Page 4 of Untamed

I pop an ice cube in my mouth like I’m eating a bowl of popcorn. This is entertaining, but I need real food that’s not in the formof liquid and ninety proof. My gaze falls on the table of scantily clad, giggling women.

This time, I take a closer look.

It’s some video with a masked man holding an ax. He’s swinging it with force, cutting wood in the dead of winter. Bare-chested. Fuck. Whodoesthat? Wear a coat, fuckwit. Even my nips ache just thinking about that frozen hellscape.

Americans romanticize the strangest shit.

My phone buzzes again, and I consider flushing it in the nearest bathroom when a video pops up from Matvei.

I click the triangle. I have to download a fucking app just to see the damn thing and immediately have to turn the volume down on my phone when some stupid dance music blares on the screen.

It’s a girl—no, a woman—talking about her fantasies of dark, possessive mafia men. It should be absurd, laughable. But there’s something about the way she says it, her tone laced with teasing vulnerability. Like she wants to be swept away but can’t trust anyone enough to let it happen.

And she’s… crying. I know it’s staged. I know it’s just for show, but something in me cracks at the sight of a woman in tears. My hands clench into fists.

Who do I need to punish?

Her caption reads:“Who else dreams of being kidnapped and ‘tortured’ by a hot, billionaire, masked mafia man? Asking for a friend.”

My lips curve into a smirk. No tall order, lady. Though… I mean… I tick off allthoseboxes.

I just need a mask. That’s easy enough.

Matvei sends another video.

Matvei

This shit’s gone viral

Semyon

Is this a bad joke?

Rafail

What the fuck is this?

Matvei:

You guys need to listen up. There are MAFIA THIRST TRAPS. They want us. Like, really want us.

Rafail, you’re not keeping him busy enough.

But just for the fuck of it, I click the link.

And I watch. A gorgeous blonde with wide blue eyes and thick lashes licks her lips while the right side of her screen shows a masked man with tats and muscles.

I roll my eyes. He’s fucking scrawny compared tomybrothers, and did she really think those pecs were real? Nah. I can tell from here he used a filter like a goddamn fucking pussy.

I almost shut the thing and get another drink when she starts fanning herself with her phone—no, it wasn’t a phone, it’s much too big for a phone. I look closer. Is that an e-reader?

That’s when I notice the wall of books behind her, like some sort of fucking shrine to a bookstore, but it isn’t just any bookshelf. They’re color-coordinated in a rainbow, twinkling pink lights entangled with greenery, making it look festive.

“This is all I want, girls,” she says, wiping a fat tear from her cheek. “I work sixty-hour weeks at a thankless job, and when I come home? I wantthis guywaiting for me.” She lowers her voice. “Is that too much to ask?”

Huh.

I scroll.

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