Page 39 of Betrothed
His beauty was indescribable, rugged yet sophisticated at the same time. While he was in obvious pain from the injury, which must have been excruciating given the depth of the blade’s cut, he maintained a sense of cool and calm only a few beads of sweat had managed to expose.
“Mafia. You’re mafia. Right?” I don’t know why I bothered. As I stared at his rain-slickened body, I hated knowing he was right about my body’s betrayal. I was tingling in places that wereordinarily never awakened. Only on the plane. With his thick hair a wild mop of strings from the rain, he appeared even sexier. How was that possible?
“Something like that.” He checked the gear, his expression stoic.
“No, you’re Russian. The Bratva have finally infiltrated New York.”
While he lifted his head, his eyes searching mine, he allowed a moment of amusement. “I assure you the Bratva had been a part of the landscape of the Big Apple for a century or more.”
“But even more prominent now. That hotel you mention. The perfect way of laundering money.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “For a woman who claims she won’t say anything to anyone, you seemed well versed in the world of crime syndicates.”
“Netflix,” I tossed back. He was right. I should shut up, but he fascinated me and I hated myself because of it.
“Are you ready?” he asked in the same dark, demanding tone that I’d fallen for during the flight. Sensual. Commanding.
Now I was furious with myself that I’d fallen for the man or his bullshit. “You need to listen to me. I can’t leave here. This is my life.”
He inched closer and I’d be damned if I wasn’t even more aroused, but I refused to give him even a single thought that what he was doing was acceptable.
Only when I threw my hand out did he finally stop moving, his face pinched. Was he hurt that I’d pushed him away? Tough.
“I don’t plan on ruining your entire life, Vivian. Not unless I’m given a reason. But you are coming with me. Now, we can talk about this further when we’re settled.”
Maybe that’s when the fantasy faded, the ugliness of reality hitting me. I had to get away from him at all costs.
“Jesus. What about my things? I don’t have a change of clothes or even my purse.”
He stared at me as if I was nuts. Oh, I was, but not for the reason he was thinking.
“Where’s the locker room?” he asked, agitated I was so pushy.
“On the second floor right below us.”
“Fine. We will grab your things, but if you say a word to anyone that stops you, I’ll need to respond in a way you won’t like. Understood?”
“Fine,” I hissed, matching his tone while whispering between clenched teeth.
“After that, we’ll head to wherever you live and you can grab a few things. Fair enough?”
“You’re bargaining with me?”
“I’m trying to accommodate your needs.”
I shook my head several times. What choice did I have but to go with him? I had one thought in mind but I’d need to remain compliant. “Your prisoner.”
“Think of yourself as my guest.”
“That is a crock of shit and you know it.”
He laughed and took my elbow, guiding us to the door. I had the bag in my hand, twisting my fingers around the strap. My only hope was that someone on the staff would figure out something was wrong. I couldn’t believe an alarm hadn’t been sounded as of yet. Although my guess was that the men he’d shot hadn’t stuck around long enough for anyone to notice.
We moved to the same set of stairs as before, going down a flight. When we were on the second floor, it was a little busier, but no one paid us any mind. I knew only a few people given the hours worked and my companion looked the part, enough so no one bothered to give us a second look.
When we reached the locker room, I pointed toward the notification on the door indicating women staff members only. Just as I started to walk inside, he pulled me back, lowering his head until I could feel his hot breath dancing across my skin. Every time he was near, my pussy clenched several times.
A shiver coursed down my spine, enough that I was flushed and incapable of thinking clearly.
