Page 6 of Claimed By the Boss

My footsteps echo on the marble as I move to the study. The doors open smoothly and silently on heavy hinges.

Everything here is designed to be intimidating, from the dark oak panels to the fireplace so large it could roast a cow. Shelvesof books in Russian and English are lined up in strict, perfect rows.

My desk is enormous, carved in Russia decades ago, and shipped here at a stupid cost. Unlike my father, I try not to be so flashy with my wealth.

I drop into the chair, the leather groaning. For a moment, I just sit there, fingers drumming lightly on the polished surface before I reach into the bottom drawer for a bottle of Scotch.

I pour two fingers into the glass, swirl it once, and take a long drink. It burns beautifully, clearing the fog.

I set the glass down and lean forward to power up the communications system. Screens blink to life, bright in the dim room. Audio crackles, then resolves into the encrypted feed from Alek’s team. They’re already moving.

I listen to Russian curses and clipped orders, to boots on wet pavement. I hear the distant noise of water slapping against dock pilings.

Alek’s voice comes through, calm but alert.

“Two at the east gate. Another three by the shipping office. Movement in the containers. Could be civilians.”

I close my eyes for a second. Civilians. Women.

I see Lyra’s face again in my mind.Fuck. My jaw tightens.

“Clear them,” I say quietly to no one.

The men don’t hear me. They don’t need to.

Because I know Alek is on the same page. It’s why I trust him to take care of this shit.

I sip the Scotch again, listening as they move in.

Gunfire erupts. It’s muffled at first, then much louder. There’s the unmistakable sound of screaming. The men shout at each other in Russian and English. One of the men breathes hard into the mic, cursing as he reloads.

Alek’s voice cuts through, sharp and efficient. “Hold position. Sweep right.”

There’s more gunfire, then more screaming. Eventually, the shooting stops and there’s nothing but static for a few heartbeats.

Alek’s voice comes back, panting. “It’s clear. The warehouse is empty. Civilians are secured, but Rurik’s not here.”

The words sit heavy in the air. Of course he fucking isn’t. I pick up my glass, draining it in one long pull.

“Boss?” someone says, the feed crackling.

My voice is calm as I press a button to speak to them.

“Clean it up. Leave nothing for the cops. And make sure the girls are sent home with cash and a warning to keep their mouths shut.”

Alek doesn’t ask for confirmation. “Got it.”

The feed goes quiet except for the shuffle of boots and the sound of the sea.

I pour another drink.

Of course Rurik’s not there. He’s too smart for that. He’s probably somewhere in his own mansion, getting a call from one of his men about our ambush.

But that’s fine. I’m patient.

My mind goes back to the girl at the restaurant once more. I suppressed the image of her pretty mouth at my waiting, eager cock earlier, but now it flashes back into my mind. I go a step further and picture those glossy lips attaching themselves to the tip, and her soft hand wrapping around the shaft. I close my eyes and groan, feeling my member strain even harder against my already tight trousers.

I resist the urge to grant myself some relief right at my desk, but it’s tempting. Part of me feels ashamed at the thought of even getting off to someone I knew for barely five minutes.