Page 57 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

I do, again and again, taking everything he has for me. And when he comes, he roars like an animal, his cock pulsing inside of me.

“I love you,” he chants. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

As we slow, he grabs a t-shirt to clean me up quickly before rolling us front to back, holding me in his arms, our bodies overheated and sensitive, our breathing erratic.

It doesn’t take long for Vasily to fall asleep. It is mid-morning now, surely, and he has been up all night. When his breathing is even and heavy, I roll carefully out of his arms, covering him with a blanket that has fallen to the floor.

I tiptoe to find my clothing and shoes, and then make the one mile walk into town to call my father.

CHAPTER 26

Vasily

Iwake up and reach out, only to come away with cold sheets. Gigi is gone.

I know instantly that she is gone, that she has gone to talk with her father, and it fills me with dread that fills me to my core. I am up in an instant, still unclothed from our lovemaking, to find my phone.

Every one of my contacts gets a message. High alert.

I pull on my clothing and stroll down the road to town like it’s no big deal, like a man out for an afternoon walk. I poke around the few small stores and cafes, browsing, but also looking for a now-black bob. Gigi is nowhere to be found, but I stop a few proprietors and tell them I was supposed to meet my wife in town; have they seen her?

My heart is about to thump its way out of my chest. She has only been gone a few hours. Sasha couldn’t have gotten her already. Right?

I get my answer quickly, as I turn a corner into an alleyway. Two men stand there, both clad in grey suits, both flashing the handguns they holster in their belts. I put my hands up and they take me quietly, leading me to a waiting car.

My knees bounce, the two men on either side, their bulk making it hard to breathe, let alone move. We drive for a while, maybe an hour, into a sparsely populated area. The road changes from gravel to dirt, then to a barely-there path amidst heavy forestry. The car goes as far as it can before it stops, the men pulling me out, their guns at my back as we stumble over brambles and tree roots until we find a dilapidated shack.

Shoved inside and tied to a chair, I know now that I am about to die. There is no question, no other scenario. This is the end of my life, and I will never see Gigi again.

The two men take turns punching me while I am tied up, I think just because they can. They seem to derive pleasure from my pain, so I do my best not to show it.

When Sasha Gusev arrives, he is not what I expected him to be. I imagined him shorter, stockier, with a receding hairline. I imagined him in a crisp suit. The man in front of me is lean and fit, dressed casually in a button-down shirt that is rolled to the sleeves. He wears khaki pants and golf shoes, as if he has just come from a charity outing.

Gigi is a strikingly beautiful woman, a feature she must have gotten from her mother. Sasha is not ugly, but he is also not handsome. What he does have going for him is a very clear aura of power. He just looks powerful.

“You know who I am?” he asks, looking me straight in the eye. He has a heavy Russian accent.

I nod.

“I want to know who are you? Who is this Vasily Kyrylo? Are you agent for Ukraine? Are you agent for US?”

“I think he’s just some dumb shit fucking your daughter, boss. He smells like pussy.” One of the guys laughs from behind him.

Faster than a snake, Sasha strikes, turning to backhand the man across the mouth hard enough to draw blood.

“Never talk about my daughter that way,” he hisses.

The man, shamed, apologizes, hanging his head.

Back to me, Sasha asks, “So which is it?”

“I did you a favor,” I say, gritting my teeth. “I paid Baranov. I saved your daughter. I killed a bunch of his men. No mess for you.”

“You got in my way,” he says, his face inches from mine. He backs away and makes a meh sound. “Plus, you hired people. It is not that you wielded a weapon or risked your own ass.”

“Like you would have done any different.” I spit blood onto the dirt floor at his feet. “I’m no fighter. I’m no agent. I’m just a man with means, and I love your daughter.”

“You defiled my daughter,” he says. “You turned her away from safety so you could stick your cock inside.”

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