Chapter 10
CLARA
“Turn right at the light.”
I point to the next street up, which is my street. This late on such a frigid night, no one is out. Cars are parked in lonely pools of yellow light from the streetlamps. Leave it to Dmitri to find an open space just up from my building. I wish the world would open up for me that way.
Then again, I wouldn’t want to sell my soul like he has.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Thank you for springing me from the police station.” Amusement flashes in his ice-blue eyes, a ghost of a smile hovering around his lips. It’s hard to look away. It’s hard not to feel the rumble of his deep baritone in my bones.
Damn it. Damn him.
I push the door open and step out of the low-slung sports car. A young man who spoke Russian and had tattoos snaking out from under the cuffs and collar of his ill-fitting suit had dropped it off a block from the police station.
I didn’t ask how he was supposed to get home from there, even though I was curious.
I supposed he’d take the subway, which is what I was planning to do until Dmitri said, “I will take you home.” I had been too tired to argue, all the adrenaline replaced by a bone-weary exhaustion from the events of the day.
But now that I’m in the car, I’m suddenly incredibly aware of the man sitting beside me. This large, intimidating man who, along with being the billionaire CEO of the company I work for, is most likely the boss of a Russian crime syndicate.
The ride to my apartment gives me time to think.
Random memories and clues come to mind, and I realize what I saw in the moment the switch flipped, when that police officer manhandled me.
That was the moment Dmitri’s calm, cool exterior disappeared in a blaze of rage, revealing something that was terrifyingly primal, violent, and possessive.
A part of me already knew this man was dangerous on some level.
I just didn’t realize how dangerous, how powerful and violent he could be.
I feel like a fool. A terrible, idiotic fool who fell for those ice-blue eyes and those defined muscles that, even now, I can’t ignore as they press so deliciously against his button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, inked forearms.
“I can walk from here,” I tell him, tearing my eyes away as the frosty air slips into the car with a gusty breeze. Bare branches rustle as I step out of the car, and the chilled wind hits me full force. My coat is still at the office, and I shiver. “Thanks for the ride.”
When I close the door, I hear a beep, like the car is being locked and armed.
“I said I can walk from here.” The words come out sharper than I intended.
“Yes, I’m sure you can. But I’m still going to walk with you.” Dmitri sweeps past me like he knows where he’s going, and I have to hurry to catch up. When I do, I pull on his arm to signal him to stop.
“I’m telling you I can get to my apartment alone.”
Dmitri looks down at my hand on his arm, then at my face. “And I’m telling you that I’m sure you can, but I’m still walking you to the door.”
I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and all I want is for this day to be over, to crawl into bed, and forget I ever had wild sex with the head of a Russian mafia syndicate.
“I don’t need any chivalry, Dmitri. I’m fine. I think I’ve proven I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, you can indeed take care of yourself. But you’ve also become a target for cops on my behalf. You think I’m going to leave you alone after that?”
“That’s ridiculous. They wouldn’t try anything,” I scoff.
“No? What about your ex-boyfriend? He was very angry when we left.”
Dean was definitely angry. I was too jubilant and high on my victory to consider it too carefully, but I know Dean doesn’t like to be made a fool of. He doesn’t like it when someone takes control away from him, especially if I’m the one who took it, humiliating him in front of his partner.
That look in his eyes, the ferocity of the rage burning deep… that was the look that always told me to brace myself because something bad was about to happen.
It was one thing not to be frightened of that look in the middle of a police precinct, but this quiet, dark street in the middle of the night is a far cry from that. And Dean knows where I live.
I sigh, Dmitri reading the sound for what it is: surrender. We walk in silence to my building, past the Dunkin’ Donuts with the grate pulled over the entrance and the nail salon I frequent, the front windows glowing with fairy lights .
When we reach my building, I unlock the door to the lobby. He joins me in the elevator up to my floor, and finally to my door.
“Okay, well, this is me. Thanks for walking me up. Goodnight.”
But Dmitri doesn’t move. Instead, he stands there, watching me, his expression enigmatic.
“I’m not going to ask you in, if that’s what you’re waiting for.” I’m beginning to lose my patience, ready to bring out the lawyer side of me, though I don’t think it will work the way it did with the cops and the ADA.
“I need to know you’re safe. I want to look around and make sure no one is inside.”
There is no amusement in those ice-blue eyes. Dmitri is entirely serious, and I’m too damn exhausted to argue.
I unlock the door with a sound of annoyance vibrating in my throat, and Dmitri follows me in.
“Wait here.”
He doesn’t wait to see if I obey before he walks past me to inspect my apartment.
It won’t take him long. Although the space is large as far as New York apartments go, it’s still only a living room, small kitchen, one full bath, and a bedroom.
I don’t even have a dining room table—no room and no need.
Two bar stools work nicely, with the bar jutting out from the open window into the kitchen.
The view is decent enough, and the lights from the skyscrapers rise up around us, casting a bright glow into the space.
It feels strange to know Dmitri is prowling around, ensuring no one is waiting in the shadows to molest me out—or worse.
He’s in my personal space. He’s in my apartment with clothes thrown over the back of a chair, makeup scattered on the bathroom sink, toothpaste drips, an unmade bed, and dirty dishes in the sink.
A Russian mob boss is walking around my apartment. A dangerous, powerful man who more than likely has done everything that warrant says he did. He didn’t get to where he is by being thoughtful, forgiving, and legit.
I have to end this now—all of it. I just got out of my relationship with Dean, which was bad enough, but somehow, this is worse—on so many levels.
I think I’m done with men for a while. Never mind that my night with Dmitri—and what almost happened in his office that first day—has ruined me for every other man, probably forever.
I hear the sound of footsteps as Dmitri returns. I let go a sigh of relief when I don’t see any tension or concern on his face. Maybe the thought that Dean might come after me for the way I humiliated him this afternoon rang a little too true.
“Anything?”
Dmitri shakes his head. “Nobody is here.”
“Okay, well, thanks then.” I open the door, take a deep breath, and forge ahead. “Also, I won’t be in tomorrow. Please consider this my resignation.”
That catches him off-guard, and his eyebrows raise in that look of faint surprise I’ve come to know. He doesn’t move for a long moment.
“You’re going to have to repeat yourself,” he says. “I thought I heard you say you’re quitting my company.”
“That’s exactly what you heard.” I force myself to stand straighter, tilt my chin up, and meet his eyes.
“What I did today was my job and a professional courtesy. But you lied to me about the reality behind Smirnov Corp., and I cannot in good faith continue with a position that puts my professional future and reputation on the line.”
“What? You can’t even give me two weeks’ notice?” Dmitri speaks quietly, and I don’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing.
“Fair enough. I will work for you for the next two weeks. But I will not continue past that. I will not work with a known criminal organization.”
“Or do you mean a known criminal?” Dmitri’s voice drops lower as he comes closer, not a good sign. His shoulders are tight and his eyes have gone dark.
I swallow hard but manage to stay calm. “Yes.”
“So you believe what the cops said?”
“I believe something is going on that you didn’t disclose when I came onboard. I was hired for a corporate law position, not criminal defense.”
“Can you prove that I do all they accuse me of?” He’s standing directly in front of me, looking down into my face, a velvety menace to his words.
“You haven’t denied it. The truth is, Mr. Smirnov, you’re most likely a mob boss, and I want nothing to do with you, your company, or your illegal business.”
“Is that so?” He leans in close, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth, a hunger there.
“Yes, that’s so.” The words come out breathier than I want them to be, and I take a step back as I open the door wider, motioning that it’s time for him to go.
He moves forward, and for a moment, I think he’s going to listen and leave. But in one smooth movement, he’s slipped my hand from the knob, slammed the door shut, and has me back against it, caged in his arms.
“Look at me.”
My gaze stays glued to his massive chest. “I asked you to leave.”
“No, you gestured in the direction of the door. You could have been showing me your expansive view of the hallway for all I know. Look at me, Clara.”
Despite what my brain is telling me, the rest of me wants to look at him, but I’m afraid to, because I know what I’ll see, and I know I won’t stand a chance when I do.
When our eyes meet, all I can see is the desire, desire that acts like a spark to dry kindling.
“I know you want me to kiss you all over, to taste every inch of your skin, to make sounds come out of that sexy mouth of yours, words you never thought you’d say.”
Jesus, he doesn’t even need to touch me, and I’m already wet, my core tightening, my skin flushed with heat. Because damn it, I do want that, all of it—immediately.
And Dmitri knows it.
His mouth is on mine in a second—hot, demanding, and ravenous—as he presses me back against the door. My arms come around his shoulders, my nails digging into his back while his lips burn a trail of fire down my skin, making my pulse pound, a raw ache opening inside of me that only Dmitri can fill.
His hand slips inside my slacks and panties, and as he pushes them down and finds the sensitive place between my thighs, it’s all I can do to cling to him as his fingers find the exact spot that is begging for attention.
“Tell me you want me to quit. Tell me you want me to leave and never come back. Tell me you want me out of your life.”
I can’t do that, and he knows it. I’m too hungry, too lost in what his fingers are doing to me, that all I can do is moan into his mouth as he captures it again.
His teeth find the nape of my neck, nipping there before speaking Russian into my ear. I’m so turned on I’m grinding against his hand, my nails digging into his back, my gasps turning into moans, and then cries, as he works me until I can’t even think.
My orgasm is explosive, and I cling to him, my pussy clenching around his fingers.
“I thought so.” His grin is predatory, seductive. He has me, and I can’t let go. Knowing that makes me want to scream in frustration, but I also want to scream as he pounds into me over and over until I can’t think about anything but him.
Dmitri has barely slipped his hands out of my pants when I surprise him by jumping up and clamping my legs around his waist. With a deep chuckle, his hands curve around my ass, and he takes me straight to the bedroom.
I can feel that rock-hard bulge pressing into me, and I want it so badly, I’m ready to beg.
“Please. Please, I need you so badly.”
“I like the way you’re asking so nicely.” Dmitri’s grin is mischievous. “Now, make it dirty.”
“I want you to fuck me, fuck me so hard I can’t see straight.” He presses me up against the wall. As his hand works between us, I hear the sound of a zipper and the rustle of fabric before he’s pushing at my entrance.
“I’m going to fuck this nonsense about leaving me right out of you,” he growls. He enters me with one smooth push.
I cry out and arch my back as he slides in and out, pleasure shooting up and down my body.
“You’re mine, Clara Benson.”
My brain can hardly decode the words and their meaning as Dmitri pounds into me again and again, pushing me into the wall with each thrust. My body shakes as he drives me higher and higher, closer to the edge.
His fingers dig into my ass, and I barely notice when he moves us to the bed. He lays me on my back, and I wrap my legs around him. When he plunges in again, we both cry out as he sinks deep.
Dmitri is above me, his moans of pleasure causing raging sensations to course through me as he thrusts in and out, like wild storm waves on the beach. I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands finding my hair, raking through it as I writhe.
The orgasm crashes over me, the strongest yet, taking my consciousness with it. I float at the crest for a second, for a minute, for an hour, I have no idea. The scream it rips out of me echoes inside my head, so loud it nearly blots out the moment Dmitri comes, groaning as he spasms inside of me.
He collapses forward and off to my side. We both lie there, breathing hard, entirely spent.
“You’re mine, Clara Benson,” he says again into the dark silence of my apartment, over the sound of blood still rushing in my ears.
And we both know it’s true.