Page 14 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)

A Situation

Mia

The diamond necklace shimmered between my clammy fingers in the afternoon light. This was the something Kirill wanted me to wear to the charity gala coming up in a week.

He asked me out on a date. A date. There was no denying anything, and that knowledge was only amplified as I stared at the stones in my hand.

They were large. This wasn’t delicate, minimalist, or small; no, this was a damn statement piece.

Round, brilliant stones reflected the light, hypnotizing me.

Fuck, I was doomed. Not one man had ever gifted me anything of the sort.

The phone rang, and my throat tensed as if forbidding me from speaking. What was I going to tell him? Thank you? Thank you for the diamond necklace that looks like it was stolen from the Tower of London? Was the queen planning to wear this at her next royal event?

“Sunshine?” He picked up on the first ring.

He started calling me that, and I didn’t object. Like everything with him, I accepted his actions and words, unable to stop myself, falling into him, like falling into honey.

But that’s exactly what he was—honey. Sweet, delicious, soft, smooth, and sticky. I was stuck on him, like a butterfly that fell into a jar of honey. Once free and not committed to anything or anyone, my mind was now fixated on him.

“Kirill.” I cleared my throat, utterly lost for words. “This…this is a lot.”

“Do you like it?” His voice was deep, the satisfaction practically seeping through the phone.

I hesitated, my fingers playing with the weighty stones as I considered how to move forward with this conversation. "It’s– Kirill, it’s a diamond necklace that probably costs more than my apartment. Liking it isn’t the issue."

"I think it will look great with whatever you plan to wear."

“Bold of you to assume I was planning to wear anything.” I tried to joke but cringed at my own words. I couldn’t fucking stop myself.

“Oh? That’s perfect, wear just the necklace. That’s how I want to see it on you anyway.”

Oh, dear baby Jesus, he was way better at this game than me.

I brushed past his last words, ignoring the little tremble inside me.

“Kirill, you can’t just gift me something like this; it’s too much.

” But that’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him that I knew this was intimate. This meant something.

I was going to lose the battle soon. I was going to fold. My whole no-fuck zone lifestyle would burn into a pile of smoking ashes.

“It’s not too much at all. It will look beautiful on you. I want to enjoy you wearing it when you sit beside me on Saturday.”

This was– this was…I couldn’t do this. There was an ache between my legs from his voice and his words. I want to enjoy you.

“Kirill…” This was my last pathetic attempt to reject this, to assure myself that nothing was happening between us, that I would escape it all unscathed.

“Mia,” he said, mirroring my tone perfectly, making my stomach twist. “Let me tell you how this is going to go.” I stilled from his words, my jaw dropping from his command.

I liked it. Fuck , I liked it.

“You’re going to wear it to the gala.” His voice dipped lower, and the ache intensified. “You’re going to let me put it on you myself. And when I see it around your neck,” —he exhaled, slow, deliberate— “I’ll think about you wearing just that, for me.”

He would be my end, I was sure of it.

But instead, it was just the beginning. Our late-night texts morphed into late-night phone calls. His deep voice lulled me to sleep with sweet nothings, telling me stories about Russia, asking me questions about how I saw the world and what mattered to me.

“Tell me why you don’t believe in love, Sunshine.” It was late, it was dark, I was in my bed, about to see him at the gala the next day. I had seen him only once since the time he showed up at my apartment, and that meeting was strictly professional, both of us playing the role.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I believe in true love. A love that lifts you up. Changes you. Steers you in the right direction. Pulls you out of the dark…into the light.”

I let his words sink in. Out of the dark…into the light. The night before, he told me my soul was pure, light…and light always wins over darkness.

“Can I change my mind? I pick dare. Not the truth.”

There was a pause while he considered my question. “You can. But if you pick dare, Mia…you can’t back down,” he teased.

“I won’t. I’m a woman of my word.”

And that was a big mistake because the dare arrived a little before I was set to leave the house for the event.

My champagne pink dress worked seamlessly with my dark blonde hair, the thin straps gently settling over my shoulders. The thigh-high slit was just dangerous enough. The only thing that was missing was the diamond necklace, and as if on cue, a loud knock sounded on the door.

Oh shit, he wasn’t fucking joking; he was going to show up and put this damn necklace on me. I could do this; I could survive this night. I swung the door open, not sure what I was expecting to see—but not this perfection. Not this literal God .

Kirill wasn't real. Couldn’t be. He was the kind of beautiful that ruined lives.

The scent of his cologne, of him, hit me like a tidal wave.

His black suit was tailored with immaculate precision; a black bowtie around his long, kissable neck settled right beneath his Adam’s apple.

Those gorgeous brown locks carefully tousled back, and those green eyes hiding a hint of mischief as always. And that smile—just for me.

“You look beautiful, Mia.” His voice husky, he cleared his throat. “May I come in?” That question was rhetorical because he was already inside, doing whatever he wanted, and, like always, I let him.

We just stood there, and I wondered…maybe, maybe we could just not go? Maybe we could just get this over with, and I could fall into his arms, into his body and energy, and just fucking die.

But he side-stepped me and walked farther into my apartment, toward the dining table where the diamond necklace was waiting for him.

He came up behind me, his presence all-consuming, and we both turned to face the mirror. The ache between my legs returned, morphing into a desperate throb.

Carefully, gently, slowly, the large stones met my burning skin. His hands were steady and certain—always in control. He fastened the clasp and let the diamonds rest against my collarbone. Perfect—as if the necklace were custom-made for me.

“Breathtaking,” he leaned in and whispered, voice thick with ownership. His eyes were on mine in the mirror—relentless and dangerous. His fingers lingered at my nape, just beneath the clasp, the innocent action making me delirious. “And now you’ll wear my second gift.”

My blood rushed through all of me. “Second gift?”

He nodded and breathed me in. "Your dare."

I turned, our bodies mere inches away from each other. “Dare?” I blinked up at him, na?ve and in denial. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now.” He produced a small black box wrapped in a black silk ribbon from behind his back, looking like some occult artifact. Before I could pull on the ribbon, he added his last words, “I have the other part of it. I’ll wait downstairs for you. Yuri will drive us.”

And just like that, he stepped out of my apartment and shut the door with one last lascivious look at me. With my heart somewhere outside my chest, I dared to pull on the ribbon and open the box to see a handwritten note.

Be a hellcat tonight, little angel. Let me corrupt your innocent soul. Just a bit.

And underneath this sinister message was a small, black vibrator! My face burned like I was a witch, and this was Salem in the seventeenth century.

He said he had the other part of it—the fucking remote control.

This was a situation. This– this was it.

Kirill was boldly taking it all to the next level, no longer on the edge. There was still time for me to turn around, to run away, to reject this all. But there was no denying that the fire of resistance inside me was now only a tiny flame.

What’s the worst that could happen? I pondered as I stared at the little thing. I orgasm at the dinner table?

I took the plunge.

As if nothing just transpired between us, I joined him in his car, not revealing if I decided to play by his rules. Our conversation was light and carefree as Yuri weaved through the streets toward The Met.

We pulled up, and without warning, Kirill’s hand snaked into mine, intertwining our fingers. “Let’s go, Sunshine.” And with this man, I didn’t rip my hand out. This time, all I wanted was to hold on.

The whole room was illuminated in soft candle-light bouncing off the white and pastel colors of the venue. I was here as a representative of the brokerage, and it wasn’t a coincidence that we were all invited. But why the hell was Viv here!?

I made questioning eye contact with her from across the room, where she chatted up a tall man, her smile radiant and seductive.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Kirill left to say his hellos, looking back at me with a wink, and immediately, the little vibrator kicked into gear. I jerked forward, instinctively stretching out my hand, as if I could grab onto air for support. “Oh shit.” I squeaked out, the sensation melting through me.

As quickly as it started, the little toy stopped its torture, and I took a deep breath in. I could do this, I reassured myself, and put on my mask of professionalism.

Everyone was here, including Polina, of course.

Yes, there she was, her dress sparkling like tiny diamonds.

Her ginger hair and slender figure worked incredibly well with the silver color, and I hated how put together and impeccable she always looked.

With a glass of champagne in her manicured fingers, no smile, only a deadly expression on her face, she stood with another man, discussing something while he nodded and listened intently.

Who were these people, really? What kind of investors show up from Russia and integrate into New York’s high society, financing real estate projects and shaking hands with the rich and influential?

In fact, there was Kirill, shaking hands with the mayor’s son, an honest smile on his face, perfectly matching that man’s energy.

“Mia,” another voice brought me out of my head, and I turned to see my half-brother Jeremy leaning in for a kiss on the cheek.

He was a mildly controversial figure in my life.

He was loaded, well-connected and powerful, but always pretended he was just a regular run-of-the-mill bachelor.

“Look at us, huh? Seeing each other not at Christmas or Easter.” His joke accentuated our estranged relationship.

We only saw each other once or twice a year even though we worked in the same industry.

He was always sketchy, and I never wanted to associate with him too much.

“Shocking. We’ll finally have something to discuss at Christmas.” I matched his little laugh as he straightened out. “What happened to your hand?” I noticed that his right hand was fully bandaged.

“Fell off my bike at five in the morning, broke every single one of my fingers.” Without giving me anymore information, he gave me a quick nod and walked away, approaching an older man with gray hair.

I scanned the room and headed toward Viv, but the vibrator suddenly kicked into action once more, making me lose my walking rhythm.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my whole body going rigid. The sensation between my legs was stronger, more intense, and relentless. I clutched at the champagne flute, resisting the urge to fall to my knees.

Kirill was engaged in a conversation with two men, but he wasn’t speaking. He stood between them, his arms crossed and his finger at his lips, as if he was signaling me to keep quiet. And in his hand—held loosely between his fingers—was something small. Black. The other part.

Once he was sure that I noticed him, his thumb moved, and the intensity between my legs tripled, sending my eyes into the back of my head. Oh fuck. My skin heated, my vision blurred, and my fucking clit was on fire —he wasn’t playing.

“You okay?” Viv’s voice broke through my delirium, my body betraying me.

“No, fuck , I’m not okay, Viv, I’m in too fucking deep!

” I grabbed onto her arm, fighting both my laughter and the urge to fucking moan Kirill’s name out loud and collapse on the floor.

But he was suddenly right behind me, his large hand landing on the small of my back, and all the sensations between my legs subsided into nothing.

“Good evening, Vivian. Nice of you to come.”

“Thanks for the invite! My boss is very pleased to be here.”

“I’m going to steal Mia for a minute,” Kirill informed us both, and as if I was a simple cut-out of a human being, his hand was in mine, leading me away from Viv and pulling me closer to him.

“I bet you wish you picked the truth now, huh?” he taunted, but I was still coming down from the little ride he’d just served me.

“Fuck you. I can handle this.” My confidence was overflowing, but I had no conviction in me.

“Oh yeah?” He narrowed his eyes, speaking with amusement. “I like that you stand up to the challenge, Mia. Let’s see if you survive tonight.” With this, he abandoned me once more, the little waves of pleasure restarting between my legs with renewed energy.

No. No, I wouldn’t make it out of this alive.