Chapter 18 - Janella #2
My mom died, but she never wanted to leave me. But my dad has chosen it over and over. Has chosen it, and so much other shit, over me. He would choose anything but me, his own daughter. Until he needs something from me.
Realizations ping around my head like a bowling ball, knocking down pin after pin. My feet carry me through the penthouse—past the kitchen where Iosif and I have shared so many conversations now, past the hallway where we have fought, and fought, and reconciled.
I find myself at his office door without intending to.
I’ve already twisted the knob and thrown the door open before my brain catches up.
This, too, I don’t regret.
They’re killers, my father had said. You’re a fucking toy to them.
Unknowingly, he shakes salt into the wound when he looks up and greets, “Evening, kukolka. Time for dinner?”
His tie is loose around his neck. His shirt is untucked, the sleeves rolled up his powerful arms. Despite his exhaustion, his smile is brilliant.
I can’t speak. My day crashes over me like a tide, knocking me off my seat. I drop into the seat in front of his desk. Idly, I remember this is where I signed the papers that started this all.
Iosif has rounded the table in seconds. His hands cup my cheeks, drawing my eyes up to his. “Janella? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you get tired of saving me all the time? It can be sexy when you call me that, but I’m not in the mood to be coddled.”
I’m never this sharp with him. A part of me feels rotten about it. Another—and this one closer to the surface, more potent, and in the driver’s seat tonight—enjoys unleashing this ugliness, drowning me from within.
It infuriates me that he doesn’t even react. Why doesn’t he recoil? He stands there, and he takes it. If anything, he looks fascinated.
“Don’t,” I gripe, and smack his hands away from my face. “I don’t know why the hell I came here.”
His hands don’t move.
“I don’t believe that,” he says flatly. “You came because you can. What happened today?”
I scowl at him, always so far above me in every sense. Tonight, I hate him a little for it. “You don’t want to know,” I assure him.
Iosif predictably rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t, kukolka.” This time, when he uses the endearment, there’s some bite to it. A dare in his eyes as his thumbs stroke over my cheekbones.
“If you’re going to call me your fucking toy,” I spit, trying to wrench my head backward, “then you should at least play with me.”
“So, is that why you came here?” Unaffected, he asks like it’s nothing.
It makes me want to rip the ground out from under his feet, too. “Actually, I came to give you an update, since you own me and all. My father paid me a visit to the café today.”
That does the trick. The news washes over him like ice water. “When?”
He makes a single word sound so dangerous. It sends a thrill shooting through me, a jolt through a livewire.
“This afternoon,” I tell him, adding fuel to the fire. “He wanted information about the Yuris from your newest member. He’s looking to make money from it. Apparently, he’d love for us to run away with it. Me and I, of course. Not you and me.”
At last, his hands drop from my face. No relief comes.
“That motherfucker,” Iosif thunders through clenched teeth. “I’m going to find him. I’m going to put him in the fucking ground like I should’ve the first fucking time around.”
“Of course,” I snort with derision. Anger has become my essence. It drips from every word and action. It feeds off of him, too. “Just kill him! What’s one more body, right? That’s a great answer for every problem in life.”
Again, his eyes roll at me. This time it isn’t fondly. There’s genuine irritation there. “Are we going to have this fucking conversation again, Nell? He threatened you. He threatened us.”
“So fucking what?” I shout in his face, standing up so forcefully that I knock the chair right over.
And it feels good. The chaos? It feels good.
“I threatened him, too. I kicked him out. But not before I told him I’d show him what my new family of killers has taught me. What’ve you got to say about that?”
Nothing. He says nothing. Yet his features scream about how his pride wars with his fury.
I continue, stepping forward until my breasts are nestled against him. I smirk when his gaze drops to my cleavage, now that I’ve propped myself up so nicely for him.
“You know what really pisses me off?” I ask him, like it’s remotely a brief list right now.
“When he called me a toy today, he wasn’t wrong.
You did buy me. You paid for me and claimed your prize.
And now, look—here I am, baby. In your fancy apartment, dolled up for you, working at a café you bought—”
“That I’m fucking giving you,” he interjects fiercely.
“I’m here to summon you to dinner, right? To be your pal. To hang out with. To patch you up when you get home from hurting people. Though, hey, the good news is that you only hurt people who hurt people.” I pump a fist in false cheer. “Yay!”
My head tips up, meeting his ferocious gaze unflinchingly. “The toy you’ll do anything but fuck again. Maybe because you think you broke me when you took my virginity.”
“Is that what you really think?” Iosif has never sounded more deadly.
My heart goes haywire.
“Is that not the truth?” I spit out, meeting his question with one of my own. Checkmate.
His chuckle is dark as smoke and sweet as chocolate. “No, Janella. It’s not.”
Then his hands are on me again. They find my waist this time, at the waistband of my jeans. His hands run the circumference of my waistline. The friction and mystery of what he’s going to do make my heart race.
His gentle movements turn rough. His hand finds the button of my jeans and has it undone before I can process what’s happened.
His fingers don’t slip beneath my panties.
I cry out when he cups my heat, and growls, “I did pay for you. And I’d pay again. I’d pay anything just to be the first one to ever push into this sweet little pussy again.”
The throbbing spot between my thighs pulses with need.
“Is this what you want?” His lips press to my throat, nipping at my pulse.
No matter what else is swirling through me, however many emotions have stacked up inside me, they’re all eclipsed by the hunger Iosif has roused from the depths of me.
There is no shame to burn from.
It’s his job.
“I want you to make me feel good.”
It’s all I have to say.
Iosif doesn’t tease me with his kiss. His lips meet mine passionately, my body igniting as soon as it collides with his. Already, I moan around my tongue. He makes no secret of where he’s headed next when he shoves my underwear out of his way.
Like I weigh nothing, he flips our positions. The edge of his desk bites into the curve of my ass—and he grins down at me when I shiver over its cold surface against my feverish skin.
“Iosif,” I cry, falling back and surrendering to whatever he wants to give me. I want it all from him.
It doesn’t keep me from whining when he slows down, eking out the tension that has me wound up so tight. His kisses drip down my body like he has all the time in the world.
His hand fists in my hair and pulls me back upright. “You’re going to stay like this and watch me,” he commands, his masculine power pulling my strings to his every whim. “Unbutton your blouse for me.”
Oh God.
My hands obey. And he’s right there with them. His kisses spread to my shoulder, to my chest… his tongue joining in to stroke my skin with each deep, sensual kiss.
I gasp when his head drops between my legs, even before his mouth covers the tender, aching spot that begs for him. My fingers twist in his thick, dark hair, trying to coax him.
For my efforts, he pinches my stiff nipple until I’m whining from the pressure. “God,” I pant, my breath quickening.
His deep, throaty voice rumbles against the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh. “You’re mine to play with. Let me.”
When his tongue finds me, my entire world narrows to the single point of contact. Everything else fades.
It’s him and me. His mouth and my hips bucking up into the expert pressure he toys with me with.
His hands, gripping my thighs and pinning me in place as he devours me. I don’t flinch this time. I let him give me anything he will, so long as I don’t have to stop drowning in this pleasure.