Page 14 of Caught By the Bratva Beast

The scallops arrive, placed on the table between us, and she stabs her fork in one. She swirls through the brown butter sauce on the plate. When she holds it up to her lips, slowly sliding it off, I know, that she's trying to get me to think about something other than the dinner in front of us.

It would have worked beautifully if I hadn’t been expecting a little seduction from her. Oh, if she thinks she can toy with me, and tease me, she has no idea who I truly am. I have an iron-clad self-control and keep my expression stoic.

Pearl's tongue flicks out wetting the bottom of her lip. “And if I were to go on a private plane and fly with you to Russia—and I'm not saying that I will—what would be expected of me?”

“Keep me company, have some fun,” I say nonchalantly.

“You know how intentionally vague you're being. Tell me the truth. Maybe I'll trade you one of my truths in exchange.”

“I'd prefer if we didn't start this relationship with lies. Wouldn’t you?” I smirk watching as a pale pink blush floods across her high cheekbones. “I know you're curious about me, but you don’t want to tell me anything about yourself.”

“And yet you still want me to go to a different country with you.”

“I think once we’re in Russia you'll start telling me more about why you have agreed to meet with me tonight. I have ways to make a woman talk. Although they have little to do with the ways I make men talk.”

Her laughter is louder this time, her head tilting back, showing off the long column of her neck. The place where I plan to leave a mark. My mark.

“If you are trying to figure out if I’ll make a suitable bride, I’m not for sale.” She shakes her head as she looks at me, but there is interest in her eyes. “I'm not going to give you an answer tonight. I need to take time to think this over. I don’t know you, yet.”

“I would think less of you if you did confirm your ticket tonight.” I chuckle before I lower my voice and smooth my tone. “And no, I don’t need a bride, but if it’s what you want once we get to know each other, I might consider the option.”

Now her cheeks are bright red, her lush lips curl into a pout, accentuating the little dark cups in her cheeks. So, fucking adorable.

We both know she’ll accept the invitation. Pearl is just as intrigued by me as I am by her. I can see it in the way she looks at me like she’s trying to crack a code.

“Let's say that I was accepting your offer, getting on a private plane with you, going to a country on the other side of the world where I know nobody. I want a contract.”

“You could have the world.”

“While the world would suffice, I'm not quite to the stage of my plans for world domination yet where I need the entire thing.”

“I see if you do come with me, we're going to spend the time in Russia matching wits. I don't think I've ever met a woman quite like you. Not one so willing to challenge me and to tease me.”

“Must be refreshing.”

“Must be.” I pop a scallop into my mouth. “If it’s a contract you want for Russia, then it’s a contract I’ll have drawn up.”

“Sex is off the table.”

“Damn, there were several tables I was planning on putting to use.”

“You have an answer for everything, don't you?” she asks, though she can’t hide the musical sound of amusement in her voice.

“I'll put the clause into the contract. We can have sex if you want to, but I won't demand it. You have to beg for it.”

“I'm never going to beg.”

“We'll see about that.”

Chapter 6 - Pearl

The crack of the gunshot fills the room, echoing off the dark grey cement walls. The recoil sends a small jolt through my arm.

I keep my finger wrapped around the trigger, prepared to fire another round of shots. I take a deep breath in, firing again in rapid succession after the first shot. Two more whiz through the air. The bullets slam directly into the center of the paper target, piercing through where the human's heart would be. Grinning, I flick the safety on the gun and set it on the shelf before pushing my goggles up on my head to get a better look at the shots. I press the red button to pull the target in. When it hangs in front of me, I can see the three bullets are perfectly aligned all centered for a kill shot.

Static flies from my hair as I remove the earmuffs, setting them beside the gun. Those rounds would stop a man dead in his tracks, but one day my aim may not be good enough. Over the past few years, I’ve spent countless hours in the shooting range practicing my shots, maintaining my stance, and holding the gun for as long as it's required.

I’ve fired one bullet after another, emptied magazine after magazine with the hope that one day I'm going to be able to kill the bastard who killed my father.

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