Page 6 of His Enforcer

“My things,” I croak.

“I have them,” he replies, slamming the door and then sliding into the driver’s seat.

As the car starts up, a low rumble that’s powerful and full of unabashed sex, I pull his jacket tighter around my chest and close my eyes.

I don’t know why Luca insisted I leave the club, but here I am—confused, still fucking high, and utterly exhausted.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Back to my place.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

“You’re fucking going, Viktor,” he grunts, and then his car accelerates down the road. “And when I’m certain you won’t fucking die from whatever the fuck you’ve ingested, I’ll have you brought home.”

I can do nothing but agree.

I’m not ready to die.

Not yet.

I have so much more to do.

We never talk about what happened that night after Luca took me home.

It’s never brought up, never mentioned. It’s almost as if it never really happened. The only remembrance I get each passing year is a single black rose, hidden in my bag, waiting for me. A toxic reminder of what we did, of what I thought I had for that one night.

Part of me thinks I imagined it all, that the drugs and alcohol, mixed with the stress of work and the exhaustion from being fucked over and over again, caused me to conjure it all up.

The memory of Luca pushing inside of me that night, of him whispering those words in my ear.

“My little slut.”

Perhaps I did just dream it.

Perhaps it was all a story I created in my head.

I don’t know anymore.

And I don’t care to remember.

But I do. And so does he. The rose is a reminder.

We can’t fucking forget.

1

PRESENT DAY

VIKTOR

“Viktor, what the fuck are you doing?” Luca growls, peering over his shoulder at me as he crouches down in the dim light of the warehouse. His light brown hair falls over his face and he pushes it back with those thick, tattooed fingers. Those fucking fingers…the way I want them to wrap around my neck and squeeze.

The way they did that night.

“Stop dicking around and help me with this.”

I wasn’t dicking around. I was adjusting my dick because his ass looks good in those slacks. Much to my displeasure. Fucking hate that my body responds to anything regarding him. Three damn years and I can’t quite calm down.

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