I try to focus on work for the rest of the day, but I don’t. I think about Lina.
Whenever it’s been about five seconds since I last thought of her, I imagine I catch the scent of her pussy and my balls tighten. She might be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. Fuck, she was so sweet and juicy and soft, like slices of peach.
The way she came for me the second time was so damn perfect. She gripped my fingers and all I could think of was how she’d feel as I filled her up with come. As I bred her, my little kisa.
My cock is so hard it’s basically a steel rod, a constant reminder that I am a bad man, lusting after my innocent captive who is half my age.
I can’t stop wanting her to be mine, and apparently, I can’t keep my distance. When the alarm on my bedroom went off, and I opened the security camera app only I have access to that covers the key parts of the house, I couldn’t believe it and saw her rubbing herself, like the little cat she is, on my bed. My heart might have ached for how she was obviously bored and lonely, but my body responded with baser instincts when she hitched up her dress.
The sight of her glistening pussy lips as she pleasured herself, clearly revelling in being in my bedroom, will be with me forever. Every part of that has shown me I’m powerless when it comes to Lina. I’m not certain “no” would even stop me if I let myself get carried away with how I really feel. I want her more than life. I thought I had my addiction to Lina under control, but it never was.
She’s my captive.
How can I let her go?
That’s part of my mind’s refusal to solve the problem of who came after Lina and me. If I track down who is responsible and make them die in the way they deserve for scaring my girl, I won’t have her with me anymore. But equally, I have to keep her at arm’s length. If she gets close, if I give in to what I most want and pound her into the mattress until she comes on my cock and is round with my child, she’ll be my prisoner forever.
“Boss?” Vlad pokes his head around my office door. “The spy teams have been dispatched for the evening.” He nods meaningfully and I get the hint. There won’t be any intel until the morning when they return. I should clock off, and allow the rest of my team to do the same. They’ve had a gruelling few days as I’ve worked them insanely hard.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “I’m just going to see if there’s something in these numbers…”
“Galina says to tell you dinner is ready.”
My head snaps up. “Already?”
“As you requested?” Fear streaks over Vlad’s face. “Did I tell her the wrong time? I’ll get—”
“No.” I check the clock on the computer screen, and he’s right. It’s time.
Excitement flares through me. I wonder what my kisa will have decided to wear? I instructed Galina to cook something delicious and let Lina know when and where to meet me.
“Galina says dinner is on the west terrace.”
Huh. Not the grand formal dining room or the kitchen where I sometimes grab breakfast. The air is warm and fragrant with herbs and pine as I step outside and come to an immediate stop.
A white fabric-draped structure sits in the centre of the stone paving, with a table for two set in the middle. String lights, lanterns, and candles are strewn around, casting a glow in the fading evening light. A bottle of champagne is on ice in a silver bucket.
That’s pretty enough. Romantic. But what takes my breath away is Lina. Wearing a shimmering turquoise silk dress, she’s standing at the stone balustrade, looking out over the darkening garden. Her hair is over her shoulders, and my god, how did I live without seeing her hair down? It’s remarkable. A wonder of the world, as sleek and shiny as a panther’s fur.
If I thought she was entrancing in that simple white shirt she wore at work, this curve-clinging piece of temptation is enough to turn me into a beast. I simultaneously want to hide her away so no one will ever see her, and show her off for the perfection she is.
Either way, the feral creature under my ribcage demands that she is mine. Well, for tonight at least, I can pretend.
I saunter with deliberate steps to the champagne, pop the cork and fill two flutes, then approach Lina. Standing beside her, I offer the glass.
She accepts it, our fingers brushing and my heart skips as though I’m a boy of twenty rather than a man of twice that.
“Who did this?” Because my house is many things, but whimsically romantic is not one.
“You don’t like it?” she asks, her eyebrows pinching together, taking a sip of champagne.
“I like it.” If it’s what she likes, yeah. I like it.
She wobbles her head. “Galina helped. Found the things I asked for.”
“Good.” I want her to treat this place as her own. For her to be queen of this domain. We’re both staring into the waving flowers in deep shades of purple and blue.
“And I got a couple of your men to put the pergola up. Kirill, I think?” she adds.
That wild animal at my centre growls, low and jealous. “If you need help, you ask me, in future.” When she opens her mouth as though to argue, I silence her with a look. “You ask me. Whether it’s a pergola or you need to come, no man helps you but me. You understand?”
She rolls her eyes. “You paid for it. And it was for you.”
For me.
That phrase expands in my chest, a soft-point bullet that takes out the envy I felt just a moment ago. She did all this to have dinner with me. Sure, maybe she wanted to rile me by spending money—as if that were possible—but the result? She’s made a perfect summer evening, with all the pretty, romantic nonsense that anyone could want.
Apparently, I’m not immune to it.
“Okay,” I mutter. I probably should ban her from telling my men what to do, but they all know better than to touch what’s mine, so I guess there’s no harm.
A subtle cough comes from behind us, and we turn to see Galina disappearing into the house with a smile over her shoulder. I shake my head.
“I think we’re being told to eat while it’s hot, kisa.”
She smiles wryly. “Galina had very fixed ideas about what food was to be served.”
Touching the small of her back, I guide her to the dining table and pull out her chair for her, all formal, like this is a date and I haven’t kidnapped her and licked her out shamelessly in my bed.
“I think this is beef stroganoff,” she says, examining one of the dozen dishes. “But what’s this?” She points at the borscht.
“Better try it and find out.” I ladle the rich beetroot soup into her bowl.
Cautiously, she dips her spoon in and brings it to her lips. There’s a moment of hesitation, then she nods. “It’s delicious.”
“Try it with the garlic bread.” And then all the tension is gone. We’re chatting like old friends as I tell her about all my favourite Russian dishes. It’s the same as when we used to talk early in the morning. Relaxed, happy.
And after coffee, when before we’d separate and maintain appropriate distance, she asks about the garden. I offer to show her, and in the deep shadows I slip my arm around her shoulders and pull her in to tuck her into me. She fits perfectly.
How am I going to ask her to stay forever, when she’s so young, innocent, and sweet?
“Artem, who do you think was shooting at us?”
“Ah, Lina.” I stop next to a water lily-covered pool. “It’s too beautiful a night to talk about that, isn’t it?”
She shakes her head slowly. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know,” I admit with a sigh. Four days and I’m no closer to being certain who is after me. And more importantly, how to keep Lina safe.
“You must have some idea.”
Those words are like nails into my heart. When I find out who is the threat, and dispose of them, I’ll let her go. That’s the undertone here.
“The obvious culprit is Benedict Crosse, kingpin of Westminster.”
“I’ve heard of him.” She tilts her head. “But why?”
“He knew I liked to come to your coffee shop.”
I shrug. The truth is, Crosse suspects my weakness for Lina and has exploited it before. When Victor kidnapped Crosse’s son, I had the choice of saving my elder brother or Lina.
I shot Victor in cold blood.
Sure, I said it was because I was done with the revolting lines of business my brother favoured. That’s true. But the reason I acted then, rather than on the slower timescale I had been pursuing, was for Lina.
Then by kidnapping her, I’ve revealed the extent of my obsession.
“You don’t think it was him though, do you?” she says, eyes narrowed.
“No.” Crosse has become almost a friend since that incident, and has started a syndicate to try to prevent the sort of incidents that led to the kidnapping of his now wife and his son. “I’m in the process of investigating Crosse, but I don’t think this was him.”
She presses her lips together thoughtfully. “So, who else could it be?”
One hand clenched at my side, the other resting on her shoulder, holding her to me. If only it were so easy to keep her from shying away when she knows the truth. “I took over from my brother two months ago. He made a lot of enemies.”
“How?”
My throat seizes up. I would have rather not have had to tell this sweet girl exactly how evil the mafia I run is. Or, more accurately, was. Badly enough that for a whole year I held back from doing anything but chatting with her every morning. My caffeine fix, yes, but she was my light too. A candle in a dark, cold cave.
A little touch of her hand to my cheek makes my heart skip a beat.
“It’s okay. Tell me.”
“Victor did terrible things.” This part is difficult. “Some of which I helped him do. And while he’s dead now, my enemies haven’t forgotten. They’re still out for blood. Revenge. Some even see the change of leadership and business activities at the Mayfair Bratva as weakness. They think I’m not as strong as Victor was.”
The moonlight highlights her face in silver, a fairy-tale creature in my arms. I know she’s a dream I’m spinning myself, but I can’t help but want more.
“Is that true?”
This girl has a way of seeing right into my fears. “I’m not as brutal as he was. I don’t do the things he did.”
“That makes you stronger. Cleverer.” She moves closer. “If you can still be a mafia boss and hold onto being human too, that means you can hold onto power with respect and justice rather than fear.”
“I hope so.” She doesn’t sound disgusted, so maybe… But I run through the events of that morning again in my head, as I have a hundred times already. And suddenly I’m stuck not on why someone tried to murder me, but why she was there at the door, vulnerable.
“What were you going to say, kisa? Before whoever it was shot at us.”
“Yeah…” She shifts and looks away into the darkness. “Just that I’m leaving London to go to university.”
“What? Why do you want classes?” That’s ridiculous. She can’t not be in London. I won’t allow it. It has become painfully clear that I need her.
She rolls her eyes. “To try to improve my writing.”
“Who says there’s something wrong with your books?” I snarl. “Give me their names.” I’ll kill them all. Every one of them. Anybody who one-starred her book, I’ll tear them limb from limb. People who make my kisa unhappy are on my shit list, and I don’t give a fuck if I’m overreacting.
She laughs, but it’s a little sad, and my heart thuds as she puts her hand on my arm. It’s tensed, I notice. “No, don’t do that. They’re entitled to their opinions—”
“Wrong opinions—”
“And besides, they’re kind of right.”
“No.”
“They are,” she insists. “My sex scenes suck. They aren’t sexy. I don’t feel comfortable writing them, and the result is… Tame. It’s fine for some of my readers, but it’s not spicy and I want to do better. That’s why I want to do the creative writing course.”
“You think that’ll help?” I reply, more than a little sceptical. Education is a good thing, but that doesn’t sound like the best way to learn to write sex. Clearly she has amazing fans—apart from the haters who I suppose I can allow to live if she really wants me to be merciful. So why does she need a professor to tell her how to do what she’s already doing?
She shrugs bashfully. “I was also hoping to get some, um…”
Oh no. That’s not it.
“Experience,” I finish for her.
“Yeah. I want to lose my virginity. I’ve never done anything with a boy. Man. Beyond some very uninspiring kisses. I can do virgin scenes alright, but blow jobs? Forget it. I’m clueless.”
That hits me like I’ve been knocked over the head with a mallet. There are little tweeting bluebirds and stars and everything.
She’s never been with a man. The possessive and territorial monster inside me roars with satisfaction and insists she’s mine. She didn’t realise it, but she was saving herself for me. To have her first orgasm around a cock on my cock.
“I thought if I go to university I could get hands-on experience,” she continues, twisting her fingers together. “Well. Mouth-on experience.”
No. No way.
“It’s too dangerous for you to leave.”
She nods and glances up at me speculatively. “Do you think I could still get to my course? I’ve only lost a few days.”
“I made you come,” I point out, struggling not to growl. I ignore the bit about sex. I can’t offer her that without her being mine forever. “What more do you need? What do you want to experience?”
“I want to give a blow job. To return the favour.” She looks at me from beneath her dark lashes, hair falling over her cheek. “I want to make you come. With my mouth.”
Tentatively, she reaches for my cock. Her little hand barely covers half my length, and I’m suddenly aware of our size difference. I would break her.
Or she’d stretch, take me. Give herself to me and let me in. I’d come right up by the entrance to her womb. Breed her.
Hell.
This girl is going to kill me.
She strokes up and my cock twitches. I grab her wrist before she can go any further. Before I lose control completely.
“Please.” Boosting onto tiptoes, my fearless kitten, she tips her chin up, tempting me to kiss her. “I want to pleasure you. I know you’d be the perfect tutor.”
I’m incapable of denying her.
“I’ll teach you, kisa. I’ll direct you in how to pleasure a man with your mouth, if you’ll give me one thing in return.”
“What?”
Your love.
That isn’t going to happen. I’m a scarred, tattooed mafia boss and she’s an innocent angel. She used to work in a coffee shop as a sweet little barista; she’s good with people in a way I’m not.
I think of the London Mafia Syndicate meeting I’ve called tomorrow night. A whole evening apart, a night lost when I’ve only just had the chance to be with her for more than ten minutes. Crosse is sure we’ll figure out who is behind the attack, then it will be a few murders, and I’ll have to let Lina go. My little kitten will go to university, lose her virginity to some other man who deserves her, write her books and be happy. Without me.
My heart can’t take it.
I need something. I can’t take her virginity; I’d never be able to allow her to walk away if I did. All I can have is her company.
“One evening as my fiancée.”
