halted his pacing. “When you started to freak out about the sex, I roofied the beer I brought you.” His dark gaze swung to me. There wasn’t an apology in his eyes, and the chill made me shiver. Part of me had already figured it out. Three shots and half a beer didn’t account for the massive blackout I’d experienced.
“I’d hoped,” he returned to his pacing, “you’d forget last night. I’d seduce you in the morning and you’d think it was your first time.”
I sucked down a deep breath. It explained
why he’d been different when I’d woken up. He’d been trying to be sweet, disguising the monster who waited beneath.
His hand coursed through his hair and unsettled it. “It was pretty obvious you remembered, though.” He exhaled loudly, resigned. “If you decided to go to the police and say I forced you, they’d be crawling all over the house in a heartbeat. The FBI has been up our ass ever since my cousin’s trial, and this is the excuse they’re looking for to exploit. They tried to get a warrant after Vasilije got busted with weed, but he’d been living at the frat.”
His cousin’s trial? The FBI?
I closed my eyes as I mentally kicked myself. There was another reason why the Markovic name had a familiar ring to it. It was why Luka hadn’t been keen on sharing his last name. This house said Luka’s family was dirty rich. I just hadn’t realized how much of the emphasis was on the dirty.
I couldn’t recall all the details. It’d been the spring of my hectic sophomore year, I thought, when I’d heard about it. A federal judge presiding over a high profile case had been assassinated, which was noteworthy enough, but the defendant in the case had the last name of Markovic. The local news had sensationalized it because he’d been related to the popular chain of car dealerships in the Chicago area.
Luka’s cousin.
The Markovics were mob.
“I can’t make you forget,” Luka said. He squared his shoulders to me and set his hands on his hips. “But this arrangement will work.”
“What are you talking about?” I bit out through clenched teeth.
His expression was intense and serious. “I said I control everything, including your choices, but that’s not true until you make this final one.” His feet carried him to me, and he cupped my face in his hands. “You live under my rules. You might even learn to like them.” His long fingers caressed my face. My skin wanted to crawl away, yet also enjoyed the sensation. How could any part of me like this? Was there a darkness inside me that responded to his darkness, like our connection was magnetic?
