15. Rose #2
Whatever he has planned for tomorrow, I just have to pray that I can keep my head down until then—and that whoever the hell sent that note doesn’t try anything again before he’s taken measures to protect me and the baby.
That evening, I toss and turn all night long, unable to get any rest. I while away the next day taking a long bath and dressing carefully for this meeting.
Will it be just the two of us? I don't know.
The way he was talking, it sounds like he wants to lay out something in public.
Maybe it's his way of trying to flush out the rat who’s been threatening me behind his back.
Come five, I make my way down the corridor, escorted by one of the guards. I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, wondering if I should ask him what he knows, but I doubt it would help. None of the guards seems exactly pleased about my presence here.
Ilya is already waiting outside his office by the time I arrive.
The moment his eyes lock on mine, I feel a rush of warmth to my chest. It's the weirdest thing, and I have put it entirely down to pregnancy hormones, but whenever I’m around him, I can almost feel the tension crackling in the air between us—something I’ve never felt with anyone before.
Even Petar, my erstwhile boyfriend, didn’t have this kind of effect on me.
It bothers me that Ilya seems so uniquely capable of snaking beneath my skin and making it impossible for me to think straight.
"This way," Ilya tells me, jerking his head to the door at the far end of the corridor.
I hesitate, wondering if I should ask him where he’s taking me, but I know it won’t help. This man has obviously already decided what he wants from me, and nothing is going to change that.
I just have to hope I can keep up.
I follow him along the corridor, and he pushes open the door, gesturing for me to step inside.
Within it waits every guard who works in this mansion, plus a few more I’ve never laid eyes on.
Sitting at the table are a couple dozen men, amongst them Sergei, who sits at the head of the table.
They meet my arrival with an impassive gaze.
I still can’t figure out what Sergei thinks of me, whether he hates my guts or thinks I’m good for Ilya, but I guess that’s not my problem. Lifting my chin high, I take a seat at the end of the table, staring down all of the men as though daring them to say something about my presence here.
Ilya pulls the door shut behind him, closing us out from the rest of the world. There are two large windows opposite the table, but the curtains are pulled across both of them, the late-afternoon sunshine not bright enough to pick anything out, anyway.
"Gentleman," Ilya announces, as he flattens his palms on the table, looking between the men in front of him. "I would like to introduce all of you to Rose. I know some of you have already encountered her..."
He pauses for a moment, as though recalling exactly the circumstances that led to that, few of them pleasant.
"But consider this your formal introduction to the woman who is going to be the mother of my child."
I suck in a sharp breath. This is hardly the conversation I expected to be having here.
By the aghast looks on the men around me, it’s not one they thought they would be having, either.
A murmur of shock rockets around the room, and I look up at Ilya, trying to parse what his intentions are.
He rests a hand on my shoulder, commanding and cool.
"And that means that she is as much your priority as she is mine," he goes on. "Anyone makes a move against her, I will treat it as a move against me, too. And anyone who makes a move against me..."
His face darkens, his grip tightening slightly on my shoulder.
"Will pay with their life."
A dark weight settles over the room. I look up at him, chewing my lip, searching for some kind of softness in his gaze, something to tell me that he has not entirely lost himself in his urge to protect me. I find no trace of it.
"And just to make certain that there’s no ounce of doubt left in any of your minds," he goes on, "I'm going to lay my claim to her. Here. Now. In front of all of you."
Shock rushes through me, and I look up at him, eyes wide, trying to make sense of what he’s saying right now.
Because the way it sounds... the way it sounds, it's as if he intends to take me right here, right now, in front of all his men.
But that can't be right. He might do things differently, live his life far removed from anything I have experienced before with Petar, but there's no way...
And yet, as his gaze settles on mine, it leaves no room for argument. Whatever he wants from me, he intends to take in any way he can. And I don’t know if there’s a damn thing I can do to stop him.
Or if I even want to.
"What does that mean?" I breathe as his hand moves to the back of my neck, massaging that spot in my nape that I can feel in every nerve ending in my body.
"It means I'm going to fuck you," he tells me, his voice low and commanding. "Where all of my men can see. Because they need to understand that I am not fooling around when I say that you are the most important thing in my life."
My heart thuds against my chest, and I cast my gaze back into the room, to the voyeurs who will drink in the sight of me taking their boss's cock right here on the table.
I know I shouldn't be excited at the thought of it, but arousal courses through me. An insistent, wanting desire that I can’t ignore.
"On your feet," he tells me.
I do as I’m told, feeling like I’m under some kind of trance.
I wonder if he’ll break and admit that this is nothing more than a power play to see how I react, but he doesn’t show any signs of stopping.
Instead, once I’m standing, he grabs me by the waist, pulls me in close to him—and kisses me hard, his tongue slipping into my mouth, right there in front of the watchful eyes of his men.
Excitement and nervousness mingle inside me in a confusing but thrilling mix as his hands pull me closer.
I have never done anything sexual with an audience, and I know that I shouldn't really be letting this happen.
It's dangerous to give myself over to someone in a room full of men I don't even know. How they might react, what they might do, it's impossible to tell—but when Ilya’s hands are on me, his voice still ringing in my ears, I know I can trust him. I know he won’t let anything happen to me.
And I know, clear as day, that none of these men will dare move a muscle until he tells them they can.
He pushes me back towards the table, moving me until I’m lying on top of it, facing him.
My legs dangle beneath my skirt over the edge, and he shoves his knee between my legs to part my thighs with ease, moving between them as he looks down at me.
He is ringed by dim light, and, as he towers over me, all I can see is the bastion of power that he represents, the colossus who stares down at me with desire that he wants every single person in this room to see.
Slowly, he slides his hand down to his cock, taking his zipper and tugging it away from his body.
I gasp as it hits me that this is really, truly happening.
He is going to fuck me right here, in front of all of his men, and there is nothing I want more than for him to lay claim to me where nobody could possibly doubt it.
He draws his cock into his hand. I gaze up at him, not daring to reach for him given the way he pinned me to the bed the last time we were together.
I know this is about him, what he wants, what he intends to do to me, and I want nothing more than to give myself over to him.
If this is what he thinks it will take to protect me, to protect our child, then I don't care what kind of judgment might come raining down on my head.
That note has shaken me, and he is making the kind of statement that nobody will be able to deny.
"Take off your panties."
I slip my hands beneath my long skirt, pushing down my underwear and letting them drop to the floor.
I feel something in the room shift as the men look on, and I wonder if Ilya has ever done anything like this before.
I sense that the men are surprised but not entirely shocked, like this is exactly the kind of move Ilya has been known to make in the past: big statements that can’t be ignored.
Ilya moves slowly between my thighs, shifting until he’s standing just a few inches away from me.
I part my legs a little further, my belly rising and falling swiftly as I wait to feel him against me.
I can't believe this is happening, but then maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise that he’s so able to take what he wants with so little pushback.
Even when it comes to me, there is something about him that demands my attention and compliance, and it has only grown stronger and stronger with every day I have spent in this mansion.
He guides himself against me, and I let out a moan that shatters the quiet in the room.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of his men shift in his seat, and I wonder if he is aroused by the sight of me taking Ilya’s cock on the table.
The thought of it makes my head spin, my pussy tingling with pressure at the idea of being shown off in this way.
Not only does Ilya want me, but he wants everyone here to know that he does, and I can't think of anything hotter than that.
He flexes his hips suddenly, sliding all the way inside me. The shocking fullness draws another cry from my lips, and I squirm, my body adjusting to his girth, spreading me open. My eyes flutter shut, but he reaches down to grasp my face in his hand, drawing me back so that I’m looking at him.