Page 69 of Captured Obsession

“Boss,” I answer in Russian.

“Little cub, you’re still alive. How fortunate.” I doubt the sincerity in that. “Has Luca Armani replied to my request yet?”

“Not yet. It’s only been twenty-four hours. But the moment he does, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard you’re already out with the little doll. I don’t like my package assuming she has freedom. It mars my reputation.”

I’m instantly on edge with the knowledge that we’re being followed. Or Andrei has reported to him directly. I lick my lips. “I have my preferences in how to strike, boss. Dangling her as bait is a good use of her.”

“Ah, but didn’t The Lion try the same approach? That didn’t end well for him, did it?” My anger flares as I think about the woman he used to draw Dmitri Volkov’s interest. That’s how The Lion got killed. “Considering you worked so closely with The Lion, I thought you would’ve learned from his mistakes.

“I want a video this week. I want to hear the American girl’s scream. Perhaps that will ramp up the Armanis’ timeline since they seem far too complacent.

“I never did get a taste of her. Perhaps I should have you bring her back to me permanently if this isn’t resolved within the week.”

My grip tightens on the phone. He knows if I were to hurt her again, they’ll kill me. He’s applyingpressure for results because of his own impatience. “You’ll have a response within a week, boss. I guarantee it.”

“I should hope so. I didn’t take mercy on you and bring you into my ranks just to piss away my resources and time. Make it happen, or it’ll be a bullet in your head instead.” The line goes dead, and my jaw grinds painfully.

Not because I fear The Wolf, but because I don’t appreciate threats, nor do I handle them well.

28

SIENNA

“Did you enjoy your little outing today?” Nikolai asks, his accent thicker, clearly broadcasting his annoyance and displeasure. He’s been moody ever since we left the penthouse.

I sit across from him in the back seat of the car, the screen between us and the driver closed. I cross my legs and fold my arms over my chest, my hand lifting to the snake necklace he immediately put back on me when the photo shoot wrapped. I still don’t have it in me to believe it actually has an explosive device in it.

“I did, actually. It was fun. Ria took a chance, though, since she agreed to it without my approval,” I say. “She’s always been able to pull off things like that.”

I’d felt like I was in a dream, going back to what I love with a bittersweet appreciation. Because I do love it. I don’t think I’ll ever stop modeling, but this time Inoticed a handful of new faces. Younger faces. Ones talking about my public breakup. And it irks me, knowing people are still fucking talking about it. I can love the modeling industry, but maybe I don’t have to be as involved as I once was.

“Get on your knees,” Nikolai orders, and I jerk to attention, my gaze snapping to his. “Did you think you would go unpunished? I told you no to leaving the penthouse.”

I smirk at him. “Let’s make a new arrangement.”

“There’s no arrangement to be made here,mishka.”

“Oh, but there is,” I insist, leaning forward. “If you want me on my knees, sucking your cock and swallowing your cum, you’ll at least hear me out.” A growl rumbles in his throat, and I love the power I have over him. How responsive he is to me. It’s pure, heated, carnal need.

Nothing I say or do will ever shock him, yet every small drop I’m willing to give him, he’ll lap up within seconds. I don’t feel secondary to him or like I have to prove myself.

Nikolai’s eyes set ablaze when he looks at me, drawing out something far baser within me. Something I’ve come to enjoy exploring.

“Tomorrow, we go shopping,” I demand in a seductive tone.

“No.”

I drop to my knees in front of him, splaying my hands on his knees and then dragging my freshlymanicured nails up over his thighs. His hard cock presses against his pants, and my mouth waters, wanting this as much as he does. I love making this man crumble beneath my touch.

I don’t feel like I have to be restrained or refined with him. I can simply be … me.

“Tell me I’m not just a prisoner to you,” I say boldly. I need to hear it. To know this magnetic pull I feel between us isn’t just my imagination.

His gaze narrows as he leans in. “I’m not where you should be looking for affirmation or promises,mishka.” He says it matter-of-factly. There it is again—the way he tries to push me away with his words when his body is drawn to mine by the same desperate need I feel.

“That’s not what I’m asking for,” I bite back. He knows that’s not what I want.