Chapter 14

Mishka

Iwas standing at attention when the men entered the dining room. They looked around, then honed in on me. One of them titled his head, staring. I swallowed nervously.

The other men grunted and sat down. But the tall, well built one stared, then walked forward.

"What have we here?" He said in a suggestive drawn-out tone. I stepped backwards, my shoulders bumping into the wall. There was no where to go. He smiled suddenly, looking very sharklike.

Looking a lot like the way Anton looked at me sometimes, actually.

I felt Anton enter the room. The temperature changed. I was looking down, not daring to make eye contact with the stranger. The man was standing so close. Too close.

"Sergei," Anton drawled. "Can I help you with something?"

"Hmmm. Perhaps," he said. Then he laughed. "After dinner."

He turned around and shook hands with Anton. Then he took a seat directly across from me and continued staring.

"She's not on the menu," Anton said, sounding more than a little bit menacing.

"That's a shame," Sergei said. But he continued staring. "Everything is negotiable."

"Not everything. Move o."

Sergei nodded thoughtfully but he was still watching me, his finger stroking his chin.

The men started talking about business, sports, and current events. I served them drinks, and then dinner, careful not to get too close to any of them, particularly Sergei. His hands brushed the skin of my bare leg when I bent forward to bring him his entree. I nearly jumped, just barely managing not to drop the plate onto the crisp white tablecloth.

No one spoke. I practically ran back to the serving table. I was suddenly on the verge of tears, longing for escape. I found a reason to leave the room, just for a moment. We were low on wine! I curtsied blindly and hurried from the room. As I left, I heard Sergei ask who I was.

"She is a tribute. From one of our business arrangements."

It was true. I was here as payment. But hearing him say it that was like a knife to the gut. I knew I was a possession to be used. A bargain made with the devil himself to save my father. But these past weeks, I thought we had become something else. Maybe even friends.

Tears smeared my vision. I ran away, not towards the kitchens, but towards Anton's study, and the forgotten hallway where no one ever went.

I slid to my knees and hid behind a credenza holding a table lamp and a vase of fresh flowers. How they appeared daily throughout the house, I had no idea. There must be servants cleaning and arranging greenery well before I awoke.

Thankfully, there was no one nearby at the moment. I tried to calm myself but the tears kept coming. A damn had burst inside me, leaving no room for control. Eventually, after long minutes gulping air and trying to be quiet, the tears started to slow.

The soft thud of footsteps approached. I hastily brushed my tears away, hoping beyond hope that the footsteps would disappear. Head in the other direction. Simply leave me alone.

"You can come out, little Mishka. I sent the bad men away."

I nearly groaned. I was so embarrassed. Not only had he caught me crying, but I had abandoned my post. Barely ten minutes had passed since I left the dining room. I was just starting to regain control of myself. I was sure that my face was swollen and red from crying.

I pressed the backs of my hands into my cheeks.

"I am waiting."

I sighed and closed my eyes. Then I forced myself to stand. He walked towards me, until he was standing directly in front of me.

I heard him curse under his breath.

"He touched you."

I lifted my eyes, and then looked away.

"Where?"

I lifted my eyes to him again, shocked at his question.

"My… my leg."

"Where on your leg? Show me," he said in a tone that left no room for interpretation.

I simply stared. He cursed again and stepped closer, cupping my cheek.

"This is my fault. My responsibility. I am sorry, Mishka."

It was the last thing on earth I expected him to say.

"Do you understand me?" He was still holding my cheek, staring into my eyes. Then he smiled tenderly. "Blink if you understand me."

I let out a surprised laugh. I saw him instantly relax. We both did.

I blinked.

"Ah, Mishka. What am I going to do with you?"

He dropped his hand from my face before I could react, but only to take my hand in his. I'd felt a shock at his first touch. A spark. This time it was more like the steady heat of his fireplace when it warmed my bare legs late in the evening.

He led me to the door of his study, not bothering to hide it when he entered the code into the keypad. I looked away until I heard the lock turn with a satisfying click. He tugged me forward, leading me to the leather couch that spanned the center of the room.

"Sit," he ordered.

I sat.

And then he did something so strange that my heart seemed to stop in my chest. He knelt. My employer. My master. My owner. One of the most feared men in Russia, not to mention the world, knelt before me.

"You'll ruin your pants," I said breathlessly.

He smiled.

"I don't care."

He turned his attention to my leg, staring intently at my lower limbs as if he had never seen a woman's legs before. Anyone's legs, really.

"Show me."

My mouth dropped open. I knew what he was asking. But how could I show him that his guest had brushed his fingertips along my thigh?

He sighed. Then reached out to touch me. His touch was lighter than a feather, or a butterfly wing. But I could feel it.

I could feel it everywhere.

"Here?" He asked, giving me an inquiring look.

I shook my head, and his fingers slid down my calf. My heart started thudding in my chest.

"Here?"

Again, I shook my head as his fingers rose up the back of my leg to the side.

"Ah. Higher then?"

A pause. I nodded.

He held my gaze as his fingers traveled up towards my knee. He raised his eyebrows as they crept higher. I could feel my chest rising and falling in an exaggerated motion.

I felt lightheaded. Dizzy. Nervous.

Curious.

Most of all, I realized suddenly, I was curious. Curious what he would do next. Curious what he was thinking. Curious why he cared who had touched me, and where.

But I knew. In a flash of insight, I knew.

He wanted me. This whole thing was a ruse. A game.

He had brought me here for that reason. To entrap me. To use my soft feminine emotions to make me fall for him. To beg him to take me… to do all the forbidden things that happened between a man and a woman.

I was a pawn to be played with. He was doing more than playing with me. He was toying with me, like a Siberian panther at the Moscow Zoo might play with an unlucky mouse who wandered into its enclosure.

But somehow, I couldn't force myself to care.

His fingertips slid higher. My breath came faster. I dared not move. I was afraid he would continue. But more than that, I was afraid he would stop.

And I did not want him to stop.

He neared my mid-thigh, then made a little swirl. I nearly groaned at the pleasure of it. No one had ever touched me in this way.

His lips slid into a knowing smile. But his eyes were serious.

"Was it higher?"

I swallowed and said nothing. He nodded thoughtfully and looked down at my thigh. His fingers moved upward again.

"Here?"

I nodded.

"Inner or outer?" He asked, his hand sliding inward, then slowly out. Then it started to move up again.

Dangerously close to the hem of my uniform. Then beneath it. I nearly fainted.

I grabbed his wrist, our eyes locked, boring into each other's. He didn't move. Didn't look away.

"Mishka."

I released his wrist. He moved his hand. But not away from me. He grabbed my waist and hauled me to my feet. He pulled me all the way forward so that our bodies were pressed together. My head fell back to stare up at him.

A heartbeat. Another. My chest felt like it was vibrating from the force of it. The crazy thing was, I could feel that his chest vibrating, too.

His eyes were on my mouth. My eyes dropped to his supple lips, a split second before his mouth crashed down on mine. He groaned, nudging my lips apart and driving his tongue inside my mouth.

I froze, not knowing what to do. I had never been kissed at all, let alone like this. I'd been asked out before, by boys in school, and men at cafes or at the symphony. I had been approached, even pursued to a degree that made me nervous, despite my lack on encouragement.

But I had never gone through with any of it. I had never wanted to. Until now. Until this impossible moment.

Until this impossible man.

I did not stop the kiss. Could not stop the kiss. It was all encompassing, wild, and primal. It was romantic, sweet, and passionate. He angles his mouth over mine, arching my back, until I was nearly horizontal, my feet barely touching the floor.

Finally, he lifted his lips from mine and straightened us up. I held onto him for dear life, certain that I would collapse in a puddle if he released me. His hands came up to sooth me, rubbing his large, warm palms over my back and arms.

"Relax, little Mishka. I won't devour you. As much as I want to," he murmured into my ear.

I exhaled and looked down. I wanted him to kiss me again. But I knew that would lead someplace that I did not want to go. Would never want to go. Not with him.

Not with a monster.

I shook my head and stepped back.

"I can't…"

I turned to go but he grabbed my arm.

"Is there someone else?"

My eyes met his. I saw something unexpected there. He was afraid. I was stunned. This man who feared nothing and no one, feared me. Feared my answer to this question.

And then the flash of emotion was gone. He narrowed his eyes.

"Because if there is, I will kill him."

He wasn't joking. I knew he was not. My eyes grew wide. I had been tempted by his touch. By his gentleness.

But this brutality revolted me.

I tore my hand away and walked stiffly towards the door.

"I did not dismiss you, Mishka," his voice rang out coldly.

I stopped, then looked over my shoulder at him.

"I don't care."

And in that minute, I didn't.