Page 4 of His Hold

He blanks for a beat, but then he squints, and I see a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, aren’t you a bold little thing?” he says. “I see what this is about. You’re waiting your turn to be fucked, aren’t you? Watching me pound her got you all wet and desperate, didn’t it?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, my anger clashing with embarrassment. “You wish.”

“Maybe I do. Or maybe you’re just another idiot who thinks following me is a smart idea.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Right.” His tone drips with sarcasm. “So what? You stumbled into the back room of a strip club by accident?”

“Not that it is any of your concern, but I had business.”

“With me?”

“With the girl you just sent packing.”

“Liar.”

I meet his eyes, refusing to flinch. “Believe what you want.”

He studies me, his expression impassive. But there’s a glint there. Something almost amused. “You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.”

"You love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?"

He chuckles as his eyes sweep over me. "Almost as much as you'll love begging me to stop."

“What?” I stammer. Not able to come up with a quick comeback.

He steps closer. “How would you like it? Rough and fast or slow? Either way, I can make you grovel on your knees in a matter of a few minutes.”

“That’s so…” I choke on the words, disgust and desire tangling in my throat.

He’s laughing as he walks away, a rolling sound that mocks me. And I’m still trembling when he’s gone. Because he’s right. I’m unraveling for a man I should only want dead.

Chapter 2

Nikolai

The call from Kirill comes at midnight. The phone buzzes, shaking the bedside table until I snatch it, already irritated.

"What?" I grunt into the receiver.

"Nikolai," Kirill says slowly. Even after years working for him, I’ve come to know there's never warmth in his voice, never familiarity. "Still having trouble sleeping, I see."

"Well, I didn’t until this call woke me," I grunt, sitting up and trying to blink away the tiredness. Kirill has never respected sleep. Or boundaries. Or anything, really.

"Ah, forgive me," he says dryly, clearly amused. "Next time, I'll be sure to schedule emergencies around your bedtime. Perhaps a lullaby before I hang up?"

"Funny," I say flatly, running a hand over my face. "What do you want?"

He chuckles, genuine amusement filtering through this time. "I heard you knocked out two of Yuri's teeth yesterday at the gym. Was this one of your regular rough sparring sessions or a personal vendetta?"

I smile despite myself, recalling Yuri sprawled on the mat, clutching his bleeding mouth. "He talks too much." The loudmouthed rookie Kirill hired last month, always bragging about his connections and flashing money around like some spoiled heir. Yuri's the type who thinks brute force alone can buy respect. "He was boasting again about running his own crew someday, hinting that he might replace me, eventually. Thought he'd test my patience in the ring. I reminded him why that's a bad idea."

“But you don’t exactly work for me. You work with me. You have your own security company. You’re your own boss.”

“Until you want me on a case. Then I’m not, right?”

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