by Renee Rose
He chokes, his face turning purple, eyes bulging. Oleg knows exactly how long to hold him. Long enough he starts thinking he might die right here in his entryway.
When he releases him, Ensign collapses in a heap on the floor. Nikolai kicks the door shut behind us.
“What—” Ensign coughs and sputters, holding his throat with one hand as he drags himself back up to his feet.
“Should we take him somewhere?” Dima affects a bored tone. “Is there a nice rug we could ruin with his blood?”
“Wh-who are you guys? What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Adjust his tone.” I make my voice as cool and bored as Dima’s but don’t quite succeed. I sound invested in his pain. I am invested in his pain.
Oleg delivers a couple choice blows—one to his gut, one to his jaw, knocking him backward onto his ass again.
“We’ll take him to the casting room. I want to see the couch where he takes his dick out.” I deliver a sharp kick to his ribs. “Where is that?”
“What?” He’s still more angry than scared. His face contorts with belligerence.
I point my gun right at his crotch. “You wanna keep those balls? Take me to the fucking room where you asked my girl to suck your dick.”
I see a flash of fear now. He understands why we’re here. What we want. Or maybe he just sees that I’m a ruthless bastard. He hides it quickly. I’ll give him that—the guy’s not a total coward. I actually thought he’d be softer. The kind who begged the moment he saw a gun.
“Just shoot it off,” Nikolai suggests when he doesn’t answer immediately.
“Upstairs.” His attitude adjusts quickly. He points toward a spiral staircase. “In my office.”
I kick him again. “Take us there.”
He groans as he climbs to his feet. I press the tip of my revolver to the back of his head as he hobbles forward up the stairs.
“Who are you?” he asks when we get into his office. “Which girl?”
“Which girl,” Nikolai repeats the damning phrase. “How many have there been?”
He doesn’t answer.
“How many yesterday?” I ask, just before Oleg delivers a blow to his jaw that sends him careening into the heavy maple desk.
Dima takes a seat and cracks open the laptop. “Looks like you saw forty-five women yesterday, is that right?”
Ensign shoots him a frightened glance, like that kind of information wasn’t public knowledge.
“Yes, I am in your email, in case you were wondering. I’m also in your bank account. The one at Wells Fargo, the one at Fidelity, the one at Vanguard, and also the off-shore account in Barbados. Looks like your current balance is two million, eight hundred fifty thousand and some change. Does that sound right?”
Ensign pales, shooting scared glances between me and Dima. “Wh-what the fuck is going on here?”
Oleg punches him in the gut.
I fold my arms across my chest. Honestly, I’m afraid if I do get my hands on him, I’ll finish the job. “I thought I made it pretty clear. You asked my girl to suck your dick. I’m going to kick your ass. I’m also thinking about cutting your dick off to prevent future incidents. We’ll see how long it takes you to say sorry.”
“I’m sorry!” He holds his hands up and shoots another glance at Dima. “Wh-what is he doing with my money?”
“Looks like he’s more worried about his money than his dick,” I observe. “You set up to drain him?”
“With the click of a button,” Dima confirms. “Which one do I start with?”
“How much is in the Vanguard account?” I ask.
“That’s his smallest. Two hundred eighty thousand.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry about your girlfriend. Who is she? I’ll give her the part. I’ll make her a star.
I hesitate then send my knuckles into his nose, breaking it. “You think I’d let her anywhere near you?”
He groans, holding his gushing nose. “I’ll get her a part with the studio—on another show. I can do that.”
“You can do that.” I make my voice sound withering, but I glance at Nikolai to see his take on it.
He shrugs like the solution is worth considering.
“I can do it.” Ensign’s talking fast. “Lots of parts are being cast right now for next season. I could get her a part on Bank Bandits or Bad Boys. An on-going role. If she’s any good, it would open doors for her.”
“If they’re not your shows, how can you get her the part?”
“I’ll talk to the casting director.” Ensign holds his gushing nose. “I can say she’s a friend—or, or my niece—and I need this as a favor. I guarantee I can get her something.”
Gospodi. I want to help Kayla this way. But what if he’s just trying to get her name to nail me?
I look at Dima. “Take the money from his Vanguard accounts.” Dima hesitates a moment because it was a bluff. I was supposed to know it was a bluff. And now I’m asking my cell brother to commit another felony for me.
“You have forty-eight hours to make it happen. If you do, I’ll put the money back.”
Dima clicks the button. “Account drained.”
“I’ll do it!” Ensign agrees. “What’s her name?”
“Kayla Winstead. And if that girl does not get treated like fucking gold, I’m coming back for another visit.” I bring the butt of the gun to his forehead again. “She doesn’t know you got her the job. Understand?”
“Understood,” he croaks.
“You come looking for me, you’re a dead man. Forty-eight hours.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He reaches for tissues on the desk and uses a wad of them to hold up to his nose. “And you’ll put my money back.”
“That’s the arrangement. If you don’t come through, we’ll empty the rest of them.”
“No.” He slices his hand through the air. “It’s done.”
“Good.” I glance at Oleg who nods and punches Ensign hard enough to knock him out.
The four of us walk out the door and climb in the van. “Honestly, I was hoping he’d be harder to break,” Nikolai says as he backs the van quickly down the drive. Dima makes the gate open with his laptop, and we’re out.
“Same,” I agree. “You think he’s good for it?” I ask.
“Yeah, I do. Here’s my guess,” Nikolai says. “I’d bet this isn’t the first time he’s had to offer that solution. There’s probably been threatened lawsuits before.”
“Fucker,” I mutter. “Kayla can’t know about this. Make sure you don’t say anything in front of Sasha, those two don’t keep many secrets.”
“When do we ever talk business in front of Sasha?” Dima scoffs.
“I know. Of course you wouldn’t. I’m just making sure.”
“You did the right thing.” Nikolai guesses at my misgivings.
I sure as fuck hope so. If anything I did ever hurt Kayla, I’d never forgive myself.
Kayla
Lara calls when I get back from the spa. At first,I just stare at my phone, not sure I want to answer. Not sure whether I’m going to tell her what happened.
But after spending two and a half hours having my feet massaged, my nails painted and my face peeled and moisturized, I’ve come to a realization: Pavel takes care of me.
He takes care of me like no one in my life ever has—and I had a nice, wholesome upbringing with two parents who drove me to every rehearsal and never missed a single performance.
So I’m going to surrender control and let Pavel take care of Blake Ensign and forget about my good-girl misgivings over what he’s doing.
“Hi Lara.”
“I just wanted to check to see how the audition went yesterday.” she asks.
I appreciate the check-in, even if it’s a day late. “Um, not great. But that’s okay. I’m chalking it up to experience. At least I made call-backs.”
I wish to hell Blake Ensign hadn’t ruined that high point for me. For a minute there, I’d been damn
proud of myself. Of my success. Of actually doing the thing I came here to do. I’d gone into that first audition as an empty vessel, and I’d filled it with the part I was supposed to play. I’d moved them, just as Pavel had promised.
The fact that I got a call-back proves it.
I shouldn’t let a first class asshole like Blake Ensign diminish that little win.
If I did it once, I can do it again. Now I know what it takes. Stripping myself bare. Dropping all pretentions. Just being. All the things Pavel has demanded from me. I’ve been worried that he was distracting me from my career, when, in fact, he was the ticket.
“Oh.” Lara sounds disappointed. “All right, hon. We’ll get you another one. I’ve gotta go. Have a good rest of your weekend.”
“You too,” I singsong, even though I know she’s already hanging up.
Crawling onto the bed, I open the reading app on my phone and find a romance novel to read—a sexy werewolf one because I love me an alpha male, but Pavel walks in before I even start it.
“Master!” I scramble up off the bed and throw myself at him.
He bands his arm around my back and lets me smash myself against his body. “That’s… sweet.” He sounds surprised. I guess I haven’t greeted him this way before. His body is a tense rock against mine, like he’s bracing himself. Or holding himself back.
“Thank you for the spa day. It was so nice.”
He fists my hair and pulls my head back. “I want to do bad things to you.” I guess he’s already over his misgivings about hurting me.
“Did you… um… were you visiting Blake Ensign?”
“I took care of it.” There’s a finality to his tone, but I still push.
“What did you do?”
He disengages himself from me and steps into the bathroom without answering. I hear the sound of him washing his hands. I follow him in. He rubs a washcloth over a dark spot on his hunter green shirt, and I see the remainder of blood there.
“You said we don’t lie to each other,” I accuse.
Pavel turns and raises his brows, pinning me with a sharp look. “I won’t lie to you, Blossom. I will also never make you an accessory to a crime. My job is to protect you. That’s what I will do.”
My breath leaves me in a whoosh. Like every time he reveals this side of him I’m simultaneously shocked and turned on. Afraid and swoony.
I move forward and insinuate myself into his arms again. “I like what you do,” I murmur.
Pavel lets out an exhale. His body relaxes a few degrees, and he kisses the top of my head. “Clothes off, little slave. I need to be inside you.”
13
Kayla
I hate Sunday nights after Pavel leaves when every inch of my body still feels him, yet he’s hundreds of miles away. My heart gets on the plane with him, abandons me and leaves me with a gaping hole in my chest.
Monday mornings are even worse. Every weekend feels harder than the last, and the fact that now I feel like I can’t talk to my roommates about it makes it even worse.
It’s a form of sub-drop. The endorphins from the high of the weekend with Pavel wearing off and leaving me blue. Not like the burst into tears kind I hate but low nonetheless.
I force myself into the shower, recalling every moment of the weekend—good and bad.
When I get out, my phone rings. I pick it up and swipe across the screen when I see it’s Lara.
“Hi, Lara, what’s up?”
“Well, I’m not sure. The casting agent from Black Diamond studios called—you didn’t get the part.” She adds the last bit quickly, like she didn’t want me to get my hopes up even for a second. “But she would like you to come back in to audition for the next season of Bad Boys.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I guess she really liked you. Sounds like maybe she’s in your corner now.”
My optimistic spark flares to life, and I start feeling more like myself. “That’s amazing. Oh my God, I’m so happy. So when’s the audition?”
“Well, it sounded informal—I don’t think there is an actual audition. She wanted you to come down to the studio to read lines for the part. Kayla, I don’t want to jinx this, but it sounds like you’re on the short-list for this part!”
“What’s the part? Do you know?”
“No. I don’t think it’s a lead role, but regardless, it would be a great opportunity.”
“Of course, it would! I’m thrilled. When do they want me?”
“Today. She said anytime between noon and three. You just show up at Black Diamond and ask to see Claire Peacock. She’s the casting director.”
“Great! I’ll get ready now.” I run to my closet and start frantically throwing clothes out on the bed.
“What time should I tell her?”
“Um…” I try to put on a pair of panties one-headed while I hold the phone. “Twelve-thirty. I don’t want to look too eager. Or do I?”
Lara gives a throaty laugh. “Twelve-thirty sounds good. I’ll give her the message. Call me when it’s over to let me know how it went.”
“Will do.”
I hang up, a goofy grin stretching across my face. Lara doesn’t usually ask for a report on how things went, so that must be a sign that she has high hopes for me. For this.
“Oh my God, you guys!” I run out of my room in nothing but my black panties, looking for my housemates. “I got another call-back!”
“Whoop whoop!” Kimberly calls from the kitchen. “You did something right.”
The sickening memory of Ensign’s office tries to crowd into my brain and dampen my enthusiasm, but I shove it away. I did something right at the first audition, and that’s why I got this call-back. Ensign’s an ass who doesn’t know good talent, and fortunately, he had nothing to do with this.
“Yep. I didn’t even have to suck anyone’s dick,” I say, trying to make light of it. My words choke me a little, though, and Kimberly cocks her head.
I didn’t tell them about what happened. How could I? They’d want me to hashtag me-too it, but I don’t want to be famous for being sexually harassed. I want to be famous based on my skill.
Besides, I didn’t think I could talk about it without spilling Pavel’s reaction to it. What he did. I’m still alternating between being queasy and weak-kneed over it. Pavel’s a bad boy, no doubt about it, but that’s the attraction. He gives me his undivided attention. His protection. His possessive dominance.
He’s a fantasy dom. After living in Los Angeles for five years trying to get discovered, to catch someone’s eye and finding I’m just another petite blonde in a whole sea of them, Pavel’s attention heals me.
He makes me feel special when I’d started to think I was nothing. He makes me feel beautiful. Hot. Alluring. He takes care of me.
And yes, he’s leaving for Russia. He lives in another city. So I know it can’t go on, that he’s not going to stick, but I’m falling hard for him, anyway.
“Well, when’s your call-back?” Kimberly asks.
“Today! Twelve-thirty. Come help me pick out an outfit?”
“Wear your turquoise blouse with the open shoulders—it brings out your eyes.”
I run back to my room. “With what pants?” I shout from there.
“Black pencil-legs. And your high-heeled black boots. You’re going to rock this.”
I am going to rock this. I throw on the outfit Kimberly suggested and start blow-drying my hair. I’m already picturing the phone calls I’ll make if I actually land a part. The first one will be to my mom. Her cheerleading is the reason I’m still in Los Angeles trying to make it happen.
In my scenario, Pavel would already know. He would know because he’s been with me every step of the way. I pick up the phone to text him. I got another call-back at the studio. Don’t worry, not the same director.
The phone rings immediately.
“Hi.” I’m instantly shy. That’s what this man does to me. He makes my heart pound every time we talk. It’s like a shot of adre
naline straight to my arm. I should have called him this morning when I felt down, but I didn’t want to be a clingy mess. Now I have something to share.
“Little slave.” Pavel’s voice is gravelly and soft. I picture him, heavy-lidded and hungry for me.
“I’m going back in to read lines at twelve-thirty—for a different show.”
“They’re going to love you.”
“I think this is all because—Pavel, you helped me.”
He stays quiet, so I go on.
“When I went to that first audition, I was scared that I wasn’t confident enough and didn’t know who or how to be. When you told me to just go in open like that—well, I think it made a difference. That’s why this casting director keeps calling me back.”
“There’s no human being on the planet who wouldn’t feel your magnetism. You are a natural. Go be that again.”
“I wish I had you here to open me back up again.” I lower my voice, leaning into one hip, projecting myself through the phone, all the way to Chicago.
“Where are you?”
“In my bathroom, putting on makeup.”
“Wash your hands.”
A little thrill runs through me at the simple command. The signal that Pavel’s taking the reins, even from a distance.
I turn on the water and obey. “Okay.”
“Now I want you to lean your back against the wall and close your eyes.”
I totter backward on my heels until my ass hits the door. “Okay.” My voice is breathy. Excited.
“Slide your fingers into your panties. Are you wearing panties?”
“Yes. Black panties.”
“Good. Put your fingers inside those panties and tap your clit for me.” I tap the pad of my index finger over my clit again and again.
Pavel waits, so I don’t stop. Quivers start to move through me and heat blooms.
“Now circle it. Feather-light touch.”
“Oh.” I suck my lower lip into my mouth as I barely trace a light circle around my clit. “Mmm.” Another tremor makes my knees give out.
“Rub a little harder. Make it good, little slave, or the next time I’m there, I will spend all night punishing you. That’s my pussy you’re touching right now, and I want it touched right.”