by Zoe Blake
“Well, we will certainly entertain your offer, sir, but this couple may be interested in submitting a competing bid.” My eyebrows rose as I stared at the couple, willing them to speak up and fight for the house, if only because it meant they wouldn’t leave right away.
The man dropped the brochure onto the nearby bureau. He raised his arms up, palms out. “Thanks, but we’re not interested. Come on, honey.” He grabbed the woman’s hand and, taking as wide of a path around Ivan as possible, they headed for the bedroom door.
“Wait!” I cried out desperately. “You haven’t even seen the solarium yet!”
It was too late. They left.
A strange hush settled over the sparsely furnished room as we both stood there in silence, listening to the sound of the couple racing down the stairs and across the marble hallway floor. Then there was the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut.
Ivan’s body shifted as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “It looks like we are finally alone.”
My eyes widened. I was completely at the mercy of this Russian savage of a man.
I pitched forward. Third time was the charm. He released his grip. I scrambled to the other side of the room, placing the massive king-size bed between us. Thank God we spent the money to stage the house with rental furniture, otherwise there would be nothing to obstruct his path.
Ivan’s gaze traveled over the bed and then slowly up my body, from the tips of my ballet flats to the top of my head. He arched an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile.
On second thought, maybe having a bed in the room wasn’t such a saving grace after all.
I held my arm out, warding him off. “I don’t know why you are here, but if you don’t leave this minute, I’m calling the police.”
He shrugged out of his suit jacket. After carefully folding it at the shoulders, he laid it across the back of one of the cream-colored upholstered chairs. “If you were going to call the police, you would have done so already.”
Damn him.
He twisted the end of one silver cufflink and pulled it through the buttonhole of his cuff before setting it on top of the bureau. He then did the same for the other cuff.
What the hell?
My gaze skittered around the room. There were three doors. One led to the bathroom with no exit. The other led to the solarium, also with no exit. The only door left was the main door, and there was a massive wall of muscle blocking that one. “Wh… what do you think you are doing?”
His piercing gaze captured mine. Without taking his eyes off me, he methodically rolled up his dress shirtsleeves, exposing more of his tattoos. “You and I need to come to an understanding, malen’kaya kukla.”
I stiffened my shoulders. “The only thing we need to understand is that my boss will be back here at any minute to check on me so you better leave.”
He shook his head. “That’s one.”
My brow furrowed. “One what?”
“One lie. It makes me very angry when people lie to me. I assure you, malen’kaya kukla, you do not want to see me angry. I would recommend you not lie to me again. Do you understand?”
I was pretty sure the or else was implied.
My fists curled in the silk fabric of my skirt, as all I could do was nod.
Ivan widened his stance and crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “Good girl. Now tell me—where is my money?”
Well, I guess that cleared up the tiniest shred of possibility this wasn’t about my asshole uncle and the money.
So much for thinking my uncle wouldn’t be so soulless as to put his only niece in danger from one of his stupid criminal schemes. The man had never shown me an ounce of human affection or kindness, not even when my father had been thrown in prison for a crime they committed together or when my mother died when I was barely out of elementary school, leaving me all alone and destitute. There was no love lost between us, and I didn’t owe my uncle any loyalty. Family be damned.
There was absolutely no reason whatsoever why I shouldn’t just hand over the money to Ivan, except for self-preservation. I wasn’t an idiot. I’d seen how this rodeo worked. If I told Ivan where to find the money, he’d kill me the second he got his hands on it. It was best to just deny any knowledge of it.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I lifted my chin and tried to look composed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have your money.”
He slowly shook his head as his brow lowered. Holding up two fingers, he said, “That’s two. Trust me, you don’t want me to get to three.”
My stomach twisted. Ivan did not look like the type of man who made idle threats. I couldn’t bring myself to admit I had the money. Perhaps it was my family’s deeply ingrained con artist genetics that made me think I could somehow talk or scam my way out of this.
There was no way I could escape this room, so my only option was to convince him I knew nothing about the whole mess. Then maybe, just maybe, I could buy myself enough time to make it back to my apartment, grab the money, and leave town. Going on the run would suck, but at least I would have plenty of money to start over. Any guilt I may have had over taking the dirty money was long gone. This was different. Before it was about getting ahead in my career, now it was about survival.
Before speaking, I scanned the room again, hoping for something, anything I could use as a weapon, just in case. We had decorated the room in the typical realtor style. All brown wood and neutral cream and tan colors with just enough furniture to fill the room, but not so much the room looked crowded or small. There really were only the upholstered chairs by the fireplace, the bureau, and the bed with a couple of nightstands. The bureau had several fake family photographs that looked promising. I glanced at Ivan. Then again, maybe not. The thin glass and flimsy frames would be no match against his bulk. Too bad there wasn’t a good old-fashioned fireplace poker handy. I could always try screaming for help, but this was Chicago. On the off chance anyone heard me, I doubt they would care or, worse, they’d call the cops.
The hopelessness of my situation almost sent me to my knees. Still, I had to try. Swallowing hard, I pleaded, “Whatever this is, you have to believe me. I’m not involved. I know nothing about it. I’m innocent. Please, just let me go.”
Ivan sighed. “Malen’kaya kukla, you disappoint me.”
“You keep calling me Mylene Kulkla. That isn’t my name. My name’s Dylan Prescott. I think this is all just a big misunderstanding.”
Without saying another word, Ivan turned and walked several steps toward the door.
Oh, thank God, he was leaving. Relief washed over my body so swiftly I was lightheaded.
Ivan’s hand reached out and slowly swung the bedroom door shut. The only sound in the room was the metallic click of him locking it. He turned back to face me.
Nothing that had happened in my entire life compared to the stark raw fear I felt in that moment. My body froze while my brain spun out of control with chaotic images of violence and death. Both the primal instincts of flight and fight collided and whirled within me.
I placed my hand over my ribs. I couldn’t breathe. It was as if Ivan closing that door had sucked all the oxygen out of the room, replacing it with heat and steam.
Ivan skewered me with a dark look as he reached for his belt buckle. “And that’s three.”
He whipped the black leather belt through the belt loops, folded it in half and held it between his two massive fists. As I stared in horror, he cracked the leather strips together, making a sharp menacing sound. He was going to strangle me to death with his fucking belt. All the dangerous situations I’d dodged growing up and as a teenager, and this was how I died? As a strangled real estate agent found dead in a super boring beige room?
I lurched backward till I hit the wall. My vision blurred with tears. “Please! I’m not Mylene Kulkla! I don’t know who you are, and I don’t have your money. You have to believe me.”
Ivan stalked across the room. I pitched my bod
y to the side, trying to at least get to the bathroom where I could close and lock the door, but I stumbled. His muscular arm wrapped around my waist like a vise. He hauled me upright with my back against his body.
He smelled like cologne and soap, as if he had just stepped out of a shower. His body radiated heat as it pressed close to mine. My thin silk shirt and skirt offered no protection. Every muscled inch of him, including something rigid and threatening, pressed against my back. I squeezed my eyes shut, now certain about what he planned to do to me before he killed me.
He stroked the underside of my jaw with the leather belt as he rasped in my ear, “Malen’kaya kukla is not a name. It means ‘little doll.’ To me, you look just like a pretty little doll.”
My chin trembled as I struggled to speak. “Please don’t kill me.”
His grip around my waist tightened as he caressed the skin exposed by my open neckline with the belt. When he spoke, the beard hair on his jaw brushed my throat. “The problem with little dolls is they are very fragile. They break easily if you don’t know how to handle them properly.”
He turned my body to face him. His powerful fist grasped my long hair and pulled, forcing my head back. I kept my eyes closed. He twisted my hair tighter as he growled, “Look at me.”
I whimpered as my eyelids fluttered open. Staring at the sharp angles of his face, all I could think of was a statue warmed by the sun. Everything about this man was hard and unforgiving, like cold stone, yet he radiated harsh heat and menacing energy. I licked my lips, drawing his gaze to my mouth.
His head tilted slightly as he observed my every breath. “I tried to warn you not to lie to me.”
My arms slipped between our bodies. Pressing my hands against his shirt, I could feel the strong steady beat of his heart as I pleaded, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t hurt me.”
“Malen’kaya kukla, it is too late for that.” He gestured with his head. “Now, lie down on the bed.”
I dug my fingers into his shirt, crushing the fabric in my fists. “Please! Don’t do this! I’m begging you.”
He used the leather belt to stroke my cheek. “Rule number one, never lie to me. Rule number two, never—ever—make me tell you something twice.”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Please, just tell me what you want me to say.”
“I want you to say you were a very bad little doll for lying to me.”
I blinked, not sure if he was serious.
His eyebrow arched in what I was coming to learn was a gesture of impatience.
“I… I was a bad little doll for lying to you.”
Ivan smiled, giving the scar on his upper lip an even more sinister appearance. “Good girl, now beg me to punish you.”
“Punish me?”
“Yes, my malen’kaya kukla, you have earned a punishment for lying to me.”
“Please don’t make me say that.”
His fist tightened in my hair. His Russian accent was thick with anger. “Have you forgotten rule number two so quickly?”
My eyes widened. “Please… please… punish me.”
His grip on my hair slackened. He took a step back. Raising his arm, he palmed the heavy buckle of his belt and slowly wrapped the long leather length around his hand. “Do as I say and get on that bed. Now!”
Chapter 5
Ivan
Her exquisite body trembled as she hesitantly moved to obey me. She climbed into the center of the bed and laid there, stiff and unmoving, with her hands fisted at her sides and her eyes squeezed shut.
A good man would have allowed her to tell him where the money was and let her go.
A better man would be racked with guilt and remorse right now for threatening a defenseless woman.
A gentleman might have even let her keep some of the money just for frightening her.
As I stared down at the beautiful living doll stretched out before me like a virgin sacrifice, I thanked God for every sin and misdeed that had blackened my bitter heart. I was not a good man. I sure as fuck wasn’t a gentleman—and I had no intention of letting her go.
Her long honey brown hair fanned out over the pillow. I flexed my hand. I could still feel the soft locks twisted around my palm. I loved when a woman had hair long enough to fist. An image of her hair wrapped around my fingers as she knelt naked before me flashed through my mind. Her creamy skin would be slick with sweat as I rammed my cock into her beautiful mouth over and over again. I pressed the edge of my palm down on my hardening shaft to ease the ache that had begun the moment I’d laid eyes on her.
Learning the thief named Dylan Prescott was actually a stunning young woman and not a man had been a pleasant surprise. My first instinct had been to turn on the charm. I'd been confident by the end of the afternoon I would have had my money and a nice quick fuck for my troubles.
Then she opened that gorgeous full mouth of hers… and lied right to my face.
A woman who would dare to lie to a man as intimidating as me was not the type of woman to fuck once and forget. No, a woman with confidence and bravado like that was a rare jewel, and I was never one to pass up seizing a treasure for my own.
I couldn’t remember the last time a woman intrigued me. I’d spent the last five years focused on building my arms trade empire. Women were nothing more than a means to an end. They served a functional purpose in my life, but that was all. I had neither the time nor the patience for their silly needs and games. I fucked them and moved on. Life was simpler that way.
Now, staring down at Dylan, I had a sudden craving to complicate the fuck out of my life.
Things had gotten a little boring in Moscow. Why else would I have come to America to chase down a paltry five hundred thousand dollars? Without the danger of my covert military missions, life had taken on a rather predictable routine. Sure, there were the occasional blood feuds with a presumptuous foreign dictator or an upstart cult leader, but killing them wasn’t much of a challenge, especially when they whined and begged for their lives—and they always whined and begged for their lives when staring down the barrel of my gun. So pathetic, and certainly not a challenge for a man like me.
But this woman was different.
She dared to defy me, even after I warned her there would be consequences if she did not tell the truth. She even ran, despite knowing that escape was futile. She was like a little kitten, scratching at me with her tiny claws. What would it be like to bend a woman such as this, with such fire and defiance in her belly, to my will? I had a feeling claiming her would be like claiming a piece of the sun. My life had become cold and dull, and I now craved warmth.
Her silk skirt stopped several inches above the knee, exposing long, sleek legs. Her body started as I palmed her left calf, running my hand over her soft skin. When I got to her ankle, I flipped her shoe off, tossing it aside. I did the same to her right foot. Her cute red nail-polish-tipped toes curled under as her body stiffened.
I trailed two fingers up her left leg, edging them under the hem of her skirt. Her mouth opened on a gasp as her fists twisted into the bedcovers.
I placed my right hand, with the belt still wrapped around it, on the pillow over her head and leaned down as my left hand caressed the top of her thigh. “Mne ponravitsya razdvigat’ tvoi nogi i nasukho trakhat’ tvoyu sladkuyu kisku.”
Her brow furrowed, but that was her only reaction. Since I had just told her I was going to enjoy spreading her legs and fucking her sweet pussy dry, it was safe to assume my little doll did not speak Russian.
I lifted my left hand to trace her full bottom lip with the tip of my finger. “Open your legs.”
I could feel her mouth tremble beneath my touch. A single tear escaped beneath her thick black lashes. Without thinking, I captured the drop with my finger and brought it to my lips. Her salty tears only aroused me further. I wanted to lick them off her cheeks as I pushed deeper and deeper into her cunt, stretching her beyond endurance with my cock.
The back of my knuck
le caressed her wet cheek. “Don’t make me ask twice, Dylan.”
Her slender throat contracted as she swallowed a whimper. The pearls around her neck caught my attention. Jewelry on a woman was almost always purchased by a man. The idea this beautiful creature was adorned by another man’s cheap gift sparked an irrational rage in my gut. My fingers curled around the imitation strand and wrenched it off her neck. The plastic beads bounced around the bed and onto the floor.
Her big brown eyes flew open as her hand wrapped around the base of her throat. “My pearls!”
I traced the faint red mark left behind by my ruthless gesture. “It is a crime for a woman of your beauty to be wearing such cheap plastic. I will drape your body in real pearls, whose luster will complement the delicate blush of your pale skin.”
Her lips fell open for a moment before her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want your pearls. I want nothing from you.”
“Are you so sure, my malen’kaya kukla? You should accept my offer of gifts, because I plan on taking everything I want and more from you.”
To punctuate my threat, I forced my hand between her thighs and pressed the top of my palm against the fabric of her panties, right over her clit.
Her small hand clawed at my wrist. “Please, stop. I don’t want you to touch me.”
In response, I slipped a finger under the edge of her panties, seeking her wet warmth. As I pushed one thick finger into her tight entrance, I could tell she was not as immune to my presence as she wanted me to believe. I raised an eyebrow. “Once again, I have caught those pretty lips in a lie.”
I thrust my finger into her several times. Christ, she was tight, almost too tight. I would have to be careful not to tear her when I fucked her raw.
Her knees rose as she tried in vain to pull my hand free. A heated blush spread over her neck and cheeks as she protested what we both knew to be true. “No! I don’t want you. I just want you to leave me alone.”