13. Nik

13

I'm glad I have won our battle of wills, but I know the war between us is far from over.

Kat agreed to my demands, but it was far too easy. If I had to guess, I'd say she probably realized I have defeated her for the moment and decided to save her energy for a later fight—one she can win. I have a feeling we will have many, many more battles in the foreseeable future.

Even though I hold her life in my hands, there's no doubt in my mind she will challenge me every step of the way. A strange mix of exhaustion and excitement courses through me just thinking about it. I'm both dreading and looking forward to forcing her into submission over and over again.

Kat is a complication—an unavoidable one since I need her help with my plans for Maxim's murderer. Nonetheless, the woman and the uncontrollable emotional outbursts she provokes in me are an extra problem I must handle.

If only I could ignore the powerful, almost gravitational pull I feel towards her. After all, we are stuck together—for better or for worse.

As far as my plans are concerned, it's most definitely for the worse. There are important, life-and-death matters that demand my full attention. The future of the bratva is up in the air as long as the threat of war with a rival group looms ahead. I need my usual laser-focused single-mindedness more than ever.

Instead, even now when this need is fresh on my mind, I find myself standing before her, absorbed by senseless, foolish musings about the most meaningless concerns, such as whether she would still welcome my touch. Or if she's been thinking of me as much as I've been thinking of her since the night we first met.

I know so little about her, but this attraction is hard to resist. The mere sight of her mesmerizing eyes—or the echoes of her sensual voice—is enough to affect me, viscerally bombarding me with memories of that maddening scent of hers, her mouthwatering taste I can still savor in my mouth, and the soft feel of her lips against mine.

On the bright side, at least I'm no longer underestimating the woman and her power over me. Only by being fully aware of it will I be able to prepare myself. If I accept that this temptation will only grow as we work together, then maybe I can try to steel myself against it.

It's not like I have any other options. I didn't miss how secretive she was when I questioned her about her involvement in the Flame of Mir's theft. Kat didn't even bother hiding how unwilling she was to divulge anything that could be of value to me.

I caught the little thief red-handed. She seemed to have an appropriate amount of fear upon learning who I am and what I do for a living. One would think the woman would be eager to share anything that might make her look less guilty, or do anything to earn my favor. Instead, Kat has told me nothing.

Sure, she denied being involved in Maxim's murder. But it's not like I expected her to admit to it in the first place.

I can't ignore all these red flags. By all accounts, Kat is an extremely smart woman with a healthy sense of self-preservation. Surely, if she feels the need to keep the truth from me, it must be even worse than what I already know about her and her participation in this mess.

It would be reckless to trust her at this point. I can't afford the risk. There's too much I don't know, too much she won't tell me. Years of experience indicate that can only mean one thing—Kat must be kept at arm's length.

I learned a long time ago not to give my trust to people who don't deserve it. I know what happens when you let yourself care about those who only care about themselves They destroy you. They make you weak.

It's a lesson I learned thirty years ago. One I will never forget. It was, after all, the only one my parents bothered to teach me.

Now more than ever, I can't be vulnerable. I have to keep my guard up with her.

"Very well, Nikolai. You got yourself a deal. I accept your terms," she says, squaring her shoulders.

"Good girl. You're making the right call, Kat. Since we're on the same team now, let me get you out of these cuffs. They're probably chaffing you by now."

I pull the keys to the restraints out of my pocket and approach her. Kneeling next to the bed, I work on releasing her from the leather straps as efficiently and dispassionately as I can manage.

My fingertips graze the impossibly soft skin on the inside of her wrists as I unlatch the cuffs. I fully intend to pretend that nothing happened until she inhales sharply.

I glance at her face, my fingers stilling where they rest on her arms.

Her eyes lock with mine, and I'm lost in their deep blue beauty, just like the first time I gazed into them.

I half expect Kat to glance away, breaking our unspoken connection. But she surprises me by inching closer to me. It's a slight, almost imperceptible movement, but I'm so hyper-focused on her that it's impossible for me to miss it. My senses are completely attuned to her—her sounds, her scent, the softness of her skin, the sight of her—desperately trying to make up for all the time lost since the moment we parted.

I should resist her pull. It's a bad idea to give in to this temptation and let this irresistible attraction defeat me. But I can't help it. I can't stop myself from wrapping my hands around her and bringing her even closer. The need to taste her is too overwhelming.

She will probably pull away from me. After all, I had her abducted and restrained against her wishes. Even now, I am bending her to my will. I'm likely her least favorite person in the world right now.

Yet again, she doesn't resist me. Her eyes widen as I inch closer to her, but her only other reaction is a small sigh when we are close enough that I can feel the heat of her body against mine.

She shouldn't want my touch, just like I shouldn't want to touch her. Still, like a couple of moths drawn to a flame, we can't seem to resist this need to be closer and closer to each other, inch by inch.

If she isn't pulling away from me, then she must want me as badly as I want her—even after everything I have put her through today. This realization only makes it harder to resist the urge to be inside her again.

I lean a little closer to her, our gazes still linked. Kat's erratic breaths hit my lips, making me even hungrier to taste her again, to feel her tongue tangle with mine once more.

I'm careful not to make any sudden moves. I don't want to spook her or dispel the magic feeling of this moment. Kat closes her eyes, and I choose to take it as a sign to end the distance between us. But just as I'm about to do so, her hand pushes my chest, stopping me.

The haze dissipates, and over the thundering beats of my heart, Kat clears her throat.

"Nik," she says, but I don't even need her to finish her sentence. I know where this is going, and, for once, I'm happy she had the presence of mind to stop me before things went any further. It shames me, but there's no point in pretending otherwise—I wouldn't have been strong enough to stop my emotions from taking control if she hadn't.

I move away from her to sit on the edge of the bed, my back to her, needing a moment to clear my head.

"Nik, we agreed it would be best to keep things professional between us."

"I know."

"I just think it's important that we keep that in mind. This situation is already complicated, and hot, passionate sex has a way of complicating things even further."

"I know, Kat," I say, harsher than I intended. But I can't have her going on and on about hot, passionate sex at this moment. My self-control is almost nonexistent as it is, and I must stop her before she says something that will push me over the edge.

"Well, excuse me for pointing out the obvious, but it didn't seem like you were keeping that in mind a moment ago. You know, when you were staring at my mouth and leaning over me as I lay here, chained to your freaking bed."

"First of all, this isn't my bed. It's a bed I own, yes, but it isn't really my bed?—"

She interrupts me. "Are you seriously going to argue semantics with me right now?"

"Second of all," I say as if she hasn't uttered a word, "if you don't want me coming on to you, how about you stop leading me on?"

"Leading you on?" she says, sputtering. "I did no such thing. I'll have you know I would never. Ever. And I didn't. And I won't—ever."

"You were making eyes at me, scooting closer to me, and sighing while longingly gazing at my mouth."

"You have a very vivid imagination, Nik. Not very gangster of you, I'll say."

I shoot her a pointed look, debating showing her how gangster I feel right now.

Ultimately, I decide against it. It would be unwise to do so. I need to be on her good side—so she will help me nail the bastard who killed Maxim. Not because I want her to like me and ask me to fuck her.

"This argument is pointless," I say, instead. "How about this? I'll make you a promise. If you can keep your hands to yourself, I'll do the same." Inwardly, I hope this is a promise I can actually keep.

"Deal," she says, too quickly for my liking.

"Great."

"It won't be a problem."

"Glad to hear it."

"Wonderful. How about you freaking unchain me now? I'd like to go home." Kat regally crosses her arms while staring me down.

It's an impressive feat, considering that, standing next to the bed she is lying on, I tower over her.

I sigh. "First of all, stop being so dramatic. You're not chained to anything. You're making it sound like this is a fucking medieval dungeon. You're restrained by very soft cuffs in a very safe, very comfortable penthouse."

Kat scoffs. "Excuse me if I'm not particularly pleased with the luxurious cage I'm locked in."

"Also, I'll release you so you can move around freely, but you're not leaving this place."

"What?"

"As long as we are in business together, you'll be staying here with me."

She stares at me, seemingly at a loss for words. I expect her to scream at me in outrage, but, to my surprise, after blinking a few times, she speaks to me in a calm, measured tone. "You're delusional."

"Hardly. You, on the other hand, might very well be. You seem to have forgotten the delicate situation you are in and why you're even here. Maybe you're the one struggling to keep things professional. We may have fucked, Kat, but this is strictly business now. Please tell me you don't expect me to go easy on you because of our history."

The look Kat gives me tells me she believes it is beneath her to even acknowledge my accusation. "You may have leverage over me, Nikolai, but you don't own me."

"I thought you said you didn't want to argue semantics, Kat," I say, throwing her words from earlier back at her.

If looks could kill, I would be dead right now. Unfortunately for the little thief, I will live to fight her another day. Regardless, I know I've made my point; more importantly, so does she.

I'm not stupid enough to think I actually own her, of course. That would be a fatal mistake—one I'm sure she would make me pay for dearly. But I have enough leverage over her to get away with making certain demands—at least as of right now.

"I've agreed to work with you, Nikolai. You have enough dirt on me to enforce it, and the means to chase me through the gates of hell if I'm dumb enough to go AWOL on you. Why the hell do you need me to stay in your home?"

Because I don't trust her. If I let Kat out of my sight, she might very well plot a way to escape me. I can't have her going back on her word to help me. I need to keep my eyes on her to make sure she isn't up to any shenanigans in my absence.

"Small correction, Kat: you work for me. So you will live under my roof while our arrangement is in place. I need to know where to find you when I need you. I don't have time to waste tracking you down."

"Uh, hello? Have you heard of cell phones? Or email?"

"Why bother with any of that when I can just have you right where I want you?"

"And where is that?"

"Under my thumb, of course." I wink, unable to resist provoking her further.

As I've learned today, Kat looks especially hot when mad. Unsurprisingly, of course. The woman can't do anything without driving me crazy with lust.

I study her as her temper flares up, deciding to cut her off before she explodes on me. I don't know if I can stop myself from kissing her senseless if she goes off on me again.

"Besides, the two of us living under the same roof will work well with your cover."

My statement triggers her curiosity, as I suspected it would.

"What do you mean by that? My cover? What cover?" she asks.

I smile in response. "All in due time, Kat. I'll explain everything you need to know tomorrow. You had a long, trying day. Let's get you out of these cuffs and put some food in your stomach."

"You're kidding me, right? Nikolai, you can't just tell me that and expect me to drop it. You can't just say I'll be virtually your prisoner for God knows how long and tell me it will all make sense eventually."

"I had no idea you had such a flair for the dramatic, Kat. You won't be my prisoner. You'll work for me. And as your boss, I get to make certain demands of you. I am, after all, compensating you very generously."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, Kat, it is. For starters, I'm sparing your and your friend's lives. I'd say that ordering you to live in my home is not too much to ask in exchange for that. You might even enjoy yourself. It's a pretty nice place if I do say so myself. And it's not like you are locked in here. Naturally, you can come and go as you wish. With an escort, of course. And as long as there's no conflict with my plans for you for the day, obviously."

"How generous of you, Nik," she says, sarcasm dripping from her every word.

"I'm glad you think so. Now, what do you say we finally get you out of these restraints and get you something to eat so you can get some rest? You have a big day tomorrow."

Wordlessly, she holds out her cuffed arms in my direction.

My smile grows bigger. "That's a good girl," I say, moving towards her to remove the leather straps around her wrists. Careful not to touch her more than necessary, I quickly unlock the cuffs, and the pieces fall to the bed.

Kat makes a scene out of stretching her arms and rubbing her wrists. I glance at the skin there and see no wounds. The area looks a little red, but she is milking it as much as possible.

I ignore her little show, moving on to her ankles. I grab one of them and yank her in my direction. Kat yelps as I drag her over the bed until she is close enough for me to work on the restraints' locks.

I kneel on the bed between her legs, and she gasps loudly.

"Everything okay there, Kat?" I ask, feigning innocence.

She narrows her eyes at me before trying to kick me with her right leg. Dodging her strike, I grab her leg before her foot connects with my face. Eyes locked with hers, I slide my hand down her thigh, past her knee, as she disapprovingly watches me.

Still maintaining eye contact, I wrap my hand around her ankle. Without warning, I yank it until her foot leans against my chest and her ass rests against my thighs.

Kat opens her mouth—surely to protest—but she seems to think better of it. After a second, she bites her bottom lip, our eyes still linked.

Hesitantly, Kat raises her arms, grazing her lips with her fingertips. She slides her foot down from my shoulder—down my chest, my stomach—until she reaches my cock, already straining against the fabric of my pants. A frustrated groan escapes me before I can stop it.

Transfixed, I stare at her hands as Kat slowly drags them down her body, caressing it along the way—past her neck, over her breasts, her stomach—before she cups herself between her legs, spreading them wide.

Crazed with lust, I sigh as a hazy, familiar feeling builds inside me. Just when I feel like it's about to take over me, she moans.

"Ah, Nik…"

My gaze searches her face, and there is an unmistakable teasing glint in her eyes.

Kat's toying with me.

A noise strangely similar to a growl echoes in the cavernous bedroom, and I realize after a moment that it came from me.

Grabbing her leg again, I flip her over before she can react. Kat ends up face down on the bed, her ass within my reach. Swiftly, I smack it.

She freezes in place for a moment. Then, she lets me have it.

"You son of a bitch! How dare you!" Kat screams at the top of her lungs.

Without hesitation, I raise my hand and spank her again. Harder this time.

"Nikolai!" she yells. "I'm going to kill you for this, I swear."

Every time she protests, I slap her ass. Over and over again, without uttering a word. Too soon, her cursing and screaming come to a stop.

After a while, over the sound of my blood rushing through my veins and the thundering beats of my heart, I realize she's panting.

I pause for a moment, wanting to make her wait for it. I reach under her skirt, smoothing my hand over the soft skin of her hips.

She hisses in a breath at the same time I groan.

I drag my fingers over the curve of her behind until the palm of my hand rests against the bottom of her underwear. It takes all I have to stop myself from ripping the fabric to shreds once I feel how wet it is.

"Ah, Kat… you're a bad girl. You're so wet for me, milaya." I raise my hand again, slapping her almost bare ass—hard. Kat moans, spreading her legs further apart.

"Nik, please…"

"Which one is it, Kat? ‘Nik, please stop' or ‘Nik, please, don't stop'?"

"More. Don't stop, please, Nik," she says, panting. It's the stuff of my—wet—dreams, and not fucking her right now might be the hardest thing—no pun intended—I've ever done.

"Right. That's what I thought, Kat."

I caress her gorgeous, bouncy ass for long moments, before dragging my right hand up her leg all the way to the cuffs around her ankle. My other hand squeezes the plump flesh of her behind once more before my fingers slightly lift her underwear, tracing its edges.

"Yes, Nik. Yes. Please…"

I continue to tease her.

"Nik, please. Touch me…"

"I am, Kat. I am."

She is growing impatient, and I laugh under my breath. "If there is somewhere specific you have in mind, Kat, all you gotta do is ask…"