Page 17

I hoped so because I could barely string a sentence together. It didn’t help that he was still touching me. Which was doing something to me, and my dick was starting to take notice. On a normal day I’d probably ask him out, but this was as far from normal as possible. And besides, he’d kidnapped me and tied me to a fucking chair. I mean, who did he think he was?

Well, shit. Cue light bulb moment.

Damyr let out a low chuckle, but it was anything but warm. “Figured it out, pretty boy?”

Morozov. One of the current ruling Three Families. “Russian mob.”

His nose wrinkled in disgust, and it made him look kind of cute. “I don’t like the word ‘mob’. It makes it sound sleazy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t take the mobster etiquette class.”

He looked at me curiously. “There’s no such thing. You’re being sarcastic.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Who was this guy?

His hand shot out and grabbed my chin, his nails sharp against my skin. “If you worked for me, you’d lose your eyes for that.”

Thick black lines swirled over the skin on his hand, and it made me wonder how much ink covered him. I couldn’t see any tattoos anywhere else, and his black shirt didn’t give me any clues as to what was hiding beneath. But hell, if his hands were heavily tattooed, I bet the rest of him was too.

I gulped, my throat brushing against his hand. Damyr’s gaze dropped to my neck, his eyes darkening as he leant closer. He forced my head to the side and brought his nose to the spot just below my ear. My heart fucking raced.

He hummed, the sound low and predatory. Throaty.

Aaaand there went my dick again.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

When Damyr pulled back his eyes burned like fire. “You have no idea what world you’ve wandered into.”

I didn’t know. I had the feeling it was pretty dark due the fact that he’dfucking kidnapped me!Besides, everyone knew that the Morozov’s were more than just dangerous. They were deadly. And shady as fuck. No one ever really saw them as they kept to themselves, but they had fingers in many pies across the city. Hell, there was a ‘Morozov Family Wing’ at the hospital I’d worked at.

“From my limited knowledge of criminal activities that happen in this city, I am guessing your world is a lot darker than mine.”

Damyr smiled wide and it was like looking at the Devil who had found a new toy to play with. He reached out and traced a long, tattooed finger over the arch in my upper lip. I’d always thought my mouth too pouty, too feminine, but most guys had liked it, and it seemed like Damyr was a fan of it too.

Even if it was incredibly rude that he was touching me without permission.

But also, kind of hot.

“What are you doing to my face?” I asked with a sharp intake of breath.

“You talk too much, Benjamin.”

“It’s Benji,” I snapped. I hated my full name. It was too long and stuffy.

Damyr’s smile widened, and his eyes flashed in the low light. “Will anyone miss you, Benjamin?”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?!” I gasped. The gall of this guy. What kind of person even says that to someone? “Look, I was being a decent human being and trying to rescue someone. I thought I was doing the right thing. That doesn’t give you the right to drug me and take me off the street. Just because you’re some high and mighty mobster, doesn’t mean you can swan around doing whatever the fuck you’d want. In fact—”

Strong fingers gripped my chin, halting my tirade.

“Pretty boy, I’m not just some mobster.”

“I don’t give a shit. If you’re not going to kill me, you need to let me go,” I spat. “And don’t call me pretty boy. I’m not your boy. I’m not your anything.”

“I’m not letting you go,” he said simply. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why?”