Page 11

Anya

He’s gone. I know this long before I peel my eyes open. The bed is cold without him in it. Empty. The sheets on the side where he had been after we had fucked again for the third time are creased. The warmth is long gone.

Pavel had touched every inch of me last night. But I’ve learned something from him, too. Power isn’t just about dominance. It’s about perception. Let him think he’s winning. Let him think I’m soft now, that he’s pulled the fight from me one fuck at a time. He has no idea.

I pull the blanket off my body and go to grab one of the large shirts in the closet. I walk out of the room, ready to head to work on the encryption.

I am deep into my coding when I hear a rasp by the door. I think nothing of it and continue to work. My mind is already thinking of how I should overcome the last firewall.

I am fully expecting to see Mikhail or Pavel, but I am stunned when I open the wooden door to find a pair of steel blue eyes that stare at me like a cobra.

“It’s been too long, my old friend.” His cold smile slithers onto his lips. “I thought you were dead.”

My pulse spikes. I try to force the door closed, but his hand darts out and pushes it open. I fight against it until I hear the click of the gun, and I freeze.

He steps inside. His eyes trail over the area, over my body in Pavel’s shirt, the evidence of the night still all over me— the flushed look of someone who’s been thoroughly fucked.

“Well,” he drawls, voice thick with mockery and cold detachment, “Isn’t this a fucking surprise? Not only have you corrupted my enforcer, but you are being fucked by him. Really?”

My body reacts before my brain can catch up. I move. Fast. Desperate.

My hand wraps around the heavy lamp on the table beside the door, and I swing it at his head with everything I have. But I’m too slow.

The ceramic whistles through the air— He sees it coming. Sidesteps it like he’s done it a thousand times.

And then—the unmistakable click of a safety being released. His gun is pressed against my cheek. The metal is ice-cold. My pulse is a thunderstorm in my ears. I try to lift my arm, to buck him off, but my limbs aren’t working.

He leans in close. I can feel his breath on my skin.

“You’ve got a fight in you,” he murmurs, almost amused. “No wonder he’s keeping you.”

I grit my teeth, but the pain makes it hard to focus. His fingers slide over the gun, then my face. He’s touching me like I’m an object.

“I didn’t expect this,” he whispers. “But I’ll admit… you just made things a lot more interesting.”

My hand twitches against the tile, reaching for anything. Something to swing, something to stab.

But there’s nothing. There is a lamp next to the bed, and I grab it.

“Pavel always did have poor impulse control,” he mutters, dragging the barrel of the gun across my cheek, down to my jaw. “Fucking his pet? Tsk. That’s not the Pavel I trained. But it is the one I can break.”

I try to curse at him, but no sound comes out.

Dmitri presses a cloth against my mouth, and I struggle against him, trying to keep myself from breathing it in, but it’s useless.

“Time for you and me to go for a little ride,” he says evilly. “I think it’s time I let your boyfriend know that we are together.”

Those are the last words I hear before it all goes black for me.

***

I wake up to a heavy silence. Not the calming kind. My skull pulses with a dull, rhythmic throb. I feel the dripping of what I can only think is blood on the side of my head. My ribs scream every time I inhale.

My wrists are bound. They are twisted behind my back. Panic coils low in my belly. I know this place.

He brought me back. To the penthouse. His penthouse. The one Pavel kept me in at the start of this torrid nightmare. The irony is a blade against my throat.

It’s him. Dmitri. I hear the click of a lighter before I see him.

A single flame flares to life across the room. He lights a cigar with practiced ease, the embers glowing as he takes a long, slow drag.

“You’re awake. I was starting to get bored.”

My eyes adjust, and I see him sitting in the leather armchair, legs crossed, gun resting casually on the armrest beside him.

“I was starting to worry that I’d hit you too hard,” he adds. “We got a little blood on you, but no matter what, we need to sell this to your boyfriend.”

I am barely clinging to consciousness. The low ringing in my ear easily disorientates me. I shift upright, wincing at the sting in my ribs, the bite of the cords against my skin. I don’t answer him. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

His eyes scan me—every inch.

“Pavel’s always been careless with his toys,” he murmurs, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “But I admit, I underestimated you. The lamp stunt?Did you grab a lamp to throw at me? Bold. Stupid, but bold.”

I glare at him. “You killed my brother.”

A slow, easy smile makes its way to his lips. “Oh, I know. Your point?”

I grind my teeth. “I am going to kill you for that.”

He tilts his head and chuckles. “You’re not in a position to even manage that, sweetheart.”

“You underestimated me,” he says, his voice soft but laced with venom. “You thought you could manipulate Pavel, play him like a puppet. But you were wrong.”

He reaches out and touches my cheek with a cold, smooth finger. His touch sends shivers down my spine, not from desire but from fear.

“I’m the one who pulls the strings, darling. I’m the one in control.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “And now,” he whispers, “you are here. In front of me. You will beg for your life. Suka. Who do you think you are to breach my firewall? Breaking my encryption? Do you think you can enter my kingdom and get away with it?”

“Let’s see how much you’re worth to Pavel,” he says. “My money is on him racing to come back to you. Like the little pathetic Romeo, he is.”

“Sad,” My head hangs low a bit, and the pressure in my skull increases. “I thought you to be some kind of king. But you look pathetic. I am just a little girl, and I made you nervous. You are afraid of me.”

He crouches in front of me. His fingers reach out, almost claw-like, to brush a strand of hair from my face. I recoil violently, heart pounding, a surge of adrenaline compelling me to pull away as if from a dangerous predator.

He laughs. “Still a fighter. You really do remind me of your brother.”

My blood runs cold.

“Go to hell,” I spit.

Dmitri's face does a subtle tango of emotions.“You are quite the beauty—I must say. Maybe I have a little fun with you after I am done with Pavel. That fucker knew that there is a bounty on your head and he kept you away from me. Why?”

I meet his gaze, forcing myself not to flinch at the nearness of him. “I see you are not that smart either.”

His smile fades. Just a flicker.

“You should be scared,” he says softly. “Because you’ve seen what I do to people who disappoint me. Like your brother.”

Fury boils violently at the mere mention of his name.

"Don't you dare speak about my brother, you dickhead." My voice is a rasp, and in defiance, I spew a mouthful of blood onto his polished shoe. He recoils, an ominous shadow reclaiming his face.

"You'll regret that," he growls with a sinister edge.

"No," I croak, a grim smile stretching through the agony. "It is you who will regret this."

“I am going to enjoy killing you.” He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him. “It’s a shame that such beauty will be robbed from the world.”

“I don’t care what you do to me. Do you think I am scared? Ha-ha! I am not. I thought you were smart. I was wrong. You are just an idiot. And by the way, idiot, I have already sent your secrets to the FBI and, most importantly, to your business partners. I know how you wash your money. I know the bank accounts, passwords, and where you transfer the businesses. Maybe you don’t care about the feds, but you do care about who you are in business with. Don’t you? I know you do, you motherfucker! So, kill me. But they are coming after you. Because they know. I sent them everything. The Italians know. Your rival and my former friend, Maksim, knows. Pavel will know soon, too. He is getting an email with details as we speak.”

“You are a fucking cunt,” Dmitri sneers, wiping at the bloodied splatter with a look of disgust. He stands to his full height and then steps back, holding a fearsome arrogance that makes my skin crawl. “Your boyfriend should be on his way,” he taunts, his tone shifting to a dark satisfaction. “And when he gets here, I will kill him in front of you first. Then I will have you. Then you will die, suka. Then we are even. Eye for an eye.”

He leaves me here on the floor, bound and broken. The floor beneath me swims in a pool of crimson, and I cling desperately to the slivers of consciousness that threaten to slip away. This motherfucker is not going to see me suffer.