“Not again.”
“No muscles, no bones,” Zain muttered. “And my brain has stopped working. You’ve broken me.”
“You’ll be my little doll.”
Zain glared. “My glare has not stopped working.”
But Zain wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck and sank into him.
“I have no words for how I feel,” Zain whispered in Roman’s ear.
“Was that another first?”
“Yep. I had no idea. Do you have any more surprises?”
“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”
“How did someone discover how good that felt?”
Roman laughed. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“I was so relieved when I managed to say don’t stop. They had to be the most important words I’ve ever wanted to say and I know I hadn’t been making much sense and I thought if I don’t tell him, he’ll stop…oh fuck. Did I make it? How long did I last?”
“You had one minute to go.”
“You liar.” Zain grinned.
“Hungry yet?”
“Starving.”
They got out of the tub, dried off and picked up their clothes, but when Roman headed for the stairs, Zain pulled him toward the lift.
“You’ve exhausted me,” Zain said with a moan.
Zain pressed the button, the doors opened and they stepped inside. As the doors closed, Zain said, “Lift sex. You have to come before we get to the top floor.”
Roman raised his eyebrows. But when the lift started moving, he pressed the stop button. The alarm sounded. Zain leaned back against the wall and watched as Roman took lube and a condom from the pocket of his jeans.
“Hands and knees,” Roman said.
Zain’s heart thumped but he did as he was told. Moments later, he felt Roman’s cock pressing against his hole. Pressing, pressing until he slid all the way in and their balls knocked together.
“Oh fuck,” Roman grunted as he thrust into him.
He slid his hands under Zain’s chest and pulled him up onto his knees and Zain planted his hands on the wall of the lift. Every drive felt better than the one before. Roman was striking his prostate and Zain’s vision blurred.
“Oh God,” Zain groaned. “Lift sex is the best.”
Roman was fucking him hard and fast when a guy’s tinny voice asked, “Do you need assistance?”
Roman froze. “Sorry. Just testing the system before the property is sold.”
“You should have advised us.”
“I apologise.”
“I’ll reset.” The alarm stopped sounding.
Roman reached up to press the button for the second floor. Then he started fucking him to the point that Zain wondered if he could possibly come again. His cock was definitely showing signs of interest. The lift doors opened, then closed and Roman was still fucking him until he suddenly tensed and his cock jerked inside Zain.
“Fuuuuuck.”
They collapsed on the floor of the lift wrapped in each other’s arms.
“That was quick thinking,” Zain said. “I was about to ask him if he’d like to join us.”
Roman chuckled. “You’re all mine.”
“Are you back to being bossy?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Seventeen
When Zain woke the following morning, Roman had brought him toast and coffee. Just a simple thing but the last person to make him breakfast in bed had been his mother and now Zain had a painful lump in his throat. He picked up a piece of toast and bit into it, trying to stop himself crying.
“You okay?” Roman asked.
“Wha… What’s that on the tray?” There was a small pile of white powder.
“Self-raising flour. It’s a joke.” Roman huffed. “Not funny if I have to explain it.”
“Breakfast with a flower.” Zain grinned.
“If we’d been at my place, I’d have picked you a daisy.”
“So you do have a romantic bone.”
“One.”
Zain laughed. Roman was wearing his suit and looked…so fucking hot. An urbane businessman, even if he did crooked things. He looked nothing like the guy he’d been downstairs, all wild-eyed and sweaty and…dominant. Zain’s gaze dropped to the tie, the one used as a gag.
“Did the teeth marks come off?” Zain asked. “And all my saliva?”
As Roman fingered the tie, his lips quirked in a smile. “Every time I touch this I’ll remember.”
“Remember what?”
“Full of questions today?” Roman sat on the bed, leaned over and kissed him.
Zain wrapped his fingers around the tie and pulled Roman in hard. He tasted of toothpaste and Roman, and Zain’s head began to swim.
As the kiss grew more passionate, Roman pulled back groaning. “No time. I’m meeting my girlfriend at ten.”
He straightened his tie and stared at Zain.
“You going to see Arkady too?” Zain asked.
“Yes. Neither meeting is going to be easy.” The way Roman swallowed told Zain he was nervous.
“Can’t you just write a resignation letter? Or a short note saying I quit or I’m leaving the office and don’t plan on returning? Or tell them you’re going to live on the International Space Station and commuting would be tricky?”
Roman smiled. “I’ll try that one. I’m going to call at the flat and pick up a few clothes. We’ll have to move from here if I manage to convince Arkady I’m serious.”
Zain gave a heavy sigh. “You resign or we can keep the pool and that room? That’s a more difficult decision.” He sat up and caught hold of Roman’s hand. “All I want is you, safe. You know that, don’t you? Be careful. Don’t get into any strange cars. Especially don’t get into any car boots.”
“I’ll try not to. Do you fancy a few days at the coast?”
“Cornwall?”
“Don’t you have a test to take on Monday? I was thinking somewhere a bit closer. Brighton. Big enough to disappear into for a few days. We could hire bikes. Explore the coast. Eat fish and chips. Play crazy golf.”
“Who are you? What did you do with Roman?”
“You made a new one.” Roman stroked Zain’s hand with his thumb. “You really did.” He pushed himself up from the bed. “I have to go. See you later.”
“See you later.”
Zain had almost forgotten about the UCAT. Almost. It was a reminder that he needed to do some more practice papers to get his head in the right place. He ate all the toast though it didn’t ease the discomfort in his stomach. He was scared for Roman.
So much had happened in such a short space of time. From being a guy who had still been coming to terms with his sexuality, he’d been thrown into the heart of it. In Syria, he’d hardly been able to think about what being gay meant. He’d known he liked guys but he hadn’t taken the thought further. He’d not been able to google. He had no one to ask. He wouldn’t have dared to ask anyway. BDSM was—had been as alien to him as a foreign planet. But Roman had wanted to tell him, to show him and Zain would try to find the interest in it that Roman had.
The idea of ceding control had appealed. Did appeal. After all Zain had been through, the notion of not having to worry, not having to think, only needing to feel while Roman looked after him—yep, that might be comforting. He liked Roman. More than liked him. Whatever ride Roman wanted to take him on, Zain would be at his side.
Once he’d showered and dressed, he sat in the kitchen and called Sadie to tell her he wouldn’t be coming in to help on Sunday and probably not ever again. Zain knew she was annoyed with him but there was nothing he could do. He definitely couldn’t explain. When his heart had stopped thumping, he went online and managed to find a UCAT paper he’d not done before.
The first question involved reading a passage about Facebook and identifying false positive and false negative errors. By the time he’d completed the section, Zain’s head was buzzing. His English was very good but the scenarios they used as a basis for the
questions weren’t ones he was familiar with, which made verbal reasoning hard. He didn’t have, nor did he want, a Facebook page. The medical based questions were easier but not easy. He hoped his not-very-good score at the end was down to him being worried about Roman and feeling guilty about letting the hospital down.
He found another test and started again, his mind still half-on Roman, wondering if he was all right. Zain hoped that joke about strange cars and car boots didn’t come back to haunt him.
On the way to see Helen, Roman dropped off all but one of the bags of clothes and shoes at a Cancer Research charity shop along with the inflatable mattress, and also had a key cut for the Mayfair house. They were meeting in the Wallace Collection café in Manchester Square. He had the usual issue with parking and she was already waiting when he arrived, sitting at the edge of the glass-roofed alfresco dining area, staring into her phone. He bent to kiss her cheek, just in case anyone was watching, put the bag on the floor closer to her than him, then sat opposite. His phone was set to record. Another just in case.
The waitress descended almost at once. Helen always ordered the same thing. Mushroom and truffle omelette and a latte. Roman had his usual too, scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and black coffee.
“What’s in the bag?” Helen asked.
“There’s a hidden room at the back of the master closet in the Mayfair house. What was inside is in the bag. Bondage gear. I was supposed to get rid of it but I thought you should have it in case that housekeeper has come to harm.”
Helen winced. “Right. When can I get someone into the house?”
“Give me the device and I’ll install it.”
She leaned back and eyed him carefully. “That’s not the way this works.”
“That’s up to you but it would be the last thing I’m prepared to do for you.”
“You’re not going to install—What do you mean?”
“I quit.” He watched her as intently as she was watching him. She looked slightly perturbed but he could see it masked irritation.
“Why?” she finally asked.
“Because I’ve had enough. I don’t enjoy deceiving people. I don’t enjoy doing bad things no matter how virtuous the reason, particularly when the reason isn’t all that virtuous. It’s gone on long enough. I’m stressed, I’m tired and I don’t want to be around these people anymore.”
She regarded him with sharp eyes. “Why now? What’s changed?”
For a brief moment, Roman considered telling her the truth, not Zain’s name but… He went with a half-truth. “I’ve changed. I’m questioning how much use I actually am to you.”
“You know you’re valuable.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? I’ve given you enough information to take Dima and Qash down for sex trafficking but they’re still operating, still bringing women into the country, still selling them on. You chose to take down only parts of their operation and all that did was delay them until they set the process up again. You had a better chance of turning Arkady when you could make a deal over Dima. But when Sheripov was killed, everything changed. Maybe Arkady wouldn’t turn anyway, but Dima and Qash are dangerous. I don’t think Dima has ever trusted me, but now he’s bugged my flat, either you or he bugged my new car, and I’ve temporarily moved out. You have my old car. There must be DNA evidence. Act on it.”
“We’re still running tests.”
Roman sucked in his cheeks. Why had he bothered? “Fine. I don’t care anymore. I’m not going to work for you any longer and I’m not going to work for Arkady either.”
“Does this change of heart have anything to do with Zain Nasry?”
Roman didn’t blink, didn’t move a muscle though goose bumps raced down his arms and legs, and firecrackers exploded in his chest. He almost looked down to check they weren’t visible. Pointless to wonder how she knew. Her question wasn’t really a question. Zain was his drop of blood in the shark tank.
“They want him dead. I don’t,” Roman said finally. “I’d like to think you feel the same way about an innocent guy caught up in this darkness.”
The breakfast arrived and although Roman had lost his appetite, he made himself eat. He couldn’t afford to look weak.
“You’ve taken a huge risk getting involved with Nasry.”
How much do they fucking know? “I took a huge risk getting involved with you. I’m done, Helen.” He forked egg into his mouth and chewed.
“Have you forgotten what all this is about?” Her voice was still quiet but more insistent.
“I’m not the one who’s forgotten.”
“We need Arkady’s contacts. Money laundering is—”
“Don’t give me a lecture on money laundering. I’ve given you as much information as I can. I can’t get into his files.”
She made a scoffing sound. “With your hacking skills?”
“Even with those skills. I’ve already told you that any unauthorised attempt will activate a duress code.” As it would with his own laptop or his phone if anyone other than him tried to access his data, though since Roman was the one who’d installed Arkady’s duress code, he knew how to bypass it. It was his last card. “Why don’t you use one of the names I’ve already given you to persuade Arkady to cooperate?”
“Do you think he will?”
Unlikely. “Possibly.”
She sighed. “Give me a couple of weeks to sort something out.”
“No.” Roman pushed to his feet and dropped three ten-pound notes onto the table along with a key. “This is for the Yengalychev house in Mayfair. The alarm code is 1234 because they’re brainless idiots. Arkady wants to see the place this afternoon so don’t go there until after six.”
He could see no reason she wouldn’t believe the lie. He just needed time to leave with Zain.
“We could tell him about you, you know. Or tell Dima.” She was scowling now.
You bitch. “Threatening me isn’t going to make me change my mind. Saying that to me has just made me more convinced that we’re through. Do you think I don’t have things in place to protect me? I’m not stupid. I’ve done more than enough. We’re done.”
When she said nothing, Roman walked off. Things in place to protect me? A lie he hoped made her and her superiors think twice about betraying him and yet he knew all they needed to do was arrange for him to have an accident.
He called Arkady to check he was in, then drove to Holland Park. When he was able to park almost outside Arkady’s house, Roman wished he could see it as a good omen, but this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.
Natalya opened the door but she was on her way out. “He’s in the kitchen,” she said in Russian as she passed Roman.
Roman closed the door after her and walked through to the rear of the house. Arkady was speaking Russian on his phone. Roman started to reverse out but Arkady beckoned him forward and mouthed the word Yengalychev. It appeared to be a disagreement over the amount of commission Arkady intended to charge. After a heated exchange, Arkady calmed down and agreed a new price. When he’d switched off the phone, he turned to Roman and smiled.
“Still got more than I expected. I have two interested parties. Room look as good as it seemed on the picture?” he asked in Russian.
Which room? The bedroom or the one downstairs. “Yes.”
“You want a drink? Tea? Coffee? Help yourself.”
“I’m fine thanks.”
Arkady held tea in a glass cup. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m resigning.”
Arkady almost dropped his drink and put it on the coffee table. “Sit down.”
Roman sat opposite him.
“You want more money? You just have to ask.”
“It’s not about the money.”
“Of course it’s about the money. I need you, Roman. I wish I needed Dima but my son is a useless little shit who can’t be trusted.”
Oh fuck. “It really isn’t about the money. I’ve had enough. I want to do something different with
my life.”
“Like what?”
He should have thought of an answer to that beforehand. “I don’t know. I need time to think.”
“Then take a holiday. I can’t remember when you last went away. Take Helen somewhere exotic. The Caribbean. Bali. My treat.”
“I’m done with Helen.”
“Ahh. Is that the reason you want out? You’re depressed? Pissed off? It’s her loss. You’ll find someone else.”
“I’m tired, Arkady. I think I’m developing an ulcer. I don’t need any more stress.”
“Is this about Dima using your car and bugging your flat?”
Maybe that was his way out. “It didn’t help. I don’t approve of what he and Qash are doing. Treating vulnerable women as commodities is wrong on so many levels.”
“What we do is wrong too. You don’t have a problem with that. Didn’t have a problem.” Arkady gave a heavy sigh. “I can’t stop Dima. I’ve tried threats and bribes. He neither cares nor listens. You do listen. He takes drugs. You don’t. He can’t do your job. His head is never cool. He thinks I prefer you to him and he’s right, not that I’d ever tell him that. I could never replace your father but I’ve tried to be a father to you.”
“I know and I’m grateful but Dima is a problem for both of us. He’s jealous of our relationship. I worry he’ll find a way to destroy me.”
“You’re thinking of Sheripov and your car. The car’s gone now.”
Roman knew Arkady could end up hating him. It hurt more than he’d thought it would.
“I’ve had enough,” Roman repeated. He wondered how many times he’d have to say it before Arkady accepted it.
Arkady set his cup down. “I’m not sure I can do this without you.”
Roman stared at him. “Then stop doing it. You have more money than you can spend. Though probably not more than Natalya can spend.” Or the succession of young women who will undoubtedly follow.
Arkady chuckled.
“Could you stop?” Roman asked.
“If you stop swimming, you drown.”
“Then look for a life raft. Doesn’t have to be basic. A luxury yacht?”
“My solutions man. But although I pull your strings, someone else pulls mine.”
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