With a rigid spine, she returns to me. “I’m ready.”
“What did you say to him?” I’m curious.
She shakes her head. “Nothing that concerns you.”
I grip her chin and lift it, forcing her to crane her neck to meet my eyes. “Everything you do from this moment on concerns me, solnishko.”
Her mouth tightens and she refuses to answer. I let it go for the moment. There are other ways I can show her just how wrong she is. Natalya walks forward, sweeping past me with her head held high. I follow right on her heels, stopping when she bends to pick her bag up off the floor on the other side of the door. Before she can loop it over her head, I take it from her hands.
“Hey, give that back.” She tries to grab it, but I hold it out of her reach.
“I’ll carry it. There’s nothing in there you need right now.”
“You have no idea what I need,” Natalya says through clenched teeth.
I chuckle and palm her nape again, the silken strands of her hair gliding through my fingers. Then I lean down and brush my lips over her ear. She tries to jerk her head away, but I tighten my grip enough that she freezes. “That’s where you’re wrong. I know exactly what you need, and I’m going to give it to you.”
Because I can’t resist, I nuzzle the side of her face, breathing in her sweet and delicious fragrance. I press an open-mouthed kiss along the side of her neck and glide my tongue across her flesh, dragging in her flavor. She shudders. Having made my point, I straighten and peer down to find her wearing a heavy-lidded expression of arousal. Natalya blinks and her gaze shoots to mine. Any pleasure she experienced is wiped away and she goes back to glaring at me, anger radiating off her.
“Let’s go,” she bites out.
I place my hand on her lower back and guide her safely through the darkened interior until we step outside where my car is parked on the street. Not that I expect her to run, but I walk her around to the passenger side and open the door. She glances at me in surprise as though no one’s ever done that for her before. I may be a cold-blooded killer that most of Chicago fears, but this is my solnishko. The least I can do is treat her like the treasure she is.
Once she’s settled, I climb behind the wheel, set her bag on the floor behind her seat, and make my way down the brightly lit street. The deli is almost right in the center of West Town on Division Street. Locals call the area “Little Russia”. While I weave my way through the city toward my penthouse, I cast several glances over at Natalya. Tension radiates from her and she keeps wringing her hands in her lap, the nervous gesture bringing a slight grin to my lips.
“Why were you at the deli so late?”
She jumps at my voice and her head whips in my direction as though she forgot who she is with. After a beat, she clears her throat. “I told you. I was there for the invoices to reconcile the accounting for last month. The numbers were off and I couldn’t get all the receipts to match.” She gives a small self-deprecating chuckle. “Of course, I know now that they were never going to match since the missing funds were probably part of what my dad took.”
A hint of bitterness creeps into her words.
“Yes, you told me that already, but my question is why were you there for the invoices? Your father is the Bratva’s accountant—or was, rather.” It had been clear back at the deli that Natalya isn’t part of her dad’s thievery. Her emotions are too close to the surface for her to have been faking the shock and anger she exhibited when the truth came out.
Other than the occasional illumination when we pass under a street light, it’s dark inside the car, so I can’t be sure, but I’m almost certain her cheeks redden. She raises and drops a shoulder and tips her head down.
“I’ve always had a knack for numbers, I guess. Ever since I was little. Dad started taking on new businesses about five years ago and it quickly became too much for just him, so I helped. I really enjoyed it. It’s what made me decide to major in accounting.” Natalya laughs although it’s a bit forced and bitter. “I figured it was easier than fighting for leads. There are a lot more jobs available for accountants than there are for a star ballerina plagued by injuries.”
I’d seen her dance only once, but she had kept me captivated, unable to take my eyes off of her. Even at seventeen, she’d possessed so much grace and elegance. It was clear then just how talented she is. I could have stood there all night watching her, but Aleksei had interrupted. He didn’t say anything, but it had been more than obvious he didn’t approve of my fascination with Natalya. And not only because of the sixteen-year age difference between us.
She shifts her body away from me and it’s obvious she’s done sharing. Finally, we reach my high-rise that sits along the lake. I drive into the underground garage beneath the building and park in my personal space. Before I can walk around to the other side, she’s already out of the vehicle with her arms wrapped around her waist. She appears so fragile. It’s an illusion though. My solnishko is far stronger than anyone gives her credit for, including herself. I grab her bag from the backseat and cross the concrete, my footsteps echoing, to the elevator. Soft footsteps follow.
Natalya shifts nervously the longer we ride in silence. As though she can’t take it anymore, she turns to me. “What happens now?”
My brow raises. “What do you think will happen?”
I wait patiently as she bites her lower lip, offering a brief glimpse of the narrow gap between her two front teeth. Something about that sliver of space turns me on. Who am I kidding? There isn’t anything about her that doesn’t. I’ve been semi-hard almost from the moment she stepped into that back room.
“I think you’re going to fuck me.” Natalya whispers it so quietly I have to strain to make out the words.
She has no idea. I close the distance between us, and she stumbles backward until she hits the elevator wall and there’s nowhere else for her to go. Her palms slam against the mirrored surface at her hips, and she closes her eyes tightly. I trace a line down her cheek with my fingertip, once again taking in the softness of her skin. I can’t wait to feel how silken the rest of her is. I’ve imagined her beneath me more often than I can count.
I don’t stop the path my finger takes down Natalya’s neck and between the opening her jacket provides where her shirt is visible. I trace the neckline, which dips down to showcase a hint–a tease, really–of cleavage. Back and forth I caress, barely grazing her skin. A flush climbs from the top of her chest all the way to her cheeks. She’s hot beneath my touch.
“Open your eyes, solnishko.” The command isn’t loud, but most certainly firm, and doesn’t leave room for anything but compliance.
Slowly, her lashes flutter and lift, exposing the bright green irises and dilated pupils.
“I’m most definitely going to fuck you. More importantly, you’re going to love every minute of it.”
CHAPTER THREE
Natalya
My whole body shudders as his words echo inside my head. Sasha takes a step back and I drink him all in. From the muscles bulging against the knit of his sweater to his jeans straining from the thickness of his thighs. His lips are moving, but whatever he’s saying is lost beneath the ricochet of his announcement that I’m going to love him fucking me. There’s no doubt he believes it. I do as well. I’ve dreamed about it often enough.