Page 17 of Cruel Promise

I back off and play my own game.

After a few more rounds, the man is clearly struggling. He doesn’t have any more money to play.

“I need this,” he says more to himself than to anyone else at the table. “I need this money.”

“I’m Nikolai,” I say, offering my hand to him.

He looks me over, taking in my scar (as everyone does) and then tentatively shakes my hand. “I’m Charles.”

“Well, Charles. I can help offer you money. Put you back in the game.”

He eyes me over suspiciously. “Why would you offer me money?”

“Because that’s what I do. I help people.” An utter lie. I hurt people, but this man doesn’t need to know that. “Of course, I’ll expect you to pay me back at a later date, but we can work through those logistics later.”

Charles offers me a grateful smile. “All right. I’ll take it.”

And I give him the money.

And that’s how it all starts.

That’s how it always starts.

A few months later, Charles comes to me in a frantic fear. “I know I was supposed to have your money, Nikolai, but?—”

I hold up my hand, cutting him off, and lean my forearms on the table of the booth. It’s my own private booth at a bar—Duke’s Place—in the middle of the city. The owner pays me a monthly fee to make sure no one robs the joint. I’m always glad to help when there’s something in it for me.

“But you don’t have the money. Don’t sweat it, Charles. You can find another way to pay me back.”

Hope gleams in his eyes. “Really? How?”

“By offering me something. You see, I offered you money, and it’s only fair you offer me something in return.”

He pats his pockets. “But I don’t have anything to give right now. I swear, I can pay you soon.”

“It doesn’t have to be money. It can be whatever you think is valuable.” I lean back in my seat. “I know you have debts you have to pay off, Charles. Lots and lots of debt. I also know you were once a rich man. I’m sure being without money isn’t easy. I can pay off all your debts.”

“It’s—”

“Five million dollars. I know.” I let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of debt, Charles. But I can pay it. All you have to do is offer me something you truly believe is valuable.”

He thinks on it for a long moment before sitting up straighter in his seat. “My daughter.”

A flash of disgust for this man passes through me.

But also curiosity. “Your daughter,” I clarify.

“Yes. She’s nineteen. An adult. She’s beautiful. Here.” He grabs his phone and pulls up a photo.

And I have to say, the girlisbeautiful. Stunningly beautiful. Soft blonde hair that falls around her angelic-looking face. I’m surrounded by a lot of beautiful women. It comes with the territory of my job. Many people want to get close to the head of the Bratva.

But the problem is none of those women are ever mine. Sure, they’ll fuck me, but they’ll never love me. It’s not just my scar; it’s my nature. I’m not a man who is lovable.

But to own another person … it’s not something I’ve considered before. I may be a monster, but I don’t traffic in people.

Yet, as I look at her picture, there’s something about this woman that makes me want her. Maybe it’s her innocence. Maybe it’s the strong desire to have another person fully belong to me.

Or maybe I’m just a fucking bastard who wants her because I can.

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