by Lisa Lovell
My mouth drops open and the world starts spinning around me. I feel like I can’t breathe.
“And you are all alone now,” says Vasya. Lily looks down at her plate. “That is why I have brought Kayla to you. To be your friend.” He smiles, as if this solves everything. It doesn’t! My world just turned on its head!
Lily looks up at me. I fight back tears as she stares at me through eyes that are so much like her father’s it hurts.
“You will take care of Lily and be her friend, won’t you, Kayla?” Vashya turns to me. I nod. I bite down on my lip so hard I can taste blood.
“You don’t want anything bad to happen to Lily, do you, Kayla?” He winks at me. His message is clear. I must abide his wishes, otherwise… I don’t even want to think about it.
“No, I do not,” I say through gritted teeth. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“That settles it,” he smiles and sits back in his chair, that cold smile still marring the beauty of his face. “Will you join me in my suite in half an hour then? You can show me some of those special moves you learned up on that stage.”
“You’re a monster,” I hiss at him. I shove my chair back abruptly, aim a small smile at the child, and storm out of the room. I lost my appetite.
“Cherie!” Giselle says in alarm as I push the door open and charge past her. She’s half skipping to keep up with me as I stride along the hallways back to my room. “Cherie, what is it?”
My chest is heaving as I get into my suite and slam the door shut behind me. Giselle makes it in a fraction of a second before it slams shut in her face. I round on her, eyes blazing. I know what I have to do now.
“Do you have more?” I demand.
“More? More what, Cherie?” she asks, trying to catch her breath.
“That stuff… The stuff in the bottle you keep pouring down my throat.”
She shakes her head in confusion and then quickly scuttles across the room to her bag. Before she gets back to me, I reach her and snatch it from her hand.
“Cherie, take care, you must—”
But it’s too late. I uncap it and tip the entire contents into my mouth. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and throw the bottle across the room.
“I need to get ready,” I snap and start yanking at the buttons of my shirt.
I know what I must do. I’ll do whatever I must to protect Farrell’s daughter. But if Vasiliy thinks he’s going to have me shaking in my shoes, he’s got another thing coming.
Chapter 4
Vasiliy Yakovich
“I’m here.” The voice rings out across the room, and I turn my head.
“Kayla!” I say. I spring onto my feet beside the sofa I’d been lounging on. I’m always in a good mood after breakfast. And looking at the woman walking into the room in the revealing robe just made my day even better.
Flanked by a pair of guards, her hands are cuffed behind her, but her chin is held high. She meets my eye with a gaze that’s almost defiant.
This is going to be so sweet.
For a moment, we stand silently. I’m close enough to touch her, but I don’t. It will draw out the tension, and that suits me. Her pupils are dilated. Her nipples poke sharply against the black satin of her robe. I suspect it’s a result of Giselle’s little aphrodisiac concoction, but either way, I don’t care.
I’m having her.
“Take off the cuffs,” I say to the guard behind her without breaking eye contact. “And then get the fuck out.”
Moments later, she’s free. And we’re alone.
She raises her hands and rubs her wrists, her eyes narrowed on me.
“Let’s get this over with, you sick fuck,” she says.
I chuckle. “Oh, Kayla, I love it when you talk dirty!”
She sets her jaw, but I see her throat move as she swallows. I trace the movement with my fingertips. I slide my fingers down her chest and slip them beneath the black robe. Her chest heaves as I cup her breast. She makes a small sound as I pinch her nipple. I untie the sash at her waist and push the robe over her shoulders.
She shifts her feet slightly as I look down at her smooth, creamy nakedness. Her breasts rise and fall deliciously. I want to bury my face there and devour her; so much soft flesh. I take it in my hands and squeeze lightly, letting it spill between my fingers. So fucking lush…
I release her and watch the globes sway, then run my hands further down. Her breath starts to come in short sharp gasps as I drop my hand between her thighs and delve into the wet folds of her cunt.
“Oh, Kayla, all for me?” I chuckle at the moist sounds my fingers make. She sucks in a breath.
“Fuck you!” she hisses, and I laugh louder.
“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re about to do. And from the looks of this,” I raise glistening fingers to my lips, “you’re going to enjoy it.”
She shakes her head, but her cheeks are flushed, lips parting. I drop my head and cover her mouth with my own. For a minute, I think she’s going to pull away, but then her lips part beneath mine. And then I feel her teeth graze my lip as she catches it between them sharply.
“Little spitfire!” I laugh as I pull away. She flattens her hands against my chest and then curls her fingers. Then her nails are digging into me as she leans in and nips at my lip again.
I push my knee between hers and feel her press her mound against the muscle of my thigh. I move back a little, reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it abruptly over my head. She’s glassy-eyed and breathless as she stares down at my bare chest.
“Touch me,” I say, expecting her to refuse – that would suit me just fine. I’ll happily force her to do as I say. She’s silent for a moment, running her eyes over my torso. Then she slides her hands from my shoulders down my chest, tracing the muscles. She slowly draws small circles around my nipples, making me groan as they pucker. When she rakes her nails over them, my groan deepens. I feel my cock stiffen.
I run my hand into her hair and pull her face against my chest. Her tongue flicks out, and then she nips at me. When I tighten my grip, her teeth sink in deeper, and I chuckle.
“Harder,” I say, looking down at her, and she glances up and narrows her eyes. Her lips are still on my flesh. I pull her hair more firmly. She flinches, but her cheeks have flushed brighter. Her teeth sink in deep enough to leave a mark, and I shudder. I press my cock against her hip and revel in the combined sensation of pleasure and pain.
I reach down between us to where her cunt is pressed against me. The slickness of her has soaked into the fabric of my sweatpants. I shove my fingers roughly into her. When my thumb finds her clit, she arches her back and moans. I lean forward to run my mouth down her exposed throat. Sucking and biting, I feel the hoarseness of her breath beneath my lips. Her juices are trickling onto my palm. There’s no mistaking her response to me.
“Oh, Kayla, I’m going to fuck you so hard,” I say against her ear. She makes a low sound in the back of her throat.
“Goddamn you!” she hisses at me. “You don’t fucking own me!” There’s rage in her words, but there’s something else there, too. A challenge. I like a challenge. I’m about to laugh again when her palms hit me hard in the chest. She’s shoving me against the chair behind us. The element of surprise is on her side. When the edge hit the back of my knees, I feel myself dropping into it. And she’s following me down. Her hands still rove my chest and belly, leaving throbbing red welts in their wake. Her mouth and teeth follow.
“God! Yes, like that!” I grunt out. She’s setting me on fire in more ways than one. When she reaches into the front of my pants, I’m almost afraid I’ll explode in her palms. She stares into my face as she frees my cock.
“Is this what you want?” she sneers. She straddles my thighs and is hovering over my waist. The smooth lips of her cunt are brushing my belly. My breath is coming in gasps. “Is it?” she repeats. Her eyes are filled with hate, but I don’t care. It’s not her eyes I’m interested in.
“Shut up and
fuck me,” I growl back and run my hands up her back, pulling her down toward me. She wavers for a second, her fist around my shaft, holding the head of my cock against her slick entrance. I pull down more firmly, but she resists. The little bitch is going to make me wait, goddamn it. I’m panting like a horny teenager by the time she sinks down and engulfs me.
“Fuck!” I bite out, squeezing my eyes shut. The heat of her is searing as she begins a slow rocking motion, sliding up and down my shaft. I hear her give a throaty groan, and I open my eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glittering.
“Don’t you fucking look at me,” she snarls. Her hand fists into my hair and she pulls my head forward against her chest. I bury my face in that soft, jiggling flesh, sucking at her skin. It’s like being consumed by sexuality. She’s grinding a rhythm against me that’s taking me along with it.
“God!” I say through gritted teeth. I’ve been imagining this for too damn long. And for a moment, there’s nothing but the mind-numbing intensity of her heat. I grit my teeth, feeling her slide up and then back down. Her cunt clamps tightly around me as I try to pump up into her, but she’s setting the pace. Her breath is coming in shuddering gasps.
“Yeah…fuck! That’s good,” I grind out. Her movements have become less rhythmic against me. She arches and drops her hands from my head. When her nails rake over my back, I know she’s leaving trails that will last for days. Then a spasm within her ripples up my shaft. The force of it is enough to drag me to the edge. I grunt as the pleasure of it erupts in sharp, searing bursts up my cock. And then I’m pouring into her.
“Jesus!” The word is torn from me. I try to catch my breath as the sensations slowly dissipate. “Fuck, no wonder Blackmore wanted you to himself. Your cunt is like hot fucking heaven.” The stinging slap to my face leaves me reeling. If I hadn’t just had the best orgasm I can remember, I would return the favor. But as it is, I taste the blood and grin at her.
“Good for you too, baby?” I chuckle hoarsely.
“Fuck off,” she mutters, sliding off my cock with a wet pop and dismounting me. She gives me a view of her gleaming pussy as she bends to retrieve her gown.
“Goddamn it, that is a beautiful sight,” I mutter, looking for something to wipe myself off with. I straighten out my pants then reach for the intercom buzzer to get Yegor to bring in the security team I’ve been waiting for. It takes less than a minute for the crew to arrive. Kayla’s wrapping the robe tightly around herself just as Yegor steps in.
“Get me out of here,” she says to Yegor, who looks at me curiously. I give a curt nod, and they are out of the room in an instant, with Kayla slamming the door behind her.
“She’s a fiery one,” I chuckle and turn my attention to the two men who’ve been waiting downstairs for me.
From the expression on their faces, the news is not good. It takes me less than a second to realize they fucked up, once again.
“I am not seeing a fucking bag with a head in it,” I say to Sergei as I straighten my pants and slump down onto my chair. As I’d suspected, there are teeth marks on my chest.
“We went back there, Mr. Yakovich. The scene had been cleared,” Sergei explains. He’s waited too damn long to come back to share this news with me. I know what that means. Despite the warm afterglow of sex, I feel my rage rise.
“Who cleared it?” I ask softly. I can smell her scent on my fingers, but it’s merely an annoying distraction now.
“The…the paramedics, Mr. Yakovich.” He’s struggling to keep his voice steady.
“The paramedics?” I repeat. Paramedics. Not the coroner.
Yegor has returned and is standing behind them impassively, his hands clasped in front of him.
“The paramedics?!” I roar. The violence of my tone is unexpected. Both men visibly jump.
“Mr- Mr. Yakovich, we…we…traced them to the local hospital. He’s there. We can get to him!”
“No you can’t you fucking, you idiot!” I scream at him. “It is too late for that now!” These fools have exposed me and my organization enough already.
For a second, I’m looking at the pair of them through a blood-mist of fury. But losing control is a weakness. I pull myself back together.
“Yegor will take care of it,” I finally say. “But you are not off the hook. What did I tell you to do if you could not bring me proof that Blackmore was dead?”
Boris takes a step back but bumps into the wall of muscle that is my right-hand man. He swallows hard.
“You…you said you would expect me to…” Sergei glances at the man shrinking back beside him. “To give you Boris’s head,” he mutters hoarsely. I raise my eyebrow in question. “Mr. Yakovich, I-”
“Your position here is terminated,” I say. “Kill him,” I add, but I’m no longer speaking to Sergei. Yegor moves so swiftly it’s impossible to tell where the glittering blade has come from. With a smooth sweep of his wrist, he opens a wide slash that extends from Boris’s left ear to his right. The man makes a bleating sound and clasps a hand to his throat. His lips move silently as blood pumps through his clutching fingers.
“Mr. Yakovich, sir, please—!” Sergei is babbling. But I am no longer listening.
I turn away and leave Yegor to do what he does best.
Chapter 5
Kayla Hastings
It’s been a week since that day, and I still can’t make sense of it all; it’s been like some twisted honeymoon. Giselle’s strange drinks, then hours of frenzied sex, interspersed with dinners and gifts. And each morning and afternoon, I go down to the sunroom to spend time with Lily.
She’s precious.
She’s the single light in the dark turmoil that has become my world. A reminder of why I’ve become what I am now. I don’t know how long Vasya will tolerate our arrangement or even how long I’ll hold his interest, though. After that, I don’t even want to know what’s going to happen to us.
I stand obediently and watch him lounging on a sofa, talking on the phone. It makes me edgy. These calls, when he speaks in Russian, send him into a blinding rage. And I don’t know when he’s going to turn that rage on me. I duck my head as I pass him, trying to be invisible, but he grabs my wrist as I move. I stop short. He looks up at me and tilts his head in question.
“Going to Lily,” I mouth, and he nods. Why the hell he cares is beyond me. And it’s not as if I’m going far. I never go anywhere without Yegor on my tail. The bastard creeps me out, but he keeps his distance, thank God.
The voices rise again as I open the door. When I close it behind me, there’s a shout and a crash, and I suck in a breath. I hurry down to where I know she’ll be waiting, every stride away bringing a sense of relief.
“Kayla!” she calls as I walk through the door. She leaps up and sprints over, flinging her arms around my waist and pressing her cheek against my stomach.
“Hello, Lily,” I say. “Ready for our ‘ladies’ lunch’?” I give her a wink. I’m trying so desperately to make things seem normal here. It’s just not easy.
She nods eagerly and leads me to a beautifully set table out on the patio. It’s a glorious day out, and one of the staff has moved an oversized umbrella over the table. As I take a seat, the man who first served us breakfast days before bustles around, arranging our napkins and filling our glasses with water.
“Isn’t this fancy?” I whisper to Lily, who grins and sips from her glass. “So, what do you recommend on the menu?” There’s no actual menu, but it’s nice to pretend.
“Burgers,” she says cheerfully. “I always ask for burgers.”
“I suppose there’s nothing else, right?” I grin. It’s the first time we’ve shared a meal together, aside from that first breakfast. Normally we explore the garden or stretch out on the floor and invent conversations between the two tattered dolls she carries about.
“Nope, I can have anything I want,” she answers. “I just like the burgers. They’re special here.”
“Then burgers it is,” I concur, and our at
tendant moves off so we can chat. I’ve kept our conversations carefully neutral during our interactions. I’m afraid of pushing her to a place of grief, which I can sense most of the time. I’m also terrified that I’ll let slip some of my own darkness. Whatever happens, I can’t let her know what kind of place this is. It’s too much for a child to understand.
“When I grow up, I think I’ll eat burgers every day,” she’s saying now.
“Really? Don’t you think that might get boring?” I chuckle.
“Nope. I can have different toppings each time. Pickles one day, cheese another. Maybe even mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms? Do you like those?” I ask.
“Nuh-uh, I hate them!” she pulls a face. “But when I’m big, maybe I won’t.”
There’s a rattle of dishes beside us as our food arrives and is set in front of us. I reach for a French fry, but Lily puts her hand on my arm.
“Wait,” she murmurs. I glance at her and frown. It hadn’t occurred to me that she may have been raised to say Grace before a meal. I fold my hands and bow my head, but she tugs at my sleeve. Her eyes are on the man walking off, and as he moves out of sight, she points at my fries. I don’t understand. She carefully raises one of her own. My eyes widen as I see what’s beneath.
Be brave.
The words have been written in ketchup on the plate below the carefully positioned food. Lily aims a small smile at me, and I lift several of my own fries.
We’re coming.
I drop my fork with a clatter, then quickly retrieve it before I draw any attention.
She dips a fry into the letters and swirls them around. “My daddy taught me my letters when I was little,” she says. “He told me I’m supersmart.”
“You certainly are, Lily.” I glance around quickly, swirling my own message away. “Does this happen every time?” I ask, and she nods.
“Most days,” she says, reaching for her burger with both hands and stretching her mouth for a bite.
“What have the messages said?” I’m too afraid to do more than whisper even though nobody is within earshot.