King’s Ransom: A Dark Bratva Romance (Ruthless Doms)

by Henry, Jane

  He reaches down and slaps my thigh, hard. “Ow! Hey!”

  “I should lock you up.”

  I’m feeling somehow more buoyant after what we just did, invincible even, so I kinda shrug a little. “Sounds hot.”

  He isn’t amused, his grip on me tightening. “Taara.”

  “Yes?” I ask sweetly.

  “You were too good at that for me to believe that you’ve never done that before.”

  Hot damn, I like this possessive side of him. I like that the thought of me with another man makes him angry. I like that he said I was good at that. But I told him the truth. I’m not a virgin, but I’ve never given a blow job. I’ve never wanted to until right now, right here, with this man.

  “I haven’t, I promise,” I tell him.

  How can I tell him that I have in my head? How I’ve fantasized about just this? How I’ve sucked down romance novels like they were candy while taking copious mental notes?

  I mean, it’s a viable way to learn.

  “You’re lying,” he says, but a corner of his lips quirks up a bit, as if he’s teasing me now, and he really hopes that I’m telling the truth. But I want him to know that while I might tease him, I might push my boundaries, and I’m no angel, that he can believe me when I tell him the truth. So I look up at him, take his face between my hands, and hold his eyes with mine.

  “I would never lie to you,” I say, with every bit of sincerity I can muster, because this isn’t just about a blow job I just gave the man, but the very premise for my captivity. “Never. I value honesty with you far too much to ever tell a lie.”

  He holds my gaze for long moments, his hands resting on my wrists, before he leans in closer and kisses me. Just a brief touch of lips to lips. Just one moment of the two of us together in a crowded room. But it’s all I need.

  I close my eyes and drown in this kiss. This stolen moment. In the truth that will, please God, eradicate any doubt he has about me and tether me to him in the way that I long for. The way that I need. The way that we both do. And then he pulls away, and I become aware of the voices and sounds around us.

  I want to run. I want to leave this place, burrow myself in his chest and let him cover me so that no one else knows I’m here. I want to be alone with Stefan.

  But I have a job to do.

  “Thank you, daddy,” I say, not shyly this time but with all the hope and confidence I can muster. I can’t understand it and don’t even bother trying. I’m not the first woman to call her lover daddy and I won’t be the last.

  Wait.

  Wait.

  Lover?

  What are we?

  “Thank you for what, little one?”

  My heart melts a little every time he calls me that. “For looking at me like I mean something to you. For kissing me.”

  I close my eyes as soon as the words leave my mouth. I’ve gone too far, and I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’ve said too much. Stefan and I have a job to do, and we can’t let my ridiculous infatuation with him in any way affect our focus. And what if my honesty has pushed him away?

  “You’re right,” he says with a smile. “Christ, Taara. I know it now.”

  “What?” I whisper. What’s he talking about?

  He tugs a lock of my hair and shoots me a brief, crooked grin that melts me into a puddle. “You can’t tell a lie.”

  Then believe me, I want to say.

  But maybe… maybe he already does? But it’s someone else he needs to prove this to? He takes my hand in his and laces our fingers together, and I smile at him.

  “I really can’t. My nose practically grows.”

  “Good to know. Any Pinocchio-like symptoms, and my babygirl’s earned a spanking for lying to daddy.”

  Oh hell, I could get into this, big time.

  On instinct, I pout, which earns me a good tug to a lock of my hair.

  “Behave, Taara.”

  I drop my head to his chest and breathe him in. We have so much ahead of us, I need to steel myself for what I need to do. For the trials I know we face. If we’re going find out what we need to, we’ll have to become just like them. And how much can one role play without having a transformation of sorts?

  Still cuddled up to him, I’m enjoying every damn minute of this. He’s strong and warm and this is utter perfection. He holds me so tight, so close, I wonder if he likes this as much as I do.

  I let my gaze roam a few feet away. I catch the eye of a woman who looks so similar to me, we could be cousins, and that gets my attention.

  She’s one of them. One of the stolen ones. To my surprise, when she catches my eye, she crooks a finger at me. I point wordlessly to my chest.

  Me?

  She nods, her expression darkening, and beckons me with more urgency. Then she turns on her heel and steps quickly to a door marked restroom.

  She knows something.

  I make a split-second decision.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” I tell him.

  “You’ll have to wait,” he says firmly. “There’s no fucking way you’re getting out of my sight and I’m not allowed in the restroom with you.”

  “But I—”

  He holds up a finger to stop me mid-sentence. “When daddy speaks, you listen,” he says, and hell I wish he didn’t put it that way, because it makes me feel little and submissive, and I need to get shit done. I promised I would work with him to get to the bottom of this trafficking fiasco, and my gut says this girl beckoning me has something to say. But he won’t let me go.

  “Fine,” I say with a sigh, while internally plotting how to get away from him, and thank God right at that moment the men from earlier approach us. Stefan puts me on my feet so he can stand to greet them, and I look about me for my chance. My heart’s beating so fast I’m lightheaded. He’s going to punish me for this. I know he will. There’s zero doubt in my mind that he would lose his mind if I got away from him right now, but I have to do my part in this job we have.

  So I take my hand from his, pretending I dropped something, and to my relief, he’s deep in a conversation with one of the men. I fuss with my shoes and keep my head down and take one step backward. He doesn’t notice. This could be my chance. He looks at me for a moment, then someone else speaks to him, and when he turns to look at them, I bolt. I keep my steps at a fast-paced trot. He could see me now, but he couldn’t stop me without drawing attention to us.

  In six paces, I’m in the bathroom. I open the door and shut it behind me. I’m panting, like I’ve just run from the police and made my escape. I’m shaking, because not only do I know that what she’s going to tell me is important, but I know when Stefan gets his hands on me, he’s going to punish me.

  The woman I saw on the main floor opens the door and comes in when I do. “Thank you,” she whispers. She’s about my age but her hair is short, and she’s wearing even fewer clothes than I am. I start when I see finger-shaped bruise marks all along her upper arms. What cruelty has she endured?

  But before she can speak to me, the door opens again, and the woman with the violet hair I saw earlier steps into the room. Tall and gracious, her exotic, almond-shaped eyes smile at me. She doesn’t speak but locks herself in one of the stalls. The woman who beckoned me here catches my eye in the mirror and holds a finger to her lips. I pretend I see nothing, and step into the second stall, pretending to use it while we wait for the other woman to vacate.

  A moment later, I hear the flush of a toilet, and watch the silver, pointed-toed shoes of the woman beside me exit, then the sound of a faucet being turned on.

  “Ferhana,” she says. Her voice is clear and melodic, like church bells. “Are you well?”

  “I am. Just needed to freshen up a bit,” she responds.

  “Your master will be looking for you,” the other woman says. My stomach tightens at the warning. He will indeed be looking for her. This woman needs to get the hell out of here.

  Her fancy shoes click-clack on the tiled floor. I flush the toilet, so
this all looks normal, and hear the door open and close. I come out of the stall and go to wash my hands when the woman who beckoned me in here goes to the door, shuts it, and flips a deadbolt, locking it.

  “She’s right,” she says in a voice just above a whisper. “My master will be looking for me. I have to be quick. But I know, you are not one of the women from the auction, and you are with the man with the beard.”

  I nod.

  “We have to be quick,” she whispers. I don’t know how she knows she can trust me or how I know I can trust her—okay, I don’t know that I can trust her, I’m still very much taking a risk here. “They’ll kill us as soon as look at us,” she whispers, and the reality of the danger we face settles on me thick and smothering. “I’ve seen him do it. He says we are easily replaceable.”

  Right outside this door are men that do unspeakable things. And just the fact that we’re both standing here, each bearing resemblance we can’t deny, it’s obvious.

  Easily replaceable.

  We’re expendable, and we know it. They could snuff us out like birthday candles.

  But she isn’t expendable. I’m not. Hell, no human being is. Every single human who walks this earth, from the tiniest, most dependent child, to the frailest elderly person is worthy of a life well-lived, respected, and honored. A vision of my mother, so thin and weak, holding my hand, immediately assaults my memory. I think of Caroline, the woman who bears the scar of the cruelty she endured.

  And I decide once again that whatever it takes, I’m going to help Stefan end this trade. Even if it kills me.

  I can do this.

  “I know every single woman who’s come to auction since the beginning of the year,” she says. “I forget nothing, and you are not one of them. And the man you are with has kindness in his eyes unlike any of the others. Tell me who you are.”

  Shit.

  Stefan is going to kill me. Like literally, have my head. He’s probably looking for me now.

  Shit shit shit.

  “My name is Taara,” I say, not wanting to give too much away. “The man I’m with is one of the Bratva pakhans.”

  Yeah, so that was probably already too much. Damnit.

  She nods. “He did not buy you, did he?”

  I shake my head. “No, but I—" I pause, then say with conviction, “but I belong to him. I am his slave and he my master.” But I don’t give her any more information than that. I don’t know who she is, and I don’t fully trust her. “And who are you? Why did you want to speak to me?” I can’t let this become a one-sided interrogation.

  She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m nobody.” She isn’t nobody. The pretty woman with the violet hair and skin as black as night knew her name. She continues in the same hushed, timid whisper. I wonder how she even got the nerve to come here. “The two of us need to make the acquaintance of one another. The man who calls himself my master is a cruel man, and when he finds out I’ve come here without his permission, he will punish me. And if he knew I told you what I’m about to tell you…” she pales.

  She draws closer and take my hand. “Promise me you will help them.”

  I don’t know this woman, and I will likely never see her again, but when she squeezes my hand in hers, we’re immediate and instant friends, bound together in this travesty that affects us all.

  I nod. “I will do everything I can.” She doesn’t need to tell me who she’s referring to.

  We start when someone tries to turn the doorknob. A second later, a large fist bangs on the door, a deafening boom making us both jump.

  “Open this door!” I don’t recognize the voice, but one glance at her and I know she does.

  She closes her eyes briefly, as if to steel herself for what she’ll face, then her eyes flutter open and she whispers in my ear. “I eavesdropped today. I know where the next shipment will go. Tomorrow night, ten o’clock, at Long Wharf in the city.”

  I nod. I will remember this. I have to finds Stefan.

  She stifles a scream when the fist pounds on the door again. “He’ll share me tonight,” she says in a shaky whisper, as if she has to tell someone. “He’ll make me sleep with all of his men for this.” Then her eyes look at mine in desperation and her grip becomes frantic, her eyes bulging out of their sockets so widely it unnerves me. “Take me with you. Will your master take two slaves?”

  Jesus, God, as if I’d let another woman touch him.

  I blink and shrug, not knowing how to respond. “I—I don’t—”

  No, I want to say, but a part of me wants to rescue this woman so badly, I can almost deny the rampant jealousy that takes hold of me at the slightest suggestion. Another bang crashes on the door.

  “Get into the stall,” she whispers. “It might save you.”

  Before I can process what she’s saying, she shoves me in and shuts the door, then I hear her step away and fumble with the lock. She’s so brave. I’m sick to my stomach, but I turn the lock to the stall with trembling fingers. If I let myself be taken or injured, I can’t bring what I know to Stefan. I can’t stop what’s going to happen.

  The door yanks open, and from the bottom of stall, I see thick black boots stomp into the room.

  “Ty, blyad', shlyukha.” She screams, and I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can tell from the scuffle that he’s dragging her out of the room. I hear him slap her, and I flinch, then another scream as she’s dragged out. But at the doorway, he pauses.

  “Who else is in here? You aren’t alone?”

  “No, sir. Please!” she screams again, and then footsteps approach my stall. I go as far back as I can, but there’s no room in here. Nausea whirls in my belly and my head feels too light. I look around for something to protect myself, but of course there’s nothing at all in the bathroom stall.

  “Open this door!” he orders. Oh, God. Where am I going to go? What will he do to me?

  A second later, I gasp when the door to the stall flies open with a large crashing noise. He literally smashed the door right off its hinges. It’s one of the blond bastards, glaring at me. Holding her by the hair in one fist, he reaches for me with the second. I smack at his hands but it’s useless. He’s bigger and stronger, and she’s doing nothing to defend herself, likely out of fear of what he’ll do. He grabs my arm and hauls me out of the stall. I stumble, banging my head on the door, but before he can do anything to me, a loud, furious voice fills the stall.

  “Get your hands off her. I’ve got this.”

  Relief floods me so rapidly I’m dizzy with it. Stefan. Oh, thank God. But my relief is short-lived when Stefan’s livid eyes meet mine. My stomach drops straight to my toes. Right now, I’m not really sure he’s a safer bet than the other man.

  The other man drops me so quickly, I stumble, grabbing onto the porcelain sink to steady my fall. Stefan is glaring at the man and a muscle ticks in his jaw. His hands are clenched into fists so tight he’s white-knuckled, but his voice remains steady and calm. “What’s going on in here?”

  The men speak in rapid-fire Russian, so quickly and furiously I have no idea what they’re saying. The girl hangs her head and won’t look at me. I bet she’s resigned to her fate, now that this asshole’s got her. But when Stefan speaks, she looks up at him. He crosses the room to me and pulls me to him, shielding me from the monster that’s still holding the other woman by the hair.

  “Is this true?” Stefan asks.

  “Is what true? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Christ, I’m a terrible liar. My voice shakes and I can’t look at either of them.

  “He says you two were in here with the door locked. That you are plotting something. Is that true?”

  “No, sir!” I lie. “Never! I came in here to use the bathroom. I don’t even know who she is. And I think the door must’ve been stuck. Neither of us locked it.”

  “She lies,” the man says to Stefan, spittle forming in the corner of his mouth like a rabid animal. I shudder and bury my head on Stefan’s chest
. “They locked the door. They were conspiring.”

  “Conspiring against whom?” Stefan says, smiling at the man, and I know this is an act. He’s feigning nonchalance, but he wants to shake the living daylights out of me and maybe hurt the man.

  “Us, of course,” the man says, but Stefan’s question seems to set him off.

  “How, brother? We already own them. And this little one here knows that anything less than honesty and submission will get her punished.” He gives me a look that’s no longer playful. “Severely.”

  Yeah, I’m toast.

  They speak again in Russian, until another man comes to the doorway. The blond man turns to him, says something under his breath, then drags the girl out with him. Stefan’s voice stops him before he leaves, though.

  “Just one more thing?” he says, almost casually but for the ticking of his jaw. Blond guy turns and quirks a brow in his direction.

  “Don’t ever touch her again. Not one solitary finger.” He shoots him a chilling smile that promises pain and retribution. “In fact, it would be best if you never even look at her again. Do we understand each other?”

  Blond man swallows hard. “We do. My apologies, brother.”

  Stefan shoots him a chin lift, and the other guy leaves. I’m alone with Stefan in the bathroom, shaking so badly I can hardly stand. He turns me around to face him, wraps his arms around me, and hugs me to his chest. I bury my face on the fabric of his shirt and breathe him in, then out, tucking my arms around his back and holding onto dear life. He brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I’m sorry. I had reasons.”

  “Reasons,” he scoffs. “You are in so much goddamn trouble.”

  I swallow. “I know. But I have to speak to you alone. Can we leave?”

  “Oh, you bet your ass we’re leaving,” he says, taking me by the hand and dragging me out of the bathroom.

  I repeat what I know so I don’t forget.

  Tomorrow night, ten o’clock, at Long Wharf in the city.

  Chapter 11

  Stefan