Page 21 of Owned By The Bratva King

16

Two hours earlier…

Roman

I’m parked along the road from Quinn’s apartment, watching the remote feed of her security cameras. I hooked it up to be playable on my cell phone, which I’ve convinced myself is perfectly reasonable. There could be an emergency, an attack, anything.

She’d be defenseless. It’s for her protection.

Quinn gets ready for her day, oblivious to my gaze. She bundles her hair into a messy topknot, and my mouth grows dry at the sight of her elegant neck. I would enjoy putting some fingertip bruises on that clean canvas of skin.

She locks up her apartment, and seconds later, she’s in the sunshine. Her coat is insufficient for the day’s chill, and she pulls the collar up as she tracks toward the subway.

Follow her. Offer her a ride. Oh, hell, yes. Quinn can have a ride any time she damn well pleases. I’d dribble a basketball through a minefield just to jerk off to this woman’s shadow. And that is fucking pathetic.

She has me on the ropes but hasn’t landed a single punch. I have so much to deal with, yet I can’t tear myself away. All I want to do is remove every obstacle in her path so she’ll be happy.

I mean, I’d also like to marry her, fuck her ragged until she can’t think straight, and keep her by my side forever, all of which is insane.

I grip the steering wheel, making my knuckles turn white. There are only two options, and it’s a matter of which flavor of psycho-stalker behavior I choose. Do I follow Quinn or rummage through her life without her knowledge?

I could read her journal.

The epiphany strikes me, and that’s all it takes. As she turns the corner out of sight, I climb out of the car and head for the door to her building, letting myself in with my copy of her key.

Quinn’s home is indeed tiny, at least by my standards. I have closets with more extensive square footage than this place.

I’ll give Viktor his due; the guy is great at getting shit spruced up fast. As the lead man for my construction business arm, he knows everyone from joiners to interior suppliers and has enough leeway with the cash flow to pay way over the mark.

It’s surprising how rapidly a contractor will drop their current job when Rokaz Asset Management opens the company checkbook. I told Viktor to spare no expense, so the apartment acquisition and my bespoke renovation happened within hours.

Most of Quinn’s stuff is still in boxes, but she doesn’t own much. A handful of photos are in frames, and there are stacks of loose ones.

Her shelves hold a handful of romance novels but primarily cookbooks. I flick through one and find handwritten notes in the margins, adjusted measurements, extra instructions, and tweaks to improve the recipes.

Nothing here tells me anything significant about her, but this is a teaser. The main event is her journal, where she writes her thoughts. It’s a hell of a transgression, but that doesn’t deter me; I’m obsessed, and like all addicts, I need a more potent hit every time.

The journal is precisely where she had left it only minutes ago, in the bedroom. I pick it up and lie on her bed, enjoying the clean scent of her bedsheets as I settle in to read.

Tell me your secrets, rusalka. Let me inside your head.

I flick to the most recent entry. It is nothing inspiring at first; it doesn’t make much sense. A story about her, something she made up?—

You have got to be shitting me. I scan the words, my heart pounding with arousal as I realize what I’ve stumbled across.

Roman’s grasp tightens around me, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me closer. A wave of fear and desire washes over me, but I am acutely aware of the danger of surrendering to him. He could manipulate me at will, leaving me feeling hollow and used.

“Do you want this, rusalka?” he murmurs. “Do you want me to take what’s mine?” I can’t resist him any longer and find myself nodding, my body betraying my mind.

Roman’s silver eyes flash with satisfaction as he crushes me to his rock-hard chest, his heart pounding fiercely against me. His scent fills my nostrils, and I can’t help but let out a small moan, trembling under his touch.

What the fuck am I reading? That is my name. My beautiful Quinn got all hot and wrote a dirty little story about me screwing her.

I feel exposed and vulnerable as he explores my skin, and my fear and excitement blend as he takes control, carrying me toward the bed. I can hardly contain myself, growing wet, anticipating what will happen.

Holy shit. My cock is getting harder by the second, and I free it from my pants, stroking it idly.

Roman positions himself between my thighs and enters me, taking my virginity. The sensation is intense, like being claimed by a force of nature. I cling to him as our bodies move in perfect sync, marked by his possessive hands on my hips.

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