Page 35 of Brutal Promise

“I can tell you that leaders of the mafia families know my name, and when I show up, respect will be paid. We’re the Volkovs from Russia. My brother Nikolay is the head of it.” He gets up, returns with two small shot glasses, and pours from the same vodka bottle he shared with Kirill. He sips the sweet vodka, and I set my empty glass before him.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise but pours vodka into my glass without a word.

The smell is deep and rich, unlike commercial vodka. I take a sip, it’s smooth like a liqueur, and my mind melts as it washes away my angst.

“You like?”

“Yes, it’s smooth.”

“Good, because I need to make you mine. That way, no one would dream of putting a hand on you.”

Did I pass through some portal into medieval times?

“Whaaat?” I can barely control myself. “Mine? What the fuck does that mean?”

“We’re getting married. It will be a marriage of convenience. I’ve discussed it with Nikolay. Kirill thinks it’s a good move.”

“What about me? Don’t I have a say in this?”

He finishes his vodka. “No. You don’t,” he says without hesitation or care.

I toss back what’s left of my vodka. “More vodka, please.”

“You can have wine, the vodka you’re not used to.” He stands and walks to the kitchen. I hear cabinets open and close before he returns with two wine glasses and an open bottle of red.

“Enjoy a five-hundred-dollar red wine,” he muses as he pours.

“Five what?” I almost choke on my mouth of spinach. I swallow and lift the glass to smell the bouquet. I might be young, but I picked up a few things from Alena.

“Stand.” He has a way of demanding what he wants, and it’s unnerving. And yet, I do what he says.

I stand and narrow my eyes at him. The soundtrack toThe Good, the Bad, and the Uglyplays inside my head because he’s on thin ice now.

“Relax,Usha Moya. I will not hurt you. You’re the only woman who makes me feel alive. I love to fuck you, and I will fuck you until the end of time.” He lifts his glass. “I want your lush lips around my cock, and I want to taste your sweetness whenever I want.”

I’m so close to him that I can feel the heat radiating off his broad chest. The liquor and his words warm me. What would he do to me if I displeased him?

My rational brain pools into a puddle between my legs. He runs his hand gently down the side of my face. His touch is as light as a cloud blowing across the sky on a summer day. I shiver.

“What do you want?” I ask with a whimper. His minty scent fills my nose.

“You,” he growls. “We’ll be married. You’ll be safe. You can have a life, a new life.”

“One in a gilded cage…” I murmur.

I want to push for more, but I doubt he can give more. He can’t discuss a marriage arrangement like an average person. He’s a beast. Everything is an ultimatum. Fake it with me, or you die is not what I call acceptable. I want to be loved, and I’m not sure he can love anyone. I’m his possession.

“You Americans are so dramatic. It’s a trade-off, a fair trade.” He raises his glass to mimic a toast and sips.

I sip the deep red wine, and it’s filled with body and flavor, the perfect ending to an exquisite meal. When I look up, I see the fire in his eyes. I sip again.

He takes the glass from me, setting it on the table next to his.

“It has to air out. We have time.” His voice is husky. He kisses my neck. Is this why alcohol is called liquid courage? Because I will need a ton of it to get through the next few days. Maybe I can buy some time to figure things out.

He unbuttons my jeans and slips his fingers past my taut abs. I can’t stop my moan when his fingers sink into my creamy wetness. My pussy betrays me as he gently massages my pink folds. His mouth takes a nipple between his lips and immediately hardens under pressure. I’d rather his hands were on them, grabbing and rubbing them raw.

“You want me, too. I want you dripping for me every day.”

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