Page 21 of Defiled Innocence

“You stand here.” He keeps a hand on my shoulder like an anchor.

I’m standing in the corner.

He’s put me in the corner like some naughty little girl.

Heat rushes up my back. Isn’t that what he called me downstairs?

“Dmitri. What are you doing?” I try to laugh it off, like this is just some silly game he’s playing with me.

“Starting your punishment.”

Amelia

He can’t be serious.

I try again to twist around to face him, but his anvil of a hand keeps me stuck facing the damn corner.

“You stand here until I tell you to come out. Do you understand?”

“No! Of course I don’t understand. This is insane. I’m twenty-four fucking years old, not some child you can reprimand with corner time.” Unfortunately, I lose some credibility by stomping my foot.

He places a hand on my other shoulder and leans into me. His massive chest presses against my back as his mouth hovers over the shell of my ear. Tingles run through me at the sensation of his breath washing over my skin.

I shouldn’t be reacting to him to like this.

Fighting him, screeching, and trying to claw out his eyes. That’s how I should be reacting to his insane dominance.

“You’ve made me very angry tonight. Standing in the corner is only a moment of your punishment, so we can talk. So I can calm myself.”

His voice is rock steady. If this is him not calm, I’m a little scared of what it looks like when he’s really lost it.

“I went downstairs for a drink.”

“There is a full bar in this office. You could have poured yourself a glass of wine. You didn’t go downstairs for a drink; you went down there to prove a point.”

His fingers squeeze my shoulders. He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t give him the right to put me in a corner.

I can’t even believe this is happening.

I run an important foundation that helps people in horrible situations. Drug addicts, alcoholics, the homeless, anyone who needs help. And here I am, being anchored in the corner by a Russian mob boss who refuses to understand he has no power over me.

“You wanted to show me that you’ll do whatever you want. That my words have no meaning.” He brushes hair away from my ear. “And now I’m going to show you what happens when you disobey.”

That word, disobey, sends a ricochet of electricity through me. With a surge of energy, I shove away from the wall. Taking him by surprise, I think, because he stumbles back a step before he grabs onto my arm.

I barely get one step away before I’m snatched up.

“Still such a bad girl,” he growls, dragging me to his desk.

“What are you doing? Dmitri, let me go!” I yank and twist, but he’s more determined than ever.

Steel has more give than his grip right now.

The edge of the desk presses into me as his hand sinks into my hair, fisting at my scalp. Tears spring to my eyes with the sting. Struggling only makes it worse, so I stop.

“Twice tonight I’ve had to search you out. And twice tonight I find you with another man’s hands on you.” His accent thickens with his irritation.

I could remind him that Christian didn’t have his hands on me when Dmitri arrived, but he tightens his fingers and my scalp burns anew, so I decide against it.

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