Page 51 of For a Price

“Yes, because he was not always where he is today. It took many years. Most of my childhood was spent in a small town called Borovsk. My father was gone often. My mother did her best to take care of me, but we were poor. I had to do petty crime to bring in more for us.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“You and I are not so different, devochka. I know what it’s like to starve. I even know what it’s like to be without a roof. For a long time, I survived without one.”

He doesn’t go into further explanation about this point in his life, but I’m grateful for the fact that he can relate at all. Notmany people can, and they tend to turn their noses up at people like me.

We finish the rest of dinner before his staff serves us dessert. We’re given some kind of chocolate mousse that’s rich and delicious and leaves me satisfied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been fed so well,” I murmur, licking my spoon clean.

Roman hasn’t kept his eyes off me. He tracks every move of mine, no matter how subtle. Including the flick of my tongue against the spoon. “You should always be well-fed. Others have failed you.”

After dinner, he heads into his office for more work. I finish my wine and find myself a little more tipsy than I probably should be.

I return to the bedroom and bathroom to find a wicker basket of products. All things for me.

Things Roman probably believes I will need.

A smirk crawls onto my lips as I approach and pick out the soaps, lotions, perfumes, and hair care products, among other things. There’re even a couple of leave-in moisturizers, like whoever he sent to purchase these items—probably Polina—wasn’t sure what to buy.

Next to the basket is a silky nightgown neatly folded up. Clearly what he wants me to wear to bed.

It’s trimmed with lace, so delicate and thin that I’m sure my curves will be distinguishable.

My nipples.

A couple hours later, Roman enters the bedroom to find me already showered and changed into the nightgown. For the first time since I’ve met him, a brief moment passes by where he seems genuinely speechless. His dark sapphire eyes rake over me, his masculine energy thick in the air.

I’m hot all over, doing my best to keep my cool.

It feels like a losing effort as Roman showers and then approaches the bed shirtless in a pair of gray sweats.

“Are you still so shy, kitty cat?” he asks. “I promise you will survive the night.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. Just don’t… keep your hands to yourself.”

“For now.”

I watch as he peels back the covers and then walks around to his side. He commands the smart system to dim the lights and lower the shades over the windows.

“Is there a reason why not now? What are you waiting for?”

“Is that your way of telling me you want me to fuck you?” he asks in return. He slides into bed with a deftness that sends a shiver down my spine. This is his domain and I’m trapped navigating it.

I mirror his movements, sliding into bed on the opposite side.

“You are bruised. Still swollen,” he says. “Traumatized by what my uncle did to you. You are beautiful even like this, devochka, but I prefer my women without the black and blue.”

“You’re better than some men. Some wouldn’t care. Just like Leonid didn’t care when I told him no.”

“He will die. I’ve told you he will. He knew not to touch you.”

“It’s okay,” I sigh. “I suppose maybe… I should be used to it.”

Roman stops in the middle of adjusting his pillow to cut me a stern look. “What do you mean, devochka, that you should be used to it? Who else has touched you?”

He asks the question as if he’s ready to go charging into the night to slice and dice any man who put their hands on me besides Leonid. I rush to explain, finding it difficult to meet his gaze as my fingers clutch at the bedsheet.

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