Page 10 of Master

“The Big Apple is a huge fucking city. You stay out of our business and we’ll stay out of yours.”

The six of us look at each other, silently coming to an agreed-upon decision. Tristan outstretches his hand to Ivan as he says, “My brothers and I can agree to that.”

This seems too fucking easy.

Ivan slaps his hand into Tristan’s and shakes it firmly. “But if you fuck me”—Ivan’s gaze slowly passes between Declan and Finn—“I will not fail as Mikhail did.”

Finn stays quiet and stoic beside me—exercising self-restraint or biting the fuck out of his tongue—but I can practically feel the rage radiating off Declan as he exhales a quiet, angered breath.

Not releasing Ivan’s hand, Tristan rebuts, “Cross us and we will send you to visit Mikhail.”

A hearty, dark laugh rises from Ivan’s chest. “Then we have an agreement.”

A month to put together a three-minute meeting. One that I hope will eliminate the threats that those we love have had to suffer through since this war started.

Ivan and his men walk toward the gated exit for West 54th Street, and we head through the lobby to West 53rd Street. We make the quick—and silent—walk back to the parking garage. The valet delivers my Tahoe, and we all climb inside. As the final door clicks shut, Declan snarls, “If he ever fucking threatens my wife and children or Catlin again, I’ll fucking kill him where he stands.”

CHAPTER NINE

SASHA

CURRENT DAY

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Isaac snarls when he walks through the front door. His eyes continue to roam over my unusually disheveled appearance as he waits for my answer.

Having spent the day in bed, I managed to pull myself from beneath the covers to greet him at the door as he requires of me. This cold hit me out of nowhere, and that was all I could muster. I didn’t have the energy to shower or change into something he would deem appropriate. My congestion causes me to sound nasally and unintentionally sarcastic when I answer matter-of-factly, “Sweats.”

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” Isaac spits, the soles of his shoes slapping against the hardwood floor as he angrily closes the distance between us. “I know they’re fucking sweatpants. Why the fuck are you wearing them?”

“I… I’m… sorry,” I stammer, stepping backward and trying to hold his angered gaze.A look I have come to know all too well.“I’m just really not feeling well.”

Looming over me, his nostrils flare when he asks, “Do you know what today is?”

I do.

How could I not?

Finally being granted an invitation to the infamous Club Triskelion is the only thing Isaac has talked about for the past week. His giddiness only grew when he learned a couple of days ago that he had also secured an exhibition space for tonight. A room for him to showcase to the world everything he has been training me for during the past six months.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” My voice trembles as I delve deep for courage, knowing I’m going to upset him. “I really don’t feel up tonight.”

A chuckle rattles from his chest, and the darkness of it causes goosebumps to prickle down my spine. He fists the front of my sweatshirt and yanks me toward him. I crash against his firm body as he shoves his other hand down the front of my pants. Brushing over my pussy to where he carved his name into my thigh, he rubs his hand over the raised flesh. He traces his fingers over the letters as he asks, “What does this mean?”

“That I’m yours,” I sniffle as my nose runs.

“Maybe I’ve been too lenient,” he fists my meaty upper thigh, causing me to hiss, “because it appears you’ve forgotten that being mine comes with rules.”

Vigorously shaking my head, I vehemently state, “I’m not disobeying you, Sir. I just thought?—”

“That’s my job,” he interrupts me. “I decide these things for you. And what did I decide?”

“That we’re going to the club.” I force a smile through the pain of his tight hold on me. My breathing is labored as I endure his squeeze, and I struggle to speak. “So you can show everyone how well you’ve trained me.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, releasing his hand. His fingers slide up my leg and dust over the lips of my bare pussy. He massages my mound as he continues, “Are you simply telling me what I want to hear?”

“No, Sir.” I gasp when his fingers press between my lips and dust over my clit. I fist the front of his shirt as he rubs over the sensitive nub, struggling to maintain my balance as he tenderly touches me for the first time in weeks. “I want to show everyone how good I can be for you.”

Isaac grips my throat and tips my face up toward his. His lips press against mine, and he swallows my whimpers as he slips two fingers deep inside me. With his tongue sweeping through my mouth, his fingers work deliberately to bring me to the edge. Riding his hand, his lips dust against mine as he whispers, “Not good, beautiful. Fucking perfect. You’re going to be fucking perfect for me like I know you can.”

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