Page 51 of Merciless Sinner

Each one is mesmerizing on its own, but then there are his tattoos.

A bald eagle takes up most of the space on his chest, along with dark red roses wrapping around Japanese characters. They complement the Samurai inked on his arms.

But what stands out the most are his Bratva symbols. The stars splashed over his shoulder that mark him as a leader along with an assortment of other leadership markings.

I’m sure I would have known all this before, but I looked them up after my first encounter with that Bratva boss. He had similar tattoos with the addition of prison ones that showed how many times he’d been locked away and how many people he’d killed.

I guess I should be grateful Virgo doesn’t have those, but that doesn’t make him any less scary.

He moves closer and takes the book from me. “I’m sleeping in here tonight.”

I could have guessed that. “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s time to collect what you owe.”

I release the breath I’m holding and give him a measured stare. I knew this was coming, so I had time to prepare. But I’m still on edge and kicking myself for last night.

Part of me also wonders if he’d really send me back to Monte Carlo to be imprisoned. So far, the only benefit to our arrangement is getting his old girlfriend back. What if he loses interest when he sees I’m not anything close to her?

Listen to me… I’ve split myself away from the person I was as if we’re two different people, but in my world, it feels like we are.

“What do you want from me?” My voice comes out in a soft hush.

Virgo sets the book down on the nightstand but keeps his gaze fixed on me, trapping me beneath his stare.

“I want to fuck you,” he answers without thought or hesitation, as if the question was as simple as being asked his name. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

“Are you going to?” Every cell in my body is heightened with expectancy and trepidation.

The feeling is odd and conflicting because I know I shouldn’t want him.

But I do, and that part of me that wants him doesn’t want to be treated like the escort I signed up to be mere days ago. Not for punishment, or blind pleasure.

“Not tonight,” he answers, but I know he has something more planned for me. “Tonight, weplay.”

“Play? What exactly do you mean?”

A sly smile crosses his face, and his eyes darken with raw desire. “You can start by sucking my cock, then we’ll take it from there. That’s what we’ll do tonight and every night in the run up to the wedding.”

Arousal surges through me, flowing through my body with the blood in my veins, but I push it away, trying to hold on to some shred of sanity.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you just be normal?”

“Sorry, Zayka, I don’t donormal. Apparently, I’m psychotic and deranged. A whole other level of fucked up.”

“I’m not a whore.”

“No, you’re not. Whores don’t get the pleasure of having me like this.” Here comes the fear-of-God smile. “They wouldn’t be in my room, in my bed, or in my head. But at least they’d know not to double-cross me if I freed them from certain imprisonment and shelled out seventy grand to save them from cartel pricks who wanted them dead.”

Hearing him rehash what he did for me makes me feel guilty again.

“I told you I was sorry.”

“And I didn’t accept your apology. I told you what I want, now do it.” He inclines his head and gives me a mocking smirk.

Shit. I bite down so hard on my back teeth I fear my jaw will snap. I should have known he’d come up with shit like this to punish me.

But… a sneaky part of my mind is questioning my anger.

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