Page 13 of For a Price

“Please… please, just let me go!” I sputter out. “It wasn’t even my idea! I didn’t want to come for you. It was their idea. Don’t hurt me!”

“I like you,” he says plainly. “Ty milaya igrushka?*.”

“I… I don’t know what that means.”

“You are a cute toy,” he translates seamlessly, turning to face me. His grin’s returned, twisted onto his handsome, chiseled face. His dark sapphires for eyes flash ominously. “Ya khochu poigrat’ s toboy?*. I want to play with you.”

I shake my head no while in a cold sweat that has me gasping. “Please, don’t?—”

He slaps his hand to my mouth. This time to smack on some duct tape I hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed.

“There,” he says. “Forgive me, devochka. But I was tired of hearing you talk. It is time to have some fun.”

* Ty milaya igrushka - You are a cute toy

* Ya khochu poigrat’ s toboy - I want to play with you

CHAPTER 7

Katerina

Roman Volkova demonstrateshe’s a man of many talents. These talents include pinning innocent women to the ground, duct-taping their mouths, and tying them in electrical cords. In no more than five minutes, he’s got me bound and squirming on the bedroom floor of Finch’s safe house.

He stands back to admire his handiwork, his dark sapphire eyes gleaming in twisted satisfaction.

“Ty vyglyadish’ krasivo, devochka?*.”

I snarl at him from behind the silver strip of duct tape. “Icantunderstandyouasshole!”

The irony isn’t lost on me—I’m yelling at him about not being able to understand him while my words come out garbled.

The difference is, I’m speaking English andhe’sspeaking Russian.

He grunts out a solitary laugh, realizing my complaint. “You look very beautiful, devochka,” he translates, kneeling beside me. He thumbs my cheek in an almost affectionate way. It disturbs me more than any callous act of his, like tying me up or slapping me across the face. “Don’t worry, I will not hurt you… too much. If you behave. It is your choice.”

His large hand slips into the back pocket of my jeans. I react like a fish, flailing on the ground to ward him off. If he intends on making me feel even more uncomfortable, he’s done it, his palm sliding along the curve of my ass slower than necessary.

He digs out my cell phone, then peels back the tape across my mouth. “It needs to see this pretty face of yours, devochka.”

The facial recognition technology grants access. The second it does, the tape’s sealed back over my lips.

He stands up and begins fiddling with my phone.

“Dontlookthroughmyphone!” I shout at him. I thrash some more, despite the electrical cords scraping against my skin and clothes. “Youassholegimmeitback!”

But my protests fall on deaf ears.

The Russian calls up someone, pressing my phone to his ear. The other person answers within a few rings. He launches into a lengthy discussion in full-blown Russian. His thick, naturally guttural voice deepens. If at all possible, he sounds even more masculine and dangerous speaking in his native tongue.

My eyes narrow glaring at him… but my sex clenches down below.

Kat, no! NO, STOP IT!

This man has you bound and gagged on the floor.

You’ve always had a thing for dangerous guys, but this is a new low. STOP!

I’m caught between chastising myself and trying to make out even a few words of what he’s saying. He speaks so fast, so confidently, it’s damn near impossible.

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