14. Kat

14

"Poor little Kat. Sounds like you could use my help right now," Nik says, his voice barely more than a whisper as his hand gently caresses the bare skin of my ass.

Panting, I don't move a muscle—I don't even blink.

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you played with me earlier," he says in a much louder tone, spanking me hard before dropping my now unrestrained legs and leaving the bed.

While I was distracted by his teasing, Nik unfastened the restraints around my ankles without my notice. Confused, I look around the bedroom, searching for him. He's standing across the room, looking smug as he smirks at me even as his erection tents his trousers.

One look at his face, and I understand everything.

He played me.

He spanked me until it drove me crazy with desire, all along planning to leave me wanting.

"Nikolai!" I yell, enraged. He laughs.

"You can't say I didn't warn you, Kat. Besides, it's been a long time coming, don't you think? I've never met anyone who needs to be spanked more than you. Some might even say you've been asking for it since the night we met."

"I'm going to make you pay for this," I mutter through gritted teeth.

"Can't wait. Bring it on. Do your worst. I can take it." The bastard has the nerve to wink at me.

In a fit of rage, I throw all the bed's pillows at him while grunting and screaming, too angry and sexually frustrated to form complete, coherent sentences. Nik chuckles, easily dodging the projectiles flying his way.

"Hey, you know what they say. If you can't take it, don't dish it out. Also, you really shouldn't start something you can't finish," he quips.

"You're going to regret this, Nik."

He pretends to consider my threat for a moment before shrugging one shoulder. "Nah. I don't think so, Kat."

I stomp to the bathroom, looking for something heavy I can use to cause some severe damage to him. Maybe a weapon I can use to maim him.

"I'll give you some personal space to, uh—how should I put this delicately? Alleviate yourself? Take care of business? Release the tension?—but come out and meet me in the kitchen when you're done making yourself come," he says over his shoulder.

There is a crystal pitcher on the marble sink. I hurl it in his direction without even glancing his way. A satisfying loud noise echoes through the chamber as the delicate object is smashed to pieces. His muffled, distant laugh reaches me through the closed door as he steps out into the hallway.

The sound of his footsteps grows faint as I stare at my reflection in the large mirror above the bathroom sink.

The woman in the mirror barely resembles the one I saw early this morning as I finished getting ready for my meeting with A.J. and Camilla, the stronzo's former secretary.

That woman was elegantly dressed and beautifully groomed. She looked like someone who had her shit together. Someone who was in control of herself and her life.

The reflection staring back at me looks like the complete opposite.

My clothing is in complete disarray. My silk slip skirt is twisted and wrinkled, and my button-down blouse is falling off my shoulders, revealing my bra straps.

I have no idea where my shoes ended up after my abduction or who removed them, for that matter. My purse is also MIA.

Most of my makeup has faded or is smeared all over my face. My hair is a mess, a far cry from the carefully combed style I strived for this morning. I look as if I've spent the entire day rolling around in bed with a delicious man, which I suppose is appropriate since that's precisely what has happened.

I assess the damage to my appearance for another second, taking a deep breath before working on fixing it. Then I turn the faucet on and wash my hands before splashing my face and neck with water.

There isn't much in the bathroom's vanity drawers. Certainly, nothing I can use to put myself together or maim Nik a little. I find a few scented soap bars, some tissue and nothing else. It figures. Typical bachelor pad.

Of course, it doesn't matter. Even if I found something I could use against him, it would be useless to me. Sure, technically, I could physically hurt him, maybe even render him powerless. But then what? There is nowhere I can go where Nikolai Stefanovich won't find me if he wants to. I can't run or hide from the man.

Besides, the Russian bratva's pakhan certainly has many bodyguards lurking around at all times. I doubt I'd get far before one of them caught me.

If my earlier encounter with Nikolai's henchmen is any indication of the kind of men I would have to deal with during my daring escape, then I will take my chances with the devil I know any day of the week and twice on Sunday. At least Nik is easy on the eyes. And I like how he touches me much, much better—even when he spanks me. If I'm being honest myself, especially when he does.

If I want to be free, my best bet is to try to give him what he wants as fast as I can. That's my only hope.

I still can't believe he spanked me—or that I let him. Even worse, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

The man kidnapped, drugged, and chained me to his bed so he could force me into working for him. But as soon as his hand slips under my skirt, I start positively purring for him in ten seconds flat.

Nikolai got me in such a state, so crazed for him, that I even stooped to begging him to touch me. Even when I wanted to resist him, to deny him, I was powerless to do so. It's obvious I can't resist my attraction to him. I'm completely unable to stop myself from giving in to him, to his magnetic pull over me.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I'm too weak to maintain any dignity or any sense of self-control when it comes to him. The overwhelming desire I feel for him takes over, and I forget all else.

If there were any hope of ever getting this maddening feeling under control, surely I'd have been able to do so earlier today when I learned his real, terrifying identity—after being abducted and practically violated by the man.

But none of it mattered once I felt his hands on me and the mouthwatering scent of his skin invaded me.

There might be no fighting or controlling this craving, which is not only unacceptable but also dangerous. I don't have the time or the energy to deal with this bullshit. A.J. needs me, and the stronzo and I have unfinished business.

Nik is a nuisance and a distraction I can't afford right now. The stakes are too high.

Truthfully, even if I had no other problems, I still wouldn't want Nikolai in my life. Sure, the man is fun as hell in bed, but he isn't worth the trouble. The very last thing I want or need is to become romantically involved with a freaking mafia boss. I've had enough interactions with the type to last me a lifetime.

Even if Nik's occupation had been something else entirely, he still wouldn't be someone I want in my life long-term. During the limited time we've spent together, he has repeatedly shown me how overbearing and controlling he can be. There's no doubt about it—with him, it's either his way or the highway. No questions allowed.

The mind-blowing sexual connection between us doesn't make up for his personal faults. I could never fall for a man as unbearably domineering as he is. Not now, not ever.

I learned a long time ago what happens when you let undeserving people have complete control and absolute power over you and your life. It's not a mistake I have let myself repeat since then—not in the last twenty years. I certainly don't plan on changing that now—or ever.

My best course of action is to treat this situation as just another job. I must avoid any distractions and focus on the task at hand. The sooner I give Nikolai what he needs from me, the sooner I will be rid of him.

I finish rearranging my clothes as best I can and tie my hair in a loose knot. When I walk out of this room and step further into the lion's den, I will look as professional as possible. With any luck, that should put Nik and me in the right frame of mind.