Page 165 of Vicious Games

Did I do this?

Did I lead them to her?

When I met Kirill at his strip club, he acted like he didn’t recognize the medallion I showed him.

But he must have.

If that’s true…

Fuck.

What do the Petrovs want with my Frankie?

And why the fuck do they all look at her like she’s the second coming?

“Lucky,” I hear her voice, soft and sweet, pressing a kiss to my lips.

My arms wrap around her instinctively, pulling her close.

“Mmm,” I hum. “Five more minutes.” I shift, my half-hard cock nestling in the curve of her ass. “Actually, make that an hour.”

She giggles softly, then swats my hand away when it wanders too far. “Now’s not the time. We were ordered to go downstairs.”

I groan, opening my eyes to the unfamiliar room.

Right.

Russia.

Fuck.

“You okay?” I ask, brushing her cheek, needing to always check in and see how she’s feeling with all of this.

“Honestly? I’m a little nervous.”

“I get that.” I lean in, my voice dropping. “But if this is just some sick game the Russians are playing, I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“I don’t think it’s a game. I honestly believe they know who I am.”

“Iknow who you are,” I correct gently.

“You know what I mean,” she says, getting out of bed and pulling on her clothes.

I frown.

There’s a hope in her eyes I’m not sure I trust.

God, I hope these bastards actually know something about Frankie’s parentage. If this turns out to be some sick, twisted game, I’ll burn this whole damn house down.

Reluctantly I get up, get dressed, and follow her.

Downstairs, we find Kostya sprawled on the living room couch, flipping through channels like he couldn’t be more bored.

Konstantin Petrov is clearly the youngest of the Petrov clan. Though he shares Kirill’s jet-black hair, dark eyes, and a cocky smirk that screams he’s always two steps ahead of the chaos he causes, that’s where the resemblances with his brother end. He doesn’t have the same intimidating edge as his older brothers either—where they’re all stone-faced and menacing, he looks more like a college kid home for winter break. But I’m not buying it. There’s something dangerous under all that laid-back charm. I should know. Takes an asshole to know one.

“Hey, you’re up,” he grins, looking at Frankie like she’s a long-lost friend. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” she says with a shy smile.

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