by Zoe Blake
I was going to miss the warm protected feeling that washed over me whenever he cradled me in his arms like this. I ruthlessly squashed those feelings and focused on my future plans, and dating a Russian criminal was not part of them.
I opened the car door before he had even come to a full stop as he pulled up to my apartment building.
“Malyshka, wait. I’ll walk you inside.”
I jumped out, turned, and peered into the dim interior of the car as I clutched the purse he had retrieved from the trunk to my middle. “It’s fine. Can I please have my phone back?”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out my phone. He stretched out his arm, but then held it just out of my reach. “I already programmed my number into it. I expect you to answer it the moment I call, understood?”
I nodded and reached for the phone. He still held it out of reach.
“I will pick you up in two hours. I expect you to have your bags packed and ready.”
Two hours. That didn’t give me much time. I reached into the car and snatched the phone out of his grasp. “Yep! You got it!” I called out with false cheer as I slammed the door shut.
Ivan rolled the window down and called out to me as I started up the walkway. “And you better have a coat on!”
I raised my arm and waved to show I heard him but didn’t turn around. Throwing the entrance door open, I ran up the first flight of stairs and booked it down the narrow hallway to my apartment. I thought about stopping in to talk with Carinna, but there wasn’t time. I would explain it to her when I was on the bus out of town. Pushing the new key into my lock, it startled me when the door swung open.
My small studio apartment was completely ransacked. They’d tossed all of my meager belongings and strewn them about the floor. The mattress of the Murphy bed was slashed with all the stuffing torn out. They broke my one chair into pieces. Before I could react to the chaos before me, a man appeared from behind the door.
“Where the fuck is my money, you bitch?”
Chapter 15
Dylan
“Uncle Frank?”
He grabbed me by the collar of my dress and yanked me inside before slamming the door shut. I stumbled over the clothes strewn about the floor. I then caught a glimpse of the only two windows in the room. Ivan’s car was pulling away from the curb. He couldn’t save me now.
I turned to face my uncle.
His lip lifted in disgust. “Look at you. Crawling home like a whore. Just like your mother.”
“Don’t you talk about my mother,” I warned through clenched teeth. She may not have been a model mother, but she’d done her best considering the man she married, and I wouldn’t let my uncle talk bad about her.
He spit onto the carpeted floor. “I’ll talk about that whore however I like. Now where is my fucking money.”
There was no escape. He was blocking the only door, and we were one floor up, too far to jump. Even if I wanted to call the police, they’d never get here in time. I could call out for help, but knowing the type of building I lived in, I doubted anyone would come.
“It’s not here.” Remembering Ivan’s rant about how I should have secured the money, I averted my gaze and said, “It’s in a safe deposit box at the bank.”
Uncle Frank stepped forward, raising his gun. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You have the same tells your father does when he’s lying. He always looks away, too. Now I will not ask you again. Where is my money?”
I went on offense. Placing my hands on my hips, I asked, “What the fuck were you and Uncle Harry thinking, sending me that money anyway? Why the hell did you involve me?”
“We couldn’t risk sending it to a post office box, and you’re the only one we knew with a permanent address. Stop stalling. Hand it over.”
“Where is Uncle Harry? How come he hasn’t answered any of my calls?”
“He’s in Russia. I haven’t heard from him in over a week.”
Over a week? Was it possible Ivan had done something to Uncle Harry? It hadn’t occurred to me before this, but that would explain why he hadn’t called me back. After all, Ivan would have had to have gotten my contact information from someone. Someone had to have told him I was the one with the money. I assumed it had been Uncle Harry, but until I’d witnessed how Ivan treated Oliver last night, it hadn’t actually dawned on me Ivan would have hurt him in order to get that information.
I tilted my head and stared at Uncle Frank in shock. “What if something happened to him?”
Uncle Frank shrugged as he scratched under his jaw with the muzzle of the gun. “Then there’s more money for me.”
“He’s your brother!”
“So was your father. You don’t see me giving a shit that he’s in jail. Every man for himself.”
That seemed to be the Prescott family motto, that and ‘what’s in it for me.’ They hadn’t given a damn about me when I was a little girl tossed into the foster system because no one in my dear family cared enough to claim me. It disgusted me that even to this day, part of me wanted their acceptance. Part of me was still that little girl, hoping to feel like she belonged to a family that would love and protect her. It was hard replacing the deep sense of connection that came from sharing the same blood. No matter how many times they kicked me aside, I still came back for more, still hoped that this time it would be different. I guess deep down I couldn’t accept how cold-hearted and unfeeling they all were. I kept thinking that they would change. That one day a switch would go on and they would realize that I was family.
It was strange reconciling those feelings with the more logical side of my brain that screamed run away run far away anytime any of them were involved. The logical side knew they were poison, knew they were trash not worthy of my love or attention. It was just hard overruling the broken heart of the little girl I once was.
It scared me that these were the same reasons I couldn’t seem to resist submitting to Ivan’s overpowering presence. I knew he was poison, too. I knew he was dangerous. I knew he was a criminal. I knew he was going to disappoint me and break my heart and yet even as I was preparing to run away from him, my heart was resisting… asking what if and maybe.
Yep, no matter how hard I tried to better myself, I was still that stupid, neglected girl.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t have your money.”
Uncle Frank’s arm lashed out, snatching me by the hair. He yanked on it hard as he forced my body to bend in half. His knee came up to slam into my stomach. My shoulders jerked as I gagged and coughed.
“You better be lying again, bitch.”
My vision blurred with tears as I clutched my stomach, trying not to vomit from the sickening pain. “I’m not. I don’t have it. Some Russian men came and took it.”
He yanked on my hair again, forcing my body back up. The movement caused a fresh wave of nausea. “What Russians? What were their names?”
There was no reason I shouldn’t tell him Ivan’s name. I’d said all along I had no skin in this game. This was all between Ivan and my uncles. I just wanted to be left out of it, but they kept dragging me back into the middle. Yet, I didn’t want to give my uncle the satisfaction. It was a small stupid rebellion, but at least it was something.
Keeping my gaze steady on his beady little black eyes, I lied straight to his face. “I didn’t bother to ask. It was two large Russian men with guns. They grabbed the boxes and left. Mostly what they said was in Russian and I didn’t understand.”
Uncle Frank released his grip on my hair and paced the small confines of my apartment. Callously crushing my meager possessions beneath his boots. They weren’t much, but they were mine. I had worked day and night to scrape together enough money to buy the clothes and furniture he was destroying. I swiped at a tear that coursed down my cheek.
Uncle Frank lashed out and punched a hole in the wall. “Fuck!”
Without thinking, I raced toward him. “Hey! I’m going to
have to pay for that damage, you asshole.”
His arm swung out, hitting my right eye with his closed fist. I fell backward, slamming my back against the wall as I held a hand to my face.
Unrepentant, Uncle Frank grabbed the front of my dress and shoved the gun against the hollow of my cheek. “Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
Blood pounded in my ears as fear weakened my limbs. My eye didn’t even hurt yet. I knew it would the second my adrenaline stopped pumping.
Small drops of spittle fell from his lips. “Tell me what you remember.”
Tamping down the spiteful urge to remind him he’d just told me not to talk, I inhaled a shaky breath and said, “It all happened so fast. I returned home, and they were waiting for me. They had guns. They had already torn the apartment apart looking for the money. I had hidden it as best I could, but it was no use.” I figured the best lie was closest to the truth. Hopefully, Uncle Frank wouldn’t notice I was describing this very scenario.
“Did they mention my name or Harold’s?”
“They mentioned Harold’s.”
Uncle Frank spun away. I sagged against the wall as I watched him pace again. He beat the side of the gun against his forehead as he mumbled about needing to score to get out of town. Well, at least we had that in common. We both had no intention of sticking around Chicago.
Uncle Frank approached me and raised the Glock. He pulled back the slide, cocking it. Pointing it only a few inches away from my face, he raged, “This is all your fault.”
I dug my nails into the sides of my thighs through the thin fabric of my dress to keep myself from passing out in fear. The pain focused me. “This is an apartment building. If you shoot me, there will be witnesses. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison just like my father.”
He said nothing, just kept the gun pointed at me. Outside, there were the murmurings of conversation as two people walked up to the building and entered through the main door. There was a distant police siren. I waited, holding my breath.
Uncle Frank abruptly lowered the gun and turned. Kicking my now broken jewelry box to the side, he stormed toward the door. He turned to make one last threat. “You’re going to pay for this.”
The moment the apartment door slammed shut, my knees gave out. I slid along the wall to land on the floor. I hissed as my fingers pressed along the bone of my right eye socket. Forcing myself to stand, I walked into the trashed bathroom and looked at my reflection, tilting my head to the left and right to inspect the damage. At least he only got the bone and not the eye itself. Black eyes were much harder to hide when the blood vessels in the eyes burst. The bruise hadn’t formed yet, but I knew it would. I hated I knew that from experience.
I retrieved my purse and called the office. “I need to speak with Larry.”
After a moment, he got on the phone. “Dylan, where the hell are you? You should have been at work an hour ago.”
“Listen, Larry. I have a family emergency. I need to leave town for a few days. I’m going to swing by the office and pick up my latest commission check.”
“No way.”
“Larry, you owe me that money.”
“Listen, kid. I’ll pay you, but you have to go show this penthouse over in the Golden Triangle for me first. They asked for you specifically.”
“Larry, I can’t. Really, I can’t.”
“No showing. No check.”
“You can’t do that! You owe me that money.”
“So, sue me.”
“You’re a real asshole, you know that, Larry?”
“Yeah, but I’m a rich asshole who owns the company, so what’s it going to be?”
“If I show this penthouse, you’ll give me my check?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“I doubt you were ever a fucking Boy Scout, Larry.”
“Yeah. You’ll get your stupid check.”
Dammit, I needed that money to get out of town. “Text me the address and details.”
I hung up without hearing his response.
I reached under the sink for my makeup bag. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to hide a black eye. Making sure I still had the correct heavy concealer, I leaned over and turned on the shower, grateful that at least the universe had given me hot water today. I mean, it had pretty much smacked me around and screwed me every other which way, but at least I had hot water.
I could do this. I would slap on a ton of eye makeup and wear my hair down. I’d show the house, get my check, and be on a bus out of town before Ivan or my uncle even knew I was missing.
In a weird way, my uncle showing up and trashing my place had brought me back to my senses. I couldn’t believe I’d actually been considering hanging around and taking Ivan up on his offer to wine and dine me over the next few weeks while he was in town. I was almost dumb enough to break my promise to myself to never date a criminal, all for some admittedly mind-blowing hot as hell sex. How could I have been so stupid? Just thinking about last night had me groaning and not in a good way. I would be damn lucky if I wasn’t already pregnant.
Stop.
Just stop.
One crisis at a time.
That was all I could handle, or I was going to curl up into a tiny little ball and just cry.
I stepped out of the shower and swiped my hand over the fogged mirror. I flashed my fake real estate agent smile. Everything was going to be fine.
Chapter 16
Ivan
I tucked the jewelry box into my jeans’ back pocket as I entered the elevator and punched in the code for the penthouse. I knew Dylan would disobey me and try to go back to work, so I called her office and arranged for her to show me an available penthouse.
I surprised myself by not minding this little cat-and-mouse game she insisted on playing with me. It was amusing trying to keep one step ahead of her. Never in my life had I encountered such an independent, spirited woman. Usually, the women in my life fell all over themselves to please me. I couldn’t recall ever having to chase one around a city before. I found the challenge of bringing Dylan to heel far more pleasurable. She was making what would have been a rather mundane business trip to the States very entertaining.
My plan was simple. I would surprise her with a necklace of perfectly matched black Tahitian pearls with diamond accents, and then we would fuck.
Later, I would punish that cute backside of hers with my leather belt for disobeying me. I had a feeling I would have to get creative with my punishments over the next few weeks. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind my little doll would be receiving many of them.
I could not wait to see the black iridescent pearls with their purple and gold sheen against her pale skin. Technically, the fake necklace I had destroyed was typical ivory pearls, but black pearls suited her better. There was more mystery and allure to black pearls.
If she still wanted ivory pearls, I would buy them for her as well. Hell, I’d buy her a chest full of pearls if she wanted. The idea had appeal. I thought of her naked in the center of my bed, covered in shimmering strands of pearls. Perhaps after I fucked her, I would take her back to the jewelry store and buy them out of pearls.
When I entered the main entrance hall, she was in the living area. She was turned away, staring into a makeup compact. Her hair was falling in a cascade of curls down her back. She had on a dark blazer and a long ivory pleated skirt. On one hand, it disappointed me to not see her gorgeous legs, but on the other I was pleased she had dressed so conservatively. I didn’t like the idea of her showing off her body to another man.
My brow furrowed. The more I considered her chosen profession, the more I was determined to force her not to work and not just for this trip, but for good.
She was here alone and unprotected, waiting for a strange man to meet her.
Men were dangerous, cruel beasts. I should know.
With each step I took toward her, my anger grew. Gone were my thoughts of seduction. All I could think about was how
vulnerable she was in this moment. My first thought was why weren’t the men in her family providing for her so she wouldn’t have to work, but then I remembered just who her so-called family was. If Harry Prescott was any example, it was no surprise they were not protecting her better.
Well, that would change starting now. From this point forward, Dylan would be under my protection. If I had to tie her to the bed for the rest of my trip to keep her safe, I would. In fact, it would be my pleasure to do so.
It would be easier to take care of her once I got her to Russia. She would have no connections and could not speak the language. The idea of having her under my complete control and dependent on me for her every need while she remained under my roof in Moscow had its appeal. Perhaps I would cut my business trip short and fly her back there by the end of the week. She would try to object, of course, but once I had her on my private plane, there would be nothing she could do about it. Besides, there were many intriguing ways to silence her protests.
She turned as I approached.
Her beautiful eyes widened, then she turned her back on me.
Something was wrong.
Dylan looked down so her hair fell forward, covering most of her face. “Ivan, what are you doing here?”
Ignoring her question, I stepped in front of her. She turned away.
Frustrated, I wrapped my hand around her upper arm and pulled her toward the windows. Pushing the heavy curtain aside, I tried to get a look at her face in the sunlight.
She pulled back, turning her head away. “What are you doing?”
My gaze narrowed. “Why do you have so much makeup on?”
She huffed. “Well, thanks to someone, I didn’t exactly get a lot of sleep last night, so I compensated with a little extra blush and mascara.”
I snatched her chin and tilted her face back. “You’re lying.”
She broke free and bolted for the door. I caught up with her in two steps. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pulled her off the floor.
