Pure

by Lexi Buchanan

“You’re still sitting here with me,” he paused and caressed her hand with his thumb, “because you trust me not to hurt you . . . and because of this . . .” He raised her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss into the palm before he closed her fingers into a fist around the sweet kiss and placed her hand back on her lap. “You’re as attracted to me as I am you . . . there’s something about you, about us . . .” he trailed off.

  Her heart filled with excitement.

  “I do feel it too. I don’t want to go with your father.” She dipped her gaze. “But, I feel like I’d go anywhere with you.”

  His face was alight with hope until darkness seeped into his gaze. “I don’t know what’s going to happen because my father hasn’t been like this before . . . about anyone.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “We can’t let anyone know that there is an attraction between us. I can’t let my father know. It won’t be safe for you or me.” He closed his eyes tight before dropping his forehead to hers. “I can’t or they’ll know that you’re my weakness.”

  With her mind working overtime, she slowly pulled back from Mikhail and searched his hooded gaze.

  Mikhail held her gaze and she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to as the darkness of his gaze held hers captive.

  He reached out and his fingertips felt warm against her cold cheek. “You really are so innocent,” he whispered before he quickly snatched his hand away. “Just remember what I said.” He squeezed her hand and quickly stood, moving a few feet away . . . and that’s when she realized her father and that man, Mikhail’s father, were approaching from behind.

  Chapter 4

  Mikhail watched as fear entered her gaze before she pulled herself together and hardened her features against her father as they drew nearer. She had every right to be angry, but her father had no idea that she was aware of his agreement with Mikhail’s father.

  Watching them approach from the corner of his eyes, he paced back and forth, and moved closer to India, and hissed, “Your father can’t know that you listened at his door,” between his teeth.

  Her startled blue eyes briefly met his before she looked away, swallowing back her anguish. Tears glistened on her lashes and when one slowly fell down the smooth skin of her pale cheek, he wanted nothing more than to kiss it away. Instead he stepped back and continued his pacing, stopping only when his father stood directly in front of him, a dark frown on his face.

  “Hmm,” his father murmured as though he knew something. “It’s like that is it?” He tipped his head to the side, anger narrowed his eyes, and his mouth tightened into a thin line.

  To others, his father’s stare could be deadly, but Mikhail had become immune, his father liked to exercise his power because he knew that he had everyone exactly where he wanted them; at his beck and call.

  Everything in him tightened with the need to knock his father down. His father knew it as well. While his father tried to see inside of him, Mikhail wondered what his father had seen of his interaction with India, while he’d been approaching the rose garden. He could only see the second floor of the house so he was sure that he’d had privacy with India.

  “We’ll see,” his father said from the corner of his mouth as he stepped around him.

  He inhaled so that he didn’t say anything that would cause more harm than good and when he slowly exhaled, he turned and watched the whole charade.

  This wasn’t the first time that his father had paid for a woman, but it was the first time that Mikhail had ever cared deeply enough to want to put a stop to it.

  His father wanted the woman before him and he had a sneaky suspicion that he wanted her indefinitely. That didn’t bode well with Mikhail, because she was the woman that he needed.

  His father in his dark grey three-piece suit, held his hand out for India who looked at it with disgust before she quickly schooled her features.

  Her chest rose as she deeply inhaled and then she offered her hand, which his father snatched up with his much larger one. He brought it to his mouth and watched her response as he left a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. The hand that she held down at her side clenched into a tight fist between the folds of her white dress, while her gaze moved to his.

  “How are you, my precious India?” his father spoke in a tone that left no room for objection. She was his and he knew it, which made him confident.

  India shivered and kept silent.

  “India,” her father snapped, causing her to jump backward, obviously using the unexpected sharp tone as an excuse to move away from his father.

  “Mr. Vasiliev is talking to you.” Her father moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders—a move that Mikhail wished he could make, but as her protection. “You wanted adventure, India. So now you are going to have it,” her father announced.

  It would be no adventure with his father, and Mikhail wished more than anything that he could snatch her away and run. They’d have to run far because his father’s reach wasn’t just within the States. It was certainly a thought . . . one that was becoming more appealing by the second as he watched India become more fearful, her father holding her tightly in place.

  The thought that her father knew how much she wanted to run flittered through Mikhail’s mind, which was why he hardened his gaze and glared at the man who should be protecting his daughter—not selling her off.

  “Enough!” his father growled. “Vincent, I thank you for our agreement, but now it is time for us to leave.” His father waved his hands around in a flourish . . . and then stilled, looking between India and him.

  He didn’t think that India realized anything was wrong because he still felt her gaze caressing over his heated skin.

  “Ah,” his father clicked his fingers in front of her face, “so it’s like that, huh?” He moved to the back of India and with just one look exchanged between father’s, her father moved away.

  His own father placed his hands on her shoulders while he glared at him, and loudly whispered into India’s ear, “He’ll never be interested in you. He knows you’re mine. Whatever he has done or said before I arrived here was done to calm you before meeting me.”

  The bastard!

  Her eyes flickered to his while his father did his most to get rid of whatever trust Mikhail had built with her.

  “He’s done it before,” the bastard continued. “But make no mistake, my son will never want you, or help you.”

  He never knew that he could hate his father as much as he did right at that moment, but he did. His father had just given him the kick that he needed to leave, and when he did, it wouldn’t be alone.

  His fathers eyes briefly widened in surprise when, for the first time, Mikhail let him see the anger rolling around inside of him. It felt like a giant volcano was bubbling in his stomach ready to explode. It had been a long time coming and he had years of built up anger saved for just the right moment. He was often angry with his father but never more so than right now as his father crossed to him, his nose inches from Mikhail’s, his face red with his own anger.

  “This isn’t happening,” his father hissed. “You will travel in the first car and you will stay out of my way.” His father searched his gaze but found nothing but empty blackness. “Is that clear?” the question was spat at him, believing that he wouldn’t step completely out of line.

  He forced himself to relax and act nonchalant because it was the only way to diffuse the volatile situation with India being within harms reach. So he would comply, for now.

  Nodding, he smirked. “I’ll wait at the car.”

  Without one glance at India, he turned and headed toward the front of the house. All the while he felt his hackles rising with his back being toward the father who would never have a problem stabbing him in it.

  Chapter 5

  The room that was to be India’s in the home of the Vasiliev’s wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Her mind had conjured up a dark and dreary place, more like a dungeon. Instead the room was large, airy, and
she felt like she’d stepped into the 1800’s France, Versailles even. Thick cream drapes edged in gold covered the windows. She guessed the wallpaper was one of a kind. It had neutral tones depicting nudes in sexual acts that were almost indecent but she found it erotic.

  Padding softly across the room, she reached up and traced her fingertips over an embossed golden man and woman who were wrapped around each other. The man looked as though he cherished the woman, making her long for that. Just the thought brought her thoughts back around to Mikhail, even though they hadn’t been to far from him in the first place.

  The standoff between him and his father had made her heart pound and the palms of her hands sweat in fear at what would happen next. When she’d heard Vasiliev’s words about Mikhail’s motivation behind the comfort that he’d offered, she’d been tempted to question them. The subtle shake of her father’s head had made her hold her tongue.

  People thought that she was a shrinking violet because of her small frame, pale clear skin and blonde hair, except she was anything but. It gave her an advantage, which would be known when the time was right . . . and if Mikhail was to be believed, she had seven days to come up with a plan on how to leave. Because there was no way that she would ever willingly go to bed with Konstantine Vasiliev and he knew it too.

  Resting her forehead against the wall, she breathed deeply, trying to keep her fear at bay. She was fearful, but she was also hopeful, which would keep her going. It had to keep her going because there was nothing else otherwise.

  She knew she was the clever one. That she could get out of anything, but now she was stuck in a situation that was rapidly spiraling out of her control without anyway out.

  Mikhail might know a way.

  “Hmm,” she muttered, turning to lean against the wall and letting her eyes drift over to the huge canopy bed. The curtains were tied around the four posts of the bed and were made from the same fabric as the window drapes. The quilt was white and covered with lace, which would be pretty if she wasn’t a plain cotton kind of girl. Lace and frills were certainly not her taste, but considering what she’d expected, she wasn’t going to complain.

  She moved forward, breathing a sigh through her lips, and crawled onto the bed until her head reached the fluffy white pillows. Her body sunk into the welcoming and soft bed while her head continued to spin with everything that had happened so far.

  Her father hadn’t even looked regretful when she’d been marched out of the only home she’d ever known. Mikhail had disappeared to one of the cars and when she had appeared he had refused to even look at her, although she did sense his anger. That came through loud and clear. His desertion made her wonder if she should believe the words his father had spoken.

  You know you don’t believe them.

  A tear slowly seeped from the corner of her eyes and rolled slowly down the side of her face and into her hair as she stared up at the thick padded canopy. He thought that she was stupid. Konstantine had put her in this room to put her off guard—to make her relax so that when he chose to pounce she wouldn’t have her defenses up. Well, little did he know! She was a fighter and if she couldn’t come up with a plan to get out of there before the seven days were up, then she’d fight . . . she’d . . .

  She heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock so she quickly dried her cheeks in a panic and scrambled to sit up. Her back rested against the headboard and her arms wrapped tightly around her drawn up knees.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of Mikhail walking into the room with a plate of steaming food and a bottle of water in his hands. He avoided looking at the bed and once he’d placed the things down on the vanity unit, he rested his hands on the surface and his head dropped.

  “Mikhail,” she whispered, moving from the bed and padded softly over to where he stood, looking as taut as a bowstring.

  She lifted her hand and after a brief hesitation, she placed her palm on the middle of his back, a gentle shudder rippled through him at her touch. “I’ve been banned from being anywhere near you,” he hissed, turning his head and searching her eyes. “My father has gone to a meeting, so I bribed your maid, Vanessa. I needed to make sure that you’re okay.”

  He turned and when he grabbed ahold of her arms, he spun her around and pressed her up against the wall, holding her in place with his large body. Her heart raced being so close to him and a different kind of pulse started to throb between her legs where she pressed against his thigh.

  He held her gaze, and asked, “Did you believe him?”

  “I was beginning too,” she admitted, chewing her bottom lip. “I didn’t want to though.”

  Resting his forehead against hers, his breaths heavy, he whispered, “I had to act like I don’t care,” while he nuzzled into her neck. “I want you, India.” His hands moved and grasped her hips, tugging her hard against him. Her eyes widened when she felt his steely erection rubbing against her hip. She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t naive.

  “But,” he panted, “for now, you’re forbidden. My father will know if you’ve so much as received a kiss.”

  “How?” She wiggled against him and felt his hands shake where he pinned her to the wall.

  “One taste of you won’t be enough. I won’t be gentle. I won’t be able to. The minute our lips meet, I’ll devour you.”

  She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him closer and buried her face into his shoulder while she clung tightly. He hesitated for a moment before his arms wrapped around her waist.

  His strength seeped into her with the tight hold he had on her waist. “I don’t ever want to let go,” he whispered, trying to get her legs around his waist.

  He chuckled and tugged the skirt of her dress up and then he loudly groaned when his hands covered her bottom. “I need to leave.”

  “Not yet.” She nibbled on his earlobe and his grunt, as he held her against the swollen length of him, was only encouraging to her ears. “I want something to dream about when I close my eyes,” she admitted.

  “You’re killing me.” His hands trembled as he slowly put her away from him.

  Glancing down, the huge bulge behind his zipper called to her and she licked her lips in anticipation. He hissed and turned away seconds before he crossed to the window, resting his forehead against the glass.

  “I’m going to get you away from here before the seven days is up.” He quickly turned and met my gaze. “I’m not sure how, but I promise you this . . . My father will never get the chance to touch you,” he said the words so fiercely that she believed him, but something he hadn’t said trickled through her mind.

  “You said you’d get me away from here. What about you? You are coming with me?” She moved closer and saw his jaw tighten at her words.

  “I’m not sure if that’s possible . . . but, I will if I can.”

  Chapter 6

  As he quickly moved through the house, the anger rolled through Mikhail’s body, tightening his shoulders, and his hands became fists. It took a lot to anger him and knowing what his father planned to do to India not only filled him with fear, but anger.

  He wanted to be able to say that he saw her first and claim her as his in some sort of caveman way. Except he hadn’t. His father had. His father was a very powerful man within the Bratva, which meant it was going to be very difficult to get him to release India in a way that kept her safe. He wouldn’t release her though because he was an asshole who was obsessed with her, which was another matter to consider.

  The other women that his father had been with in the past had been a means to an end while he’d waited for the blonde beauty upstairs to be his. He wasn’t going to let her go. Would he wait the usual seven days? Mikhail doubted.

  Pushing his way through the kitchen frustrated as hell, he ignored the looks and sneers that he got from his father’s men, and exited via the backdoor. He headed away from the house to the cabin in the trees that he’d spent five years building because, right now, he needed his space away from the b
astards who answered nothing but yes to his father.

  He also needed to be able to think—to come up with a plan to get India free. His fists clenched at the thought even though he knew that he’d do anything to get to keep her for himself. It wasn’t just her beauty that he found arousing it was India as a whole. Her smile. The way she looked at him. Her voice sent shards of pleasure down his spine until his arousal throbbed between his legs—a state he’d been constantly fighting since he’d met her just five hours ago—it felt like days, weeks even.

  “Do I need to ask?” Hugh snapped him out of his thoughts with his unexpected words, as he continued, “Why are you so distracted?” Hugh raised a brow, leaning over the porch of Mikhail’s home.

  “I didn’t know you were here.”

  Hugh rolled his eyes. “Avoiding the question, huh?”

  He stomped up the steps to the porch, ignored Hugh, and made his way into the kitchen. “I’m not avoiding anything. I’m thinking.” He took a beer out of the fridge and bashed the cap free.

  They leaned against opposite counters while sipping the cool liquid. Hugh stayed silent.

  Hugh had been his best friend since he’d arrived in America with his father when he was seven years old. Twenty-six years later and they were still friends regardless of the difference between their families.

  “It’s a girl,” Hugh commented. “I’ve seen you angry before. In fact I’ve seen you damn right pissed, but I’ve never seen you distracted.” Hugh stepped in front of him. “Should it worry me?”

  “No!” He held Hugh’s gaze and repeated, “No.”

  Hugh grinned and backed away. “You’re a lying bastard.” His friend drained the bottle of beer in his hands before he tossed the bottle into the recycling tub. “Who is she?”

  Mikhail chuckled. “I never said there was a girl.”

  “Are you telling me there isn’t?”

  “You’re not going to give up, huh?”