CHAPTER 10 #2
The change was instantaneous. The casual amusement vanished, replaced by a cold, hard stillness that sent a shiver down my spine.
His eyes narrowed, turning to chips of ice.
The cigar stopped smoking, forgotten in the ashtray.
His hand, which had been resting casually on the armrest, clenched into a fist.
"Where did you hear that name?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous, a venomous hiss that promised pain. It was not a question. It was a threat.
"I have my ways," I retorted, a defiant spark igniting within me.
The fear was there, a cold knot in my stomach, but the thrill of having found something, of actually rattling him, was intoxicating.
"Let's just say, a historian always finds her sources.
And your penthouse, Morozov, is a veritable archive of forgotten secrets. "
He rose slowly from his chair, his tall, powerful frame unfolding with a lethal grace.
He walked around the desk, his steps silent, predatory.
Every instinct screamed at me to run, to retract, but I held my ground, my chin lifted, my eyes locked on his.
He stopped directly in front of me, invading my space, his sheer size and power suffocating.
"You've been digging," he stated, not a question, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Where, Rose? What else have you found?" His eyes burned into mine, searching, probing, trying to peel back my layers.
"Enough," I breathed, trying to sound braver than I felt.
"Enough to know that there are more pieces to your puzzle than you've allowed me to see.
More to your past than you've revealed." I leaned forward slightly, closing the last inch of distance, my voice dropping to a provocative whisper.
"Tell me about Volkov, Liam. And maybe...
maybe I'll tell you what else I've found. "
His eyes dropped to my lips, lingering there, then sweeping over my body, a dark, possessive hunger replacing the cold fury. He saw the challenge, the game I was playing. And to my surprise, to my absolute terror and perverse thrill, he seemed to find it... exciting.
"You play a dangerous game, kitten," he rasped, his voice rough, laced with a new, dark amusement.
His hand reached out, not to grab me, but to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek.
The contact was electric, sending shivers through my body, both of fear and an undeniable, unwanted heat.
"Trying to trade information for... what? My mercy? My secrets?"
"Your answers," I whispered, my voice trembling, but holding steady. "And perhaps... your attention." I leaned into his touch, a reckless invitation. My body was an open book to him, my desire, my fear, my defiance, all on display. I would use it. Just as he used his power.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face, a truly dangerous smile. "Oh, you have my attention, Rose. You always have. But my answers... they come with a price." His gaze dropped to my mouth. "Are you willing to pay it?"
"Try me," I challenged, the words a breathless dare.
He crashed his mouth down on mine, a savage, hungry kiss that left no room for breath, for thought, only sensation.
His tongue plunged, dominating, demanding, sweeping away any lingering pretense of civilized conversation.
My hands came up, not to push him away, but to clutch at his expensive suit jacket, clinging to him as the kiss deepened, becoming a brutal claiming.
He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist, my body molding against his hard, powerful frame.
He didn't break the kiss as he carried me, slamming me against the heavy wooden door of his study.
The impact jarred my teeth, but I barely registered it, lost in the inferno of his mouth.
He tore at the zipper of my dress, the fabric ripping with a soft, violent sound.
My panties were next, a single, brutal yank, and they were gone.
The cool air hit my bared flesh, then the searing heat of his hand, cupping my ass, pushing me hard against his throbbing erection.
"You want answers, kitten?" he rasped, breaking the kiss, his lips hot against my ear, his breath ragged.
"Then earn them. Show me how much you truly want to know.
" His other hand gripped my thigh, lifting it higher, wrapping it tighter around his waist. "Are you a good girl, Rose? Will you beg for your truth?"
"Please," I whimpered, the word torn from my throat, a desperate mix of shame and raw need. "Tell me."
"Say it again," he commanded, his voice a low growl, his hips beginning to grind against me, driving me insane with friction. "Beg for it."
"Fuck me, Liam," I choked out, my body arching against his, desperate for release. "And tell me about Volkov."
A dark, triumphant growl rumbled deep in his chest. "Such a greedy little slut.
Always wanting more." He pulled my hair back, exposing my throat, then bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to send a jolt of pain and pleasure through me.
"Konstantin Volkov... he was my father's shadow.
The viper in our garden. He taught my father everything he knew.
And then he tried to take it all." His words were rough, broken, delivered between heavy grunts as he slammed his hips into mine, a searing, punishing penetration that stole my breath.
I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders, as he filled me completely, stretching me, owning me.
He moved his hips, slowly at first, then faster, each thrust a brutal question, a raw, undeniable claim.
My head fell back, my eyes squeezed shut, a kaleidoscope of pain and pleasure, of terror and an overwhelming, unwanted surrender.
"He taught my father about power," Liam rasped, thrusting deep. "About loyalty. About betrayal. He showed him how to build an empire out of blood and fear." Another powerful thrust. "He saw opportunity in chaos. Always manipulating from the shadows."
He held me against the door, his body a heavy, dominant weight, his grunts filling the small study.
My legs trembled, wrapped around his waist, but I clung to him, desperate, lost in the rhythm.
"He saw me... as a weakness. Not like my brother.
Dmitri. Too soft, too young." A raw, guttural groan tore from him as he buried himself deeper, harder.
"He whispered in my father's ear. About legacies. About the true cost of power."
My body convulsed, a shattering climax ripping through me, violent and all-consuming.
I screamed, a long, keening sound, as he continued his brutal assault, pushing deeper, harder, his own climax building.
He thrust into me three more times, brutally, powerfully, before a final, ragged groan tore from his throat and he spilled inside me, hot and pulsing, filling me with his dominance, his claim.
He held me there, impaled on him, his body heavy against mine, his breath ragged against my neck.
The silence returned, thick and charged, broken only by our gasps, our hammering hearts.
My legs were trembling, draped around his waist, still clinging.
My body felt weak, used, ravaged. And in the aftermath, a cold, hard knot of disgust and self-loathing twisted in my gut.
But also, a strange, dark satisfaction. I had poked the monster, and he had bled a little truth.
He finally pulled out, the sensation tearing and raw.
He lowered me back to my feet, my legs buckling beneath me.
I stood, swaying, my body aching, my head spinning, the lingering wetness between my legs a stark, humiliating reminder of what had just happened.
My torn dress lay in shredded pieces around my feet, a testament to his brutal possession.
He looked at me, his steel-gray eyes dark and unreadable, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. There was no apology, no tenderness. Only a cold, ruthless satisfaction. He walked back to his desk, picked up his glass of whiskey, and took another slow sip.
"That," he said, his voice calmer now, but laced with an undeniable, chilling authority, "is what you get for digging, Rose.
Fragments. Not the whole truth. But enough to keep you hungry.
" He leaned back in his chair, a king once more, surveying his conquered territory.
My territory. My body. My spirit. "Now, I believe you have a tapestry to restore. And a new name to research."
I said nothing. My throat was tight, my eyes burning.
My body ached, but my mind was already racing.
Konstantin Volkov. The viper in the garden.
The manipulator. The true mastermind, perhaps.
Liam had given me pieces, enough to confirm my suspicions, enough to fuel my burning curiosity.
He thought he had sated me, or simply asserted his dominance.
But he had only opened a new door, revealing a deeper, darker labyrinth.
The game had just begun. And I would find a way to navigate it, to unravel every thread, to find the truth, no matter the cost.