Page 46 of Kings of Violence

“Your phone call?” I prompt. “I overheard some Russian when I went to see you earlier.”

It’s probably smarter not to let him know the guard talked to me. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, especially not anyone who’s been helpful to me.

“You heard Russian, and so you assumed I was talking to people in Moscow?” Konstantin chuckles. “I speak in Russian to my associates here, too.”

I shrug. “Well, am I wrong?”

After a few seconds, Konstantin shakes his head. “No. You are not wrong. I was speaking to my father. But that’s none of your business, Sierrochka.”

“Not much does seem to be my business,” I grumble. “It’sboring, Konstantin. I’m just trying to get to know you. My father is a real piece of work. I’m just curious about whether yours is as bad as mine.”Was. I should say my fatherwas, but I don’t want to face it even now. My father might not have been the best man in the world, but he’d still been my dad.

“You are a woman,” Konstantin says as he sits down at the edge of the bed. “My father would have married you off to somebody by now, and you would be another man’s problem.” I try not to scowl at him, but I don’t quite manage to keep it back. “But for his sons, he demands complete loyalty and obedience.” He laughs bitterly. “He wants results, but he does not believe I am capable of delivering.”

That makes my scowl soften into a frown. I have to tread carefully if I want to find out more, but I still don’t know him well enough to know what exactly is safe and what isn’t. “Why not? You seem plenty capable to me. Everyone seems to have solid allegiance to you here.”

“Because I picked these men carefully. When Petrov was arrested—thanks to your family—I replaced anybody I didn’t think I could trust.” Konstantin smiles at me, but it’s not a pleasant smile. “They know that I reward those loyal to me, and I destroy anybody who even think of betraying me.”

My heart hammers in my chest, and I wonder if he can sense my nerves. “Sounds effective,” I say, trying for sarcasm but not quite managing it. I don’t point out that Petrov had my father killed, so he was the one who got himself into all that trouble.

“Well, Sierrochka. You’ve given us a few clues to work off of. How should I rewardyou?” He gives me a very pointed look.

My mouth goes dry, and I wonder if he knows. He can’t, though. I was too careful. “You could let me return to my classes,” I say. “Hell, you could just let me out of here at all. I’m getting bored of being in the same four walls. And, no offense—” Okay, I mean every offense, but I don’t say that — “but the working conditions are kinda shitty sometimes.”

“Now that, I am not sure you’ve earned.” Konstantin pats his thigh. “But perhaps you make my day better.”

Great. Here we go again.

Maybe I can turn this to my advantage though. I’m no femme fatale—but a little sex, a few cuddles, and I might get more about all his daddy issues.

The more of his weaknesses I know, the faster I’ll be able to get out of this.

“Sure,” I say, smiling. I go over to him and straddle his lap. “I can do that.”

I might even be able to turn this around, and get one leg up on them.

TEN

Sierra

Yuri dumpssome bags onto my bed. “Get dressed.”

Arching a brow, I close the laptop and go to peer into the larger bag first. My eyes widen when I see that it’s clothing. A leather jacket, leather pants, a t-shirt, and even panties and a bra. I grab the underwear, then turn slightly to the side to give myself the illusion of privacy before shimmying into them. I don’t know why I bother, since Yuri has already seen all of me, but it makes me feel better.

I get dressed as fast as I can. The leather is tight but soft—and also clearly new.

It doesn’t escape my attention that my clothes match whathe’swearing right now—black leather pants, black leather jacket. His t-shirt is black instead of white, but we’re definitely a matching pair.

This is the same kind of clothes he was wearing when I met him two years ago.

I pull the jacket on last and look down at myself. “You have good taste,” I remark grudgingly. The last thing in the bags is a large box, and I can’t help the shiver of delight that runs through me. I recognize this sort of box.

Inside is my favorite kind of present, which is a pair ofshoes.

Well. Boots, to be more particular, and more utilitarian than myusual style, but even so. It’s something, and I take a moment to look them over.

“Not bad. Definitely nicer than the ones Nikolai had me wear,” I remark. Those shoes need to be burned, stat.

Yuri lets out a derisive snort. “Nikolai did say you were a shoe snob.” He walks toward the door, then stops there to look over his shoulder at me. “Are you coming or not?”

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