When I hear the shower turn on, I smile wryly. If I’d known what a delightfully horny and obedient little captive she’d be, I’d have kidnapped Jenna months ago. Perhaps picked her up along with Karik.
Karik collapses at her door with a world-weary sigh. He knows that is my bedroom, and presumably thinks it’s highly unfair that he can’t go and snuggle on my bed with his new person.
I too would happily join her. But this isn’t a normal situation where a man abducts the woman he’s in love with and gives her orgasms until she agrees to stay voluntarily from sheer sexual exhaustion and complete satisfaction.
Nope.
I have two problems right now, in addition to the usual mafia chaos of Rotherhithe.
Problem one: find and kill that svolach who tried to hurt Jenna. Two: care for Jenna without scaring or claiming a girl with amnesia.
But damn, she makes it impossible to be a man as good as she deserves. She kissed me. Jenna made herself come for me. I felt her quake in my arms, and I’m supposed to act like that didn’t shake my soul?
The last twelve hours have been a volcano explosion. My desire for Jenna has been smouldering away, safely under the surface. Yes, I’ve been stalking her, but that’s been all smoke and rumblings. No damage done. No threat of destruction to all that she holds dear.
I’m a danger to her. If it wasn’t clear enough before, her losing her memory emphasises that she shouldn’t be in my violent world.
I swear then yank out my phone, striding up and down the hallway where I chased Jenna down and stole her kiss. I relive every step and moan in my mind as I receive an update from Arkadi.
Basically, there’s no progress. My men are working with anyone who has reached out since I called Westminster and asked. I okayed that last night, telling them to organise anything necessary.
I didn’t imagine that half a dozen London mafias would volunteer to help. Everyone from Fulham in the west, Croydon in the south, and Highbury in the North, have been in contact with offers to scour the sprawling city for the man.
I never dreamed of having other London mafia bosses on my side. That’s unhinged. But the Bratva territories occasionally work together, so when Artem, the kingpin of Mayfair, suggested it, I agreed.
And now there’s a bonus I didn’t expect: I can focus on resisting Jenna until it’s safe for her to leave.
Because however much I want it, she can’t stay here. Despite the erotic fantasies she posts about, Jenna is too young, sweet, and innocent for me and the life I lead.
She’s half my age, and that’s bad enough. But she has no memory.
It might never return, and while murder, torture, and illegal activities are fine in my mind, taking advantage of women isn’t.
The conclusion is obvious: I can’t touch her.
Jenna will be here, safe, until Howard is dealt with. And I cannot have her.
Nothing. I’ve already done too much, even if it was at her insistence. I shouldn’t have, but I don’t regret anything that happened. Not my stalking her, nor our chase and kiss.
It’s deranged, but as I check my emails on my phone, Karik at my feet finally behaving, I rub my thumb over the damp patch on my leg, bring it to my lips, and savour the tangy sweetness until it’s all gone.
After about half an hour, Jenna peeks around the door, pink and glowing from her shower. I’m ridiculously happy to see that she has put on one of the dresses I had my London housekeeper bring. It’s green cotton that matches her eyes and is loose over her body.
“Suits you.” I indicate the dress.
“I found it in the room,” she babbles. “I hope you don’t mind. Is it your daughter’s, or your girlfriend’s…?”
Oh fuck. She’s thinking of me like that? I don’t know what’s worse, that she imagines I could have anyone in my life and still do what we did earlier, or that she has recognised that I’m old enough to be her father.
Forty-three to her twenty-one years is the age gap between us. It makes my uncontrollable attraction to her taboo. Filthy. Forbidden.
“Not my daughter. I don’t have any children.” I fail to keep the wistful tone from that second denial. I’d love to have babies with Jenna. “Or a girlfriend. Or a wife.” These words sound exactly like what they are: a vain attempt to justify the indefensible. I’m in love with a woman young enough to be my child.
“Really?”
“I said I wouldn’t lie to you. I meant it.”
She nods seriously, but there’s relief in the way her mouth relaxes.
“Come on. Breakfast.” We walk through the house, and she takes it all in with shy glances to the side.
“You want a tour?” I suggest. “See the library?”
Her eyes widen and a ghost of a smile lightens her. “You have a library?”
“After you’ve eaten,” I promise.
In the kitchen we find—as I expected—breakfast awaits. It’s a bright room with French doors out onto the terrace and Jenna walks outside like a butterfly drawn to the fresh air. She gasps when she sees the long spread of rolling green semi-formal garden that leads amongst scattered trees to the woods that surround the house.
I follow, and smile when I see that there’s a table with a white cloth set with pastries, coffee, tea, and toast. I push the plate of baked goods then sit and pour drinks. Her brows pucker with confusion when she sees that I’ve made her tea exactly the way she likes it—with milk and sugar.
“How do you know…?” She meets my gaze.
“I notice these things about you,” I reply mildly.
She’s bathed in sunshine as she picks a croissant, smothers chocolate spread on it, and devours it with the same enthusiasm as I would eat her.
“I’ve messaged my roommate.” She licks the flakes of pastry from her fingers. “Told her who you are and sent her my location.”
I frown. “Not your parents?”
She looks at me from the corner of her eye as she takes a sip of tea, and doesn’t answer my question, more or less telling me all I need to know. I was already aware they were negligent. Now I can see they’re uncaring, too. My poor zayka. I wonder how to persuade her to let me take care of her?
“You’re not annoyed that I’ve revealed the location of your secret lair?” she says into her cup.
“No, that’s sensible. I’m glad that you’re taking precautions for your safety.” I don’t add, now, but she hears it all the same.
“I should go home.”
I shake my head. “Not until your memory has returned.”
There’s something comfortingly reasonable and caring about that. As though it isn’t just because I selfishly want her near me.
“I need to work,” she protests. “I can’t lose my job.”
“Your boss already knows about your absence. It’s fine.”
She narrows her eyes. “The vet clinic was bought out recently.”
“Mm. Was it?” I reply innocently.
“Rather quick. That wouldn’t have anything to do with my miraculously understanding boss, would it?”
“It’s convenient,” I acknowledge. Being the owner of the company she worked for wasn’t a major expense given how much money I have. It was the work of a moment to have that part of her life under my control.
“You won’t let me leave.”
“I want to look after you, Jenna.”
She straightens and pushes her tea away. “I’m your prisoner.”
“If you decide to think of it that way.” I shrug. “I don’t mind being the villain if that’s what you need.”
“Well, you did kidnap and stalk me,” she points out, tilting her chin up. “That’s villain behaviour.”
I can’t help a smirk. “Not according to those books you read.”
“Mmm.” Pink tinges her cheeks. She talks on her Instagram account about the dark romance books she reads, and we both know how the line between villain and hero is blurred in the stories she enjoys.
A tiny smile tugs at her lips, as though to say, “Being kidnapped isn’t so bad.” I reply with my own smile that replies, “Just wait and see how good it can be.”
“And you understand why I can’t let you go until you have your memory back,” I continue. I did some reading about the drugs she was given while she slept. It could be hours or days until memories return. Or maybe even longer. Plenty of time for my men to find Howard and deal out justice. “Any recollections of last night yet?”
“No.” She looks disconcerted for a moment, then her mouth twists wryly. “Only ones I’d rather forget. If I could have amnesia for my first date, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”
“Do I need to hide all the heavy objects so you can’t hurt yourself trying to lose more memory?” I tease.
“I thought you’d hide your big hammer, so I didn’t hit you with it.” Her eyes sparkle and I’m so glad to see it. That one bad experience hasn’t dimmed her.
“I’m trying to hide my big hammer so I don’t hit you with it,” I reply wryly, and as she giggles, my heart expands. My cock, thankfully, stays calm. Because though she’s cute as fuck, she’s sad about her first date being a disaster.
“You want a do-over?” The impulsive offer is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“What?” Her face just holds curiosity and a bit of confusion. She toys with her cup of tea.
“For your first date. You can have another first date.”
“I can?”
“Yes. With me.”
She gasps, and I can’t tell if it’s dismay, anticipation, or merely surprise.
“I…” Sitting back, she glances around the terrace and garden, biting her plush pink bottom lip as she thinks. “I think I’d like that,” she admits softly. “You wouldn’t mind?”
My hand has gone to my chest instinctively, as though the ache can be rubbed away. When I speak, my voice is hoarse. “It would be my honour.”
“A first date,” she clarifies. “Can we do it now?”
“No.”
Her expression drops with disappointment.
I know I said I wouldn’t touch her, but this is impossible to resist. I lean across the table and hook my finger under her chin, tilting it up and brushing my thumb over the bow of her pink lips.
“Anticipation is part of the enjoyment, zayka.” I stroke her cheek then release her, and I’m gratified by the way her pupils have blown. Perfect. “Would you like to see my library?”
