7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Benji
I came to with a jolt but groaned as my head pounded, my brain seeming to ricochet painfully around my skull. What the fuck did I have to drink last night? Everywhere ached and my head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. What the heck was that smell? It was dank and musty. I peeled my eyes open and instantly regretted it.
Bright white light assaulted my eyeballs, and I blinked rapidly to try and bring the room into focus. Shit. This wasn’t my apartment. I didn’t know where this was. I looked around but couldn’t really make anything out beyond the circle of light I was situated in. There didn’t seem to be any natural light, so maybe it was a basement? I tried to look behind me but something tight tugged on my wrists. I looked down and saw cable ties around my arms and ankles. Fuck. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths came short and sharp. Nope. I wasn’t going to have a panic attack. Not in some crazy guy’s basement that smelt like dirty water.
“Hello!” I shouted as I pulled at my restraints, but they wouldn’t budge. “Is anyone there?”
“Welcome back.”
I flinched. Well, as much as I could considering I was tied to a chair. It was the guy from the alley, the one who was too pretty to be a psycho. Not that I could see him. I could barely see anything beyond the white light. Just shadows.
“Where am I?” I asked, my mouth dry and my words sluggish.
“What’s your name?” he replied, completely ignoring my question.
I licked my dry lips. The guy probably already knew, I’d had my wallet on me and now my jacket was nowhere to be seen. “My name is Benjamin Barrett.”
Footsteps echoed around the room as the mystery man stepped forwards out of the shadows. He was taller than I remember, or maybe that was a trick of the light, but he definitely looked taller than me and I was six foot.
He squatted in front of me, his face just as cold as I remembered. “Charlie Kent.”
Huh? “I don’t—”
“Do you know him?”
“No.” I shook my head and regretted it. “Did you drug me?”
“Yes. Do you know who I am?”
“No. Have you forgotten?”
A low growl rose from his throat. Probably wise not to antagonise the crazy guy who’d kidnapped me.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “My thoughts don’t seem to be… organised. Wait, you drugged me?”
“Yes. I already answered that.” He cocked his head to one side, his gaze assessing.
“Why?”
“Would you have come willingly if I’d asked?”
“Probably not.”
The guy continued to study me in silence. It was weird, like he was waiting for something, or for me to do something but what, I didn’t know. He just watched me, those impossibly blue eyes tracking every movement, hell, every frantic breath that escaped my lips. There was no doubt that I was looking at someone who was way beyond an ordinary person.
“What are you going to do with me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He’d said he wasn’t going to kill me, but maybe that was going to be better than any alternative this guy could think of.
A long slender finger reached out and brushed a damp lock from my forehead. “I haven’t decided yet.”
I swallowed, the sound a loud gulp in the empty room. “Who are you?”
The smile that spread across his face was unsettling. “Damyr Morozov.”
Morozov. I knew that name, but I couldn’t quite grasp why. Stupid drugs. Making everything foggy and—
Damyr traced his finger between my brows. “The drugs will wear off soon.”
I hoped so because I could barely string a sentence together. It didn’t help that he was still touching me. Which was doing something to me, and my dick was starting to take notice. On a normal day I’d probably ask him out, but this was as far from normal as possible. And besides, he’d kidnapped me and tied me to a fucking chair. I mean, who did he think he was?
Well, shit. Cue light bulb moment.
Damyr let out a low chuckle, but it was anything but warm. “Figured it out, pretty boy?”
Morozov. One of the current ruling Three Families. “Russian mob.”
His nose wrinkled in disgust, and it made him look kind of cute. “I don’t like the word ‘mob’. It makes it sound sleazy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t take the mobster etiquette class.”
He looked at me curiously. “There’s no such thing. You’re being sarcastic.”
I rolled my eyes at him. Who was this guy?
His hand shot out and grabbed my chin, his nails sharp against my skin. “If you worked for me, you’d lose your eyes for that.”
Thick black lines swirled over the skin on his hand, and it made me wonder how much ink covered him. I couldn’t see any tattoos anywhere else, and his black shirt didn’t give me any clues as to what was hiding beneath. But hell, if his hands were heavily tattooed, I bet the rest of him was too.
I gulped, my throat brushing against his hand. Damyr’s gaze dropped to my neck, his eyes darkening as he leant closer. He forced my head to the side and brought his nose to the spot just below my ear. My heart fucking raced.
He hummed, the sound low and predatory. Throaty.
Aaaand there went my dick again.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
When Damyr pulled back his eyes burned like fire. “You have no idea what world you’ve wandered into.”
I didn’t know. I had the feeling it was pretty dark due the fact that he’d fucking kidnapped me! Besides, everyone knew that the Morozov’s were more than just dangerous. They were deadly. And shady as fuck. No one ever really saw them as they kept to themselves, but they had fingers in many pies across the city. Hell, there was a ‘Morozov Family Wing’ at the hospital I’d worked at.
“From my limited knowledge of criminal activities that happen in this city, I am guessing your world is a lot darker than mine.”
Damyr smiled wide and it was like looking at the Devil who had found a new toy to play with. He reached out and traced a long, tattooed finger over the arch in my upper lip. I’d always thought my mouth too pouty, too feminine, but most guys had liked it, and it seemed like Damyr was a fan of it too.
Even if it was incredibly rude that he was touching me without permission.
But also, kind of hot.
“What are you doing to my face?” I asked with a sharp intake of breath.
“You talk too much, Benjamin.”
“It’s Benji,” I snapped. I hated my full name. It was too long and stuffy.
Damyr’s smile widened, and his eyes flashed in the low light. “Will anyone miss you, Benjamin?”
“Ex-fucking-scuse me?!” I gasped. The gall of this guy. What kind of person even says that to someone? “Look, I was being a decent human being and trying to rescue someone. I thought I was doing the right thing. That doesn’t give you the right to drug me and take me off the street. Just because you’re some high and mighty mobster, doesn’t mean you can swan around doing whatever the fuck you’d want. In fact—”
Strong fingers gripped my chin, halting my tirade.
“Pretty boy, I’m not just some mobster.”
“I don’t give a shit. If you’re not going to kill me, you need to let me go,” I spat. “And don’t call me pretty boy. I’m not your boy. I’m not your anything.”
“I’m not letting you go,” he said simply. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Why?”
He traced my bottom lip, rolling it beneath the pad of his thumb.
Don’t suck it into your mouth, Benji. However much you want to.
“Have you ever looked at something and just wanted it.”
I froze for a moment, not sure I’d heard him right. He’d kidnapped me because he wanted me? What the actual fuck? A laugh burst from my mouth at the ridiculousness of his words. “I’m sorry, but that’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard. What are you? Twelve? I’m not a toy or a possession. Now untie me or—”
“Or what?” he interrupted, his eyes giddy with excitement. “Are you going to gut me? Pluck out my eyes? Break my knees?”
“Those are all oddly specific,” I muttered. “No. I’m not a violent person. I don’t think. But I’ve never been in this position before so there’s no knowing what I might be capable of.”
Which was true. Who knew what they were really capable of when push came to shove?
He stared at me for another long moment, his frigid eyes boring deep into mine. He seemed to be having some sort of internal war with himself, the muscle along his sharp jawline twitching every so often. He must have come to decision because he sighed and pursed his lips. What did that even mean?
“So, Charlie Kent,” Damyr said, standing up and, thankfully, taking a step back. Guess he wasn’t killing me just yet.
“What about him?”
He pulled a chair from the dark void behind him and sat down opposite me, rolling his sleeves up and putting his forearms on display. My mouth watered instantly. What was it about a guy’s forearms that was so delicious? And fuck me, Damyr’s were gorgeous. They were covered in ink. A mix of black and bold colours. Roses, skulls, knives, everything that was dark in theme. But I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands. He had the outline of a snake’s head on each of his hands and I could see the body of it wrapped around his wrist before disappearing down his arm, weaving between all the other tattoos. The snake on his left hand was alive but the one on his right, was a skeleton. I wonder what it meant.
Dammit, this guy needed to stop giving me things to make me curious about him. He’d kidnapped me and tied me to a chair. Doesn’t matter if he’s hot, he’s crazy.
“How do you know him?”
Huh? Oh, right, Charlie. “I don’t. The first time I saw him he was fleeing your building. The second time I saw him he was being attacked and then he shot Byron – who I’m guessing works for you — and the third time was in the bar. Although I didn’t realise that was the third time because I’d forgotten I’d met him.”
And I still didn’t know how that Byron or the other guy had managed that.
“Yes,” Damyr said thoughtfully. “Vlad is usually so reliable.”
“Vlad? Is that the name of the tank?”
He snorted. “Yes.”
“So, did he drug me?”
Damyr pursed his lips and nope, I wasn’t looking at how soft they looked. “In a fashion.”
In a fashion? What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Look, could you just not talk in riddles? My head still hurts, and I want to go home.”
Damyr’s eyes flashed. “You’re not going home, Benjamin. You need to get comfortable with that.”
“What about my cat?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
Oh my God. “You’ve killed my cat?!”
“What? No.”
Oh, thank the Lord.
“I’ve had one of the men bring him here. Along with all your things.”
“The fuck?!” I shouted. “You can’t do that!”
Damyr frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Why not?”
“Because…” Fuck, why couldn’t I think of a reason. “Because it’s not normal.”
He shrugged and relaxed back in his chair. “You’re in different world now. My world. What’s normal to you isn’t going to be normal here. Best get used to it, pretty boy.”
No way. No fucking way.
“Did Charlie say anything you about a ledger?” Damyr asked, as if he hadn’t just turned my life upside down.
“No.”
He’d kidnapped my cat.
“Did he give you anything?”
“No.”
He’d packed all my things.
Fuck, I hope he hadn’t found the things in the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet. That would be embarrassing.
“Well, what did he say?” Damyr growled impatiently.
“Nothing much. That he worked in finance and regretted doing something, but didn’t know how to fix it.”
“What did he regret?”
“I don’t know!” I cried out. This really was the worst day of my fucking life.
“But you two were talking at the bar for a long time.”
“It was just small talk; I don’t even remember half of what we spoke about. He seemed really nervous, and from the way he was talking I assumed he was about to break up with someone. I tried to be a decent person and help calm him down. Then Byron and some elfin looking dude turned up and he freaked. Told me about regrets and how he wished he hadn’t done something. Next thing I know, I’m staring at Byron and having a massive sense of déjà vu. Images of my lost afternoon flood my mind, and I grabbed Byron’s waist to prove to myself I wasn’t imagining things and then bam, Charlie had disappeared.”
“You touched Byron’s waist?” Damyr said through gritted teeth.
“Seriously, dude? Out of everything I just said, that’s what you take away?” God, this guy was a piece of work. “I knew Byron had been shot, and I knew it was above his hip. All I did was touch him to see if I was having a hysterical episode, or if what I’d seen had actually happened. Where is that blue-eyed maniac anyway?”
“Why?”
“I kind of want to punch him in the face for strangling me.”
Damyr snorted. “And you say you’re not a violent person.”
I blanched. I had said that.
Damyr stood up and frowned at me. “Besides, I wouldn’t be violent around Byron. He thrives on it and will probably think it’s foreplay if you hit him.”
“Jeez, the guy sounds like a psycho,” I muttered.
“I think he prefers the term ‘creative’ but yes, he is a psychopath. Among other darker things.”
“Creative? Really?”
“Yes,” Damyr said with a shrug. “Byron is the kind of monster you send to kill other monsters. I’d recommend steering clear of him. I also don’t like that he has a pet name for you already.”
“Why?”
His ocean blue eyes held mine with an unblinking stare that had my squirming in my seat. “Because a pet name implies that he’s interested in you and trust me, you don’t want him interested in you. The last person to hold his interest, ended up in a ditch in pieces. Stay away from him.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I already knew what it was like to have him hold my life in his hands, I wasn’t about to go back for seconds. I nodded in agreement. “I’ll stay away. What about the others?”
“Others?”
“Vlad and the other guy, the one who looks like an angry elf.”
“Ah, Aleksey. They aren’t as volatile but still dangerous.”
“And you?” I ask pointedly. “Are you more or less dangerous than the others?”
Damyr leant closer to me, a blank expression on his face as he levelled his gaze with mine. A shiver zipped up my spine as a small smile curled his beautiful mouth.
“I play by my own rules, Benjamin, and the people who work for me, dance to my tune. So, you tell me, do you think I got to where I am by playing nice?”
“No,” I said a little breathlessly, suddenly feeling like I’d been caught in the sights of a predator. The conversation we’d been having had seemed almost normal that I’d forgotten about the cable ties, forgotten that I was here unwillingly. I was all too aware of it now though. Damyr Morozov looked at me like I was prey and something about the way his eyes darkened intently, had my blood pumping faster and my breath coming quickly. And it wasn’t all down to fear.
He dropped his hands to the top of my thighs and leant closer still. “Do you like that I don’t play nice, Benjamin?”
I couldn’t think past the feel of his breath whispering against my throat, or the way his hands dug into the muscles of my thighs. I could feel the sheer fucking power radiating from him as he completely obliterated my personal space, like he had every right to it. Like he fucking owned it. This was a man who’d done things I probably couldn’t even comprehend. Fuck, had those hands killed someone? Were they going to kill me? Did I even care?
“Damyr,” I whispered, the syllables cracked and full of need.
He purred, a deep and throaty rumble that I felt all the way to my toes. “Say my name like that again, Benjamin. Like it’s a goddamn prayer.”
His hands rose higher, and my legs spread wider of their own accord. Higher, I needed him to touch me higher. “Dam—”
He pulled back. “What’s this?”
I blinked rapidly, the moment shattering around me as the fog of desire and bad decisions cleared. What the fuck was I doing? I’d been seconds away from letting the guy who’d kidnapped me touch my dick.
Damyr tucked his hands into the front pocket of my jeans and pulled out a small flash drive. It was black and had some kind of silver logo on it that caught in the light.
“That’s not mine,” I said immediately. I’d never seen that thing in my life. I wouldn’t even know when I would have gotten it. “The kiss.”
“What?” Damyr hissed, looking every bit the dangerous man he claimed to be.
“When Charlie kissed me, he must have slipped it into my pocket.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient. I thought you said you didn’t know him.”
“I don’t,” I protested. “I’ve never seen him before today. I swear it.”
Damyr held my gaze, his stare unrelenting and uncomfortable. It felt like he was searching the depths of my very soul for the truth.
“Fine,” he huffed. “Say that’s true—”
“It is true!”
“—why would Charlie give you this?” He held up the flash drive and I caught the monogrammed ‘M’ on the side.
“Damyr, I don’t even know what that is. Why would I know why he gave it to me?”
“Something isn’t making sense here,” he mused aloud, his gaze taking on a far-off look.
“Maybe you should plug it into a computer and look what’s on it?” I said in a smart-ass tone.
He threw me a withered look. “No shit.”
“Look,” I said through gritted teeth, my frustration starting to get the better of me. “What have I got to do to persuade you to let me go?”
“We’ve been over this, Benjamin. I’m not letting you go.”
“Fuck you!” I spat. Rage burned through me like a knife. How dare he think that he could uproot my life based on a whim. I was so angry. At him. Myself. Charlie fucking Kent. This situation. At everything. I wanted to scream at him, punch him, do something , but I was tied to this chair, a fucking prisoner being held at the pleasure of the Morozov King himself. “Fuck you.”
Damyr looked away, a muscle ticking along the edge of his jaw. Then he turned on his heel and walked to the door. “I’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder.
“Don’t fucking bother,” I replied softly, defeat and exhaustion finally curling around my bones. Maybe the better choice was sucking Dr Kingsly’s dick after all.