PRIZE: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

by Sophia Gray

  At this point, Nikolai had turned away from me, running his large hands through his thick, silky hair. He’d begun to pace anxiously, or maybe angrily, throwing glances my way every so often. For the first time, I considered how truly menacing he was.

  He was much taller than I was, towering over me. His face was full of sharp, hard lines that I’d once thought of only as strong and even devilishly charming. Well, I’d gotten the devilish part right, hadn’t I? His eyes were striking, entrancing even, but now I noticed that they easily flashed with anger and might even be considered cold where once I had only thought of them as warm and inviting. His shoulders were broad and now I couldn’t help but picture a body being thrown over them, not a naked woman—me, for instance—writhing in passion or begging, but rather a dead body. My brother, even. How many times had he carried his victims like that, throwing them over his shoulder before dumping them in a ditch or a shallow grave somewhere?

  Did he even bother with graves?

  I shuddered.

  The large muscles of his arms flexed, reminding me how much stronger he was. How easily he’d pinned me to the floor, both of my arms held tightly above my head with only one of his. He’d done that without even breaking a sweat, I thought, and there was no denying that I’d been completely unable to break free of that grasp. Sure, at the time I’d been consumed by passion and need, but what if I’d been struggling? What if I’d wanted to get free? I wouldn’t have been able to.

  It was a terrifying thought.

  Everything about Nikolai suddenly seemed menacing, though I was trying to reconcile the image of him as a killer with the image I knew of him as a passionate, aggressive, but dedicated lover.

  I didn’t know what to think anymore and it was getting harder for me to breathe, not to mention stand up straight.

  “You…you need to go,” I managed to get out. My voice was timid, shaky even, but at least I managed to get the words out. That alone seemed pretty impressive given who he was and what he was clearly capable of.

  This caused Nikolai to stop. He whipped his head around in my direction, a look that I couldn’t quite read sliding across his features. Then he seemed to freeze. I thought his gaze was fixed on me, but then I realized his eyes were actually stuck on something just past me, sitting behind me. I waited for him to respond, but when he just continued to stare at whatever it was that had so surely caught his attention, I finally risked turning. I hadn’t wanted to look away from him, for fear that he might do something crazy, but I was too curious to know what it was that had caused him to freeze.

  When I looked behind me, at first I didn’t see anything. It was the kitchen, mostly clean except for a mug of tea—I was trying to wean myself off of coffee for the sake of the baby—and a half-eaten bagel that had actually been Logan’s, not mine. I hadn’t been able to make myself eat that morning at all, partially because of the terrible morning sickness that happened pretty much every morning now, and partially because the thought of Logan nearly dying was too terrible to think of. And the idea that Nikolai was the one to kill him? Well, it was all just too much for me anymore.

  I was just about to turn away and ask him what his problem was, or maybe just tell him to go, when I saw it. The thing that must have caught his attention.

  The baby book.

  I paled. At school that day, I’d gone to the bookstore on campus. They had all of the class books listed on the required reading material for the classes, but they also had other books, too. They had a lot of fiction books, ranging through all the subgenres there in—I admitted, I’d bought more than a few romance books over the years in attendance. Then there were the nonfiction books, which were mostly biographies or books about geographical locations. But there were a few other oddball books, including a whole section that was dedicated to the “expecting mother.” I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do or what I was looking for, I didn’t know what would happen with Nikolai, but I’d known it was time to start taking care of myself.

  So, I’d bought a book. It was all about what to eat, how to deal with morning sickness—the tea was supposed to help, but I didn’t think it did in the slightest—what sort of prenatal vitamins to get, how to start preparing for the hormonal imbalances, and so on. Though I hadn’t gotten the chance to look through it much, it was still sitting there on the counter, taunting me.

  I’d never even thought to put it up. I couldn’t believe how stupid I was.

  When my eyes went back to Nikolai, I saw that he was focused on me now, too. His eyes flashed with something that I couldn’t decipher. Was it anger at finding out I was pregnant? Was it pride at knowing he’d spread his seed inside me and created something that would grow in my womb? Was it annoyance that I was yet again another complication?

  The possibilities raced through my head, all of them becoming more and more terrible as they went on. What if he decided I was too much trouble now? Would he kill me—kill the baby? Oh, god, what if he did? He was certainly capable. He was a contract killer, for god’s sake!

  “Why do you need a book for expecting mothers, Madeline?” he asked quietly, calmly, though I could see emotions raging in his eyes.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing could get out. My vision began to blur, the edges going black. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. I was already falling, fading out completely.

  Chapter 18

  Nikolai

  As soon as I noticed her falling, I went to her. Madeline crumpled, pale and fragile, just as I swallowed her in my arms. She was dead weight, but I lifted her easily, carrying her as I might a bride in my arms. A fissure of panic sliced through my already pounding heart, calmed only by the realization that, though she was incredibly pale and looked so breakable in my arms, she was most definitely breathing.

  She had only fainted.

  I carried her to the little section of her studio apartment that was cordoned off. The section clearly acted as her bedroom with a curtain sectioning it away privately from the rest of the place. As a result, it was tiny and contained essentially only a bed and a bedside table with a tiny little light sitting on the top. There was a clock set there, too; otherwise, there was only a door I noticed as her closet and nothing else. Not that there was room for anything else. The bed took up so much space that I could barely fit around the edges of it. It reminded me again how much smaller she was than me.

  Carefully, I laid her out on the bed, pulling back the covers slightly so I could tuck them around her fragile frame.

  When I straightened, I took a long moment to just stare down at her.

  That book…expecting mothers? Why would Madeline have something like that? But even as I thought about that, I knew the answer. We’d had a passionate night together a couple of months ago. A passionate night in which I’d claimed her as mine twice and twice released myself into her waiting, willing body. At the time, I hadn’t thought a single thing of it. Why would I? But I should have. After she told me that I’d been her first, her only, well, I should have considered that, perhaps, she wasn’t on any type of birth control. What would be the need if she’d never lain with a man before?

  Part of me swelled with pride. I’d impregnated her. Was there any clearer claim than that? She was mine. Period.

  Unfortunately, things weren’t one hundred percent that simple. I acknowledged that, perhaps, this was all a misunderstanding. She was in college; that book could have been for a class or a friend or maybe just for her own curiosity. But if she were pregnant, then there would be complications. I was a hit man for the Russian mob; her being pregnant didn’t change that and I wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. I was good at my job, even enjoyed it on occasion, and it paid better than any other job I might find out there. And I had been doing this for so long now that I didn’t even have a résumé. My last job had been tossing pizzas in a restaurant down the road from Mickey’s, still owned by him, of course, and had lasted about five months before I’d started getting involved
with the mob boss.

  What sort of job could I even hope to find? Not one that could provide for a baby and its mother, that was for sure.

  I frowned. Was I seriously considering keeping Madeline and this hypothetical baby?

  On the one hand, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Hadn’t I already decided that I couldn’t stay away from Madeline? Whether it was the incredibly tempting pussy between her legs or the fact that she lingered in my mind regardless of what else was happening in my life, there was no denying that I wanted her. Hungrily, I wanted her.

  On the other hand, hadn’t I come to the conclusion a long time ago that having a wife and a family wasn’t an option? In my line of work that was just an impossibility. No one wanted to spend their lives with a man who killed other men to pay the bills.

  I studied Madeline as she lay there on her bed. Color was slowly returning to her cheeks, making her instantly look healthier. And not just healthier, sexier, too. Maybe it was the thought that she could have my baby growing inside of her, this direct link to me that could not be denied, or maybe it was just the same attraction I’d always felt for her, but I found myself thinking of the ways I wanted to have her.

  We’d been pressed together in the shower before, my cock sliding between her slick thighs until I dove into her, filling that impossibly tight space with everything I had. I’d had her in my bed, tasting her and pounding into her until we were both driven to sweet pleasure and release. And I’d had her on the floor of her tiny, mostly empty apartment. But there were other places I wanted her.

  In this little bed where she lay right now. I wanted to make her mine there, too, so she remembered the force with which I fucked her every time she lay down in it. And I wanted her in the kitchen—hers, mine, some random restaurant, it didn’t matter—where I’d sit her perky, full ass on the counter and maybe taste her sweet pussy lips before burying myself in her over and over again.

  Other places, too. My car. Outdoors somewhere maybe, a lake or a park or up in the mountains. I wanted her on a beach, in a bathroom, bent over a porch railing in the rain wearing nothing but a white dress that quickly became soaked, see through, her breasts bouncing as her hard nipples pressed into the fabric.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t keep thinking about this. My cock was straining against my pants already, begging to be let free and to dive into Madeline’s hot, tight little body. Thinking about the things I wanted from her was too much; I’d lose myself if I didn’t try to focus.

  There were more important things going on. Besides, I had the feeling that she wasn’t really in the mood right then to let me fuck her senseless. I’d just have to be patient.

  Adjusting my full erection to a more comfortable position, I took a seat on the bed beside Madeline. I would have to wait until she was conscious before I could get the full story on what was happening. I would make her tell me about the book, about if she were pregnant or not—if she were, it was mine; I was the only man she’d ever been with. If the answer was yes, my fate was sealed, as was hers. She would be mine, forever. There would be no going back. Whatever my lifestyle, she would have to adapt to it. I was willing to change my living arrangements—if she wanted a bigger place, a house instead of an apartment, to decorate the place herself, that was perfectly acceptable. I would honor her wishes. I would also, of course, stop bringing home other women. My sex life would dwindle to just her small, perfectly curved body, and that tight little core embedded between her long, shapely legs. I couldn’t even make myself upset at the idea of being a one-woman man.

  All of that, I would change for her. But I wouldn’t change my profession. There would be no point. When the baby arrived, I could take some time off. Mickey would understand. But I wouldn’t stop being what I was; there was too much at stake. It wasn’t just about the money. People often had grudges against the hit men who retired. I wasn’t willing to take the chance that some disgruntled customer—or family member—would come knocking and find my woman and my child instead of me. I wouldn’t risk that they might be hurt for it.

  So the job would stay. Madeline would just have to get used to it.

  All of these thoughts filled my head as I made plans for a future. Part of me tried to calm myself, to hold things back. I couldn’t let myself get carried away if it turned out that I’d misunderstood things. If she weren’t pregnant at all, I was beginning to think I wanted to keep her anyway and try to get her pregnant.

  Maybe it was a terrible idea, but I was suddenly so enamored with the thought of having an heir, a child to carry on my name, that I thought it might be worth a try. I was fairly certain it wouldn’t take much to convince Madeline—once I calmed her down about her brother and my profession.

  My thoughts still racing, Madeline finally began to stir. I tensed; this was it.

  She groaned, turning slightly in her bed beneath the covers, her head rolling slightly to the side. Her eyelids fluttered, her long lashes batting at her cheeks. When they finally opened, she seemed slightly disoriented, looking around as though getting her bearings. Finally, her bright blue eyes focused on me. She stilled, tensed.

  Opening her mouth to say something, she shut it abruptly as though reconsidering whatever she’d been about to say. She tried to push herself into a sitting position and I helped her, settling a pillow behind her back so she would have an easier time of it. Madeline was eyeing me warily, but didn’t protest as I helped her.

  When she was settled, I asked the question that was burning inside of me, “Are you pregnant?”

  Her eyes went wide, then became glassy. It happened so fast that I couldn’t have seen it coming. The tears welled and her face crumbled as she released a wet sob. Something in my chest constricted, letting me know I most definitely did not like seeing her cry. It was worse because I felt as though I was the cause. Before I could do something—or even decide if I should do anything—she choked out an answer.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice watery and still wracked by sobs. “I…I found out a few…d-days ago. A-and I w-was going to…to tell you.” She sobbed heavily again and I couldn’t make out what she said. It cleared up again enough that I could at least decipher her words, “…wouldn’t w-want any-anything to do w-with it.”

  For a moment, I froze. I didn’t realize how much I’d been worried that she wasn’t pregnant until I felt a fire zip through me at the knowledge that for certain she was. Pride filled my chest until I thought I might burst. I had made her pregnant. She was carrying my child. I pictured her stomach swelling with a part of me. I pictured her holding a baby, smiling up at me, just as beautiful and sexy as she’d ever been, and one hundred percent mine.

  There was no question about any of it now. Her words confirmed it in my mind. I would take her home. I would keep her safe and take care of her. When the baby came, I would raise it with pride and love. An heir. A concept I’d never even let myself dream about—an heir.

  A slow smile slipped across my lips. She must have seen it, because her sobs slowed. Her breathing was still ragged and her face was ruddy from crying and wet from tears. Her eyes were rimmed in red, still glassy, though they were no longer pouring out tears. She blinked at me, sniffling and hiccupping slightly, uncertainty written clearly across her features. A smile was not what she’d expected, clearly, but it didn’t matter. Her expectations had been completely off the mark and I was about to set her straight.

  “Good,” I told her, my voice low and husky. She was already pregnant, but I wanted to fill her up again and again with my seed. “It’s settled, then.”

  She blinked at me, confused. “What’s settled?”

  “You’re mine now. You’ll have to tell your fiancé immediately that you can’t marry him, because you belong to me.”

  “Belong to…?” She was dazed, wide-eyed and a little lost-looking.

  “You’re carrying my child and I won’t have my child raised by another man. You’re mine now, Madeline. Just mine.”

  Chapter 19

  Madeline<
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  Two months ago, all I wanted was Nikolai. He was dark and sexy and filled me with the kind of pleasure that I’d never known in my entire life. He filled up my wettest dreams at night and took up more space in my thoughts than he should have. In fact, up until my brother had shown up on my doorstep just hours ago, I would have been thrilled with the idea of Nikolai staking his claim on me. I would have reveled in the idea that I would belong to the man who was the father of my baby. I would have been filled with anticipation and want and elation at the idea that he would come here, tell me I couldn’t marry Shawn, and proceed to claim me both physically and emotionally.

  How could I not want that?

  But things were different now. They’d changed so dramatically in such a short amount of time that I was feeling a little woozy, breathless. Maybe it was because I’d just fainted or that I was pregnant, but I had the feeling it was because I knew things about Nikolai now.

  Dangerous things.

  He was a hit man for the mob. Which meant he killed people! How could I possibly be okay with belonging to a man who killed people for a living? Even so, I might have stopped and seriously thought about it. It was terrible, but there was some part of me that still desperately craved Nikolai. I told myself it was hormones. I was pregnant and he was devilishly sexy, regardless of what he did for a living. Plus, he’d been my first—and only. There was a chemical bond there, right? Something that made me attached to him, even though intellectually I understood what a terrible mistake being with him would be.