Chapter Two

Jasha

O nce they were inside the elevator, Mr. Bronson took the suitcase from Jasha and carried it when they exited outside. Daisy meowed a few times, then fell back to sleep.

“Suck this,” Mr. Bronson ordered, as he handed him a cherry-flavored lollipop, its vibrant red color catching his eye. As their hands touched, Mr. Bronson held onto Jasha’s a tad longer than necessary. At the same time their eyes met, the intense, tingling sensation of their connection pulsing through Jasha’s every fiber.

Jasha blushed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, then gingerly pulled the paper away, the sound of its crinkling echoing in his ears, before discreetly tucking it into his mouth. Mr. Bronson’s words certainly could have meant besides sucking a lollipop, something sexual. The unfamiliar thoroughly delightful feeling left him unsure if it was excitement or fear. Clearly, when Mr. Bronson touched him, he couldn’t deny the waves of pleasure inside his jeans.

Side by side, they made their way to the waiting limo parked outside the dilapidated apartment building. Saying goodbye to Brighton Beach meant saying goodbye to the unique experience of exploring the Russian stores and restaurants that lined the streets. This was the place where he felt at home, surrounded by friends who embraced the same culture and language.

“There’s a surprise inside,” Mr. Bronson declared, shattering his nostalgic moment. “All you have to do is suck hard enough.”

Was Mr. Bronson flirting with him or sending him messages about things he wanted from him? He’d said he belonged to him and was under his protection. Could he trust Mr. Bronson’s words?

When they reached the sleek black limo, the driver hopped out to greet them.

“This is Jasha Kozlov. He belongs to me, so he is under my protection as is Daisy, his kitty.” Then he turned to Jasha. “This is my driver, Adam Mason.”

Adam looked a few years older than Jasha. His blond hair stood out against his tan skin, creating a striking contrast, and his blue eyes mirrored Mr. Bronson’s exact shade. Jasha focused on the smattering of freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks, giving him a youthful, innocent appearance. He was dressed in a black suit with a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The sight of a perfectly knotted black tie around his neck highlighted his polished appearance. Standing tall and self-assured, he exuded confidence with a courteous smile, his polished black shoes reflecting the streetlights. They exchanged greetings and Adam took the suitcase with a firm grip then graciously opened the door for them.

“Get in.” Mr. Bronson pointed to the limo’s open door.

Jasha climbed into the luxurious car, sinking into the plush leather seat with the carrier beside him. Every inch of his body trembled uncontrollably. Once seated, he inhaled the lingering scent of the man’s cologne, giving him a sense of familiarity.

Mr. Bronson entered and sat across from Jasha. “Please stop trembling like that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Mr. Bronson’s golden-brown hair was professionally groomed. His posture was upright, reflecting his attention to detail and commitment to his appearance. Probably the man is a perfectionist and works out for hours each day. Jasha noticed Mr. Bronson wore black slacks, a shirt, and tie. Everything was black. The thought crossed his mind— is his wardrobe dominated by the color? Every time he showed up at the apartment, he was dressed head-to-toe in black. Days after he left, the lingering scent of his expensive cologne still permeated the apartment. Before the current visit, he had always considered Mr. Bronson to be more than just handsome—he was undeniably hot.

“What do I have to do for you, sir?”

“I’d like you to be my boy someday, but I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want, other than making sure you don’t run away from me. I’ll go over my rules and consequences tomorrow morning. We’ll be gone for a month for the Christmas vacation.”

“Where are we going?”

“Lake Tahoe. I have a beautiful home and lots of things for us to do. We’re on the way to the airport now.” He pulled his phone out and punched a few numbers. “The plane leaves in one hour. I’ve just booked our tickets. Everything is set.”

“What about Daisy?” Jasha asked. What if he dumps Daisy and leaves her behind? Jasha couldn’t bear to be apart from Daisy—she was too important to him.

“I booked her a ticket too. Don’t worry.”

Jasha didn’t know how to reply to his don’t worry comment. His savage demeanor had softened after they left the apartment, leaving behind a less stern and cruel version of himself. Mr. Bronson even smiled at him, his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. Uncertainty clouded Jasha’s thoughts as he tried to understand the motives of this dangerous man who had threatened to murder his father over a debt.

“I know what a boy is to a daddy in a gay relationship.”

“I know you do.”

“How do you know what I know?” Jasha asked. There was no way he could know he was into a daddy/boy relationship unless he’d been stalking him. His father didn’t even know that detail about his relationships with men.

“I know everything about you. I had a feeling your father wouldn’t have the money to pay me back, so I investigated you before I made you an option.” A mischievous grin played on his lips.

“I don’t know why my father owes you so much money.” He wondered if this man would have killed his father, or was he just bluffing? “And why would you buy me for that amount of money?”

“You don’t need to know. It’s between your father and me.”

“That’s a lot of money for just me.” He must have to perform for Mr. Bronson or provide him with some services, sexual services. He was uncertain, his mind racing with all the possible things Mr. Bronson would demand from him. The thoughts sent a wave of fear through him, causing goose bumps to appear on his arms and making him shiver.

“Your worth and value to me cannot be measured in terms of money.”

“Were you going to shoot my father?”

“What do you think?”

“I think, yes, you would.”

With a firm stare, he made direct eye contact with Jasha, capturing his attention. “I don’t want to discuss your father or the money or what I was going to do to him with you. If you choose to ignore my warning, there will be consequences for your behavior.”

There would always be the menacing threat of killing his father looming over their conversations. Whenever he wanted Jasha to do something, he could always rely on that threat. Jasha’s mind and body fought the mixed feelings he had for Mr. Bronson. He needed to forget the way his body tingled whenever their skin touched and that intense gaze that left him breathless. In order to honor his father’s love, he must hate Mr. Bronson. Anything less than that would be a disgrace. His father had taken on the responsibilities of both a mother and a father, providing love, guidance, and support.

“I own many homes. We’re going to stay in my California home for a month. That’s all you need to know for now.”