Dmitri
Chapter Four
S tepan glared at me from across my cluttered desk, his piercing eyes practically boring holes into my skull, and it was becoming annoying as hell.
His anger simmered beneath the surface, all because I had assigned two of his men to stake out the decrepit, weather-beaten house on Brooklyn Street.
The chipped paint and sagging porch were a testament to its seeming abandonment.
I couldn’t care less about Stepan’s grudge; the possibility of Larissa returning to that forsaken place was too significant to ignore.
“Sir, we got a hit.” Gisela burst into my office, the door swinging open with a jarring thud, her entrance as abrupt as a thunderclap.
Under any other circumstances, her lack of protocol would have earned a reprimand; however, Gisela was the best IT expert in my team. Her skills were unparalleled and losing her would be a significant blow to my force, so I allowed her more leeway than I did others.
“Where?” I inquired, my voice laced with urgency.
“Boston,” she answered, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of discovery.
“I knew that sooner or later, Larissa would need access to money, and activity on her bank card showed up at a downtown location. It doesn’t pinpoint her exact whereabouts, but at least we have a clue about where she’s been hiding. ”
“Can you access the CCTV cameras?” I asked, my gaze fixed on Gisela with the confidence that she would accomplish the task.
“I can. But it will take some time.” Her response was exactly what I anticipated, her assurance solid as a rock.
“How long?” I pressed, eager for results.
“Give me a couple of days. I should have something for you then.” With those words, she pivoted sharply and exited my office, leaving me with a renewed sense of hope.
It was a long shot keeping track of all the Zhukov accounts, but it turned out our due diligence had finally paid off.
“Have Nicholi get the jet ready.” I looked at Stepan optimistically. “Looks like we are going to be making a trip to Boston in a couple of days.”
Stepan jumped from his chair and headed out of my office, but before he left, he turned back to me. “Can I tell Yuri and Boris they no longer need to watch the house?”
“Yes, tell them to get back here as soon as possible. We may need them with us when we pick up our little traitor.”
Nodding, with an I-told-you-so grin, Stepan left my office and shut the door behind him.
Anger consumed me, and all I could think about was finally avenging my father.
Larissa Zhukov was the one person to draw out the man who killed my father three years ago.
The break-in showed no evidence of his presence.
Only Lidia’s body remained—lifeless in a pool of blood.
Thoughts of finally finding Larissa replaced my anger with what I was going to do to her once I had her in my possession.
Whether or not she liked it, she was going to do everything I told her to.
If not, there were many ways I could punish her.
But if she did, then her obedience would earn her a reward.
~***~
Gisela came through for me once more, demonstrating her remarkable skills.
She managed to pinpoint Larissa’s precise location by tapping into the network of CCTV cameras near the First American Bank.
It was there that Larissa had used her bank card to access her account, leaving a digital footprint for Gisela to follow.
Not only that, but Gisela also discovered that Larissa had withdrawn cash from an ATM just a block away from her residence, adding another layer to the trail.
I had hidden inside Larissa’s apartment for the past hour, anticipation building as I awaited her arrival from work.
The apartment was tidy, yet the furniture bore the unmistakable marks of secondhand use.
The building, located in a less-than-safe area of Boston, offered easy access to anyone with ill intentions.
Despite this, I had to give Larissa credit for her efforts to secure her home.
She had installed additional locks on the door, a door security bar for extra protection, and even a metal bar to block the fire escape window, effectively preventing unwanted entry.
She was a smart girl, though not quite clever enough.
My attention sharpened when I heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.
In my concealed position, Larissa wouldn’t notice me unless she switched on the lamp in the living area.
As she diligently secured all the locks on the door, I seized the moment to rise from my chair and quietly move toward her.
Standing directly behind her, I leaned in, inhaling the subtle floral scent that lingered around her. “You should really be more cognizant of your surroundings,” I murmured softly.
Larissa froze; a statue caught in a moment of surprise.
Before she could whirl around to confront her unseen captor, I swiftly reached into my pocket, extracting a hypodermic needle.
With practiced precision, I plunged it into her neck—a carefully concocted solution designed to make her more pliable for the plans I had in store.
As anticipated, her legs gave way, and she slumped against my chest. I administered a meticulously calibrated drug to sedate her just long enough to transport her back to New York and the imposing Antonov mansion.
Lifting her from the floor bridal style, I discovered she was as light as a feather. The frumpy uniform she wore was deceiving, hiding the grace beneath, and anticipation coursed through me at the thought of unveiling what lay beneath it.
I bent down to retrieve the bag that had slipped from her grasp, slinging it over my shoulder.
I knew it contained her cell phone, which would undoubtedly prove useful, especially once Gisela got her hands on it.
With a swift motion, I unlocked the door and carried my little kukolka down the four flights of stairs to the waiting SUV, ready to whisk us away to my private jet.
As I stepped out into the warm air, Stepan stood waiting by the SUV, his presence as imposing as ever.
Holding Larissa securely, I maneuvered into the back seat with ease.
During the drive to the private airstrip, I kept Larissa nestled on my lap.
A strange possessiveness took hold of me, and I found myself unwilling to release her.
Holding her felt like claiming her, as if she already belonged to me in some unspoken way.
The anticipation of her awakening and the revelation of her new surroundings sent a thrill through me.
Once aboard the jet, I gently settled Larissa onto one of the reclining chairs toward the back.
Reluctantly, I let her go, aware of the tasks still awaiting my attention in preparation for her stay.
I had requested one of the guest bedrooms stripped bare, leaving only an empty dresser and a single mattress—stark in its simplicity.
Unlike the other opulent bedrooms in the mansion, this one lacked the luxury of 800-thread Egyptian sheets and sumptuous bedding.
The attached bathroom was equally sparse, offering nothing more than a toilet, a shower, and the most basic necessities: a single towel and washcloth, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a three-in-one bottle of shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel.
She was my prisoner, and as such, she would receive only the bare essentials.
Any additional comforts would have to be earned.
The ride to the mansion was hushed, save for the steady hum of tires kissing the pavement.
Larissa hadn’t so much as stirred since we disembarked from the jet, her body slack against the seat.
Perhaps I had misjudged the potency of the sedative I administered to her.
Stepan pulled up to the grand entrance, the gravel crunching beneath the tires, and promptly exited the SUV to open the back passenger door for me.
“Ensure everything is secure,” I instructed, stepping out of the vehicle with Larissa cradled in my arms, her breaths shallow and even. “Have the men meet me in my office in thirty minutes.”
Stepan nodded, his expression sour. “Will do, boss. Will you need any help with the traitor?” he asked, spitting the word as if it were poison on his tongue.
“No,” I replied, my voice firm. “I will handle her myself. No one is to touch her.”
Larissa’s bedroom, which I had prepared for her, was on the second floor next to mine.
I needed her close, within easy reach. Pushing open the door, I scrutinized the room, my eyes sweeping over every hidden camera, ensuring my men had followed my orders to the letter.
Satisfied that my men had followed my orders exactly, I gently laid Larissa down on the mattress.
Now, with her sprawled before me, I took a moment to appreciate her beauty.
Her sandy blonde hair fanned out against the pristine white mattress, framing her delicate features.
I began to undress her, my fingers deftly working the buttons of her crisp white shirt.
My hungry gaze saw more of her creamy skin with each button I undid.
Beneath her shirt, a white lace bra encased her perfect breasts, their soft mounds rising and falling with each breath.
I could already imagine the feel of her, the weight of them in my hands, the taste of her on my tongue.
Discarding her shirt, I moved on to her feet, slipping off her shoes and socks before turning my attention to her black pants.
As I popped open the button and eased down the zipper, a soft moan escaped her lips, sending a jolt of desire straight to my groin.
I paused, watching her closely to make sure she remained lost in her dreams. Assured she was, I continued my task, my knuckles brushing against her smooth stomach as I tugged down her pants, revealing a matching pair of lace panties.
Her legs were long and shapely, the muscles taut beneath her smooth skin.
I could already picture them wrapped around me, my cock buried deep inside her.
The very thought made me throb with anticipation.
The fleeting thought of restraining her danced momentarily through my mind as I glanced toward the top of the mattress, where a set of iron shackles laid cold and unyielding.
Assessing the situation and detecting no immediate threat, I allowed her to rest undisturbed and free from constraints.
If she became unruly, I had the means to monitor her every movement through the crisp clarity of the camera footage accessible on my phone or laptop.
Rising from a crouched position, I strolled over to the closet, pulling out a bare pillow and a thin blanket that offered little warmth.
Despite the seething hatred I harbored for her and her father, I was still a gentleman.
Gently, I placed the pillow beneath her head and draped the blanket over her delicate form, the fabric barely concealing her.
As I took a step back, I allowed myself one last, lingering gaze. There she lay, my future wife and coveted possession, soon to yield to my every whim and command. The thought brought a sinister smile to my lips. Larissa Zhukov would come to regret the day she swiped her bank card.