Page 54 of Trapping His Assassin

Benedikt and I agreed.

“I want to make sure my second is here for this, and I sent him on an errand that will take a bit. We will deal with this business then,” Mateo said.

I agreed, and we got off the call. Benedikt shot me a smirk and leaned back in his chair.

“See? A video conference wasn’t such a weird suggestion, was it?”

I shook my head, and patted him on the shoulder, like I was congratulating him. He chuckled, brushing me off as we got back to work.

My great uncle and I were deep in conversation when the door suddenly creaked loudly, causing us both to startle. I gestured for her to come inside, and she quickly entered my office with a sense of urgency. Benedikt’s hand immediately went to his weapon, as if anticipating an attack from her.

I hadn’t a second to think, or pull my weapon, before my wife was in my arms, wrapping her legs around me. My attention was drawn to her trembling body, and I stopped in my tracks, as I recognized that she was overcome with fear.

She wouldn’t be holding me if she was afraid of me.

I rubbed circles on her back, and shot a deadly glare at my great uncle. He lowered his weapon sheepishly. I mouthed that I would punish him later. I murmured sweet Russian words to her, until she slowly calmed down.

“What’s wrong, my little killer?” I murmured only for her to hear.

She whispered in my ear, “I had a bad dream.”

I held back a laugh. A big, bad assassin like my wife had a bad dream, and was shivering in my arms. She would laugh about this one day, I was certain of it. But for now, I comforted her.

Benedikt nodded his head toward the door, signaling that he was going to leave. I understood. He would pay for hisdisobedience later. No one pulled a weapon on my wife and got away with it.

Not even my uncle, great as he may be.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Valentina

I had momentarily lost my sense of courage and strength. The flashback was intense, causing me to believe that Headmaster Mikhail was going to take me back to a place I never wanted to be again. It wasn’t until Roman began speaking in Russian that it hit me; I was strong, and one small flashback did not define me as a victim. I was a fighter, and a badass.

I was a survivor.

When Roman inquired about my distress, I blurted out my thoughts, and immediately felt foolish for even mentioning them. But Roman didn’t care. He rubbed soothing circles on my back, and held me tighter, as I glomped onto him.

I knew Roman’s property inside and out, despite him thinking the opposite. I shouldn’t, because every waking moment I had he kept me on his cock, but despite my inner thought process, I was good at what I did. I squirmed in his lap and felt him harden against me. I should have been more distressed, but I couldn’t help the naughty office images assailing my mind.

Roman could plow me against the wall.

Or bent over the top of his desk.

Or on all fours.

Or sometimes in his arms, as he did all the work, and I hung on for the ride. Roman worked quietly around me while I sat on his lap thinking. I shouldn’t feel this way. I should be more professional. I should be thinking about killing him.

But I wasn’t.

“I want you to know that I appreciate you taking your punishment last night like a good girl,” Roman praised.

I shuddered in his arms. I’d never been spoken to by anyone the way Roman spoke to me. It sent a rush of heat through my body.

“Baby girl, what kind of missions does Mikhail send you on?” Roman spat his name like a curse.

There was no reason to keep any more secrets. He understood what I was protecting, the shame I’d been hiding. It was out in the open now.

And I couldn’t help but feel relief.

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