Page 59 of Stolen Empire

The documents are spread across my desk when Katya enters.

Ledgers, payment records, debt slips.

All of them, of course, have been forged and convincingly enough to fool even me.

I've spent the past two days building her paper trail, creating a history that will hold up under scrutiny, all in the interest of keeping her safe.

"Sit," I tell her without looking up.

My eyes pore over the documents for a few more moments.

I always want my assets to be safe when I send them in for a job, but I find that assuring Katya's safety is weighing on me more heavily than most times.

It's like she crawled right under my skin and made it impossible to take a risk with her life that I'd otherwise not bat an eye at with one of my men.

That’s how I know she's fucking with my mind.

That and the way my cock gets hard every time I think of that mental picture of draping her over my knee to spank her like the good girl she is.

She settles into the chair across from me while I finish marking the final entry in the ledger, then slide it toward her.

"This is your debt record," I say.

"Three separate loans. One from a bookie named Timur who operates out of a bar in Khamovniki. One from a card dealer in Arbat. One from me."

I tap the desk and sit back, confident that my plan will work.

She picks up the ledger, scanning the numbers.

"These are real?"

"Real enough."

I lean back in my chair farther, stretching my neck.

"Timur is a contact of mine. He'll confirm the debt if anyone asks. The card dealer's dead now, so his records can't be verified. But the debt to me is common knowledge among my crew. No one will doubt it."

She sets the ledger down.

"How much do I supposedly owe?"

One eyebrow rises on her perfect face, and I see the snark simmering beneath the surface.

She's enjoying this too much, but then so am I.

Maybe it's one reason I want to spank her so badly.

"Enough to be desperate. Not enough to be worthless."

I tap the page this time.

"Forty million rubles total—with interest compounding weekly. If someone from the Radich crew asks, you tell them you can't pay it back. You tell them I've threatened to break your hands if you miss another payment."

"So the point is to get them to offer to pay it…"

Her face screws up into a dark scowl and she asks, "So, if they do?"

"You refuse, at first." I stand, moving around the desk.