Sordid

by Nikki Sloane

  Luka gestured to the boxes. “Get what you need and follow me.”

  I loaded my text books in my arms, only for Luka to take them from me.

  When I reached for my laptop, his voice was sharp. “No.”

  I froze. “I need it for online stuff.”

  He shook his head. “Not today, you don’t.”

  My fingertips slid over the cool metal case of my laptop, longing for everything I could access from it. I wanted more than anything to look up information on Luka Markovic, rather than figure out how to send a cry for help. How twisted was that?

  I collected my planner and another book, hugging them close. My fingers curled around the bindings made me feel normal again, if only for a minute. Luka carried my books under an arm, and gestured to the hallway. This time when we descended the stairs, he turned right, and I followed him across the hardwood. We went past what seemed to be a formal sitting room, and then he pushed open a door.

  There was one oversized arched window on the front wall, casting morning light across the bookshelves that lined the room. A large, ornate desk sat in the center, perched on top of an Oriental rug. It seemed to be the focal point, but my gaze went to the shelves, where books and odds and ends had been carefully displayed, even over the fireplace opposite the window.

  Luka set my textbooks on a tufted couch, but I drifted to the built-in bookcase, where my attention had landed on a framed photograph.

  “Your mother?” I asked before I could think better of it. The image was of an attractive brunette holding a baby, while a young boy hugged her legs. His dark hair and darker eyes were instantly recognizable, even when he was five years old.

  Luka’s posture went rigid. “Yeah, that’s her.” He pointed to the couch. “You’ll do your homework here.”

  His mother had a slender frame, big brown eyes, and long, sleek hair the same color as his. Her high cheekbones made her look elegant, and her bright smile announced where Vasilije’s dimple came from. The picture filled me with sadness. What had happened to her? “She was beautiful.”

  Luka took in a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if he was frustrated or caught off balance by my statement, so I hurried to the couch. I sank down beside the books and grabbed my planner, not wanting to make him angry.

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “She was very beautiful.”

  His expression gave nothing away, but his voice . . . the hurt there was unmistakable. I desperately wanted him to tell me more, but he didn’t. His face was shuttered as he went to the desk and sat behind the computer. I had a ton of reading to do for developmental biology, so I dug the textbook out of the stack, cracked it open, and got to work, refusing to let my thoughts wander toward the man sitting across from me.

  After a while, I no longer noticed the clicking of his mouse or keyboard. I retreated into the science, shutting the world out.

  We fell into a strange pattern the rest of the day, working in silence in his library, largely ignoring the other person. Yet, we were still intensely aware of each other. When he got up to take a phone call in the hallway, the room became cavernous and cold.

  It felt like it was simply a room, and not a space we were sharing together.

  Luka was gone for a while. Was this another test? The computer was right there, and he was probably still logged on. I kept myself rooted to the couch. I’d already made my choice to play the long game with Luka. Attempting escape would only make it take longer.

  When he finally reappeared, he carried drinks in one hand and balanced two plates of sandwiches on the other. Grilled chicken croissants with honey mustard dressing, which tasted amazing. “You have a personal chef,” I said, “when it’s just you here at the house?”

  Luka set his napkin on the plate and pushed it aside. “Whitney only works on the weekends. She prepares everything for the week ahead.”

  “Oh.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that even Luka’s meals were planned and controlled.

  After lunch, he went back to the computer and I moved on to organic chemistry. The day rolled on. At one point Luka rose from the desk, opened the trunk that doubled as a coffee table in front of the couch, and retrieved a quilt. He cast it over me, and I glanced up, surprised.

  “You were shivering.”

  I was so busy I hadn’t even noticed until he said so. The sweater I wore wasn’t very thick, and I’d been sedentary. How did he expect me to deal with him like this? The caring action was so confusing. I curled up under the warm blanket, and struggled with what to say. “Thank you.”

  He said nothing.

  When my coursework was done and the sunlight was fading, I closed my book and peered at him.

  He hadn’t flipped on any lights, so the room was growing dark and he was lit by the glowing computer screen. Stubble shadowed his jaw. His black eyes focused on the screen, and then he picked up a pen, scribbling something down on a pad of paper. Yet he must have sensed my gaze because his attention swung abruptly my direction.

  “What do you need?”

  If I’d gone back to my dorm Friday night, I would have finished polishing my secondary applications this weekend. “I have some applications I was working on.”

  “For Michigan and Johns Hopkins.” His face was emotionless.

  “Yeah,” I snapped. “That’s right, you know because you went through my stuff when you were packing it up.”

  He sat back from the desk and quirked his eyebrow. “Some of it I did then. I finished going through the rest of it last night.”

  My eyes narrowed to slits, but he kept talking.

  “That’s upsetting?” he mocked. “Did I cut you with a broken piece of glass?”

  My gaze dropped down to his forearm. The scratch wasn’t as red or noticeable today, but it was still there. What he’d said was true, but . . . “You’ve done worse to me.”

  “Yeah. So I don’t think me reading something you’re planning to send to strangers is that big of a deal.”

  It wasn’t, and yet it was. I’d put personal information in there about my vision for my future. My advisor had urged me to speak candidly about my goals. “Let them feel your passion,” she’d said. I hadn’t written the essay for Luka, and it filled me with unease to know he’d read it, which I was sure he had. I’d printed out a draft for better proofreading.

  “You look fucking hot when you pout.”

  My hands tensed into fists beneath the blanket, stifling back the irritation and the rush his words gave me. He was pushing my buttons on purpose.

  He stood and gave me a hard look. “Again, what do you need?”

  “I need to polish them and put them in the mail.”

  “All right. I’ll help you get them ready and drop them off on my way to the office in the morning.”

  I pushed back the blanket and rose to my feet, not wanting him to look down on me. “What’s the point if I’m not going to graduate?” In fact, Duke could rescind my acceptance if my grades slipped. Their medical school would not tolerate a senior slump.

  He stared at me as if I were throwing a tantrum. “What did I tell you this morning?” He shifted his weight, and set his hands on his hips, signaling visible annoyance with me. “Does getting into med school matter to you?”

  Yes, of course it mattered. He knew just how much it did. “It matters more than anything.”

  “Then, guess what? It fucking matters to me.”

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  I swallowed a breath. “You have to go to class to graduate.”

  Luka rolled his eyes. “I understand how it works, but we’re not there as far as trust goes. That should be your primary focus right now.” He collected the plates from lunch. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

  He left, and I plunked down on the couch, fuming. Despite how he’d worked me up, I was still cold. I aggressively yanked the blanket over myself, feeling powerless and frustrated.

  Luka returned with my applications and my laptop. He set it on the desk, plugged it in,
and hit the power button. Then, he handed me the application essay. “Read it out loud to me.”

  It seemed to be so he could multi-task. He went over to the fireplace and turned on the gas, then lit the ceramic pile of faux logs. The blue-orange flames licked over the realistic looking wood in a mesmerizing pattern.

  Reading it out to him was weird, but helpful as well. I could hear the awkward phrasing I’d used in the opening paragraph. “Cut that last sentence,” he said. “It’s repetitive.”

  He was right.

  I made the changes to the document on my laptop while he watched, and then he set up the printer and printed out copies to attach. When I was done addressing the envelopes he’d given me, he stuffed them with the applications, sealed them, and dropped them into the briefcase resting beside the desk.

  When he shut my laptop, my gaze casually wandered to his screen and—

  “You’re looking at porn?” I asked, shocked. There was a black and white picture on screen of a topless woman, whose head was turned down and her hands tucked behind her back, or perhaps they were tied.

  “That’s research.” He was quick to click the window closed, though.

  “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” I said, my voice flat. “Research?”

  His hand dipped under my arm and he yanked me to my feet, bringing us face to face. “It’s research about your training, Addison.” His eyes flooded with something raw and sexual. “I’ve spent the whole day working on our plan.”

  Well, that was terrifying. So why did a thrill shiver down my spine? And . . . our plan? I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and forced out a confident voice. “Okay. You need to get a hobby.”

  Luka’s evil smile made my blood run cold and got me hot in the same instance. “I have one.” He slipped a hand beneath the hem of my sweater and ran his warm fingers over my belly, causing me to flinch. They skated upward, tracing the cup of my bra. “It’s this,” he whispered.

  He loomed overhead and didn’t tip his head down, choosing instead to look over his long lashes at me. I was sure he noted every hurried breath I took, and saw my pupils dilate, a perfect response to his touch. My skin tingled beneath his fingertips and I studied his mouth. It said dirty, sometimes awful things, but it was beautiful, too. His sexy, cruel mouth was addictive.

  The fireplace burned quietly. There was only a faint hiss of gas as it flickered in the now-dark room. Luka lowered his mouth almost to mine, but didn’t claim it. He breathed over my lips and dipped down further into the crook of my neck. There, the tip of his nose brushed over my sensitive skin. He moved from one side to the other, teasing his kiss but not delivering it. I licked my lips instinctively, craving what he denied.

  It wound me tighter each second as his hot breath streamed over me, and the faintest brush of his lips grazed my neck. I was itchy and agitated. No, those weren’t the right words. Eager was a better fit. Perhaps even desperate.

  “Luka,” I said, verging on a plea. I was weak. How could I want him? I’d been tainted, like he’d poisoned me. Sinking down to his level was the only way to alleviate the symptoms.

  “What do you need?” he asked. He was a vicious cat, sadistically playing with the mouse he’d caught. He’d toy with his prey before devouring it. “Ask me.”

  I sighed while he continued his torment. Was it possible to die from anticipation? How the hell was I supposed to ask him to kiss me, and why? Luka was a taker. He’d get whatever he wanted, use me up, and discard me when he was done. He wasn’t bothered with right or wrong, and certainly didn’t care what I thought.

  “Are you shaking because you’re cold?” His tone was rhetorical. We both knew I wasn’t. The fire had warmed the room, and there was plenty of heat between us.

  It felt a little like dying, or at least sacrificing a limb to save the body. I was surrendering more control, and soon I’d have nothing left. I stared into his intense eyes, and my voice was a whisper. “Kiss me.”

  “Louder.”

  My chest expanded as I pulled in an enormous breath. “Kiss me.”

  He obliterated everything. His mouth moved urgently against mine, and then his tongue got involved. Powerful, sure arms swept me up and dropped me down with a thump on the end of the desk. He didn’t even stop kissing me as I heard the sharp snap of his fingers. There was no hesitation this time as I pried my knees apart and welcomed him to step between them. I curled my hands beneath the cotton of his t-shirt, finding his skin burning hot.

  We were wild, thrashing against each other.

  His kiss turned up to a new level of aggression, and I moaned with a hint of pain as he bit down on my bottom lip. I scored my nails down his chest, but it only caused him to escalate. A heartbeat later, his hand was wrapped tightly around my throat.

  “Was this the plan?” I asked. “Making me ask you to kiss me?”

  “No.” His wet tongue traced the edge of my ear. “I just wanted it, and now I can’t seem to stop kissing you.”

  He felt out of control? Yeah, Luka. I know exactly how that feels.

  I was panting when he abruptly stepped back and pulled me to my unsteady feet. “It’s a thousand degrees in this office.”

  I fell into his arms, letting him support me. “Is that you telling me to take off my clothes?” It was a half-joke, half-truth.

  His gaze flitted downward and his eyes went hazy with lust, but he blinked it back. “No. We have other shit to do. Come on.”

  Dinner was served in the kitchen, thankfully not in the dining room. I shuddered when we walked past the long table where Luka had spanked my bare bottom in front of everyone. I had a purple-yellow bruise from it—I’d seen it in the mirror after my shower this morning.

  He poured us each a glass of red wine to go along with our filet mignon.

  “Your parents will be calling you soon,” he said, “so we need to discuss the rules.”

  I’d been turning the base of the wine glass, but paused. “They’ll be calling? How do you know that?”

  His expression stayed flat, giving nothing away. “You’ll put the call on speaker, so I can hear everything said.” The table groaned as he leaned his elbows on it. “You can tell them you’ve met someone, but you don’t give them my name. If you try to ask for help, or get them involved in any way, I’ll revoke your privileges. That means you go back to naked and chained to the bed.”

  It reminded me how tired I was from last night, both physically and mentally. I leaned forward on my elbows as well. “I’m not going to try to escape, for my safety and theirs.” The words burned as fire in my throat. “You and your father made it perfectly clear what the consequences are if I disobey.”

  He winced. Luka actually winced at how I’d lumped him together with his father. “I didn’t want that to happen.”

  “Which part? Where you humiliated me, or where my life was threatened?”

  He scowled. “All of it.”

  “Why? You don’t give a damn about—”

  He slammed his fist loudly against the tabletop and the place settings jumped. Wine sloshed in my glass, and I clamped a hand over my lips to mute my sound of surprise.

  “I don’t, huh?” he demanded. “You have no idea what I fucking gave up for you.”

  What the hell was he talking about? “Oh? Okay, then tell me.”

  “No.”

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You get how trust works, right? That it’s a two-way street?”

  He exhaled loudly and his eyes turned stormy. “I don’t want the life my father lives. I worked hard and earned my degree, and then I did it all over again for my master’s.” Luka glanced away and grumbled under his breath. “Not that my father doesn’t work hard. He has to, to stay ahead of the Russians.”

  Part of me wanted to dig into his statement, but I was smart enough not to ask. It was doubtful he’d tell me what kind of business his family was really in, and it was probably better if I just assumed the worst. I didn’t need the dirt
y details, so instead I evaluated his words critically. Was he saying he didn’t want to be a part of the organized crime his father was involved in?

  “I’ve been upfront with him,” he continued. “Vasilije’s like my father, and he’s fucking eager to help out with that side of the Markovic business.” Luka’s voice dripped with disdain.

  There was a long pause, prompting me. “So you’re trying to protect Vasilije?”

  Luka gave a short, ironic laugh. “No, if he wants to get into that shit, he will. My brother’s an asshole. Just like my father, remember?” He took a quick sip of his wine. “When Vasilije got busted, it was for weed. It mellows Vasilije out and, seriously, that’s a good thing. Most of the time he’s a psychotic. He’s a perfect fit to step up.”

  I failed to understand. “Then, what’s the issue?”

  “All that money needs to be kept track of. Why have an outsider cook the books when I can keep all our dirty secrets within the family?”

  The realization washed through me and a sharp pang stabbed inward as I thought about Luka’s situation. “You got your degree to try to escape, and instead it made you more valuable to your father.”

  He shook his head. “To my uncle. He’s the one my father answers to. I’ve been working legit for them up until now.”

  My heart hurried along with concern. “Until now? What changed?”

  “My father has leverage.”

  I gripped the edge of the table, knowing the truth already, but I needed to hear him confirm it. “I’m the leverage.”

  His dark eyes were empty, and for the first time, I noticed the faint lines at the corners. He was hiding the emotion locked inside him. He spoke softly, almost as if defending himself. “I had to make a deal.”

  Which had been to save my life, I was sure of it. He was trapped just as much as I was. “Why’d you do it?”