Page 62 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

“Are you sure?” I ask her. It is a question I have never asked anyone else. I do not like to repeat myself. But for her sake, I will.

“I think so,” she answers. Fear and desire are fighting a war in her. The desire wins.

“Then listen to me very, very carefully. There are only two words you are allowed to say from here on out: ‘yes, sir.’ Is that clear?”

She nods.

“Out loud.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. There is a single exception to that rule. If at any time you wish to leave, you say your father’s name. And then you run. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

I take down my riding crop from where it hangs on the wall. Turning back to her, I rest it gently on her shoulder. “Kneel.”

She starts to do as I told her, but I place the end of the crop under her chin. “Ah, ah, ah,” I tut, shaking my head sadly. “You did not answer. That is one.”

“One what?”

“You will find out soon enough. And now it is two, because you broke the first rule. Kneel.”

She bites her lip as she whispers, “Yes, sir.” Then she sinks to the floor.

I let her sit there for a moment as I circle behind her. There is a chest of drawers on the far side of the room, filled with paraphernalia. I retrieve a knife from there and go back to stand behind her.

“Eyes forward,” I command when I can feel her desperate to look at me.

She stiffens.

“And what do we say when I give you a command?”

“Yes, sir.”

I reach down with the knife and set its edge against the left shoulder strap of her golden dress. It’s a ridiculous outfit. Dante chose it. I’m sure he intended to humiliate her, because it looks like the kind of thing a cheap hooker would wear.

But on her, it looks like anything but trash. She makes even this gold horror show appear elegant and feminine.

That scares me.

It scares me because she has a power over me I don’t understand. And I’ve seen enough of the shellshocked look in my brothers’ faces to know that she is doing things to them, too. At a moment when we need to be more united than ever, this girl has come plowing into our midst like a wrecking ball. She shouldn’t be here—in this room, in this castle, in this family. And yet she’s here, and not a single one of us is willing to let her go. Me least of all.

I can’t delay much longer, no matter how badly I would prefer to lay her to rest and kiss her body. I want to take her back to the shower, but this time I want to help rinse her hair, to mop the blood and sweat and dirt from her skin. I barely resisted the impulse before dinner. I am running dangerously close to falling prey to it now.

So I force myself to finish what I’ve started. It is the only way.

I saw one strap of her dress off, then the other. The top falls down. From behind, I can’t see her breasts, only the rise and fall of her spine and the thin winding path of a single blue vein tracing its way along the curve of her neck. It is perfection incarnate. Somehow more sexual than anything I’ve ever seen before.

“Stand,” I order her.

“Yes, sir.” She rises gracefully to her feet.

“Don’t look back. Eyes forward.”

I stay behind her and cut off the rest of her dress. She isn’t wearing any underwear, because we didn’t provide her any, of course. But rather than being turned on by the sight of her bare ass, I feel almost ashamed. I know she is choosing to be here. I know she wants this.

It just feels sinful.

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