Chapter Thirteen

Jarek

Sovereign Residences, Peachtree Road, Buckhead, Atlanta…

The elevator opened directly into the private foyer of Tatiana’s tenth-floor condominium. Jarek looked around with interest. Twenty-foot ceilings with walls of windows offered an unrivaled vista of the Buckhead skyline. Contemporary art pieces adorned the walls, and a grand piano commanded one corner of the living room. The entire space was a testament to al fresco living at its finest.

“This is quite an extraordinary home,” he said as he followed her across the shining marble floors.

“You can say it. It’s excessive, especially as I live alone, but since I inherited it from my uncle…” She smiled over her shoulder as she slipped off her heels. “Well, I jumped at it since it gave me the opportunity to live independently from my grandparents.”

“You don’t have to justify your lifestyle, Tatiana. You work hard. Your success is proof of that, and there is no shame in showcasing it.”

He watched her trot through the open-concept living space into a gourmet kitchen that sported sleek appliances and waterfall quartzite countertops. Picking out a bottle of wine, she expertly uncorked it.

“He was a bachelor, and since I was his godchild, he left his entire estate to me.” She gestured to the custom furnishings and elegant light fixtures. “He loved to live large. Everything is still exactly as he left it.”

“He had good taste. The décor is beautiful.”

“Courtesy of a very expensive interior designer, if memory serves me right.” She moved to the den, settling on the sofa with her legs drawn up.

“How long have you lived here?” Jarek asked as he took the glass of wine she offered and sat down beside her. He knew exactly when she had moved in. He had memorized every detail of her life, every move she had made since inheriting this four-thousand-square-foot sanctuary five years ago. The condo had given her independence from Gregor—which Jarek had been using to his advantage.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Her uncle’s gift, meant to free her from her grandfather’s tight hold, had instead delivered her directly into Jarek’s carefully laid trap. He could properly woo her without any interference.

“Our discussion earlier…” she began, swirling the wine in her glass. “You said you did your due diligence on me. I, on the other hand, know only what little you’ve shared.”

“I’m an open book, love. Ask away.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. The truth of his empire, built on corrupt money and vengeance, would stay buried.

“You said you’re a businessman. What kind of business exactly?”

“I’m an entrepreneur, but not your typical corporate shark.” He leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. “My company, Deluxe Enterprises Incorporated, has many facets. I seek out innovators—brilliant minds trapped in dead-end jobs, dreamers with patents gathering dust in their garages. While venture capitalists chase the next Silicon Valley unicorn, I invest in the forgotten ones.”

Her eyes sparked with interest. “Tell me more.”

“I provide more than capital. My team handles everything—legal, marketing, and operations. We shepherd these innovations from concept to market.” He had built this legitimate facade brick by brick—a perfect shield for his darker enterprises. “Last month, we launched a medical device that could revolutionize trauma care. It was developed by an ER doctor working double shifts to fund her research.”

“That’s... remarkably altruistic.”

His mouth twisted. “There was a time when I dreamed of becoming a surgeon. Saving lives, making a difference.” The memory of a blood-soaked pavement flashed through his mind. “But life had other plans.”

“Why didn’t you pursue it?”

“Things changed,” he said shortly and drained his wine. “Instead, I learned to survive by my wits. Now I’m an investor, a collector and seller of rare art, and owner of a statewide import-export company.” Each business was carefully chosen to launder money and move illegal goods. “Not to mention that I play a mean game of golf.”

The last part, at least, was true. Some of his most lucrative deals were sealed on putting greens, between perfectly measured swings and casual conversation about offshore accounts.

“Thank you for sharing.” Her eyes glimmered mischievously. “Now, I can do some due diligence myself.”

“Be my guest… but do it quickly, Tatiana.” His voice dropped lower. “I specifically changed my schedule to work from Atlanta for the next three months. I’d rather we spent the time together than wasting it on incidentals.”

“Oh, we’re not going to waste any time on… incidentals,” She moved with deliberate grace, setting their glasses aside. Her fingers traced the lapels of his blazer before pushing it off his shoulders. “We are most definitely going to learn everything there is to know about each other.” The silk tie slipped through her fingers as she loosened it. “How are you about not being the sexual Dominant all the time, for example?”

Memories ambushed him of Lisbet’s gentle touch, moonlit dances, and tender kisses that held no darkness. He had been a different man then. The dominance had come later, born from pain and rage. It seeped into every aspect of his life until it became as natural as breathing. He forced the memory back and smiled at Tatiana.

“Oh, I believe I could rein it in with proper enticement,” he finally said as he shrugged off his shirt. The zipper of his pants echoed in the quiet room. “For example, I have no problem if you want to be on top, love.”

“Believe me, I intend to.” Her smile held promises of sin. “But only if I may use your tie to bind your wrists.”

“Hmm… role play? Or are we talking about a complete swap in power play?”

She held his gaze as she reached for her zipper. The dress whispered down her body, pooling at her feet like ocean waves. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate. Each one was designed to draw his attention. The lace of her panties followed, and then she was straddling him—bare skin against his chest. Her kisses were light, teasing, but he felt each one like a brand.

He caught her wandering hand. “This isn’t the club, Tatiana, nor is it a play scene. If we go down this path, and since you have yet to answer the question I asked at the restaurant, I need to know what your intentions are. I’m not going to waste my time on senseless sex when you only have an itch that needs scratching.”

“I already gave it to you that night at The Pearl Icon, Jarek.” Her eyes softened as vulnerability bled through her confident facade. “In case you didn’t know… I’ve never had sex at the club after a scene. You were the only Dom who ever completely unraveled me to the extent that my desires and emotions aligned. I’m not the kind of woman to have sex because I have an itch. For me, it involves more than physical attraction and need. I have to feel something…” She pressed a hand to her chest, then her temple. “In here and here.”

A shy smile transformed her face, making her appear younger and, to his surprise, even innocent. It made him wonder if she had ever been in love.

“It might be premature, but I feel it with you. My feelings drive my physical reaction to you. It has to since I’ve never experienced it before.”

Jarek cursed within as something dangerous and unplanned shifted inside him as her words settled in his mind.

“You just made me a very happy man, love.” He stared into her eyes, feeling himself drowning in a sea of emotions he hadn’t expected to awaken this soon. Revenge suddenly loomed ahead with complications he hadn’t anticipated.

“So… I’m all yours, Ms. Polov,” he said as he offered her his tie. A feeling like he was on the verge of a sacrifice he hadn’t factored into his plan washed over him.

The silk tie whispered against his skin as she looped the fabric around his wrists in a gentle restraint. Although her touch was precise, her breathing quickened as her own excitement rose.

Jarek became entranced as he watched her concentrating on the task with her tongue caught between her teeth. Her pupils dilated as her arousal grew. The bonds weren’t tight, and he could break free if he wanted, but for some reason, the voluntary surrender stirred a primal feeling within him.

“Is this okay?” she murmured as she tested the knots. Electricity surged through his nerve endings as her breasts brushed against his chest with every movement.

Jarek shifted as he felt twinges of being exposed and vulnerable. Both were feelings he had sworn never to submit to after his family’s death. Yet, with Tatiana, the surrender felt different. It wasn’t just intoxicating. It was dangerous.

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” he growled as he flexed his wrists against the restraints.

Her fingertips trailed down his bound arms to his shoulders. Power radiated from her now, and not the steely corporate strength she showed the world, but something deeper, emotional, and more personal.

Jarek’s carefully constructed plans blurred at the edges. He’d meant to possess her, body and soul, to use her as a weapon against her grandfather. Instead, bound beneath her, his carefully maintained control began to fracture.

The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it only heightened his arousal.

“I hope you don’t need too much foreplay, Jarek. How you manage to tap into my needs with no more than a look, I have no idea, but I’m as charged as a ten-thousand-volt battery,” she lilted as she stroked his cock, and smiled as it swelled under her expert manipulations. “Hmm, I see that you don’t.” With a shudder of excitement, she lifted her hips and, in one smooth move, embedded herself to the hilt.

“Oh, lord, that feels so good.” Tossing her hair back, her fingers curled into his chest to brace herself. Locking eyes with him, she started to move in a slow, steady rhythm that had him grinding his teeth.

“Let our journey begin, Jarek,” she whispered as their bodies moved in perfect synchronicity. Each roll of her hips drew sounds from him he hadn’t made in years. But even with his bound hands, Jarek controlled her orgasms, keeping her on edge with subtle moves until she cried out with need. When she finally collapsed against his chest, they were both trembling and covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Good God, I have never climaxed so close together before,” she wheezed as the ripples of her second orgasm released its hold on her. “How you managed to control me and make me come twice when I was the one on top, I’ll never know.” With shaking fingers, she untied his wrists.

“Now, for more of that, I wouldn’t mind being tied up often,” he rasped as he wrapped his arms around her. The simple intimacy of holding her and feeling her breath against his neck, with her fingers tracing patterns on his chest, created a peace he hadn’t felt in years.

For precious minutes, he forgot everything. He forgot who she was, who he had become, and why he was there. The burden of revenge lifted from his shoulders like a heavy cloak falling away. In its place bloomed something dangerous—hope, perhaps? Or could it be the whisper of redemption?

Then reality crashed back with the force of a sledgehammer.

Blood on asphalt. Lisbet’s hair matted crimson, and Emma’s tiny hand, still warm but growing colder by the second, clutched in his as sirens wailed in the distance. All that had remained were their bodies outlined in chalk on these very streets of Atlanta while Gregor Polov’s empire flourished.

His arms tightened around Tatiana involuntarily, but now the embrace felt like a noose around his own neck.

“Thank you, Jarek. That was explosive,” she murmured in a soft tone of contentment. Nuzzling closer, she was unaware that the man holding her had just returned to the darkest abyss.

Tatiana Polov might have breached his defenses tonight, might have carved out a small space in what remained of his soul, but he would excise her like a tumor before he left this building. This moment of weakness changed nothing. His family was gone while her grandfather counted blood money in his Berkeley Lake mansion.

“There is one thing you need to know,” she murmured against his chest.

“I’m listening.” He continued drawing gentle circles on her back with his fingertips.

“My grandfather is pushing me to marry one of his associates. Actually, he has already given Barto Petrov his agreement that the marriage is going to happen.”

“That sounds rather archaic. Did you agree?” Jarek smiled. Tatiana sharing something that was supposed to be a family secret meant that she was fully committed to the path he had planned for them.

“Of course not, but it does put a damper on how we approach our journey ahead. I grew up with my grandparents, and although his insistence about this has put a strain on our relationship, I would want their blessing on our marriage… when it does happen.”

“And convincing him I’m a better option than this Petrov isn’t going to be easy, I imagine.”

“My grandfather… well… he’s not the kind of man to change his mind, especially if it’s about an alliance he would benefit from.”

“So, he’s using you to gain financially?”

“I’m not sure why he’s so adamant about it. I got the impression the pressure is coming from Petrov. Personally, I think he has a hold over my grandfather.”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow. For now… I believe it’s my turn to use my tie on you.”

“Are you sure?” she leaned back to smile teasingly at him. “I mean, you’re not a youngster anymore, and getting Jarek Junior to stand at attention so soon… oh!” She laughed as he pushed her back and pressed his turgid cock against her warm core. “Well, I guess I just learned something about you.”

“Hmm… the only thing you need to learn about me, little Venus, is to never underestimate me.”

Jarek quickly tied her hands and secured them above her head by looping the tie around the leg of the side table. Soon, her cries of passion filled the air as he once again pushed her into a euphoric explosion that left them both breathless.

Gregor Polov had taught him the most valuable lesson of all—love was a weapon that could destroy you. Now, Jarek would use that same weapon of destruction against him.

He pressed a kiss on Tatiana’s temple. Bile tasted bitter at the tenderness of the gesture. Let her believe in this illusion. It would make her fall, and ultimately that of Gregor Polov, all the more devastating.

Jarek was now more resolute than ever—death was too easy for the Bratva Pakhan. The Polovs’ debt would be paid in pounds of flesh and despair that would last a lifetime.

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