by L. L. Ash
“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t,” Daniel bit out. “But whoever you’re seeing is no longer. You will not see him again. Do you hear me? Tată will have something to say about this.”
With that Daniel stormed out of the room, cue where I came upon the story.
I flipped back to the live feed and saw that Mila was gone and all I could hear were the sounds of the shower.
“Fuck...” I mumbled, rubbing at my eyes again.
Ok, so the timeline has advanced. That just meant I had to kick it into high gear, because the whole eliminating the target plan B wasn’t exactly an option to me anymore. I didn’t think I’d be able to live with that on my conscience. Besides the fact that I was starting to feel...something for the woman.
Shoving that out of my brain, I dressed in some sweats and started zoning in on what I could do next to woo the hell out of her. It had to be soon, or else I would find her whisked away and I really, really didn’t want to chance an extraction from the Popov compound. If the seduction didn’t work, I needed a new plan B.
Mila
Tată wouldn’t even look at me, and Danny would only scowl when I met his eyes. How dare they treat me like that!
I mean, I knew why, but it still broke my heart. Instead of some empathy, they gave me scorn for wanting to have some sort of good memory to hold onto while I lived prisoner to a man who could snuff me out with the flick of his wrist.
All for power.
All for money.
When we got to the Brotherhood compound, the men seemed surprised that we had showed up, but they let us through the iron gates before escorting us to the main building where the Popov’s lived.
We were brought into the office where Tată often met with Nico, and like the other times, the man was there, staring at us like we’d interrupted.
“What do I owe this...pleasure?” he drawled, looking first from Tată, to Danny, and then to me where he let his eyes linger.
“The girl insisted on checking her dress,” Tată said to Nico. “And I have some business with you. I’m afraid two more weeks is too long to wait. I must return to Romania by the end of the week.”
My lungs jerked with a gasp.
Nico showed his teeth in his displeasure before waving me away and focusing on Tată.
Danny led me to the staircase where we found Kir, who looked at us surprised for just a flash of a moment before a wicked grin spread over his face.
“We weren’t expecting you today,” he said, eyeing Danny.
“She was too eager to see her dress,” Danny said, using Tată’s excuse. “You can’t keep the girl away.”
The way my little brother called me a ‘girl’ definitely rubbed me the wrong way, but I was too distracted by the light of mischief that sparked behind Kir’s eyes.
“Good. I’ll show her the way. You may go.”
Danny’s jaw worked for a moment, but then he turned to me, then finally showed me his back. He didn’t even have to say it. I knew what he said with the simple gesture. He’d protected me as much as he could, but I had put myself in this situation. Whether that was true or not, he had washed his hands of me.
“Come,” Kir said simply, waving his hand for me to lead the way up the stairs.
I went, not wanting to disobey and get on his bad side before we even married.
He led me up to the sewing room where Zoya was with the seamstresses working on my dress.
“Mila? Doch, what are you doing here?” Zoya asked with a frown.
“Get her dress ready,” Kir said, not leaving me any room to answer his mother.
“What?” Zoya asked. “The wedding isn’t for two weeks!”
“She wants to try it on, Mama. Get the dress ready.”
Zoya frowned further, but did as he demanded and between her and the woman, they got the dress together enough to slip it over my head.
“You may wait outside, Kir,” Zoya said to her son.
“I’ll wait here,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest.
Zoya looked like she wanted to protest, but she simply sighed and agreed before waving me over and behind a privacy screen.
The two women helped slide the dress over my head, then they pinned it closed because they’d been working on the zipper.
“Is it like you remember?” Zoya asked me, sadness in her eyes.
She knew what I was feeling, and yet she did nothing.
“It is,” I agreed, trying to smile even though putting the dress on made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.
“Let me see,” Kir called from the other side of the screen.
“It’s not finished, rebenok.”
“I don’t care, Mama.”
I watched Zoya frown further before ushering me out from behind the panel where Kir stood just as he did before, looking absolutely intimidating.
Nerves misfired in my belly as I tried not to shake. Something felt so wrong about what was happening, but I couldn’t place my finger on it.
“Leave,” Kir said simply to the two women behind me.
The seamstress turned and left without another word, but Zoya at least tried to put up some sort of effort to save me from the brutal mobster.
“Mama, I will not ask again.”
Zoya turned to me and frowned further, her jaw clenched as she squeezed my hands, and then she went out that door, leaving me alone with my intended.
Being alone with him shouldn't have initiated terror in me, but it did. I knew he was a dangerous man, but he wouldn’t hurt me, right?
“You are a beautiful woman, Mila,” Kir said, taking one, then two steps toward me.
“Spasibo,” I thanked him.
He got closer, still easing forward until his chest bumped mine and I was backing up just to try not to fall over. My back hit the wall behind me as my heels caught on the long hem of my dress, causing me to teeter, but Kir’s hands flew up and grabbed my elbows, holding me up as he invaded my space again.
“You will make me beautiful children, zhena.”
“I am not your wife yet,” I reminded him, the word making me squirm further, which only seemed to excite him.
“Soon,” he said simply, one arm dropping from my elbow.
I felt cool air brush my leg as the hem of my dress lifted, the puffy skirt catching on Kir’s arm as he cupped the back of my knee with his palm.
“You cannot...”
“I own you, Mila,” he said harshly. “Be a good girl and it won’t hurt.”
My throat swelled and my words caught there as his hand dragged further up to my thigh, curling my leg around his hip.
“Da, you feel good,” he breathed against my neck, his teeth sinking into the skin there almost painfully as I gasped and whined in horror, my whole body shaking by that point.
His fingers curled around my white lace panties and he pulled them down to my thighs before pushing his hips into mine, smashing his manhood into my tender mound.
My eyes squeezed closed as I sobbed silently, tears streaking down my face unbidden.
“Da,” he hummed again, driving me harder into the wall with his shoulder as his fingers dug between my thighs, finding the wetness there in my dark curls.
A grin spread across his face as he thrust his finger into me with a satisfied groan.
“So tight. You really are a virgin, aren’t you?”
My sobs finally burst past my throat at the stinging pain his invasion caused, and that made him seem to break out of his lust-filled thoughts.
“Since you are innocent, I will wait,” he said, dragging his finger out of me and yanking my panties back up, giving me an accidental wedgie in the process.
He took a step back from me and lifted his hand, wrapping his mouth around the finger that was just inside me.
“I await you anxiously, little zhena,” he told me finally before going to the door and leaving me there alone.
When the door closed with a sharp slam, I slid to the floor and fell face-first in
to the wooden floor, my hands covering my eyes as I tried to shove away all the horror that had just happened.
“Doch,” came Zoya’s voice as she flew back into the room, dropping to her knees beside me and throwing her arms around me while I sobbed. “You are ok. You are alive. You are well, doch. Put it aside. Bear it and do not show them your weakness. Give them no weakness.”
I pushed the tears down, shoving it all back into that little box that I’d created a very long time ago and I sealed it closed. I couldn’t deal with it now. I needed to hold it all together. Kir had seen too much of my weakness already, and I didn’t have the privilege to feel and be soft around men like him.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, the first time I voiced the thought out loud.
Zoya looked me in the eye with so much pain reflected back in hers and she assessed me.
“Do you have a place to go?” she asked in nothing more than a faint breath.
“I—”
Did I? Did I have someone to run to when things got hard? Not my brother, and certainly not Tată.
Max. I had Max.
“If you can get away, then fly. If you cannot, then do not try. They will come after you and if they find you, you will be killed.”
My breaths grated in and out of my lungs like little shards of glass, but I still fought hard for each and every one.
“Can you help me?” I begged her.
“I cannot,” she said, shaking her head firmly.
I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.
“Talk no more about it,” she told me, narrowing her eyes on me in warning before she stood and went to the teapot that was no doubt tepid.
She poured me a cup, then motioned for me to sit on the little sofa that took up one part of the wall in dark red velvet with tufted arms. Sitting, she handed me the cup, then straightened her back.
“Firm. Tough. You will be ok, doch.”
I just nodded even though my brain was quickly spiraling into depressed blackness.
Max: Dinner?
The text from Max made me smile for the first time since we returned from the Popov compound.
Me: Please.
Max: Six too early? Maybe five instead?
I gave a choked little laugh, tears filling my eyes as a rush of warmth filled my belly at the thought of seeing him again.
I couldn’t think of my impending marriage. My thoughts had been stuck on Kir all day and the awful situation I’d found myself in. But I had also considered a dark, rebellious thought in the back of my mind.
If Tată and Danny already thought I was messing around with a man, then why didn’t I? Why couldn’t I experience, just once, what it would feel like to take a man into myself from pure lust and desire instead of barely tolerating the ministrations of a beast.
That afternoon had given me a glimpse into the life I was to have, full of unwanted advancements that I would not be able to stop for fear of abuse or even death.
I wanted just one time to be for carnal enjoyment. At least then I would have a happy place to go when I was used by my future husband.
Me: My vacation is ending early. I go home in a few days.
Max:What? I thought you had three weeks.
Me: I did. Something came up and my father needs to return home.
Max: Then dinner isn’t enough.
Me: Dinner is enough. Order into your room and I will be there at six.
He didn’t answer, but I assumed by his silence that he agreed. Max wasn’t the type of man to be told what to do, so he must already be planning the date.
Six o’clock was only a little more than an hour away. I had just enough time to get the scent of my intended off of me and prepare myself for what I had in mind. Poor Max would never see it coming.
Chapter Eleven
Maxim
My brain wouldn’t stop trying to figure out what she was doing. Inviting herself to my room? She had something planned, that much was obvious. But what?
I slid into my suit jacket for the millionth time since reaching Russia and went to light the candles that I’d gone to the market for especially to make the dinner romantic. Our meals were already delivered and sitting on the small dinette table in my suite with the domed cloches on them to keep it all warm.
My body tensed when a knock sounded on the door, but I forced myself to relax.
I was a pro. I could handle whatever she had to throw at me, and I would turn it in my favor.
“Mila,” I greeted the woman who looked beautiful and sophisticated in a simple, black, knee-length dress.
“Hello Max,” she said with a forced grin.
I motioned her to enter and she did, looking around at my room as if she hadn’t seen it before.
“What is Max short for?” she blurted.
With bubblegum pink cheeks, she looked embarrassed by the question that had popped out of her mouth in her nervous state.
“Maxim.”
“Maxim,” she repeated quietly, meeting my eyes.
Determination reflected back at me and I wondered what she was preparing herself to do.
Her movements were jerky and unsure, which spoke to nervousness again, but she smiled at me as if she was truly happy to see me. Had something happened during her visit to the compound?
“I’m glad you could meet me for dinner. I...missed you today.”
Was that laying it on too thick? Hard-to-get was pretty out of the question by that point, so all I had left was a lover’s desperation.
She smiled sweetly back at me and put her palm to my cheek, already rough with my daily stubble.
“I missed you too, my Maxim. I was happy when you texted. This change of plans has me rattled.”
Yeah, marrying a mob boss earlier than expected can do that to a person.
“You’ll be going back to Romania?” I asked her, just to see what she would say.
She just gave a sad smile and turned to the table.
“Dinner smells delicious.”
“It’s room service,” I admitted, still trying to feel her out.
I kept getting mixed messages all over the place.
“That will be wonderful,” she said and took her spot at the table, waiting for me to push in her chair.
I did, then sat across from her.
Then we looked at each other again.
Taking the initiative, I took off both cloches and revealed the identical crayfish cream soup appetizers.
The main dishes still sat on the cart just to the side of the table alongside a chilled bottle of sweet, white wine.
It was so awkward as I popped the cork and poured our glasses.
“Is everything ok?” I asked her after several minutes of silence.
The sound of my voice made her jerk, her fingers wrapped around her spoon.
With the small movement, her glass of wine flew off the table.
My hand flashed out and I caught it before she even turned to the thing. With a shocked hand pressed to her chest, she looked me in the eyes with surprise in hers.
Shit… normal people didn’t have reflexes like that. But dropping it at that point wasn’t an option.
“Lucky catch,” I told her, trying to defuse the tension with a crooked grin that she usually loved.
She took the glass back when I extended it to her and set it back onto the table, still watching me.
I licked my lips, then tried to go back to the soup in front of me. It was delicious, but my taste buds were the last thing I was worried about.
“Max?” Mila said suddenly, her voice confident for the first time all night.
I strangled away my awkwardness as I kept on with that grin of mine.
“Yes my little kisa?” I asked.
She smiled, then stood.
“I want it to be you,” she said, looking down into my eyes. “I’m ready now.”
My throat dried as I blinked.
Did she mean what I thought she meant? Was she talking sex?
Was
I really so lucky to have this success just thrown into my lap?
I stood too, keeping her eyes on me, except now she was looking up at me.
“You want what to be me?” I asked.
No, I fucking demanded. I was in no mood to be teased.
“My first time. I want it to be you.”
Well fuck me. I guess lady luck isn’t dead after all.
Mila
My throat was all sticky as I waited for him to say something.
Anything.
His face was blank as he stared down at me, and it stayed that way for what felt like five lifetimes.
“Are you sure?” I heard him ask in a low, quiet voice.
I needed the feeling of Kir’s hands off me, and I wanted to be able to live forever in the feeling of him wrapped around me for a night.
My nod was all he needed.
Head dipping down, he took my lips in one smooth movement, working them as if we’d kissed our entire lives.
I hummed my pleasure against his mouth and let him in, our tongues dancing that sensual waltz of a man and a woman attracted to each other. No, it was more than that. It was a promise of what was to come.
A growl resonated against my lips as he backed me up. Flashes of being pressed against the wall with Kir tried to invade my mind, but I pushed it back out to enjoy this short time with the man that I had come to love.
Oh God… Yes, love.
I gave him everything, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust as he prepared me for the coming sensations. His fingers curled around my thigh and he moved my leg until it was hiked around his hip, then he did the same with the other. He held me in his arms like it was nothing, his hands still gripping my thighs so tight it was almost painful. But it was good pain. Pleasure.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against the vulnerable skin of my neck. “Perfect...”
I threaded my fingers through his hair as his mouth wandered further, down my neck, to my shoulders as we shifted, moving away from the table and our dinner and toward the bed.
He didn’t lay me down on the bed, but instead set me gently to my feet at the side of it. Gingerly, he pulled his hands away from me and instead stroked down the soft fabric of my dress.