Chapter 11 Benedikt
Benedikt
Sienna didn’t say a word the entire flight.
She sat stiff in her seat, arms crossed, head angled toward the window, like she wished she were anywhere but beside me.
Too damn bad.
She didn’t touch the catered sushi or the champagne.
She didn’t even flinch when Artem coughed next to her, just to get under her skin.
“Why the fuck is she even here?” Artem mutters under his breath, slouched across from me on the jet. “You really gonna bring her to a table with the DeLucas? You think they’re gonna take that seriously?”
This partnership with the Italians can get our product across the West Coast, cut out the middlemen, and ensure the West Coast pipeline runs through me and only me.
I can’t fuck this up.
Not with my brother getting out of jail and my father breathing down my neck like I haven’t been the one doing the real work since I was twenty.
And yet, here we are.
Dragging a girl across the country who looks like she’d bite my hand if I offered her a diamond ring.
She didn’t break her silence even when we landed in L.A., she simply followed me down the steps of the jet. She didn’t ask where we were going, didn’t flinch when Artem opened the car door for her, and didn’t even blink when I told her the penthouse was stocked with whatever she might need.
Not that I expected gratitude.
Later, as I showered, it reminded me of how I had her pressed into her shower hours prior, in a little towel, smelling like something sweet that I wanted to try.
Not that I will.
Even though I could.
Sienna is mine.
I can fuck her until I can’t see straight. I can lock her in a room for my pleasure and break her of her stubbornness.
But it’s not my style.
I just need to stick with the plan and work toward my goal—my father’s legacy.
I earned the right to carry it on after keeping it afloat for so long, but my brother will drive it into the ground.
Thinking about it on the flight made my head pound. Between the DeLucas, Artem’s complaining, and the quiet fury rolling off Sienna, I needed five minutes alone.
Hot water.
No opinions.
No sulking.
And then I heard raised voices as soon as I opened the shower door.
Hers and Artem’s.
I rub the back of my neck, and steam billows behind me as I head down the hallway of the penthouse I rent when I’m on this side of the country.
The place is all glass and clean lines, modern, cold, and expensive as hell. I’ve barely taken five steps before I hear raised voices again.
“Sienna put on the damn dress.”
“No. I’m not playing house, and I’m not going to your disgusting mob dinner.”
Fuck me.
Now that she’s had a break, she’s ready for round two.
I turn the corner, and there they are. Artem, stiff and red in the face, is holding up a sleek black dress. His wide shoulders are so tight that it looks like his T-shirt is about to come apart at the seams.
Sienna is across from him, her chin jutted out in rebellion, still wearing one of the robes the staff laid out earlier.
Still barely dressed, just like she was in her apartment.
“Everything okay in here?” I dry my hair with the towel draped over my shoulder.
Artem doesn’t even look at me. “Tell her to put the damn thing on, Volkov. I told you this was a bad idea.”
Sienna’s glare flicks to me. “Tell him I’m not his paper doll. I can dress myself. You didn’t tell me that I’d have to deal with you and your brute.”
My gaze drops, mindlessly skimming down her frame—bare legs, bare feet, and the same stubborn look she’s worn since we touched down in L.A.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a woman this close to my world. Now that she’s here, she’s already fucking up the vibe. Artem and I have a rhythm. We don’t talk much; we get shit done.
“Put the dress on, Sienna,” I say, voice low, controlled. “I don’t want to be late.”
She crosses her arms. “No.”
That’s it.
Just no.
End of conversation.
Artem is through with her defiance. “We’ll have the men watch her. She’ll be more of a hassle than anything. Let the brat stay here.”
He doesn’t make the rules; I do.
But he’s not wrong. I should’ve waited until we got back from L.A. to sort everything out with her, but Detective Campbell complicated matters. The last thing I need is him sniffing around Sienna and giving him a personal look inside the business to gather the information I want.
He doesn’t get to use her; I do.
I turn slightly without taking my eyes off her. “Why don’t you give us a minute?”
“Volkov…”
“Thank you.”
He mutters something in Russian and storms out of the penthouse, slamming the door behind him.
The second it clicks shut, I move in fast, herding her toward the wall. I give her a little shove for good measure and slam my palm against the drywall beside her head.
Sienna flinches but lifts her chin.
That’s all I need to tell me that she and I are going to war. I see the defiance burning brightly in her stunning golden-brown eyes. She’s brave, I’ll give her that, but she’s also stupid as hell. I’d punish anyone else, but something tells me those tactics won’t work with this woman.
The kind of punishment I have in mind isn’t socially acceptable.
Fucking her into submission crosses my mind, hard and fast, but that isn’t a card I can play.
Not with her.
Maybe if I charm her, I can win this. She might fight me, and she’d never willingly give me her consent now. I’ve never been sick enough to rape a woman into complying with my needs.
But something about Sienna makes me want to see how far I can go before this gets complicated and crazy.
“You keep messing with the energy,” I say quietly, curling my fingers into fists to keep from touching her. “I’m trying to keep you alive, and you’re fucking up the one thing I asked you to do.”
“You didn’t ask,” she shoots back. “You ordered.”
My jaw clenches. “We’ve been through this.”
“Unfortunately. The deal didn’t come with being a side piece that goes to illegal dinners with you.”
“Eating dinner isn’t illegal.”
“No,” she agrees, “but I’m sure the topic of conversation you’ll have is.”
Artem’s words ring in my head.
She’s more trouble than she’s worth.
You’re really going to bring her to see DeLucas when you have to hunt her down?
“I’m only asking you to sit down, be quiet, and look pretty. These are patrons who waltz every morning into your bakery with gripes and the same coffee order. You don’t want to be a prop, fine. But right now, you being a prop could be the only reason I don’t put a bullet in your skull.”
She hesitates for half a second. A flicker of doubt crosses her face, but she quickly covers it with more attitude.
“Then maybe you should’ve brought someone else,” she mutters.
My patience cracks.
I grab her arm, spin her, and press her back into the wall. Her gasp hits my ears just as I lean into her, my hand flat against her lower back, holding her there.
“I don’t want someone else,” I growl near her ear. “I want you. And I always get what I want, Sienna.”
She writhes under my grip, trying to push me away, but I hold firm. I’m not hurting her, just letting her know I’m done playing games.
“You are going to get dressed,” I say, my voice low, calm, and cold. “You’re going to walk into that meeting with me, and you’re going to smile, nod, and play nice. Afterward, you can go back to being pissed at me all you want. But do not screw this up for me. Got it?”
She’s breathing heavily against me, and fuck me if it doesn’t get under my skin how good she feels. I badly want to forget what tonight is and just deal with her in ways that don’t involve business or fake rings.
Her silence doesn’t help.
I ease off just a bit, but remain close.
“You like pushing me?” I ask. “Is that what this is?”
“Go to hell.”
I smirk. “You first, princess.”
Leaning in, I smell her sweet scent and inhale deeply. My fingers latch onto her waist, obstructed by her bathrobe, and I want nothing more than to pull at the belt and let the material fall away.
“What do you want for good behavior?” I ask behind her ears. “A new car? A new wardrobe? I’m already paying your grandmother’s bills. I thought that’d be compensation enough, but I’m willing to negotiate.”
“I want you away from me.” Her tone's breathy now, like she’s not sure if she’s pissed or aroused.
“Then what?”
She doesn’t respond, giving me what I consider a free pass.
Sienna has to tell me no and mean it before I stop.
“Tell me what you want tonight, Sienna,” I say, running my digit along her naked skin. “Nothing is off the table.”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even move.
In my world, silence is permission.
With one tug of her robe’s belt, the knot comes loose, and the soft fabric falls open just enough for me to feel shorts hugging her curvy hips.
Underneath all that attitude, she’s wearing practically nothing.
I hook my thumb beneath her waistband and feel her body stiffen as I await a jab to the ribs from her elbow.
It doesn’t come.
Her hands splay out flat against the surface like she needs something to hold her steady. She doesn’t say no or twist away; she just stands still, letting me push her a little further.
Another heartbeat passes, and my cock is hard under the towel still slung low on my hips. She has no idea what she does to me, standing here like this, fighting herself harder than she’s fighting me.
I’m here to test how far I can go to make my life easier.
I slowly move my hand lower, wanting her to feel every inch of the descent. I trail my knuckles between her legs, and when I feel her heat, I involuntarily clench my jaw.
She’s wet.
Fucking soaked.
She lets out a soft, strangled noise and pushes back into me without realizing it.
I grin.
That’s all it’ll take.
Her body is so worked up that this will benefit both of us.
My fingers slide over her slick folds, parting her gently and stroking her with maddening patience.
It takes but seconds for Sienna to start trembling. Her forehead rests against the wall like she’s trying desperately to maintain control.
Too late.
I cup her tighter, working slow, steady circles over her clit, and feeling her body twitch beneath my touch.
“Look at you,” I murmur, dragging my lips down the side of her neck. “Your mouth says to leave you alone, but this—” I stroke her deeper and more firmly “—is begging me to keep going.”
Her breath hitches. Her legs wobble.
Still, she doesn’t stop me.
Not when I slip two fingers inside her, curling them just right. Not when I press my palm against her clit again and grind into her from behind with a soft groan of my own.
“Ben—” Her voice is breathless and broken. “Please—”
“Please, what?” I growl, lips brushing her jaw. “You want me to stop? You want me to make you come?”
She doesn't answer. She’s too close.
So, I decide for her.
I curl my fingers again, firmly and deeply, my palm rubbing her how she needs. She jerks against the wall, panting, her hands scrambling for purchase as I drag her toward the edge.
I don’t rush. I don’t let up.
I want her to feel every second. I want her to break apart, knowing she gave it up to me.
“We don’t have to fight all the time, princess,” I whisper behind her ear. “I can give you this whenever you want. You don’t even need to ask. You want more out of this deal? I’ll play my part and give you everything you need to be comfortable.”
She shakes her head but says nothing.
She can fight this, but I’ve learned that I can earn her silence by strumming her clit and shoving my fingers into her tight pussy.
“Come for me,” I growl with my lips against her ear. “Right here. Right now. If you moan my name, I promise to never bring you to another dinner like this.”
She tries to hold it back. I can feel it in the way she clenches around my fingers, biting back a moan.
But I don’t stop, working her relentlessly because I want to hear my name come off those beautiful lips.
“So goddamn perfect, Sienna.” I press my cock against her ass, and she mewls. “This is what you do to me when you’re good. You make me happy.” I thrust my length against her. “Just imagine what I could do with this if you spread your sexy legs around me.”
She shatters, choking on a whimper and convulsing against me. Her thighs tremble, and her chest heaves. Her head falls back onto my shoulder as her body melts through the orgasm that just ripped through her.
And fuck, it’s beautiful.
I’d love to stand here and see what else I can do, but I don’t have the time.
We don’t have the time.
I can’t be late for this meeting, and she needs to be on her best behavior for me tonight.
“That’s better,” I murmur against her cheek, voice full of satisfaction. “Fifteen minutes. Dress. Heels. Quiet mouth. Unless you want another lesson in what happens when you push me.”