Chapter 4
NINA
For a second, I think I’ve convinced Andrei to let me go—or, at least, keep me with him. I’m not sure that staying with my stalker would be an improvement over my current predicament but I’m willing to take the risk.
I’d offer other inducements, too. I squirm slightly, hoping he didn’t notice the way I stared at his massive erection.
Hoping he doesn’t notice the fact that I’m turned on.
I attribute this feeling to unspent adrenaline still coursing through my system.
Saliva floods my mouth and my breasts turn heavy inside my lace bra as I picture him freeing my hands so that I can sink to my knees before him. Take out that cock. Taste him.
How sick am I to want that? I’ve never even seen a real live dick, outside of art studies. Pictures, but not the real thing. I feel like Andrei’s is not exactly the starter version.
“Let me go,” I plead, tugging against my restraints, and yet I’m surprised when he unlocks them.
I inhale a shuddering breath and stand up.
I find my mother’s old brown leather purse with the LV logo all over it and snatch it up.
My pussy throbs. He’s letting me go. I shouldn’t want to stay here in a filthy garage closet with dried blood crusted on the grate in the floor—evidence of torture.
No windows, and the only chair has manacles welded to the arms.
I’m sick. There’s something wrong with me that I can be turned on, under these circumstances. Yet Andrei doesn’t seem quite like the monster I believed he was. I study his hard features, waiting for an answer. His brows knit thoughtfully.
“You aren’t leaving,” he says after a minute.
“Please.” I step forward. The top of my head doesn’t even reach his shoulder.
He’s at least a foot taller than me and packed with hard muscle.
I lightly rest my fingertips on his sternum, splayed across the black fabric of his button-down shirt.
My hand looks pathetically tiny. No polish on my short nails—painting daily makes manicures impractical.
Andrei stares at my pale and vulnerable hand, transfixed.
Daringly, I slide it down toward his waistband.
“Anything at all,” I whisper, bringing my hand lower so my meaning is clear. I squeeze his hard cock gently through the worn denim. “Just say the words, Andrei, and I’ll give you the best—”
In a blink, he has me by the throat, forcing me back in quick shuffling steps until my shoulders hit the wall behind me. He holds me there, glaring. “Why would I let you go when I could have my cock in your pretty little cunt forever?”
A visceral reminder that you don’t play with bratva men. Not unless you want to get hurt. He squeezes gently. A display of dominance, not to cause pain. Still. I have to be smarter than this, but lord, I want him so badly.
“If you force me, Andrei, I will make sure you never rest easy for the remainder of your very short life,” I seethe, gasping.
“There’s your fire.” He releases my throat and traces my lower lip with his thumb. I jerk away from his touch.
“You shouldn’t be touching me. You’re nothing but a Volkov dog.”
“Is that the best you can do, Nina? I’ve been called far worse. The only place you are going is back to your father.”
Blood drains from my face so suddenly that I feel lightheaded.
It’s one thing to threaten to keep me—my father will kill him and hunt me down, but at least I might get a second opportunity to escape—but sending me back to Melor is a death sentence.
“You can’t do that. He will kill me. Literally.
I’m not joking, Volkov, I saw him strangle my mother with his bare hands. Melor Kotov will do the same to me.”
“He won’t. He can’t. He needs you.” Andrei seems far too certain about my father’s paternal obligation. I scoff.
“He despises me. The feeling is mutual. He hates all women but especially me, for not being a son.”
“He needs you to get the heir he wants,” Andrei says slowly as if the pieces of a plan are clicking together in his mind. His gaze cuts to mine. “I am going to marry you, Nina. Our son will rule the Kotov faction.”
I stiffen in shock, gaping up at him. “You want to do what?”
In a way it makes perfect sense—for him.
From what I learned of the Volkov family through my father’s attempt to force an arranged marriage between me and Rafail, Andrei is the previous pakhan’s adopted son.
An orphan from the streets of Moscow, if I remember right.
Andrei has risen as high as he can within that faction.
He’s clearly ambitious. If he wants to carve out a niche among the Kotovs and climb to leadership through an alliance with me…
weirdly, it makes me feel a little less special than if he had been stalking me because he wanted a woman he couldn’t otherwise have.
Being stalked doesn’t make you special, I remind myself sternly. My body doesn’t care. My core clenches at the thought of being married to this powerful man.
“Marry you,” I echo, glancing at the floor. Then back at the man who is turning out to be even worse than my nightmares. “You have a strange way of going about a proposal.”
“Would you like me to get down on one knee?” His mouth quirks up. He’s pleased with his new plan, but I’m not.
“I—I just want you to let me go.” A sob takes me by surprise. “If you want to marry me, you have to win me at the auction. That’s why I was running. But I promise you that I will make your life a living hell.”
“It is how things are done in our world, anghel. If I simply keep you, there will be bloodshed. You know that.”
Disappointment crashes over me. It was too much to hope, however briefly, that someone actually saw me. Cared about me. I worry my lower lip with my teeth.
“You don’t understand.” I might fracture from the frustration. How can I convince him not to take me back? There has to be a way.
I advance upon him, dropping one hand to his belt. Silently, I unbuckle it. He’s still rock-hard.
“When is the auction taking place?” he asks implacably.
“Tonight. A little over an hour from now, although considering the way I ran off, he might have to move the timeline back a bit.” I chuckle without any trace of humor and pop the button on his waistband. Draw down the zipper. My breath catches. He’s massive.
Undaunted I drop to one knee and extract from the fabric prison the full significance of what I’m offering to do. His eyes darken, watching me. “Please, let me stay with you.”
“Nina,” he growls in warning. My eyes fall closed as I slide my tongue out to taste the drop beading on the slit. A low groan rumbles out of him. A good start. My pussy clenches in response.
“I’ve never done this before,” I tell him. “I’ve only been on one date ever, and you scared him off that evening.”
“I know.” He grabs my unraveling braid and thrusts deep into my mouth. “I know everything about you. Everywhere you go. The people you talk to. What you wear. I make it my business to watch you. Hate me all you want, anghel, you’ve always been mine. The auction will only make it official.”
I open as wide as I can yet still my teeth scrape the underside of his dick. Tears stream from my eyes. I whimper and redouble my efforts. Andrei shoves his cock deeper. I open for him—a good girl getting on my knees and letting him fuck my mouth the way I’ve dreamed of someone doing for years.
“Touch yourself,” he commands. I don’t hesitate.
I get down on both knees and spread my legs apart.
I pump his shaft with one hand while hollowing out my cheeks to suck as much of him as I can.
I squeeze my thighs closed around my other hand, frantically rubbing my clit through my pants. His salt floods my mouth.
Over the tang of motor oil and metal I can detect the scent of salt and musk.
I’m angry with this man, but I’m so fucking turned on, too.
I come. Hard. Everything below my navel clenches around nothingness.
It’s not enough, not nearly enough, yet I’ve needed this for so long.
Maybe it’s fucked up—definitely fucked up—but it feels so good not to have to pretend I’m a perfect bratva princess for once.
I can be my father’s enemy’s naughty little slut.
I choke on all the cum flooding my mouth and gag when he eases his still-hard cock out. A string of saliva stretches, keeping us connected for a moment as I register the cold shock of air.
“Nicely done for your first time,” he says gruffly.
“You’ll let me go now,” I say, lurching to my feet with all the elegance of a newborn giraffe. A statement. Not a question. A demand, really. “I did what you wanted. Now let me go.”
“All you have accomplished is to prove to me that you were worth chasing all these years.
I wipe my mouth aggressively with one hand trying to rid myself of the suddenly bitter taste of him.
“Next time I’ll have to bite it off. But there won’t be a next time.
Not if you take me back.” I don’t say home.
I’ve never had one of those. I have a haunted house, a prison, an expensive mansion that’s more an unmarked grave than it is a place to live.
“I will kill Melor Kotov if he touches a hair on your head. You will be safe. You have my word. I am asking you to trust me.” Andrei cups my chin, bringing my face up to his.
Searching for an answer I can’t give him.
For a second, I think he might kiss me, but he doesn’t.
“You have to go back. I need to do this the right way. The bratva way.”
“How romantic. You want to buy me from my father like I’m some sort of medieval cow,” I say dully. I jerk away from his touch. It’s clear his mind is made up. He gestures to the door. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Melor? I know exactly what he’s capable of.” He balls one huge fist and slams it in the palm of the other. I flinch. “He won’t harm you. I promise.”
“You’re wrong. My father will kill me, and I don’t mean figuratively.” Out of other options, my blow job gambit having failed, I exit the interrogation room. Andrei’s metal belt clicks softly, mockingly, as he puts himself away. A cold emotion writhes in my gut.
However angry this makes your father, he can’t afford to kill you, I remind myself.
Melor believes in dynasty, in passing along a genetic legacy, and I’m his only option to do that.
Maybe Andrei is right. He can’t do too much damage in such a short amount of time.
This miserable fear that’s haunted me for years could be over in a few hours.
All I have to do is place my life in the hands of a dangerous stranger.
The only shred of hope I have to cling to.