by Vivian Wood
My throat feels so tight that I can’t speak, so I nod instead.
He puts his bag and jacket aside, and reaches tentatively for my hand. I let him take it, focusing on his fingers twining through mine.
“You have given me more life, more happiness, than anyone I’ve ever known. Ljubim te. Moje srce je resnično in srce je za vedno.”
Ljubim te. I never got the chance to look it up but I know instinctively what it means. My eyes smart and I reach out with my free hand and run my fingers down the seam on his shirt, trying to distract myself. Trying to keep myself together, like he is.
“What—what was it you said? After I love you.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle “I said, My heart is true, and my heart is forever. I don’t know how I will live without your sweetness. I have known you, and now you will be an open wound in my heart for the rest of my life.”
I trace the place where I know the scar is over his heart, and tears spill down my face.
Misha takes my face in his hands and wipes the tears away with his thumbs. “Ljubica, please don’t cry. I can’t bear it.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I say in a cracked whisper. “I won’t die, but I will be an open wound, like you said. I will bleed out and live a half life from this moment on. A cursed life.” I put my hand on his chest and seek out the steady, strong thump-thump of his heart. “I think you’re going to die. You think it too, don’t you?”
“Ljubica,” he says, enfolding me in his arms. His grip is so tight I feel like he might crack my ribs, but I don’t care. However hard he holds me it will never be enough.
“You will always live in my heart, for as long as it keeps beating,” he says fiercely. “But I have to go, so that one day you can be free.”
He kisses my quivering, tear-streaked mouth and for a moment the world comes to a perfect stillness, like a raindrop suspended in the sky. There’s just Misha and his arms around me, and I want to live here forever, frozen in time and love.
But he breaks the kiss, and the raindrop plummets toward the ground. Time moves on. Misha turns away.
“Goodbye, ljubica. I will never, ever forget you.”
He picks up his bag and jacket and walks toward the plane. I stand with my arms wrapped around my shaking body, leaning against the car for support. I have to let him go. He’s doing what needs to be done and I have to let him do it. I watch him walk up the steps of the jet and see the figure of a flight attendant, ready to seal and lock the door behind him. He steps inside, and it starts to close.
“No!” I shout. I run to the steps and up them as fast as I can and slam my hands against the door. “Misha, no, open this door.”
The door swings open again and I see the flight attendant’s bewildered face. Then Misha comes back and I take hold of his arms. I’m no match for him but I drag him back out again. I’ll summon superhuman strength to keep him right here. Tears track down my face. “Please, don’t.”
He tries gently to pull away but I wrap myself around him. The whine of the engine is so loud and my hair is blowing all around us. I speak as loud as I can through a throat ragged with emotion. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here with me.”
Misha’s arm comes tight around my waist and his other hand smooths my hair back from my face. He gazes down at me. “Ljubica, you will never be free unless I do this.”
“I don’t want to be free. I just want to be with you.”
He groans and pulls me to him, slanting his mouth across mine in a bruising kiss. Then he’s holding me so tightly, kissing me like we’re drowning in each other and we never want to be saved.
Misha pulls away and looks down at me. “We’re fools, you realize? We’re absolute fools.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, determined to never let him go. “Then we will be fools here, together. I’d rather die by your side than let you go.”
Misha closes his eyes and cups my face in his hands, savoring my words. I sense the conflict in him, the desire to both leave to protect me and to stay here and love me.
“Ljubim te,” I whisper, and he pulls me even tighter against him until I’m devoured by his embrace. His heat and love burns through me and I feel that small, hopeful glow that he lit within me flicker into life once more.
Happiness.
Love wins out in the end. Love will always win. I will believe that until the day I die.
Hand in hand, we walk back to the car. To the security detail, to refreshing news reports again and again, to looking over our shoulder and waiting for the unthinkable to happen. But we will have each other, which is the most important thing of all.
We are fools. But we’re fools in love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ciara
We get back to the house and go straight to my bedroom, tearing clothes off each other in our haste to feel skin against skin. Just like the first time, he rips my briefs apart trying to get them off me and the tatters fall to the floor as we fall into bed. It’s pure desperation, this need to be wrapped around each other with nothing in between us. I take him in my mouth, caressing the hot length of him with my tongue while his fingers find my sex. It’s been a desert of time since we touched each other and I drink down his touch, his scent. I want his scent all over me. But soon even that closeness is not enough, and we need more.
He pauses just long enough to slide a condom on and pulls me down the bed toward him. It’s as if I’ve never felt him against me before. Never felt his hard chest beneath my hands or my thighs tight around his hips. Never felt his cock plunging into me, over and over. I wonder why I feel so naked beneath his touch and his gaze, when I remember that this is the first time that we’ve made love without any secrets between us.
I rake my nails down his chest, needing to mark him. Needing him to feel me as much as I’m feeling him right now. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He groans and grips my hair hard in his fist. “I’m never letting you go now. Do you understand, ljubica? I’m not letting you out of my sight and I don’t have it in me to leave again.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He turns me over and plants my hands on the headboard, and smacks me hard on the ass as he moves between my knees. “Good. We’re clear. You’re mine.” Then he’s slamming into me, without forgiveness or mercy.
“Misha,” I cry out raggedly. “My Misha.”
I lean back into him, arching my back, letting him give me everything he’s got.
After, I lie curled into him, stroking my fingers thoughtfully against his chest. “I need to do something while we’re here or else I’ll go mad. You’ve got your work, but I can’t continue my degree.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry about that. I know it’s your dream to be a lawyer.”
I know he means this. He was so concerned that I continue with my studies when he was my sugar daddy. “I found it interesting going through all your deals and spreadsheets and reports, and you explain everything so well.” We were hardly on the best of terms at the time, but I enjoyed the patient and clear way he explained everything to me. “I thought you could go on teaching me finance, and I think I would like to try investing some of the money in the Cayman accounts.”
He looks at me in surprise. “Are you sure you want to get involved with that money?”
“Damir did a lot of shitty things to get it. I think it will feel good to put it to good use. Schools in Syria. Renewable energy. There are so many possibilities.”
“But I was going to spend that on you. I thought a yacht called Ciara would suit you very well.”
I feel my cheeks heat with indignation. “I don’t want a yacht. I will not let you treat me like my parents did or like I’m still your sugar baby. I’m your partner.”
“Ljubica, I was joking.”
“Oh.”
“Though I hope that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you a little.”
“A little spoiling is nice,�
� I concede with a smile, rolling onto my belly and propping my chin on his chest. “You can bring me cups of coffee, or massage my shoulders when they’re sore from working too long. And I will do the same for you.”
“It’s a deal.” He lapses into silence after that, rubbing my back in thoughtful circles and staring at the ceiling.
“Is something worrying you?”
Misha heaves a sigh. “Yes. Bethany. My investigators still haven’t turned up any trace of her.”
I’ve thought several times about Bethany, wondering if I’m angry with her for being in on the secret with Misha. Now that I know everything, including the fact that she’s disappeared, I’m only worried about her. “Does she know what Damir is capable of?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, I think she’s terrified of him. Whenever he came to the office she would find excuses to stand close to me or behind furniture.”
Sensible girl.
“I keep reminding myself that she’s a clever young woman and she knows how to look after herself, but it doesn’t help. I still feel responsible for her. It would put my mind at rest if I knew she was safe.”
“Maybe if she can’t be found it’s a good thing, and means she’s hidden herself away somewhere.”
“Maybe,” he says, but I know he’s thinking about the alternative: that Damir has her. What if he tried to get information out of her about our whereabouts, and when she couldn’t help him, he killed her?
I sincerely hope not. If this is ever over, I’d like to be able to sit down with Bethany and get to know her better and thank her for her part in mine and Misha’s unconventional relationship.
“You know,” Misha says, a moment later, “Damir has done many terrible things, but he did give me something that I am beyond grateful for. Out of vengeance and cruelty, I have this wonderful gift.”
“What is that?” I ask, looking up at him.
Misha brushes his lips across mine. “You, ljubica. Ljubim te.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bethany
I open my eyes to an unusual amount of light coming through my bedroom window. Way too much light.
Shit. I slept through my alarm. Mr. Ravnikar’s going to be so pissy with me when I get into the office, doing his frowny thing and looking meaningfully at the clock on the wall. That’s worse than a bawling out. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.
When I get into the office, out of breath and a hot mess, it’s blissfully quiet. Maybe Mr. Ravnikar’s in bed with Ciara or something. The thought makes me grin as I wait for my computer to boot up and sip my coffee. Dirty old bugger. I’m glad he’s getting some at last.
It occurs to me I didn’t feel my phone buzz in my bag the whole way to the office. No Instagram DMs? No @s on Twitter? That can’t be right. Then I remember: when I left my date last night I put my phone on do not disturb so I wouldn’t have to deal with Callem calling to beg me to touch his dick.
Fuckboys. They’ll be the death of me.
I dig my phone out of my bag and see I have a dozen missed calls. Several from Callem—piss off—and even more from Mr. Ravnikar. Shit. Did I forget he had a flight somewhere? A meeting I was supposed to attend with him? Oh, god, I’m too tired for this. I call my voicemail, braced for my boss’s cold, sarcastic tones.
An electronic voice announces that this message was received at eleven-seventeen last night, and I roll my eyes in anticipation of hearing Callem’s voice. But it’s not, it’s Mr. Ravnikar, and he doesn’t sound sarcastic in the slightest. In fact, he doesn’t sound like I’ve ever heard him talk to me before.
“Bethany. Damir has found out about Ciara and me. It’s too dangerous for us to be in London. We’re leaving the country immediately and you need to get out as well. He’ll be coming for you as soon as he realizes we’re gone. When you get this message, get in a taxi and come to the private airport I use off the M11. Don’t pack. Just get your passport and go. Call me.”
I sit bolt upright in my chair. Oh, shit. Oh, shit! That was ten hours ago. Before I can even process the message an electronic voice announces another, received at twelve thirty-three this morning.
“Bethany. We have to take off. Do not go into the office. Leave the country immediately. There’s five hundred thousand pounds in your bank account. Use it to disappear. You won’t be able to contact me. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
I put my phone down slowly, trying to catch up with events that transpired hours earlier.
Do not go into the office. I look around. Too fucking late.
With shaking fingers I call Mr. Ravnikar’s cell, but the number has been disconnected. I go into his office, hoping that somehow, magically, he’ll be in there, surly and reassuring, but his chair is empty. I stare at it, wishing I could undo the events of the last twelve hours. Panic wells up, because I know I’ve missed out on something important. I should be with him and Ciara right now, safe and on the other side of the world. Instead, I’m here, alone.
“Get a hold of yourself, bitch,” I whisper fiercely. “You’ve got money. Time for a new plan.”
I won’t go to Heathrow. Planes are so predictable. I’ll go home and get my passport, and then I’ll catch a train to Plymouth and get a ferry across to Spain. Then I’ll just keep going and going until I feel safe. Five hundred thousand pounds, that will last me a while, but if I’m clever I’ll barely need to touch it. I’ll do what Ciara did and find a rich man to protect me from Damir.
As if I’ve summoned him by thought alone, the lights go out with a snap. Thin, gray daylight splashes over Mr. Ravnikar’s desk, but everything else is in darkness.
“Hello, Bethany.”
Goddamn it all to hell.
That voice. The prick of steel at my throat. The sticky blood on his forearms. The large, warm hand sliding down my belly to cup my sex. The surge of wetness he felt with his fingers, despite my terror. Because of my terror.
I turn around slowly, and Damir Ravnikar steps out of the darkness, the shadows playing over his cruel, handsome face. Black stubble on his jaw. Storm-cloud eyes. He’s smiling a smile so cold that it makes my blood freeze. He smiled just like that as he rubbed my clit, his other arm clamped around my throat so I couldn’t get away. Being forced to come and then come again as he whispered things in Slovenian I didn’t understand. He said the same thing to me in this office the day after Mikhail’s first date with Ciara.
Pridna punčka.
I whimper and back away from the only man who’s ever given me an orgasm.
A sob rises in my throat. I’ve left my phone on my desk. Fuck you, Mr. Ravnikar. Fuck you for leaving me behind. My hand lands on a pot plant. I snatch it up and hurl it at Damir’s head.
He’s faster, and he dodges to one side. The pot smashes through the inner glass wall of the office with a sound like a gunshot. The whole pane shatters, and broken glass explodes everywhere and falls in a shower to the floor. Damir doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are fastened on mine and he walks inexorably closer. My blood pounds hard in my lower belly and my breath comes faster.
It’s fear, it’s just fear. I’m not turned on. I’m not attracted to a killer. He keeps coming toward me, a tide of danger that I can’t hold back. I walk around behind Mikhail’s desk but Damir keeps coming.
“I’ve got some questions for you. Why don’t you take a seat?” He puts a heavy hand on my shoulder and forces me into the chair.
My nipples are hard buds poking through my bra and my shirt. His smile widens. The backs of his fingers brush against my cheek, mock-sympathy playing across his face.
“I guess he didn’t want you after all,” he murmurs, meaning Mr. Ravnikar, I suppose, and I wonder if he thought we were sleeping together.
“Don’t worry, baby. I want you. Girls like you…” His lips whisper across my cheek and he speaks into my ear. “You’re my favorite.”
LAP OF LUXURY, the dark and electric conclusion to the Love Don’t Cost a Thing Duet, is out now!
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Captive. Pet. Lover. Pawn…
Darkness lives inside Damir Ravnikar, and that darkness craves one thing: me. Rich, ruthless, and handsome as sin, Damir’s promised me the world to make up for my life’s myriad disappointments.
But his promise comes with a price.
Damir intends to use me to hunt down his double-crossing brother. With every jewel, every kiss, I can feel myself losing my morals, my freedom and even my sanity. Because darkness lives inside me, too. He’s laying my deepest secrets bare, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
My name is Bethany, and I’ve fallen into the lap of luxury.
Lap of Luxury
Sneak Peek
Read on for an extract from Lap of Luxury…
“Calm down.” He sounds angry but is not as murderous as he looked a second ago. He pulls me to my feet and tosses the bloody knife on his desk. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, though I can’t really tell.
Damir puts his hands on my skull and pushes my hair back from my face. “Did you hit your head?”
The smell of blood and violence is all over him. I feel high. It must be the shock. The world feels spongey beneath my feet. So I don’t lose my balance, I put my hands up and clench my fingers on Damir’s biceps. I wonder if I’m going to faint, but I don’t feel light-headed. Just like I’m burning up.
Damir palms my cheek with his large hands and slides them into my hair. Hands that just moments ago were beating that man to a pulp. “Are you sure?” he murmurs. “You’ve got blood all over your face.” His thumb slides across my lips, and they part with a moan. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I don’t feel this way with a man. I never feel this way.