Sold to My Ex’s Brother (Forbidden Kings #14)

Prologue

MAYA

I wrap my jacket around myself and glance over my shoulder, back towards the bar, which is almost empty now that the patrons have emptied out. The only person left inside is Dylan, one of the other waitresses, and she frowns at me as I stand there in the doorway.

“You sure you’re going to be okay getting home alone?” she asks me. “I can walk you, if you want. Or call you a cab—”

“No, I’m fine,” I reply, plastering a smile on my face and waving my hand.

Not like I could afford a cab right now anyway, even if I wanted one.

No, the best I can do right now is just get out, get home, and pray that the creeping dread that has been sneaking up my spine all evening is nothing more than paranoia.

Because the alternative might be more than I can take.

I stuff my hands into my pockets, yell a goodbye to Dylan, and take off down the street, in the direction of my apartment block. I just have to keep my legs moving underneath me, and everything will be fine, I can promise myself that.

It’s the same way I have felt all damn week, though I have done my best to ignore that part. Since I finally called things off with Artem, I feel like I haven’t been able to shake the distinct feeling that something is... wrong.

I breathe deep as I walk, the cool air puffing in front of my face. I count my footsteps, keeping my mind busy. See? Nothing is going to happen. It’s just my usual skill of overthinking, threatening to get the better of me.

And then, I hear it, footsteps behind me.

My head whips around. At this time of night, in this part of the city, it’s hard to believe that anyone would be out.

I scan the sidewalk behind me, hoping to see the exhausted face of another bartender or something like that, but there’s nothing.

Whoever is following me, they don’t want to be spotted.

And I have a horrible feeling I know why.

I steady myself, swallow hard, and carry on down the street. My eyes blur a little around the edges, and I will myself to keep it together, no matter how tempting it might be to let it all fall apart.

Artem is going to lose interest in me eventually, and as soon as he does, I can just get back to my normal life and pretend that stupid little fling with him never happened.

Because it never should have. That much, I can see clearly now. The moment he walked into that bar, I should have known he was trouble.

But he had money. Real money. The kind of money that I know I need—and the kind of money that my father put into his damn pocket with his ridiculous obsession with betting that had brought this entire family to its knees.

The debt that my father owed, he had acrued it with men like Artem, and Artem himself held the deeds to the small fortune my father had gambled away in the last few years of his life.

It was why I had agreed to come work at this shady bar in the first place, because one of Artem’s men had assured me that they would garnish my wages to pay back the debt, and that I would be spared from paying in a more... extreme a fashion.

He had charmed me that first night, at least tried to.

Left a fat tip for me and told me there was more where that came from if I met him for a drink afterwards.

And I did, because God only knows how much I need the money.

I’m living paycheck to paycheck, on what little I can put in my pocket after it has been garnished to pay back my father’s debts.

I hate myself for how easy it has become to sink into desperation.

So, I met with him for a drink. And I got tipsy enough that the way he looked at me turned from creepy to charming. And I let him... God, I don’t even want to think about all of that.

I shudder as I walk down the street, imagining his hands on me, the way he touched me. Staring at the ceiling as I waited for all of it to be over.

But he always made sure I got a little more of my paycheck every time, and I couldn’t turn that down. Even if he creeped me the fuck out with his thinning hair and creepy smile.

I let it go on for a few months, meeting up with him after my shift was over and forcing myself through our encounters, but there was only ever going to be so much I could take. And it finally stopped week before last.

I will work the rest of my life in this shitty place if it means I never have to be close to him like that again.

But my freedom has led to surveillance.

It started out just at the bar, but then I had noticed what felt like people watching me while I had been heading back to my crummy little studio apartment a few blocks away from the bar.

I thought it was just paranoia at first, but I caught glimpses out of the corner of my eye, people lurking just out of sight.

And I knew—fuck, I knew that it had to be him. If not Artem in the flesh, one of his men.

I pick up the pace as I spot my apartment building, and, to my surprise, I see someone at the far side of the street; a man stepping out of a car, lifting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it, the flash of the lighter in the darkness making me jump.

I stare at him for a second, but he doesn’t seem to be paying me any attention. Maybe there’s nothing going on here, maybe he’s just some guy having a smoke after a long drive, maybe...

I come to a halt as I realize that I have reached the doorway. I fumble in my pocket for my keys, realizing that my hands are shaking as I do so.

Maybe I should have taken Dylan up on her offer to walk me home.

I go to slip the key into the door, but before I can, I feel something—it takes me a moment to register what it is, but then, a sharp pain shocks though my shoulder, and I realize someone is grabbing me and yanking me back around to face them.

“Let me go!” I cry out, loud enough that I’m hoping someone, anyone will think to step in and help me.

But the man before me clamps a hand over my mouth before I can let out another cry, and I stare at him, eyes wide, heart thumping in my chest. I squirm to try and break out of his grip, but it’s firm and unyielding, offering me no chance to escape.

“Keep your voice down, sweetheart,” he tells me, his voice laced with the edge of an accent, the same one as Artem’s. Russian, that’s what he told me. The man’s tone is raspy and dark, but there is a grin on his face, as though this is going exactly as he knew it would.

“Plenty of time for you to get loud for me when I have you alone,” he continues, leering his way down my body.

My stomach drops. Is this what Artem has done, to punish me for rejecting him? I squirm again, trying to wrench myself free of his grip, but he just tightens himself on my arm, his fingertips digging in so deeply I’m sure they will leave bruises.

“Fuck,” he grunts, as he leans in, pressing his face into my neck and taking a deep inhale. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for permission to get my hands on you...”

I mumble in protest against his palm, but his grip on me is too tight, utterly unyielding. He’s not going to let me go.

Artem probably sent him here to take revenge on me, to show me that I’m not the one who gets to call the shots about what happens to my body.

I close my eyes, trying to force myself out of that body, to put as much distance between myself and this nightmare as I possibly can, but I can already feel his hands on my hip, pushing me against the door, the dead of night closing in around us as a reminder that nobody is going to help me...

And then, I hear something. Another grunt, this time, almost pained. The man’s grip releases on my arm, and I open my eyes, to see my would-be attacker sprawled across the sidewalk below me.

My eyes widen. What the hell is going on...?

The answer to my question soon arrives as another man steps forward, his eyes nearly black as he gazes down at my stalker with hate in his gaze.

“Get the fuck off of her,” he growls, lifting his foot and slamming it into the back of the man’s neck, sending him sprawling to the concrete below.

I retreat back against the door, eyes wide as I watch the scene unfold in front of me. The man who came to my defense, he clearly knows what he’s doing.

When my would-be-attacker draws a knife, he slaps it out of his hand, the blade cutting into the top of his fingers and sending blood spraying to the floor, but he hardly notices it.

He kicks the man in the face, sending him backwards again, a mixture of blood and spittle spattering the concrete below him as he tries to steady himself.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he orders him, and the sound of his voice makes me shiver. There’s something so commanding in it, something that almost makes me want to obey.

I stare at the back of his head in the beat of silence that follows, waiting for my stalker to make a break for it.

And, to my surprise, he does. He scrambles to his feet, his face bloody.

He shoots one last look at me and takes off, sprinting down the empty street as though he wants to be anywhere else in the world than here.

And just like that, the man who assaulted me is gone.

My head is swimming as I try to make sense of it. One second, I thought that Artem was going to take his revenge, use me as some sort of bribe to this monstrous man he sent after me, and the next, this stranger was stepping in to defend me for no reason.

He stands there for a moment, making sure that the stalker has vanished into the night, and then turns to me. Up close, I can get a better look at him now—silver hair glinting in the sallow streetlights above, blue eyes flashing as he skims them up and down my body.

“Are you hurt?” he asks me, and I shake my head.

I open my mouth to answer, but I’m still not sure I’ve figured out the power of speech.

“This your place?” He nods to the building beside me.

“Mhm.”

“Come on,” he tells me, jerking his head upstairs. “I’ll walk you to the door. Make sure there’s nobody else around looking to cause you trouble.”

“Who are—”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

His voice once again takes on that tone that allows me no room for argument. Better to just do as he says. After all, this man just saved me from God only knows what.

I head wordlessly upstairs, half-wondering at the back of my mind if I should let this man find out where I live, given what’s happened. But, as he follows me up the stairs, I steal a glance back at him, and my heart flips.

It has been so long since I have been in contact with someone, anyone, outside the ecosystem of that bar, of Artem’s business. And now, this man, this striking man, has stepped in to help me when I needed it most.

My stomach fizzes with something between excitement and desire. It’s been so long since I organically felt that way, rather than some act I’m putting on.

As I reach my door, I lean against it and look at him for a moment. His knuckles are bloody where the blade glanced against them, though he hardly seems to notice it. I reach out, brushing my fingertips over his hand, smearing the warm, wet blood on to my own skin.

“Come inside,” I implore him softly, as I look up at him again. My hand resting on his, I can feel it between us, the searing rush of electricity like everything else has just vanished. I can’t tell if it’s the adrenaline from what just happened or real attraction or some crazy mixture of the two…

But I don’t want this man to leave, not if I can help it.

“Let me clean you up, at least,” I press him, flicking my eyes back and forth between his.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“It’s the least I can do,” I protest. “You... You practically saved my life back there. If it hadn’t been for you...” I trail off. I can hardly even contend with the possibilities of what might have gone down had he not been there to help me, and frankly, I don’t want to put them into words.

This is the first man in a long, long time who has shown me any kind of care or consideration. And a man I’m not going to let slip through my bloodied fingers, no matter what.

“Please, come inside,” I murmur to him. And I’m surprised to hear the tone to my voice, the sureness in it, how laced it is with something more, something desirous, something wanting.

And, this time, at least, he does not shake his head, as I push the key into the lock and open the door.

My hands are shaking again, but this time, it’s for entirely different reasons, my skin still slicked with his blood, my heart pounding in my chest, my body alight with more than I can make sense of.