by Katee Robert
He leaned forward and laced his hands on the desk. “No. Nyet. Whatever language you prefer. As you said, I want you, you want me. I will not force you, but we both know I won’t have to.”
“Arrogant prick.”
Dmitri nodded. “Without a doubt.” It wasn’t arrogance if it was the truth. And it was the truth.
But it was also the truth that Keira craved some kind of control. He could respect that, even if he refused to budge on certain things. They would be consummating the marriage sooner rather than later, but he said he wasn’t going to force her, and he wouldn’t. “You may choose when we have sex, but I plan to seduce at will.”
She blinked. “Seduce at will. You seriously just said that.”
“Da. Because it’s the truth.” He took in her appearance again. She was a long way from healthy, but he would have her by the time of the wedding reception in a few weeks. “We will have dinner tonight.”
“No.”
“We will have dinner tonight,” he repeated. “There are things in play that you need to be aware of, and I will not chase you around the house to inform you as they develop.” He liked the thought of chasing her entirely too much, so Dmitri set it aside. “Seven.”
“I’m not a dog you can just call when it suits you.” She seemed to struggle with something, and her chin dipped. “But I’ll think about it.”
Curiosity grew, digging its claws in deep. She relented, but not because he’d won. Keira wasn’t shaking in fear anymore, but she hadn’t bounced back to the fierce woman she’d been before. There was something different about her, as if she’d reached a point where, forced to either bend or break, she’d bent. It changed the shape of things, but he was at a loss as to what to expect from her. “If you attempt something violent, it won’t go well for you.”
“Aww, Russian, I’d almost think you were scared.” She popped to her feet and gave him a mock curtsy.
He watched her walk away. Too many skipped meals, her curves whittled down to barely nothing, her body showing the wear of the abuse she’d forced on it. And yet…
And yet.
Keira was beautiful. There was no two ways around that truth. Aiden might not have been taking proper care of her, but if Keira were allowed to grow and flower, Dmitri couldn’t begin to guess what she’d become. A force to be reckoned with, that much was sure.
Mikhail stepped into the room, but didn’t shut the door. “Better to put her in her place now than to indulge this.” He spoke in Russian, as was their custom. To Dmitri’s knowledge, Keira didn’t know the language, but he’d need to ensure that was the truth before speaking it in her presence.
“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it.”
Mikhail hesitated, but continued. His position as second gave him certain liberties other enforcers didn’t enjoy. One of those included questioning Dmitri—within reason. He cleared his throat. “You might have her cowed, or she might be playing the part to undermine everything you’ve been working for.”
It was possible. Dmitri would be a fool to ignore it as an option, no matter how unlikely. Aiden was a more formidable opponent than Dmitri had expected, so it was possible that he’d orchestrated this…
He shook his head. “Nyet. Aiden O’Malley would never sacrifice his sister like this. Not Keira. Carrigan? Possibly. But not Keira.” The man would do anything for his family. His siblings might not be able to see it because of his methods, but to the outside observer, it was pathetically apparent. It might as well have been a big shiny red button inviting enemies to push it. It was that loyalty that predicted Aiden would come around once again to ally against the Eldridge women. The man was as predictable as he was honorable. No, he wouldn’t try something like this.
But Keira?
Dmitri found he couldn’t conclusively say one way or another what Keira was thinking—or what she would do.
Chapter Five
Keira skipped dinner. She mostly did it to see what Dmitri would do, but other than a gruff Pavel conveying that they’d reschedule at a later date, nothing had happened. She laid low for two full days to give Dmitri a false sense of security before she started losing it. Her rooms were big enough to live in and never leave, but she was bored out of her goddamn mind and she could only sleep so much. Best she could tell, this building took up the greater part of a city block. Plenty of places to hide bodies.
Not that Romanov would ever be crass enough to commit murder in his own home. He was too savvy for that. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty unnecessarily, though he must have at one point or he wouldn’t be head of the family.
She layered up in a tank top and cardigan thing and a different pair of jeans and went exploring. There wasn’t anyone stationed outside her room, but she didn’t think for a second that she could walk out of here without some kind of tail attached. If they even let her leave at all.
No, Romanov wasn’t that different from her brothers after all.
The hallway twisted strangely, and she wondered again who had decided that converting old apartments was a good way to go about building a freaking mansion in New York. Someone with something to prove.
The second floor was consigned to guest rooms. After the third door opened into one decorated similarly to hers, she gave up and went to the stairs. Dmitri’s study was on the first floor, and she wasn’t ready to face him again. Keira wasn’t sure who gained the point for the win in their last conversation. He’d agreed to let her train and not to force her, but…she hadn’t really thought he’d force her to begin with. If he was the kind of man to do that shit, it would have already happened. She’d sure as hell put herself in vulnerable positions with him over and over again.
They would have sex. It was a given—had been a given since the moment she set eyes on him.
Keira stopped at the top of the stairs and tried to picture how the hell that would go. She wasn’t a virgin. Far from it. But Dmitri wasn’t some blitzed guy in the back of a club. He was…a different animal altogether. He’d touched her once in the backseat of his town car, and the look on his face hadn’t been controlled or locked down. He’d seemed half a second from taking her right then and there.
And then he’d shut it all down.
Would holding out drive him into a frenzy?
She shivered, her skin prickling at the thought. It didn’t matter what Dmitri wanted. He wouldn’t force her, and she’d be damned before she traded away her only advantage before she was good and ready to.
No matter how sexy the Russian was.
Determined to put it out of her mind, she moved down the hallway. It was shorter than the one on the second floor, broken up only by two closed doors and ending in a third. Keira poked her head into the first. Her stomach did a slow flip at the sight of the crib positioned in the corner. She stepped into the dim room, taking in the rocking chair sitting at an angle to the crib, the changing table on the other side of that. The other half of the wide room was devoted to the next age group up. There was a teepee with pillows scattered inside it, a low bookshelf with kid-appropriate board books, and even an easel with tiny paints and colored pencils. All of it untouched as if just waiting for a child.
Her child.
She pressed her hand to her stomach. She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids. Fuck, she was only twenty-one. If she did want them, she didn’t want them now. She’d been sober all of a few days. Hot mess did not begin to cover the shit show that was her life.
This nursery wasn’t something Dmitri had set up—of that, she was sure. It had the feeling of love, even tenderness. The sheets in the crib and the pillows were new, but the books had creases in their spines where they’d been read repeatedly, and there was a person-sized dent in the seat of the rocking chair.
Was this…Dmitri’s nursery? As in the one he’d grown up in?
She spun on her heel and marched out of the room. The concept of Dmitri as a child freaked her the fuck out, and she didn’t like how strange she felt when she pictured him there. Maybe it had been
set up for his niece? The fact that Dmitri’s half sister Olivia and her daughter were now living with Cillian O’Malley was just one more thorn in Romanov’s side. Hadley had the look of her uncle. It wasn’t any particular feature, but sometimes she got a calculating expression on her face that screamed Dmitri. I bet he was a little shit when he was a kid.
She stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her. It was only then that she realized she wasn’t alone. “Don’t you have something better to do than skulk around here?”
Dmitri raised his brows. “I’m not skulking.”
“You are the very definition of skulking.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Didn’t anyone tell you that nurseries are creepy as fuck? I bet it’s haunted.”
If anything, his amusement deepened. “I have it on the best of authority that there are no resident spirits in the nursery—or elsewhere.”
She tried to picture Dmitri hiring a supernatural expert and failed. “What did you do? Bring in a ghost hunter to exorcise this place? Because it’s actually a really good idea. Think I could hire one to take care of the O’Malley house? There are definitely some bad vibes there.” She realized that it wouldn’t matter if those bad vibes were gone, because she’d never be going back, and wilted. Damn it, no. I am not some princess who was tricked into captivity. I chose this. And no one can keep me against my will.
Dmitri turned and moved to the door just down the hall from the nursery. “Give me some credit. If I were going to exorcise anything, I’d hire a priest.”
“How very orthodox of you.” She followed him, drawn closer as if he’d attached a magnet around her middle. Or lower.
He looked more relaxed today than she’d ever seen him. His dark hair was slightly rumpled, as if he’d run his hands through it, his dark gray shirt unbuttoned two more than normal. Not that she noticed how far up he buttoned his shirts. That would be the height of insanity. His lips quirked in something of a mocking smile. “You like what you see.”
“You’re not ugly. Stop pretending you don’t know it. No one likes a pretty person who fishes for compliments.”
“Ah, but it’s different when it’s my wife complimenting me.” He practically purred the words.
Keira opened her mouth to tell him to shove right off, but reconsidered. What was that saying? Catch more flies with honey or some shit? She smiled sweetly. “I’m going to begin Krav Maga lessons next week. Find me a suitable gym by then.” She hesitated and forced out, “Please.”
“Of course. I have one already in the process of being prepared.”
In the process of being prepared. She wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. She hesitated when Dmitri walked into the second room, but curiosity got the better of her, and she followed.
The master suite.
She walked straight to the bed and peered up. It was massive. The bed itself was bigger than a king size, but what caught her attention was the canopy that was a good ten feet off the mattress. It looked like a place where giants slept, rather than a mere man. “Tell me the truth—you wait until all your good little Russian men have gone to bed and then you jump on this thing, don’t you?”
“Guilty.”
She shot him a look, but his expression was serious. Keira shook her head. “Everyone’s a comedian.” She poked the white down comforter and then ran her fingers down the sheer fabric of the canopy. It looked like something out of some fallen angel’s daydream…until she pictured Dmitri in the middle of it, naked and looking at her like the very devil.
Heat crept up her chest to her cheeks. She turned away and practically ran to the bathroom. It wasn’t any better. She couldn’t look at that shower with its clear tiles without picturing the water sluicing down Dmitri’s body, or examine the claw-foot tub without thinking about him there, his head back and eyes closed. The closet didn’t grant her a damn bit of a reprieve. Suits lined half of the space, each more expensive than the next, and it smelled of him. Dark and spicy and tempting.
The other half of the closet was empty.
Waiting for her things.
She couldn’t deal with that any more than she could deal with the fact that Dmitri’s presence was imprinted on this very space. “I’m keeping my room.”
“For now.” He said it the same way he’d said that he wouldn’t force her—as if it was already decided.
As if she’d be there one way or another—sooner, rather than later.
As if he was so fucking sure he’d get his way.
That knowledge, more than anything else, drove her to step closer to him. She didn’t touch him, but she closed the distance until she had to lean back to look into his face. “Dmitri.”
“Da?”
Was it her imagination, or had his voice gotten a little hoarse? She reached up and ran her fingers up the fabric above the top button. Her knuckles brushed the tanned skin just below the dip at the bottom of his throat. Oh yes, he definitely is holding his breath. Keira inhaled deeply as if breathing for both of them, taking his dark, spicy scent into her lungs. She had to be careful, or she’d have traded in one addiction for another. Getting close to this man was dangerous.
It didn’t change the fact that she wanted him.
If anything, his being dangerous made her want him more.
She went up onto her tiptoes, so close that if he moved his head a fraction of an inch, he would have kissed her. “I’m keeping my room.” Keira dropped back down to her feet and turned on her heel. She made it a grand total of three steps before his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back against a chiseled chest. “You’re teasing me, moya koroleva.”
She tried not to notice how he dwarfed her. Dmitri didn’t look particularly huge, but this close, he felt like a fucking giant. It was everything she could do not to press back against him, to submit to the command in every line of his body. Keira gritted her teeth. “You had something on your shirt.”
His chuckle went straight through her. “You may keep your room, but as of tonight, your belongings will be moved into mine.”
“What?” All the delicious feeling in her body disappeared, replaced by sheer rage. “You can’t do that, you high-handed son of a bitch.”
“I think you’ll learn that I can do whatever I damn well please.” He didn’t move, didn’t abuse the position he had her in, but she felt the promise of his words all the same.
She elbowed him, slammed her boot into his instep, and ducked under his arm. Keira spun to face him, hands up. She might be able to throw a punch, but she wasn’t a martial arts expert. Dmitri really could do whatever he damn well pleased to her and she would be helpless to stop him.
He straightened his shirt, looking at her as if he’d spooked a wild animal. “Dinner. Tonight. You seem to have forgotten our plans the other day. Don’t forget again.” This time, there was no mistaking the threat. Apparently her grace period was at an end.
She lifted her chin. “Game on, Russian.”
* * *
Dmitri studied the box on his desk. Generic in every way except its size. It sat in the middle of the desk, a rough three-by-three square. Mikhail stood on the other side of it, his hand on his gun. A gun wouldn’t do anything against whatever was enclosed, but it was good for his man to be alert. “Who sent it?”
“I don’t know. I came into the office and it was here.”
He cut the nondescript tape on the top and opened it. Styrofoam peanuts sat in a perfect layer, but the smell told him everything he needed to know—death. “I need gloves.”
Mikhail went to the cabinet in the corner and returned with leather gloves. Dmitri pulled them on, never taking his gaze from the box. He delved into the peanuts, coming up with a sealed envelope. It contained a plain card with a note scrawled in it.
A preview of what’s to come.
—M
“Where is Keira?” He set the note aside. He’d expected Mae to make a move—she wasn’t the patient type, and it had to be infuriating in the extreme t
o know he bested her. It was entirely in character for whatever the box contained to be dramatic—and bloody. Alethea’s leash had slipped before, and it had obviously slipped again. There was no controlling Mae.
Mikhail shifted from foot to foot, the only sign of his unease. “She found the library. She’s been in there for hours.”
At least something had caught her interest. Krav Maga would help as well, but he was going to have to give her something else to keep her occupied—and out of trouble—soon. Dmitri focused on the box. “Let’s see it.” He carefully swept the peanuts to the side and delved deeper than he’d gone to find the note.
A head. That crazy bitch put a head in a box.
He lifted the head, dark hair swirling through the peanuts and then a face emerging. Dmitri froze. Keira.
But no, it wasn’t Keira, because his Keira was safely ensconced in the library. “Send one of the men to her, now.”
Mikhail didn’t ask for clarification. He dug his phone out and called Pavel. A quick conversation, and then a short wait for the confirmation text. He looked up from his phone. “She’s safe.”
Dmitri didn’t release his breath in a sigh of relief. He couldn’t afford to. But with Keira’s location confirmed, he could step back enough to study the dead woman’s face. Not Keira. They had the same straight nose and sharp features, but this woman’s lips were thinner, and her eyes were the wrong color—two things he should have picked up on immediately. He carefully replaced it into the box and removed the gloves. “Find out who she was—and who put the box here. Any packages should have been vetted by you first. I want to know why this one wasn’t.” It didn’t sit any better than the dead girl’s similarity to Keira. Mae had made a statement, and she would follow it with something worse. He might find anticipating Alethea’s moves challenging, but Mae was a rabid dog. All she knew how to do was attack. She might be crafty in the way she went about it, but she would attack all the same.
“Yes, sir.” Mikhail lifted the box and strode from the room.