Page 57 of Born into Sin

My dad turns to rest his hands on my shoulders. Speaking in Russian, he asks, “Are you sure you’re okay staying here? If you want to leave, we can make it work. Maybe you could go to the farmhouse, or you could stay with Sveta?”

“Dad, it’s okay. I’ll be fine here. I don’t want to make things harder or put anyone else at risk. You don’t need to be worrying about this when you need to be focusing on stopping this guy. Will Mia and Sasha be okay? What about Sveta and Yelena?”

“All the kids will be on lockdown,” my dad says.

“Hell yes they will be,” my Uncle Matvey adds. “A threat on one of us is a threat to the entire family.”

Uncle Roman joins in. “If they can’t find you, it’s very possible they’ll go after someone else.”

They see my worried look, and Uncle Danil says, “Don’t worry. No one is allowed to go anywhere right now or be left alone. We already have extra men watching over everyone, and I’m going to find out everything I can about the Zolotov Bratva. We’ll also be questioning the guy Dominic’s men found.”

“We’re going to end this, princess,” my dad tells me, squeezing my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. “I love you. Now go upstairs because your part in this is done. I don’t want this asshole anywhere near you.”

“I love you too, Dad. Be careful.”

He gives me a big smile that pulls his lip ring to the side. “Always, princess.”

Uncle Vitaly sends off a quick text. “I’m going to pick up Val, Luka, and Max. I’ll meet you guys at the warehouse.” He gives me a grin, reminding me so much of Sveta. “It’s time to teach some interrogation techniques. These pearls of wisdom need to be passed down.”

I can’t help but laugh at his excitement. My family is so fucked up, but I love them all so goddamn much. I give them each a hug and tell them to be safe before turning to go back upstairs. I chance one quick look back to see Dominic staring at me. One corner of his mouth lifts up just enough for me to see the secret smile, and then it’s gone and he’s leading the others to the closed door. I know he won’t open it until I’m gone, so I go back upstairs. Knowing my dad won’t be coming up to look for me, I bypass the guest room and go back into Dominic’s.

Being in his personal space calms me, and when I lay down on the bed and hug one of his pillows to me, I can smell him on the sheets, the spicy cologne that I can’t ever seem to get enough of surrounds me as I snuggle in deeper. The huge picture of Bernini’s sculpture hangs on the wall directly in front of me, and I study it while I wait for Dominic. I’m just as intrigued by it as I was the first time I saw it and make a mental note to send Sveta a picture of it. I know she’ll love it purely from an artist’s standpoint. I wish I had even a smidgen of her artistic talent, but I can’t seem to get beyond stick figures. She gets so annoyed when I ask her to draw in front of me because I’m constantly interrupting to ask her how in the hell she does it. She keeps telling me I could learn if I practice enough, but I’m not so sure about that. My eyes run over Hades’s hand and how it’s gripping Persephone’s thigh. I’m not so sure the talent involved in something like that could ever be fully learned. I’m guessing I could eventually move beyond basic stick figures, but I’m pretty sure a lifetime of practice would never have me creating the next Mona Lisa.

I’m still lost in the lines of the sculpture when I hear the door open behind me. Sitting up, I turn and watch Dominic enter the room, shutting the door behind him. He must be exhausted, but he walks toward me like a lion stalking his prey. His dark eyes run over me, lingering on the way my dress has hiked up my thigh.

I can tell he’s still angry that I didn’t stay in the guest room like he’d told me to, but when I start to apologize, he holds up his hand. My words die in my throat, not because I’m so quick to follow orders but because I’m surprised by the barely contained rage behind the movement.

“I don’t want to hear your apology, principessa.”

His accent is thicker, voice deeper, and when he puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head, I’m distracted by the olive skin of his forearms and the obvious veins that disappear under his rolled-up shirt. That vivid octopus tattoo is going to be the end of me. His angry string of Italian jolts me out of my haze, and I bring my eyes to meet his. He’s still pissed. That much is obvious. He keeps his dark eyes on mine and hisses out another sentence. I don’t understand a damn bit of it, but each word has my panties growing a little wetter.

I lick my lips and say, “Please tell me that means get naked and spread your legs for me in Italian.”

He barks out a harsh laugh, disbelief written all over his face. “I’m torn between wanting to spank your ass red and wanting to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for days.”

A blush creeps up my chest at his words. I’ve seen this man’s cock. I know this isn’t an idle threat, and even though part of my brain is screaming at me to clamp my thighs shut and protect my innocent pussy, the other part must be stronger because it already has me opening my legs in invitation while I almost purr out a yes please.

Dominic notices and sighs. “Don’t fucking tempt me, principessa. I’m barely hanging on as is.”

“Then let go and take what you want.”

“Natalya,” he warns, closing the distance between us until he’s standing right in front of me. He towers over me, reminding me of our size difference, but instead of scooting away from him like he’s probably secretly hoping I will, I get up on my knees and rest my hands on his chest.

“Your dad was just here,” he reminds me.

“But he’s not now.”

He reaches a hand up, sliding his fingers into my hair and cupping the back of my head, holding me in place as he steps closer. Our chests are almost touching, and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart against the palm of my hand. Bringing his other hand to my face, he grazes the back of his knuckles along my cheek.

“How long before he notices the way you look at me?”

My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t look away. I’m caught in his stare, the intensity in his dark eyes and the hunger that’s right below the surface, boiling and ready to spill over. I’m tired of him holding back, so I take a breath and move my fingers to the top button of his shirt.

“Natalya,” he growls in warning when I pop open the first button.

I start on the second. “I can hide how I’m feeling.”

He raises a brow at me. “Since when?” The pad of one finger runs along my cheek. “I know when a woman wants to fuck me, sweetheart, and you’ve been giving me fuck-me eyes since I saw you at the farmhouse. Someone’s going to notice.”

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