The Debt (Sordid Debt Duet #1)

Chapter Twelve

Jarek

Nikolai's Rooftop Lounge Bar at the Hilton, Courtland Street NE, Atlanta…

Perched atop the thirtieth floor of the hotel, Nikolai's Roof had been captivating guests since 1976 with its breathtaking views of the city skyline, expertly crafted dishes, exceptional service, and an award-winning wine selection. Visitors raved about the bright, inviting interior, the stunning city panoramas, and the refined atmosphere. While the views were a major draw, guests often found themselves staying for the signature indulgences, such as house-infused flavored vodkas, an exquisite caviar service, and delicious piroshkis.

“I’ll never get tired of this view,” Tatiana said. Her voice carried a hint of wonder as she appreciated the glittering lights of Downtown Atlanta from their position at the outside lounge bar.

Jarek shifted against the brass balustrade that encircled the bar area to keep patrons from the edge of the roof. His gaze drifted over the cityscape. They were enjoying a pre-dinner drink while waiting for their table.

“Do you dine here often?”

“No, I don’t, although it is my favorite restaurant. Getting a reservation is nearly impossible,” she said. Turning toward him, she asked with curiosity rife in her voice, “How did you manage a table on such short notice?”

“The chef and I go back a long way,” he said, smiling as he moved closer.

Tatiana’s breath caught when he invaded her personal space. The subtle, fresh bouquet of her perfume teased his nostrils. Lifting his drink, he inhaled the spicy aroma of peppercorn infusion before taking a sip. The vodka opened with the subtle spice of black pepper, followed by hints of honey and citrus. The flavors were masterfully balanced against the spirit’s clean bite. The restaurant’s signature infusions respected the vodka’s character while adding layers of complexity.

“This is exceptional,” he said, studying the clear liquid in his glass. “Did you know that Nikolai created these infusions personally?”

“You know the history behind these?” Tatiana asked with raised eyebrows.

“Each recipe tells a story.” He took another sip, letting the warmth spread through his chest. “This one is inspired by his grandmother’s kitchen in St. Petersburg.”

“You must know Nikolai very well.”

“He’s an old and trusted friend.” Jarek shifted to lean his back against the balustrade. His eyes took a detailed tour of her. Her blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders in loose waves, framing delicate features while enhancing the striking sky-blue of her eyes. The sapphire-colored dress draped like a lover’s caress over her curvy frame. The off-shoulder neckline revealed just enough to tease. Delicate silver-gray heels elongated her already endless legs. Her makeup was subtle—a touch of shimmer on her eyelids, a hint of blush, and that maddening coral gloss on her lips that had tested his resolve since he had picked her up.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He deliberately shifted the focus to her to avoid further discussion about the Russian chef.

“Three times now,” she said with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you trying to get me drunk on compliments, Mr. Farrel?”

“Would it work?”

“I’m not that easy to seduce.”

His laugh was low and knowing. “Your response in your office earlier suggests otherwise.”

The blush that swept across her cheeks matched the coral of her lips. Raising the glass, she took a long sip to hide her reaction.

“That was... unprofessional,” she managed.

“Professional is overrated.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Especially when you make those little sounds of protest that aren’t really protests at all.”

His index finger traced a path along her spine. He could feel her shiver beneath the silken fabric. The slight tremor and sharp intake of breath told him exactly how affected she was by his touch.

“Just to be clear, in case something I said at some point gave you the wrong impression—I never mix business with pleasure. Since what we have is very far removed from a professional relationship, and I don’t intend for that status to change, I suggest you don’t view me as a potential business associate, Ms. Polov.” His smile turned predatory as he watched the flush creep up her neck. “So, now that we have that ironed out... are you going to turn tail and run?”

Tatiana’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, drawing his attention to that tempting coral gloss. Her pupils dilated, nearly eclipsing the blue of her eyes.

“If I had any intention of running, I wouldn’t be here, Mr. Farrel.”

“Good.” He finished his drink, noticing with male satisfaction how her gaze followed the movement of his throat. “I assume since you’re of Russian descent, you prefer their cuisine?”

“To the contrary. I always choose French at Nikolai’s,” she said and closed her eyes. Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper. “Their pastries are absolute perfection.”

Jarek’s jaw tightened at her expression of pleasure as his body responded to the way she savored the thought.

“You are such a sensualist, Tatiana. How I’m going to make it through dinner without burying my head between your thighs for a taste of your tantalizing—”

“Jarek!” Her eyes flew wide open as she glanced around furtively. The blush that had started at her chest now blazed across her cheeks. Her fingers clutched the glass so tightly he worried it might shatter. “People may hear you.”

He was fascinated by the slight quiver in her breath. She was a confident, assertive businesswoman, which was why, when he’d first met her at the club, he had been surprised at how fully she embraced her submissive nature when they scened. It was something a true Dominant treasured since it was a gift of trust not easily offered. He suppressed the unexpected twinge of guilt at the route he was on.

Forcing his focus back to her, he set out to continue feeding the submissive inside her using his deep, Dominant tone of voice. An act he would otherwise never use in public since, like everyone in the lifestyle, it was a private choice… but the circumstances were different. Keeping her unbalanced with the subtle nuances of a Dominant gave him the edge he needed to rapidly break down the walls around her heart.

“There’s no shame in two people indulging in the pleasures of their bodies.” He shrugged, deliberately maintaining eye contact. “It’s the one reason why I love exploring kink at the clubs. There’s no pretense, even without sex during a scene. Everyone is open and honest to their needs when they go there.” His eyes swept the room. “None of this hiding behind decorum and pretending sex and lust don’t exist outside of the bedroom.”

“To each his own, as they say. But the lifestyle and the club are about much more than just sex and lust,” she said with a glint of steel in her eyes. “Although it’s how our scenes ended, it is not indicative of what submission or scening is all about.”

“Touche, Venus. You hit the nail on the head. It’s an exchange of power but only to the level the parties agree upon beforehand. Sex can be part of it, but in many cases, it doesn’t even factor. No scene between two people is complete unless they tap into each other’s emotions and needs, which at times have nothing to do with the carnal act of sex.” He smiled. “In our case, we both responded to emotions that drove us onto a euphoric cloud of lust that we reacted upon.”

There was no denying Tatiana’s reaction to his words as her chest rose and fell rapidly. His lips started to tingle as the desire to kiss the pulse hammering at the base of her throat became overwhelming.

The ma?tre d’ approaching with hands clasped behind his back was a rather untimely interruption to the electric tension growing between Jarek and Tatiana.

“Your table is ready, Mr. Farrel,” he announced with a slight bow.

Nodding his acknowledgment, he firmly gripped her elbow and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?” Not waiting for a response, he guided her alongside him to their table.

Jarek

Nikolai's Roof Restaurant…

Jarek leaned back as he watched Tatiana dab her lips after savoring Chef Stephanie’s signature Blue Point Oyster dish. Each graceful movement displayed feminine grace. She might be beautiful, but it wouldn’t sway him, of course. Revenge, in the end, would taste sweeter than any dessert Nikolai’s restaurant could prepare. The obscure comment she had made at their last encounter at the club echoed through his mind.

“I pray that you will tread with care on the path we’re about to take.”

“Did I make the right assumption after our last scene at The Pearl Icon?” He kept his voice low as he watched her.

Her eyes widened at the mention of the exclusive club. He smirked inside at her reaction.

Perfect. Her grandfather definitely wouldn't approve of her frequenting such establishments.

“That depends on what assumption you made and what you based it on,” she responded. Her voice hinted at a steely undertone as she considered his choice of a dinner topic.

The transformation fascinated him. The corporate ice queen melted under his gaze, revealing a vulnerability he could… and would exploit. However, through it all, there was a quiet strength within her that continued to shine through, except now it slightly bent toward him like a flower seeking sunlight.

He captured her hand and traced her palm with deliberate slowness. “That your complete surrender that night meant opening yourself to me... for a more permanent relationship?” His thumb pressed against her wrist. “Or, as you said... the path we’re about to take.”

“You remember that?” Her voice strengthened, but her fingers trembled beneath his touch.

“I remember everything about you, Tatiana.” The truth in those words surprised him. He had memorized her kinky tells, her preferences, and her fears—all to use to his advantage in executing his plan. But somewhere along the way, those details had carved themselves into his mind unbidden.

She drew a shaky breath. “And what path do you envision?”

“Marriage.” He delivered the word like a verdict. “I don’t share what’s mine, and if we’re going to wander on that path, it’s not negotiable.”

For moments, she just stared at him with a shocked expression. He could almost taste victory—and Gregor’s future anguish—on his tongue.

“That’s... quite a leap from where we are now,” she finally responded.

“Is it?” His fingers tightened around hers. “Your words that night hinted at something more. Be honest, Tatiana. Tell me you haven’t thought about a more substantial relationship between us outside of The Pearl Icon club.”

“I’d be lying if I said no.” She looked around as she formulated the appropriate response. Her eyes drifted back to him. “But marriage? We don’t know each other from a bar of soap, Jarek. Yes, I am attracted to you… more than just physically, but I’m not the kind of woman who would leap into the fire.”

“Marriage isn’t going to be the jump start of our journey, love. Rather, it’ll be the goal at the end of the road. We have time to get to know each other, explore more than the physical chemistry we have… but…”

“Ah… there’s a but,” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes. The rosy bloom on her cheeks told him that although she was caught off guard by his suggestion, she was curious enough about what was coming next.

“Neither of us are that young anymore. I’m the kind of man who knows what he wants from life, and once I make a decision, I go at it full throttle.”

“What are you saying, Jarek?”

“I agree we need time… but I’m not prepared to drag it out for years… or even one year. We’re grown-ups. We’ll know when we’re ready, and when we are… even if it’s as soon as a couple of months from now, we leap into that fire together.”

“You sound very convincing.” She tilted her head sideways. “Why me, Jarek? What is it about me that changed the mind of a man who the subs at the club named the forever bachelor?”

“You need to ask?” His fingers traced patterns on her palm. Each touch was deliberate to keep the sensations alive, and her sharp mind muted. “You’re not just beautiful, Tatiana. Your mind challenges me. Your spirit matches my own darkness.” He paused, watching as she considered his words. “When you walk into a room, you command it without saying a word, even at the club. That power…” His jaw relaxed. “It mirrors my own.”

The restaurant’s soft lighting caught the gold in her hair, reminding him of another time, another woman who had worn her strength like armor. But where his wife had been gentle spring sunshine, Tatiana was winter’s first frost—beautiful, dangerous, and perfectly suited to the man he had become.

“With you, I don’t need to hide what I am.” His voice dropped lower, ensuring he couldn’t be overheard. “The darkness that drives me, the control I need—you don’t just accept it. This afternoon in your office proved just how much you crave and demand it in return.”

Her pulse jumped beneath his fingers. “And what makes you so certain?”

“Because I did research on you.” He smiled as she blinked in surprise. “I’m a businessman, and although this isn’t business, I don’t ever wander down a path without doing my due diligence. You have become an icon in Atlanta that everyone talks about, Tatiana. In boardrooms, you’re ruthless. In society, you’re graceful. But in private…” He leaned forward. His eyes darkened. “In private, you yearn to surrender that control to someone worthy of it.”

The truth of his words colored her cheeks.

Damn, I can build an empire on that blush alone.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not after a BDSM lifestyle within our marriage. We’ll reserve kink for scenes at the club. As a married couple, I see us as soul matches, Tatiana. That elusive connection people spend lifetimes searching for.” A wry smile touched his lips. “We found it in the darkness.”

What was more important, and what she would never know, was how perfectly she fit into his revenge. She was her grandfather’s only weakness, the treasured heir to his empire. Gregor would suffer exquisitely, watching his precious granddaughter bind herself to his greatest enemy.

Studying her face, Jarek was caught off guard at something that had been dormant for twenty years stirring in his chest. He hadn’t thought he could still feel… anything at all, yet there it was. A feeling of rightness, maybe even belonging.

Perhaps the most dangerous part of his plan wasn’t the revenge itself—but how right the lies felt that he had just spoken.