by S. E. Lund
"Fight fire with fire." George shrugged once more like he was helpless. "We shall see."
Then he left me alone to wonder what he meant.
Chapter 4
CELIA
I spent the next few hours in the small seating area, watching television and intermittently reading my journal articles for the next day's class. George spent his time in his cubbyhole office. The sun went down and the space was cast into mostly darkness, except for a few lights in each of our two places. George sat and watched his video feeds, and I watched him, wondering when Hunter would show up and what he would make me do to earn my keep.
Scrub his back?
Cook him supper?
Finally, after eight, my stomach started to growl and I got up to look in the refrigerator to see if there was something I could eat. While I was checking out the jar of pickles, Hunter entered the apartment with two bags of takeout food in his hands.
"Dinner is served," he said, holding the bags up high.
George went over to him and took the bags, checking out the receipts. "You got any Russian food?"
"That bag," Hunter said and pointed to one of the two. "Although it may be Ukrainian or Romanian or something." Then, he caught my eye. "I hope you like ribs."
"I'll eat pretty much anything at this point," I said. "The only thing in the refrigerator is some pickles."
Hunter nodded. "We can get groceries tomorrow if you want. I'm sure George would love to cook you some good food from St. Petersburg. What do you say, George?"
"I would love," George said and carried the bags to the kitchen, where he proceeded to prepare the meal for us, taking out plates and cutlery, and organizing the containers of food. He seemed to take on an avuncular role with Hunter, like he was Hunter's batboy. Hunter seemed used to it, and even relished it.
Hunter came over to me and looked me up and down. "How are you?" he asked, his voice soft. He ran his fingers over my bruised cheek. "Do you need anything? Pain killers?"
"Tylenol's good enough," I said, shaking my head.
"How about something to drink?"
"Sure," I said and sighed. "What do you have?"
"I can get you anything. George prefers vodka but I seem to recall that you like tequila."
"Tequila's good," I said. "Do you have salt and limes?"
"That bad?" he asked, smiling softly. "I'm sorry about all this," he said and looked around the apartment. "It's my fault. I knew better, but I have this weakness for you."
"Weakness?" I said, surprised at his choice of words. "Seems to me like you're the one in the position of strength here, seeing as you paid off my debts and I owe you hours and hours of," I said and hesitated, not really wanting to put it into words. I glanced at George, who was humming to himself at the sink. "Payback," I said quietly.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure the weakness is all on my side." Then he lifted a strand of my hair, his gaze moving over my face and lower. Then, to my utter surprise, he bent down and kissed me.
I startled a bit, not expecting it, but he persisted, his lips pressing against mine. He slipped one hand behind my head and held me there as if he thought I'd try to escape. In truth, a thrill went through me at his sudden show of desire and affection and his words about being weak towards me.
It was the opposite of how I thought he would act and feel.
If anything, it was always me who wanted him—me who couldn't resist him. Of course, he thought I had used him, discarding him when Greg came along…
"We should talk," I said, deciding to reveal the truth of what had happened five years earlier when I’d cut things off between us.
"We can talk later," he said with a sigh. "I’m hungry and tired and want a nice warm bath."
He raised his eyebrows at that, and I knew what my evening was going to be like. My body responded immediately at the prospect of sex with Hunter. I was so damn weak… But I also wanted to see Graham.
"I wanted to go see my brother after supper," I said, clearing my throat, which had suddenly choked up.
He frowned. "That isn't exactly in my plans for tonight."
"He's injured and all alone except for his co-worker. I stopped by this afternoon, but he was in physio, so…" I shrugged, trying to look like it was out of my control.
He inhaled and turned away, sitting at the island, taking a plate. Obviously, he didn't want his plans to be interrupted, but I had a life. Graham needed family.
We ate our meal together, and it took some time before Hunter warmed up again. As I watched, George brought him out, teasing him, reminiscing about their shared past. I could see by the way Hunter and George talked and joked with each other that there was a great deal of respect and mutual affection between them.
"You two knew each other in Afghanistan?" I asked, wanting to hear some stories and encourage Hunter to be in a better mood.
"We met when George here joined our Special Operations Forces unit on a rescue," Hunter said, smiling at George affectionately. "A convoy of supplies was attacked and two civilian contractors were abducted and kept in a compound in the tribal areas. We joined up with him and a few other mercs to take them back."
George nodded slowly, regarding Hunter with a critical eye. "That was first mission together," George said. "I didn't know what to think of pretty boy Marine lieutenant. All shiny and new. First operation. I give him hard time at first. He showed me he was good enough."
"Just good enough?" Hunter said with a mock tone of affront. He cuffed George playfully, reaching out across the island where we sat eating. "You sang my praises to high heaven that night in the bar back at our FOB."
"Vodka always makes things look better."
"I didn’t think you could drink while on deployment in the Persian Gulf," I said, frowning.
"General Order number 1A prohibits consumption of alcohol while in Iraq, Afghanistan, or Kuwait," Hunter said as if he'd memorized the regulation. "We still drank. Private contractors drank and we spent a lot of time with private contractors. Especially old Russian veterans. You can't separate Russians from their vodka and expect to win a war."
George laughed and nodded. "Is true." Then, he threw back another ounce of vodka. "To your health."
We replied and I took a shot. Later, the talk died down and the three of us sat staring at our empty glasses. George stood up and stretched.
"Well, I clean up and then I think I go downstairs," he said and grabbed his half-empty bottle of Stolichnaya.
"Don’t worry about cleaning up. James will take Celia to the hospital for a quick visit, and I'll take care of things while she's away, but then I'm staying for the night," Hunter said, his voice low. "You can go downstairs if you want."
"I will," George said and he laid his hand on Hunter's shoulder. "I be back tomorrow morning bright and early."
"Don't bother," Hunter said. "I'm sleeping in tomorrow. I'll call you when I need you back here."
George nodded, glancing over at me. "Have good night," he said. "Remember what I told you." Then he left us sitting at the island.
Before he was out the door, Hunter turned to me, frowning. "What did George tell you? Only good things, I hope…"
"Yes," I said, not knowing what else to say.
Hunter got on his cell and called James, asking him to pull the car around the back so I could go to the hospital. Then, he escorted me to the door, helping me on with my coat.
"Don't stay too long," he said as he stood behind me, adjusting my collar. He leaned closer, pressing his body against mine, his face in my hair. I heard him inhale deeply. "I'm an impatient man."
"I won't take too long," I replied, a thrill going through my body at the sound of desire in his voice.
Then I left and took the service elevator to the loading dock where James waited, the rear passenger door open.
I had a nice visit with Graham, and got an update on how his physio was going, how long he might have to stay in rehab.
He was now on the rehab ward and was getting help from
occupational therapists with looking after himself, doing basic things like going to the toilet himself and brushing his teeth.
Everything was hard for him, and I felt sick watching how much his independence had been reduced. The doctor said he would be like that for weeks until they could get him walking again when the cast was off his leg and the broken bone had healed.
"I talked to Mom," he said and then filled me in on his call with her. "They'll be home tomorrow," he said and handed me his cell, which was open to an email from Spencer.
"I was enjoying his absence," I said ruefully. "I hope Mom had a good time."
"She sounded good," Graham said. "Refreshed. The trip was on her bucket list, so she's really happy they went."
I checked my watch. "Well, I have to go," I said and leaned over to kiss Graham's cheek and give his good arm a squeeze. "I'll be back tomorrow for another visit."
"Bring your lunch or stay and have dinner with me," he said hopefully. "I get pretty damn lonely."
"I will," I said.
I left him, walking through the maze of hallways to the front entrance where James waited with the SUV. As we drove through the darkened streets of Boston, I stared numbly out the window at the passing city lights, wondering what Hunter would make me do to service his needs.
I hated myself for being so aroused at the thought of servicing his needs…
Once back at the safe house, I entered the apartment and removed my coat. Hunter was sprawling on one of the sofas watching news, remote in hand.
I went over to the kitchen, feeling suddenly awkward, and saw that, as he promised, Hunter had removed our glasses and plates and had put them into the dishwasher. I stood at the island counter and watched the city lights outside the huge window, wondering what Hunter would do and when he would make his move.
"There you are," Hunter said and came into the kitchen. He stood directly behind me, his body touching mine. There was no doubt what he had in mind when he corralled me against the counter, one arm on either side of me.
He pulled my hair to one side and kissed my neck, his lips warm against my skin. He moved his mouth higher, pressing it against my jaw and then my cheek when I turned my head to the side. His hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me against him so I could feel his erection pressing against my butt.
My body responded but my mind was surprisingly resistant. I could have just melted into his arms, because there was no doubt I was aroused. For some reason—maybe having to do with self-esteem—I couldn't allow myself to just go along with him. I couldn’t allow myself to respond even though I could feel my flesh throb in response to his touch.
I stiffened, turning my head the other way, running the water in the island sink and making a show of washing a pot off before sliding beside Hunter and placing it in the dishwasher.
Hunter didn't say anything, but he did stand back a few feet and watched me. I kept up the façade of cleaning up and he watched.
"So that's how it's going to be, is it?" he said, his voice low.
"Isn't this my job?" I said a bit too tartly. "I clean up, run your bath, wash your back, take care of your needs? You own me, after all."
When he didn't respond, I turned to see his expression and found him leaning against the counter, his arms crossed. He was wearing a black cashmere sweater with a V-neck, the fabric molding to his body, showing his very well-developed muscles, his wide bulky shoulders and his bulging biceps. His black jeans hung low on his narrow hips, a thick black belt with a big buckle over a nicely bulging package. He was watching me from under a frown, his head bowed, his blue blue eyes intense, his longish hair falling on his cheeks in a very sexy way.
What was wrong with me? Why was I resisting?
The man was gorgeous. He was also clearly not happy with my lack of response to him.
"What?" I said, seeing his disapproving expression. "You're not happy that I'm cleaning your kitchen? You want me down on my knees?"
He glanced away and I saw a muscle twitch in his too-square jaw, which was covered with just the right amount of scruff.
Damn him! Why did I still want him so much despite everything?
"You know what?" he said finally, his voice sounding weary. "Fuck it." He left the kitchen area and started walking to the door. I kicked myself mentally. I didn’t necessarily want him to leave, but I also didn't want this arrangement to keep on the way it was.
Then he turned suddenly and came back, pressing me against the island before I could respond. He kissed me, one hand behind my head so I couldn't escape. The kiss was passionate, rough, his mouth devouring mine, his tongue finding mine. With the other hand, he squeezed my breast, his thumb unerringly finding my nipple through the fabric of my t-shirt.
I couldn't deny that my body responded immediately to his kiss and his touch. When I finally kissed him back, giving in instead of fighting, he stopped and pulled away, leaving me almost panting with desire.
"I don't need this," he said, his hands on his hips. "I don't force women and I don't enjoy hesitation. So, we're done until you come to me. Willingly."
Then he turned and left me alone, my heart racing, my body aching with desire. I watched in silence as he grabbed his leather jacket from the back of a chair beside the door and left, slamming the door behind him.
I should have admitted that I wanted him as much as he wanted me—probably more—but my pride prevented me.
I couldn't get around the fact that he owned me financially. Sure, he’d saved my brother's life, paid of his debts, and protected me when the mob became too interested in me. He’d paid off my tuition and the lost inheritance.
But I wanted more.
The truth was that I couldn't be happy being his fuck toy no matter how much I enjoyed it.
I did enjoy it. He'd proven that multiple times.
But I wasn't just some Boston wiseguy's fuck toy.
Until he understood that, we'd have to be enemies. So, instead giving Hunter a bath, washing his back, and then having sex with him, I sat alone on the sofa, my arms crossed. In truth, I wanted things to work out with him, but not like this. Not with me beholden to him, doing things because I had to rather than because I had chosen to. He was right. Sex had to be chosen freely or it was rape. At the least, it was prostitution.
I was better than that.
I waited for a few moments, wondering if he'd come back, but he didn't, so I got up and did a bit of tidying to try to distract myself. When I came to look at the seating area for more dishes, I saw the bank of video cameras and decided to check and see if George was returning to be my babysitter. Honestly, at that moment, I preferred his company. He was nice, friendly, and besides, I wanted to pump him for more information about Hunter.
I sat at the desk where I remembered George sitting and checked out the feed. On one screen, I saw the exterior of the building. A lone car drove down the street, but otherwise the neighborhood was deserted. On another screen, I saw the rear loading dock and back alley between the two buildings. Then, I noticed a small screen to the left and saw…
I saw my own apartment at the dorm.
What?
Hunter had a hidden camera in my apartment? There were two angles—one showing my bedroom, the wide-eye camera catching the bed itself and the closet area and window. The other showed the living room, doorway, and door to the tiny kitchenette.
Hunter had been spying on me at the dorm?
My pulse raced. What a bastard…
I couldn't believe it.
He'd been freaking spying on me, watching me sleep? Did he see me get dressed and undressed every day? Worse, was George watching me?
For how long?
It had to be recent…
Just then, when my pulse was racing and I was fuming in anger, my face red, the door to the apartment opened and George entered. He saw me sitting at his place and frowned.
I stood up quickly, feeling guilty that I'd been snooping, and yet fully justified and incensed that I'd discovered they'd
been watching me on hidden cameras.
"I can't believe that you and Hunter have been spying on me," I said, stepping out of the way when he entered the small office space. "I thought Hunter was above being a voyeur."
George bent down and clicked off the screen and then stood up straight. "We do it for your protection only. Not as voyeur."
"But I got dressed and undressed in my room."
George shrugged and sat at his chair. "I don't watch. Only make sure you are okay. Hunter was very worried about your safety. He put in cameras to make sure Stepan and his guys don't come for you. Hurt you."
I frowned. Of course, he was right that I was in danger from Stepan and his mob goons, but to put in a camera…
"Why not just have a tail on me or something?" I asked, trying to come up with some excuse. "No bodyguards?"
"Bodyguards not work at dorm. Tail is already in place but it takes three men to do one tail, Celia."
"I still don't like it," I said. "I don't like being spied on. It's an invasion of privacy. Couldn't you just have one camera watching my door?"
"Is better this way. Someone could break into window…"
"That sounds like an excuse," I replied, my hands on my hips.
"It was only for few nights," George said, exhaling in frustration. "Now, you are here. Much safer."
I glanced around the space. "Are there cameras hidden here as well? So Hunter can watch my every move?"
"No need for cameras," George said, his voice sounding tired. "I watch. I protect."
"Well, I don’t like it."
I stomped away to the seating area and plopped down on the small sofa, upset that not only had I been surveilled, I was now a prisoner. And Hunter was going to ignore me until I came to him and asked for him to fuck me.
Like I was going to ask him to fuck me.
Not likely…
I checked my watch. It was almost nine o'clock. I had early class the next day and so I clicked on the widescreen and surfed the channels, looking for something to watch to pass the time until I was tired enough to sleep. I laughed to myself when I saw what was on AMC.