Chapter 7 - Avraam
Her body is the test I am failing.
She moves beneath me and every inch of her is teasing me.
Her breasts are full and creamy, her skin smooth and soft to the touch. I can’t get enough of her as I push myself against her, pressing her legs wider while I am exploring her with my tongue
Every time she moans, it fuels the fire burning inside me. I push my cock harder against her and she rubs her pussy up and down over the rock-hard bulge in my pants. Each time she moves against me, I want to growl and rip the last shreds of her lace panties from her body. I am trying so desperately to hold myself back, but reasoning and logic aren’t here anymore. The only thing I am deeply aware of is her. Every single gorgeous inch of her.
Her scent is overwhelming in every way as I run my hand down her side, over the valleys and curves of her hips and then slip my hand beneath her ass, letting my fingers explore the space between her legs.
I brush my fingers over her pussy and a low growl rumbles through my chest. She is wet, warm and ready for me.
In my mind, I am already thrusting into her. Ripping my pants open and slamming my cock into her until she screams my name.
I could—
My breathing hitches in my throat and I try to turn my head away from her.
Still pinning her to the bed, I move head to the side and press it against the pillow.
Stop this right now, Avraam. What the fuck are you doing? She is tricking you. She is using her body to manipulate you. Stop. This. Right. Now.
My thoughts and my body are fully at war with each other.
I can’t seem to pull myself together.
I feel her hands run over my back as I fight the urge to tear her clothes from her body.
“Avra—,“ she shakily says my name. It’s all I need to yank myself back to reality. My name on her lips makes me angry.
I picture the way I saw Royce handling her and I realize—she must have done the same thing to him. She must have used her body to manipulate him as well. No wonder he acted so strangely around her—like he’d lost his mind.
The anger grips deeper, long fingers with long claws that embed themselves in my chest. I hate the fact that she can so easily throw herself around like that. Her body should never be used as a tool. Not like that. Not to taunt men. She is using herself more than them.
And I don’t want anyone else to even look at her that way when she belongs to me—
Fuck.
No.
I need to get away from her. I’m not behaving like myself.
She is infecting my thoughts. Her siren song has poisoned me.
I push off the bed, hurriedly moving away from her, not daring to look at her in case it undoes this ounce of self-control I have managed to pull together.
My cock is furious. Throbbing and angry that I am not giving it what it wants. That I am not taking what I want when it is right there—so easy—so ready.
For a minute all I can do is stand next to the bed with my back to her. I can’t move, I can’t think clearly.
I can smell her on my skin, I can still feel the remanence of her touch on my body. Squeezing my eyes tightly closed, I take a deep breath.
I hear her moving on the bed behind me, but I still don’t turn to look at her. I can’t.
I’m so angry at myself for how possessive I feel about her. How upset I am that she must have used this tactic on other men. Royce for one.
She lures them in, gives them what they want—and gets what she wants.
When I’ve pulled myself together enough, I walk out of the room.
Without saying anything to her or glancing back over my shoulder.
I lock her bedroom door behind myself, confident that she is secured there on the bed. When my mind is clearer, I will decide how to handle this.
For now I need to have an ice cold shower—and just be far away from her.
***
During the course of the morning, I have two guards and one of the female housekeepers escort her to the bathroom and stand outside the door while she showers. My reasoning is that if there is more than one person, she can’t play tricks or try her methods on any of them. They have been instructed not to say a word to her.
Then, they are ordered to lock her right back up on the bedpost.
I haven’t been able to go back into the room yet, but I know I will have to at some point.
For now, I want to focus on other things.
I have her. That was my plan all along, to kidnap her and disrupt her brothers' business. I want to take down the Kuznetsovs, throw them into array and panic.
I’m sitting in my home office, staring blankly at my laptop screen, when one of my personnel comes into my office.
“Sir, we have news.”
I glance up at him, lost in thought, taking a moment to register his words.
“Ah. Yes, what do you have for me?” I stammer, sighing heavily. This girl is an issue for me.
“It’s about the girl. We have reports back from our men that her brothers are looking for her. They are frantic and things are heating up out there.”
Ok, yes, this is what I want to hear.
“And their warehouses, are any of them focused on the businesses?”
“No, sir. None of them have gone into work. They are all meeting up at house of her oldest brother, Rodion Kuznetsov. We think they must be trying to plan a search—going through information to try and figure out who took her and why.”
“So, there is no indication that they know it was me?”
“No, sir.”
My mouth is tight, my jaw clenched. This is good news.
“Rally the forces. We are going to attack their warehouse. The one by the docks. I’ll be coming with you. Be ready in an hour. We are targeting their stock. Not their men. But I do want to create a disturbance.”
“Yes, sir.”
He marches from my office and I lean back in the chair, folding my arms across my chest. Ok. This is good. This is what I wanted. But my original plan was to let them know it was me that took her. It was meant to be a challenge, a threat, a show of power. Right now—I don’t want them to know she’s with me because that would mean possibly needing to give her up sooner than I would like to.
For now, she belongs to me.
She is in my control.
I stand up, running my hand through my hair, pushing the dark curls from my face.
I might not want to give her up, but I can cause disruptions in their business.
In just over an hour, I am sitting in the passenger seat of one of my SUVs, a team of men with me as we drive towards the docks.
We are all dressed in Kevlar, black ski masks and heavily armed.
The driver parks near the back of the warehouse.
We wait for a moment, watching, expecting their guards to come rushing around, alerted to our uninvited arrival. But nothing happens.
Their attention is focused elsewhere, exactly as I wanted it to be.
“Let’s go. I want to disrupt their shipments. Place the explosives around products, anything that looks important.”
We pile out of the car, my men rushing forward, bursting through the warehouse doors.
Workers, mostly unguarded, run in all directions to escape our gunfire. I am not here to slaughter anyone. I am not here to murder senselessly, I just want them out of the way.
The three guards that are here are bound, taped up and restrained—rendered useless and left in the office, out of the way.
We set chargers on three points in the warehouse, setting them off in a controlled manner, causing enough destruction to damage their business effectively.
Then I head back into the office.
Standing over the three guards, I ask, “Who is in charge?”
One guard, blindfolded, boldly nods his head. “I am. Leave the other two alone. Whatever you want to do—do it to me.”
I admire his courage and his willingness to protect his men by offering himself as a sacrifice of sorts. But I don’t have any intention of harming him.
“I have a message for your boss.”
He remains silent, his body tense as he sits on the floor where we left him—I have his attention, though.
“Tell the Kuznetsovs that only those who belong are welcome.”
He doesn’t respond. “Nod if you got that.”
One nod.
Good.
I stare at the three men. They are lucky today. They will keep their lives. I know many in my world who would not even dream of showing what they believe is a weakness like that. But these men don’t need to die for me to get my message across—or for me to damage the flow of the Kuznetsov business. The products they lost in our attack today are going to cause far more issues than a few dead security guards.
“Move out!”
I shout to my men as I walk out of the office and back into the warehouse.
I’m thinking of her again as we jog back to the car and climb inside.
I’m thinking of her and I don’t want to be.
We drive home, my men chatting in the back while I stare silently out of the window, watching the city drift past me. It wasn’t my plan to keep her a secret. But any other move will risk me losing her.
Why do I care if I lose her? The only purpose she serves is to upset the Kuznetsov family with her disappearance, stressing them out. My original plan was to use her as a bargaining tool, but now that has to change, because I don’t want to lose her.
But why?
She is only a pawn.
A pawn in a bigger game. Nothing but a pawn.
You only hold onto the queen. The pawns are disposable.
I sigh, clenching my jaw, watching the buildings and people.
When we get home, I head straight to my room to shower and change.
I haven’t seen Ruslana all day, but that night I still sleep in her bed, for the sole purpose of watching over her. I force myself not to speak to her because every interaction with this girl is a risk.
I can’t have her finding out anything else about me and using it against me. I can’t have her manipulating me and escaping.
She talks to me, trying to start conversation and I bite my tongue to avoid replying.
It’s getting more difficult, though. With each night that passes.
Tonight, I am in a foul mood after a long day and she seems just as edgy as I am.
“Why don’t you just kill me instead of torturing me with silence and isolation?” she snaps as I climb into the bed next to her.
“Be quiet, Ruslana. Go to sleep.”
“Sleep? Are you joking? All I do all day is lie here and drift in and out of sleep because there is literally nothing else to do. I am going insane. And then you walk into the room at night and you can’t even be bothered to speak to me.”
“I have nothing to say to you. You are a prisoner. Nothing more.”
“I will kill myself if you keep forcing me to sit day by day—bored out of my skull.”
“Oh please, just go to sleep. I’m too tired for your bullshit.”
I sigh, tossing onto my side so that I can’t see her.
She is too beautiful to look at. The fire in her eyes drags me towards her and even though all we are doing is fighting, I find myself enjoying the conversations.
Even in anger she is tempting me, and I can’t fall for that trap again.
I sigh noisily, letting her know I’m annoyed.
She sighs just as loud, filled with agitation and frustration.
“I hate you,” she mutters. And I smirk, a sarcastic taunt running through my mind, shaking my head.
I can’t let myself care if she hates me.
She is nothing to me. Nothing.
I close my eyes, trying to force myself to go to sleep.