Page 22 of Ruinous Need

LISETTE

VIKTOR’S STOIC GUARD gives up with a sigh that reminds me of Viktor and answers my question.

“Mr Zakharov didn’t want to be here.”

But it’s been days.

“Where is he?”

The guard falls silent, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. One of his tattoos matches Viktor’s. He seems tense. Like wherever Viktor is right now, he doesn’t approve.

This is the first time I’ve been allowed out. I don’t know where they’re taking me.

Outside the window, the city streets roll by, slick with rain. The guard refuses to play music. Daria sits beside me in the back seat, to make sure I don’t try to roll out, but escaping is far from my mind right now.

Everyone seems to be in a mournful mood. Like we’re all going to our fate.

I smooth my hands over the gauzy dress I chose from the pile of clothing. I pull the camel-colored coat tighter around my shoulders when I see the dark mansion that we’re heading into.

It looks like a fortress.

I see the symbols on the gate and I recognize them from one of Viktor’s tattoos. This must be the Pakhan’s house. The Bratva headquarters. As I make the realization, I notice how many heavily armed guards there are. This isn’t just a building, it’s an entire complex of people.

I walk in stunned silence through the elaborately-tiled foyer and I’m led down labyrinthine corridors until I find myself in what appears to be the Pakhan’s office.

My heart races, but I try to keep my expression neutral. He fixes me with the penetrating, icy stare that haunts my dreams. There’s nothing behind these eyes. They’re unchanging as they regard me. His hair is a dark blonde, swept back from his face in a sleek helmet.

“Lisette.”

The voice is chilling and familiar.

“Semyon Zakharov. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

He rises smoothly from his chair and kisses my cheek. Based on his appearance, I expect his skin to be ice cold. It’s not, but my face is burning hot in comparison as nerves ravage my insides.

“I thought we should meet to arrange our nuptials.”

I nod, my throat too choked up to speak.

“I’ve moved the date forward. We will wed next Saturday,” he tells me. So soon.

I thought I had more time with Viktor… I control that thought. Because it feels like this man can see inside my head.

“I’ve come back from Chicago specially.” He bares his teeth in something approximating a smile. “The unexpected threats to your safety make it all the more urgent that we get things wrapped up soon.”

I thought, after all this time, the Pakhan must feel some kind of passion towards me. Nothing suggests that. He talks about our marriage as coldly and impartially as though it’s another part of his business.

Part of me is relieved. This will not be a marriage where I’m trying to fend off the advances of a man I don’t want. It will be loveless. Chilling. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life at the side of this haughty man.

Would he melt if I got to know him? The way Viktor has? I don’t think so.

There’s something impenetrable about Semyon. As though I’m standing in front of an iceberg that is miles deep. The ice in his eyes keeps going and going right to his core.

He wanted this, I remember Viktor telling me. To lead this organization. To have the power and restrictions that went with it.

I think, in aiming for the top, he also cut off the parts of himself that were inconvenient. Like love.

In two weeks, this will be my life. No passion. No anger. No clashing with a man who’s always in my space. I’m sure we’ll sleep at separate ends of the house, barely interacting, except what he considers necessary to produce an heir.

A year ago that might have seemed like an ideal scenario for this marriage. Nothingness, at least, is better than repulsion.

But now that I’ve tasted closeness, that I’ve had something that makes me feel, it’s the nothingness that terrifies me. The emptiness that I would feel without Viktor.

“In the next room, you’ll be sized for a dress. And, ah yes, we need to find out your size for the wedding rings.”

Semyon is talking about the rings now, the stones that I’ll wear on my finger for the rest of my life. He looks at me as though expecting me to be impressed.

I couldn’t care less, I want to tell him.

He takes my hand in his to try on the sample rings and I feel numb. It’s hard to believe that I will be married to him within a week.

He doesn’t look at me again, just turns back to his work on his computer screen like I was never there.

The Pakhan is not my nightmare of a monstrous man who’ll hurt me and abuse me.

That’s not what has fear raising in goose bumps all along my arms. No, the terrifying realization is that I’m absolutely nothing to him. If I died, that man would not flinch. I’m surprised he even saw fit to assign me a guard.

I am utterly expendable. Replaceable. Disposable.

And I can’t understand what it is that’s made him so fixated on me, because it’s clearly not love or anything close to it.

As I turn to go, his eyes linger on my guard. Daria. She pointedly does not meet his gaze.

“What was that about?” I ask her when we get out of the room, linking arms with her.

I need something that doesn’t feel as cold and disconcerting as Semyon’s icy eyes.

Even though Daria is clinical, I like her. She’s the first woman I’ve been allowed to see since I was kidnapped and it’s a relief to have someone on my side who might actually gossip with me.

She sighs wearily and raises her finger to her temples. “An absolute mind-fuck.” She covers her mouth after she says it, like she hadn’t expected to let that slip.

On the car ride back to the apartment, she won’t tell me anything more, though I sense that she’s turning it over in her mind.

When I step out of the shower, which I needed to cleanse myself of the Pakhan’s ice gaze, Viktor is standing beside the bed where I tossed the gauzy dress.

I’m shaken by the reminder of my engagement, my head spinning when I think that I only have days before I say a vow that will tie me to the Pakhan.

Viktor, on the other hand, is filled with fury.

His face is dangerously still. His eyes are flat and blank like the calm before a storm. He runs his fingers over the fabric of the dress in a repeated motion.

“You wore this to see him.”

“Yes.” There’s no point denying it.

“I didn’t think you were coming back. I thought he’d taken you.” His voice is silky but I can feel the danger crackling underneath it.

He runs his tongue over the edge of his teeth and reaches for me, yanking the towel down to reveal my damp skin.

“Pretty little slut like you. Guess you can be useful to more than one of us.” He spits these crude words in my face.

Pain blooms deep inside my chest.

“Viktor,” I gasp. “You know it’s not like that.” His hands grip my waist like, despite what he thinks of me, he can’t bring himself to let me go. “You still believe that I wanted this? That I wanted the Pakhan?”

“You agreed when he offered you money. That’s what Semyon said.” Viktor’s brows are drawn together. “Even if you don’t love him, you still agreed.”

I want to scream at him for not understanding. For never even asking me how I ended up in this situation. But he’ll enjoy that.

I try to back away, but Viktor’s hands are firm on my waist. Trapping me between his legs. He’s always trapping me somewhere. I stare at him with cold, enraged eyes.

“He’s a monster, Viktor. I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

“We’re all monsters, in the Bratva.”

“You’re so blinded by your own self-hatred that you can’t see what he’s doing. What he’s made you into, sending you on this hunt for vengeance so you never pay attention to what he’s doing in your own home.”

“He didn’t make me into anything, Lisette. I made myself. This is who I am. Lower than him. A monster who no one wanted as leader. And it’s because of that, because I have no loyalty, that I can let myself do this to you.”

He drops his hand between my legs, exploring my wetness.

“Whatever you are to him, whatever plans you’ve made together, you want me. And that’s enough, even if you’re going to marry him.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

“But you do.” His tone drips with resentment. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever claim he has to you, I can still use you like this. And you’ll let me.”

He drops to his knees and kisses my clit, his tongue rough and relentless.

I hate that he’s right.

I’m engaged to Semyon. There is no way for me to get around that. There is no solution where I don’t end up on the altar… Not unless I want my family dead.

Duress or not, I’m engaged to Semyon. Not Viktor. And yet I don’t move to stop him. I don’t say no. My stomach flips. Maybe he is right.

I spread my legs wider as he ravages me with his tongue, his teeth, his lips, opening me up until my hands twine in his hair and the force of his passion pushes me against the wall.

“Little screamer,” Viktor rasps as he stands up, pushing me flat against the wall and covering my mouth with his.

Then, his face twists into something ugly.

“Did he make you scream?”

I refuse to reply, hot tears welling up in my eyes. His hand wraps around my throat and he speaks right against my ear.

“What did he offer you? To get you to marry him?”

My mouth falls open.

“You still believe…”

“Money? A life of wealth? Or did you really love him?”

“He didn’t…” I start to explain, but I don’t think Viktor’s really listening.

He forces my chin up so that I have to meet his eyes, as though he can find the answer there in the face of my silence. “I’m just curious, Lisette. After all, it wasn’t hard to get you in bed. I wonder if Semyon needed to offer you anything at all.”

He drops his hand between my legs. Even with his words, with the cruel edge to his voice, I’m soaked at his touch. I hate myself for it.

I shake my head. “I won’t tell you. Not if you’re going to treat me like this.”

He narrows his eyes at that, then leans close. His stubble brushes against me as he whispers: “But you like it when I treat you like this.”

He brings his hand over my clit, and I let out a moan that’s half arousal, half denial of the wetness he spreads along my slit.

“Even if you marry him, this needy little cunt will always be mine.”

I nod my head, my cheeks flaming and tears hot on my cheeks at the thought of having to marry someone else.

“Good girl. Whose cunt is it?”

“Yours. Viktor Zakharov’s.”

“That’s right. And even if you become his wife, you’ll always have been my whore first.”

He pulls me close to him and lifts me to the bed, each step across the room jolting his bulge against my clit until I burn with desire for him.

I straddle him and unbuckle his pants. He pushes me to my knees.

“Let’s put those tears in your eyes for a good reason.”

Viktor watches me carefully, his eyes hot on mine, as I spit and swirl my tongue around his head before I take his veiny cock into my mouth.

I’m tentative at first, trying to adjust my lips to his thickness and size.

“That’s cute, screamer, but I’m going to make you swallow it.” He wraps his hands loosely in my hair and pulls me onto his cock.

He taps my cheek where it bulges with his hardness. “You look so fucking pretty like this. All teary-eyed and full of my cock.”

He lets me go, and I try to do what he showed me.

“Deeper.”

“Again.”

“That’s it,” he hisses in a low voice when finally I take him deep enough to hit the back of my throat. I try to swallow him, but can’t help the spasm my throat gives as my gag reflex is triggered.

His hands tighten in my hair, and he holds me in place as he thrusts his hips into my mouth.

I can see every inch intensifying the pleasure on his face until his eyelids flutter shut.

“Fuck, screamer,” his voice is low and strained in a way I’ve never heard before. “You better be ready to swallow.”

I open my throat and do my best. As he slides out of my mouth, stroking my face, I lick a drop of cum from the edge of my lips.

“Such a good cocksucker.”

He pulls me to my feet with a hand in my hair and kisses me while he positions me between his legs.

“Already?” I say, shocked when I feel his hardness.

“Didn’t you know? I’m insatiable when it comes to my favorite whore.”

Then Viktor pulls me right onto his cock, knocking the air from my lungs as he slams into me in one long stroke.

In moments like these, I’ve stopped feeling ashamed, even as he calls me degrading names, even as he controls me as if I’m an object. Only his eyes reveal that he’s unwinding too, coming apart below me until he’s ravenous to sink inside me deep.

Viktor has a filthy mouth, and he fucks me like he’s claiming me. But I crave it.

I don’t think he knows how to act on anything other than instinct. He’s not slow. He’s not gentle. He rams himself into my pussy with unthinking need.

He wraps his hand around my throat until I choke out a promise that I’m his.

He calls me his whore, his slut, in a tender and soothing voice that makes me want him more.

I crave the moment when his eyes darken with lust and he becomes wholly possessive, letting go of that restraint. The moment when there are no boundaries between us.

When I scream out and pulse around him and he finishes inside me, burying his teeth in my shoulder. It’s not enough for him to fill me up, he wants to physically mark me too, leaving trails of hickeys and bite marks along my skin and the shadows of his powerful desire on my hips.

And afterwards, he kisses every place where he’s left a mark.