Page 18 of The Pakhan

Maybe that’s because my fingers were completely slickened. Blinking, I realized light was pouring into the room. I wasn’t ready to allow the morning to interfere with my wicked and oh-so delicious fantasy. I lifted and bent my legs, spreading them wide open as I rolled my index finger around my clit several times before thrusting several fingers inside.

“Oh.” I slapped my hand over my face, panting as another wave of excitement tore through me. I was still tossing and turning, the sensations rolling through me white-hot. Shit. My trusty vibrator would feel even better.

With my eyes still closed, I rolled over and brushed my hand across the nightstand. Wait a minute. It wasn’t the same. It was…

My eyes flew open the moment I realized what was going on, memories of the night before flooding into me. “Oh, shit.” I jerked up, taking gasping breaths. It took a few seconds to realize I certainly wasn’t inside my house. I was in perhaps the nicest bedroom I’d ever seen.

And it belonged to…

I gulped the bile that had formed in my throat. Not only had I been masturbating in the man’s guest bed, but I’d also had a sweet, devious, and sinful fantasy about him.

Oh, God.

I was going straight to hell.

I pulled Vadim’s tee shirt to my nose, drinking in the slight aroma of the powerful man. The material smelled just like him, spicy and tangy at the same time. The night before had seemed surreal. I barely remembered most of it, at least at first. When all the details had come flooding in, including the horrible attack, I was left with a sick feeling inside.

My world had been turned upside down. I wondered if there was anything left of the belongings I’d painstakingly bought all on my own. It had been the first time in my life I’d been allowed to choose what I liked, not what my parents required in their house. I hadn’t been able to afford much, especially since I’d spent a pretty penny on my computer systems, but I’d loved the rather bohemian look. It had suited me and my quirky personality.

I stared at myself in the mirror, at least thankful Joshua had suggested the go bag. A hot shower, a fresh change of clothes, and I felt close to being normal.

Whatever that was.

I made the bed, something I’d always done; no matter how many servants (as my father had insisted on calling them) my family had hired, I preferred doing my own. As I stood back, I glanced at my phone. Rules. I knew my new guardian and protector had rules he would impose but so far, my phone wasn’t considered off limits.

I had a scrambler on it too, something Joshua had also hooked me onto. However, given how easily I’d been found, I wasn’t so certain it was foolproof. Whatever the case, I had to let Joshua know the plan had been destroyed.

He’d be pissed but it certainly hadn’t been by choice.

As I dialed his number, I continued to have a foreboding feeling that the world was about ready to crash in on me. The guy wasn’t into chatting much on the phone, but he always picked up on the second or maybe third ring.

This time, it continued to ring. And ring.

And ring.

No voicemail clicked in. No answer.

Another wave of terror skittered through me. Maybe I should have warned him to flee his apartment. Shit. After trying one more time, it finally clicked. There was nothing but dead air. But I could swear someone was there.

Very quickly, I hung up the phone, tossing it away as if that would prevent my call from being traced. I groaned, feeling antsy, anxiety tearing through me. I’d had panic attacks as a kid, likely because my father had required drills for being taken hostage.

He’d even gone so far as to hire some asshole to pretend to kidnap me.

I hadn’t been able to recover from that for almost two years.

While I did what I could to control my breathing, I finally made it to the closed bedroom door, opening it as if bad dudes would be on the other side. At least I was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

For now.

I was no fool. While I knew Vadim still believed me to be a child, I had lived a full, somewhat dangerous life over the last couple of years. I’d known I was playing with fire, trying to keep track of my surroundings and keeping a low profile, including on social media. Maybe I’d believed I was invincible, which had allowed me to become careless.

Whatever the case, here I was asking for help from perhaps the most dangerous man in existence. But if he couldn’t keep me safe, no one could. At least that was what the terror skittering through me said.

Although I had to remind myself that he still hadn’t officially agreed to help me other than for one night. For all I knew, he could toss me out. Would he do that given my relationship with his daughters? I had to admit, my tummy was nervous, more so than I thought I’d be. I was at the man’s mercy.

As soon as I started to pad down the stairs, I heard voices coming from the man’s office. I had no intention of disturbing them but suddenly, six big, gruff men appeared, filing out like the soldiers they were.

What I found interesting was that these men weren’t wearing the signature suits the Kryshas usually wore. Sofiya had taught me some Russian, including various terms used in the Bratva. The term meant the Pakhan’s enforcers. In my mind, that meant they were going hunting.

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